"If This Was Dinner...I Can't Wait For The Cabaret!" MOVIES! Sometimes...The Year Must Die!

So, I didn't get near any comics this Holiday but I am always writing nevertheless. In my head mostly. So, although I haven't got anything about comics I have got a head full of dumb words about some Peter Cushing films I watched this year. Usually I just dump this head written stuff into the ether but I felt like posting something and this was all I had. So I dumped it on you. Attractive, non? Anway; an old man, some old movies and a spatter of tired old jokes. What better way to see the New Year in. Have a drink, it'll read better that way. Everything's better when you're insensate with drink. That's what it's for. Oh yeah, Happy New Year everybody!

Oh yeah, none of these are Oscar(C) winners in waiting but they are all fun so they are all GOOD!

All images taken from Wikipedia.

TWINS OF EVIL Directed by John Hough Screenplay by Tudor Gates (Based on characters created by Sheridan Le Fanu(?!?)) Music by Harry Robertson (Hammer, 1971)

Yes, there is a joke there isn’t there? One about breasts; but I won’t be making it. Knock yourselves out though by all means. Then try and look your mother in the eyes, pal. In this movie, the quality of which is indicated early by the choice of Hot Electric Pink for the titles, Peter Cushing plays Gustav Veil whose surname is not only an anagram of “evil” but is pronounced “vile” and that’s about as restrained as this one gets. Seriously, there’s a bit where a lady is enjoying the physical attentions of a gentleman and the camera zooms in to show her hand lightly gliding up and down the shaft of a candle. Y’know, like a penis. Keep up. Anyway, Peter Cushing, equipped with a buckled hat, blithely classes this silly exercise up in his role as a Puritan who roams about at night with his Puritan pals burning single young women as witches. Cush & Co. average one a night which suggests that there is a preternaturally large population of single young women in and around his village or someone is bussing them in so Cush’n’chums can have their fiery fun. It’s testament to Cushing’s performance that when someone says Vile “means well” despite there being nothing in the script which indicates he is anything other than a murderous misogynist you do actually think, oh, maybe he’s just a tad, a smidgen perhaps, overzealous. So anyway, his twin nieces, or what have you, come to stay and one’s a bit of a scamp and is lured into depravity by the sleazy Lord of the manor who has been en-vamped. Unfortunately he’s played in a way that’s about as threatening as a doily. After a few creepy scenes of young women leading old men on (“What would your Uncle say?” Urrrggghhhh. No thanks, 1970s.) and flashes of flesh it’s all boiled down to The Cush vs the fanged doily man for the souls of his flock! There’s some mileage in that; the bloke who was seeing Evil everywhere where there was none now has to deal with real Evil right in his own home. But, basically, this movie prefers to find excuses to chuck some knockers up on the screen.

THE BEAST MUST DIE Directed by Paul Annett Screenplay by Michael Winder (From the short story by James Blish) Music by Douglas Gamley (Amicus,1974)

This mangy but loveable cur of a movie has a spectacularly inappropriate theme tune. Oh, It’s really good, don’t get me wrong but it’s the kind of swinging up-tempo floor shaker more suited to a title sequence in which Oliver Reed checks out ‘birds’ from his Union Jack mini as he tootles down Carnaby Street. Here it sits oddly atop a movie about a bunch of weird people lured to an island retreat by a big game hunter who believes one of them to be a werewolf. The most dangerous game of all just got dangerouserererer! I can’t lie; it’s a bit dull beyond the campiness but it does perk up whenever Peter Cushing uses his fantastic accent, someone dies or when everyone has to fondle a silver bullet in a game of Pass The Death Sentence. Oh, and there’s an exciting bit where our superfly hero hounds the werewolf in his helicopter and tries to machine gun it. Mind you, that last bit now looks like nothing more than a man shooting at a very large German Shepherd and inadvertently ruining someone’s potting shed in the process; I can assure you that was very thrilling when you were 10. But then so is hopscotch. Near the end a ticking clock fills the screen and you have to guess who the werewolf is. I don’t know how the movie knows what you’ve guessed but every time I watch it it’s (SPOILER!). I’m not saying the movie struggles to fill its screen time but it will find a favourable reaction amongst people fond of watching Michael Gambon driving about in a jeep.

AND FRANKENSTEIN CREATED WOMAN Directed by Terence Fisher Screenplay by John Elder (Anthony Hinds) Music by James Bernard (Hammer, 1967)

In which Frankenstein doesn’t but what he does do is trap the soul of a wrongly executed man in the body of the guy’s disfigured girlfriend; she having drowned herself on seeing his execution. Together with Thorley Walters (played by Eddie Izzard) Peter “The Cush” Cushing as Baron Frankenstein fixes her face (and her hair; Blonde Contretemps by Boots) and everything turns out just dandy, thanks. No, no it doesn’t, you fool! See, the soul of her boyfriend makes her hunt down the three fops who not only teased her about her face but , worse even, murdered her father and left her beau to take the rap. Some people probably say that the scenes where a man in a woman’s body seduces then murders his/her victims are ripe with trans gender subtext. Well, they might if they weren’t distracted by the fact that the victims are all dressed like Willly fucking Wonka. Anyway, if The Baron had fixed her face in the first place all that unpleasantness could have been avoided. So, basically, it’s a movie about getting your priorities right.

FRANKENSTEIN AND THE MONSTER FROM HELL Directed by Terence Fisher Screenplay by John Elder Music by James Bernard (Hammer, 1974)

This is the one in which Peter Cushing plays Baron Frankenstein one final time. It isn’t the best send-off but Peter Cushing doesn’t flag and nor does he falter. So, The Baron is now covertly running an asylum he’s supposed to be banged up in because he’s got the goods on the pervy dude in charge. He’s landed on his feet but his hands are giving him grief. His burned mitts are hampering his quest to stitch together the mentally unhygienic into a perfect man. Good thing then that Shane Briant (played by Twiggy) gets locked up in his gaff. And it is lucky because not only is Shane a surgeon in training he is also The Baron’s biggest fan. What are the odds? They are good, my friend. Anyway these two knock up a makeshift man who looks like a shaved ape and has a penchant for sticking broken glass in people’s faces. Shane Briant is also feeling moral pangs about The Baron passive aggressively badgering the inmates into committing suicide so he can play pick’n’mix with their parts. Oh, Madeline Smith wafts about the place as well giving the place a woman’s touch and some pathos; a bit anyway. Anyway, everything goes tits up pretty quickly. It’s possible to read the film as an indictment of the parlous state of the care of the vulnerable and how, without regulation, the gaolers become worse than the gaoled; but, basically, it’s a movie about how if you’ve got Peter Cushing in a top hat you’re sorted for 80 minutes and change. Cush Fact: the feathery wig sported by the great man himself is the exact same toupee which adorned his magnificent bonce in And Now The Screaming Starts… which, ah, here it is now…

AND NOW THE SCREAMING STARTS..! Directed by Roy Ward Baker Screenplay by Roger Marshall (David Case) Music by Douglas Gamley (Amicus,1973)

For about 40 minutes this enjoyable but not exactly good period set horror film consists of scenes of Ian "The Saint" Ogilvy and Stephanie “Powders” Beacham reacting badly to odd events in a stately home. A severed hand, a slashed portrait, something going bump in Stephanie Beacham’s night, a Richard Harris impersonator and hushed references to something terrible bad in the past combined to leave me clawing for clarity and wondering if I was suffering another dry drunk or what. Thankfully at that point Peter Cushing sauntered into the movie and delivered a performance which managed to make the whole thing watchable at least, and this is despite his sporting the aforementioned alarmingly feathery wig. Actually I spent a lot of time looking at this unsettling hairpiece so I could have missed some nuance or subtlety in what followed. It’s doubtful though as what followed not only had Patrick Magee pretending to be strangled by an invisible severed hand but also featured Herbert Lom as a not entirely convincing example of the landed English gentry who lets things get out of hand; sparking all the unpleasantness off with a poorly considered decision to reinstall the droit de seigneur tradition. From then on Cushing attempts to combat superstition and supernatural vengeance with the new-fangled Science Of The Mind! It ends badly for everyone involved. Where is your science now, Peter Cushing!?!

THE BLOOD BEAST TERROR Directed by Vernon Sewell Screenplay by Peter Bryan (Trigon, 1968)

This is the one with the lady who seduces men, turns into a big moth and kills ‘em. I see no subtext. Probably because there isn’t one; the script has it all on trying to make sense. Which it doesn’t but when did that ever matter; just entertain me, you mad fools! Peter Cushing is on record as claiming this is the worst film he ever made. Steady on, old boy; that’s a bit harsh. I mean even I haven’t seen every film Peter Cushing ever made but I think maybe the proximity of filming to his wife’s death coloured his judgement. Don’t get me wrong it’s quite, quite terrible but it is not without its charms. There’s Roy Hudd popping up to give the 1970s version of an amusing cameo(i.e. it isn’t; amusing that is); Cushing’s fellow plod is played by Dave the barman from Minder; some good performances convincingly delivered in spite of everything; an electrifyingly perfunctory climax in which Peter Cushing and Dave from Minder set fire to some piled up leaves, which the moth cannot resist and so meets its fiery end. And then the credits whizz up the screen. One of the things I never noticed about these movies until this re-watch is how tight they all are with film. No sooner has the final line slipped into silence than BANG! THE END! CREDITS ROLL! They might as well have someone shout "That’s yer lot! Ain’t ya got homes to go to! Fawk off home! G’wan! Whaddya want, Jam on it? Home! Now! Go!"

Speaking of which…THE END.

Happy New Year!

“…There Must be A Creature Superior To Man.” (Slight Reprise) COMICS! Sometimes It Is Christmas On The Planet of The Apes!

It is with no small amount of shame that I note it has been over a year(!) since I promised to take a look at Planet of The Apes Weekly. Um. Prizes for the best excuses! Er, I mean reasons. Look, we're all adults so let's all just put it behind us and move on. As a special Christmas Treat, and as a small act of atonement, please find the covers to the first 31 issues of Planet of The Apes Weekly. If you like 'em I'll do some more. And, okay, we'll see what we can do about, y'know, going on about the contents in word form. No promises, mind. Special BONUS: from hereonin I (mostly) shut my mad yapper and let the pictures speak. Merry Christmas!

Anyway, this...

Oh, context: Planet Of The Apes Weekly was a repackaging of Marvel's PoTA material for the British market. It was spurred by the enormous popularity of the PoTA TV show. The PotA strips were hacked into episodes of about six pages and backed up by whatever mad sci-fi based stuff Marvel had to hand. Turned out Marvel had plenty. The weekly schedule really burned through the scant PoTA material and filling each issue must have been quite an adventure. The movie adaptations constantly rotated in and out and the Killraven strip was rejigged from a disco themed continuation of H.G. Wells' War of The Worlds into a disco themed continuation of PoTA via the genius of the addition of badly drawn ape heads on anything that wasn't moving. PoTA began in 1974 and ran under its own title for 139 issues before being subsumed into other Marvel reprint titles and finally expiring in 1977. Which is when the children's entertainment Star Wars hit...Anyway, we'll get into all that later. Maybe. For now, the singular visual magic that was 1970s Marvel reprint comics covers:

And a fond farewell for now from The Planet of The COMICS!!!

"You Dropped The Coffee, Stephanie." COMICS! Sometimes They Shaped Us In A Million Invisible Ways!

I was a bit rushed this week so I thought I'd save some time by doing a gallery instead of a bunch of words arranged in upsetting orders. Hilariously, I saved no time whatsoever but I can now present to you a cover gallery of all the issues of WARRIOR Magazine I own (i.e. no issue 1). They are old, stained, dog-eared and read to within an inch of their lives but they still look nice and give a savoury taste of the groundbreaking early '80s anthology that thrilled me from the age of twelve and up, up and away. Anyhoo, have a look if you want. (Also: How To Make a Zirk! Really!) Alan Moore and Alan Davis correctly predict the reaction of the Internet to those Miracleman reprints coming in January 2014. Who sez he ain't magic!?!

Anyway, this...

Oh, WARRIOR was VERY GOOD! there, now I can categorise it as a review. Tricks of the trade, my loves. Tricks of the trade.

WARRIOR ISSUE 2 COVER ART by Garry Leach

WARRIOR ISSUE 3 COVER ART by Paul Neary

WARRIOR ISSUE 4 COVER ART by Steve Dillon

WARRIOR ISSUE 5 COVER ART by Dez Skinn

WARRIOR ISSUE 6 COVER ART by Steve Parkhouse

WARRIOR ISSUE 7 COVER ART by Mick Austin

Mick Austin's cover unadorned except by age and stains.

WARRIOR ISSUE 8 COVER ART by David Jackson

WARRIOR ISSUE 9 COVER ART by Mick Austin

Mick Austin's cover unadorned except by age and stains.

WARRIOR ISSUE 10 COVER ART by Garry Leach

Garry Leach's cover unadorned except by age and stains.

WARRIOR ISSUE 11 COVER ART by David Lloyd

WARRIOR ISSUE 12 COVER ART by Steve Parkhouse

WARRIOR ISSUE 13 COVER ART by Garry Leach

WARRIOR ISSUE 14 COVER ART by Jim Baikie

WARRIOR ISSUE 15 COVER ART by Mick Austin

WARRIOR ISSUE 16 COVER ART by Steve Parkhouse

WARRIOR ISSUE 17 COVER ART by David Jackson

WARRIOR ISSUE 18 COVER ART by Steve Parkhouse

WARRIOR ISSUE 19 COVER ART by Dez Skinn?Garry Leach?David Lloyd? I know not.

WARRIOR ISSUE 20 COVER ART by Garry Leach

WARRIOR ISSUE 21 COVER ART by Mick Austin

WARRIOR ISSUE 22 COVER ART by Geoff Senior

WARRIOR ISSUE 23 COVER ART by Jim Baikie & Garry Leach

WARRIOR ISSUE 24 COVER ART by John "Joz" Bolton

WARRIOR ISSUE 25 COVER ART by Garry Leach

WARRIOR ISSUE 26 COVER ART by Garry Leach

MARVELMAN SPECIAL #1 COVER ART by Mick Austin

BONUS****BONUS****BONUS****BONUS***

How to Make a Zirk Art by Garry Leach!!!

As you've probably gathered by now, those were - COMICS!!!

"That Soldier--He's A Woman?!" COMICS! Sometimes We Sing A Song For The Unsung!

So, I managed to wrestle a broken down wreck of a scanner out of the garage. To give it a proper work out I scanned in a bunch of covers by the artist Luis Dominguez; who I totally rate. I chucked in a bit of context but don't worry there aren't many words in this one. Mostly it's a bunch of '70s Western covers by a neglected Argentinian artist. I say mostly covers but also the famous scene where Scalphunter arm wrestled Abe Lincoln. Top that, Spielberg! Anyway, this...

Luis Dominguez is an Argentinian comic artist who, I believe, is still extant despite having been born in 1926. So it's pleasing that I can bring notice to his work while he's still with us. Dominguez worked for numerous US publishers such as Gold Key and Charlton in the '60s but it's his work for DC in the '70s which is most fondly remembered.  A lot of this work was for DC's "Mystery" (the big mystery with these wonderfully nonsensical books was what the writers had been sniffing) titles, but I first noticed Luis Dominguez' work in Weird Western Tales where he was then illustrating the violent antics of the surly sore arse Jonah Hex.

Now, the recently deceased Tony DeZuniga may well be the artist most associated with that scrunch faced character but Dominguez was no slouch. There was, however, one slight problem; he just really never seemed to get what was going on with Jonah's face. Everything else was great though, pages and panels filled with dusty and period specific locales populated by a variety of convincing characters; really very good stuff indeed, I tell you true. Then with issue #39 Jonah jumped ship into his own title and the previous backup strip became the  headliner.

This strip featured the character Scalphunter, created by Sergio Aragones and Joe Orlando. Scalphunter was one Brian Savage, a Caucasian who had been raised by Native Americans. Brian doesn't seem to have been a popular child as his new family bestowed upon him the name Ke-Woh-No-Tay ("He Who Is Less Than Human"). Storywise Brian's deal was that the native Americans didn't like him and nor did the Caucasians due to, well, basically racism. Lot of friction there. So, tension, violence and sullen stoicism were Brian's eternal lot.  Luckily, Brian was really violent and being really violent got you a long way in '70s DC Western comics. Anyway, this isn't about Brian it's about Luis Dominguez. While Dominguez did some interiors mostly this was limited to inking (saving) Dick Ayers' pencils; his full Luis Dominguez magic graced the covers of WWT until, in 1980, it fell down an abandoned mineshaft with issue #70.

So, what follows is an incomplete (I don't have 'em all) visual tribute to Luis Dominguez' work on Scalphunter. His covers mostly, but also that bit where Scalphunter "Indian wrestles" Abe Lincoln because that always brightens up the darkest day. It just seemed like a good idea, that's all. These are fine covers that deserve better than their neglected lot. As does Luis Dominguez. But really it's just me saying, "Thanks, Luis Dominguez!"

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Luis Dominguez...

Art by Luis Dominguez & Dick Ayers. Words by Gerry Conway. Sinew by Brian Savage. Decency by Lincoln.

So, no, I don't actually know much about Luis Dominguez but I know that he is - COMICS!!!

"A Tiger Doesn't Give A Buffalo Warning." COMICS! Sometimes They aaaAAAIEEEE!!! DAAKEESE MOB!!

In the Burmese jungle of 1942 only one thing was more deadly than the Japanese...In the war comics of 1976 only one strip ruled the playground...That thing, that strip was DARKIE’S MOB by Mike Western and John Wagner. COME ON!!! GET SOME!! CAHMMM AHHHNNNNN!!!! DARKIE’S MOB: The Secret War of Joe Darkie Art by Mike Western Written by John Wagner Introduction by Garth Ennis Titan Books, £16.99 (2011) Darkie’s Mob created by Mike Western and John Wagner (N.B. Darkie’s character defining shiny pate was the masterstroke of then editor Dave Hunter.)

Cover art by Carlos Ezquerra and Mike Western.

May 30^th 1942: “We’re just sitting. Waiting to die…” Taken from the blood stained pages of the battle log of private Richard Shortland comes the story of Darkie’s Mob. This is the story of Joe Darkie and of the men who followed him into Hell. This is the story of Joe Darkie who wore a dragon against his flesh and hid a demon in his heart. And this is the story, also, of the lost and hopeless men Joe Darkie forged with War into a jungle hard fighting force. And when he was done, when Joe Darkie was finally done, Joe Darkie had taught them that war was Hell but he also taught them that Hell could also be a home. And the Hell of War was the only home there could ever be for DARKIE’S MOB.

...and then he'll have to kill you.

This book contains all the episode of the picto-serial DARKIE’S MOB which originally appeared in issues of BATTLE PICTURE WEEKLY from August 1976 to June 1977. BATTLE was a weekly British war comic aimed primarily at children and it was thus a violent, dark, complex and brutal assault on the pre-teen mind. Which is just how kids like it, social services be damned. So, you've probably guessed Pat “Moderation” Mills was involved but only in that he, together with John Wagner, had set up BATTLE for Fleetway in direct response to the tamer and more typical fare of D C Thompson’s WARLORD.  To be fair, when I was a kid WARLORD had its moments but BATTLE still has its moments now I’m an adult, so BATTLE wins. Some might be confused by the fact that during the 1970s there was such an emphasis on the war in British comics. Such people’s confusion would be bolstered by the knowledge that, in addition to BATTLE and WARLORD, there were also the several monthly self-contained digest size titles of BATTLE PICTURE LIBRARY, WAR PICTURE LIBRARY and COMMANDO COMICS.

"British people In Hot Weather-AH!" The simplistic and sweeping answer (you were expecting maybe a reasoned thesis?) is that the War still wasn't all that far behind us back then. In fact a notable feature of early BATTLE was that readers were encouraged to send in the war stories of their fathers and grandfathers. (Of course due to natural attrition this feature became less popular as the years wore on). Basically Britain was still trying to process the massive trauma of the conflict and was having a hard time doing so. We’d helped win the thing but it had pretty much broken us and so, yes, it may well have been the 1970s but, sad to admit, the 1940s were taking some shaking.  In Renegade the autobiography of (i.e. a fascinating interpretation of his own reality) The Fall’s Mark E. Smith recalls how he used to play Japanese Prisoner of War Camp with the kids he was babysitting. This would involve them having to sit under a table and asking permission of the future Marquis Cha-Cha for any water or food. The kids of Britain in general were not unaffected by the tone of the times, is what I’m getting at there, and BATTLE would reflect this. BATTLE would reflect it in a relatively timely fashion as by 1976 attitudes to the war had changed somewhat and this was, as ever, reflected in the entertainments proffered. The slightly harsh but never too far from cosy early post-WW2 war films embodied by the words “John Mills” had started to give way to bleaker, grimier fare such as Robert Aldrich’s Too Late The Hero. Comics has ever magpied from pop culture after the fact but BATTLE was nimbler than WARLORD on picking up on the changes. WARLORD lagged behind in that it was still Millsian in the sense of Little Johnny but BATTLE was about to forge ahead by virtue of being Millsian in the sense of Pat. DARKIE’S MOB would be one of a number of strips Mills, Wagner, Gerry Finley Day et al would develop and script which would be part of a nation’s acceptance of its own past. Proof that true acceptance had been reached came when war comics fell by the way side. And so the healthy British mindset was to be embodied by a giant killer shark eating surfers like plankton and a fascistic future cop with a chin like a knee but, then, that’s why comics are the best of all things ever. Fact.

It's okay, he's just joshing...isn't he?

DARKIE’S MOB is a product of the 1970s and so, as this is 2013 when everybody behaves impeccably at all times, Garth Ennis spends most of his informative, knowledgeable and very enthusiastic introduction pointing out that although racist terms are used, they fall within acceptable parameters for the portrayal of a bunch of desperate men at the end of their tethers fighting an enemy it is in their interests to dehumanise. Let’s face it soldiers swear, and sometimes use less than pleasant terms for the people they are trying to kill. There’s no effin’ and jeffin’ here but there are some terms that might make us uncomfortable. And so they should, after all we’re not currently jungle fighting the Japanese are we? Anyway, you have been warned. Ennis also points out that the Japanese army weren't fucking about either. They meant business. In fact, the extent to which they were not fucking about quite surprised the breath out of the British hence they were somewhat on the back-foot when the tale opens. Although, cleverly, the tale is over when it begins and we witness everything via flashbacks spurred by entries in a diary found after the Japanese defeat. Right there on the first page is the clue to how it all ends, and it won’t be ending with kissing nurses in ticker tape parades. Not for Joe Darkie's Mob.

"Hey Kids, COMICS!!!"

As was usual for strips in British weekly anthologies of the time John Wagner and Mike Western get a whopping three (sometimes four!) pages an episode. Consequently brevity, concision, density and clarity are the order of the day and Western and Wagner obey those orders above and beyond the call of duty. While the initial impact of DARKIE’S MOB will always result from surprise at the savagery of the proceedings its persistence in the reader’s memory is wholly due to the characterisation. No, it’s not exactly Jonathan Franzen, but Wagner nails down the various characters with an enviable certainty and economy. He does this while, in each episode, also delivering at least one explosively violent set piece, hinting at Darkie’s past and keeping a character centric sub plot or two simmering. Wagner is of course known and loved by all comics fans primarily for co-creating Judge Dredd and Strontium Dog but is an excellent comic writer; one whose excellence is often taken for granted due to his comics working so well you often don’t realise how superbly executed they are. To the detriment of his own reputation Wagner always steps back and lets the story take precedence over his personality. Here then is DARKIE’S MOB which is fantastic episodic comic book writing by John Wagner. Oh, the usual warning applies with Brit reprints - it isn't, truthfully, best served by gorging, so maybe put the book aside now and then for the best effect. Self-restraint, I’m talking about self-restraint there. Although that might be difficult given the breakneck velocity built into the strip.

"AIEEEE!", Indeed!

In concert with Wagner’s scripting DARKIE’S MOB benefits enormously from its excellent envisaging by Mike Western. Mike Western is one of a whole host of 70s artists who worked on British comics and whom deserve wider recognition. Thanks to reprints some of them are getting a deserved second wind. This should afford them at least a place in comics history even if it isn’t fully the place they deserve. Carlos Ezquerra’s okay he’s got Judge Dredd (and then all the rest) to keep him in view and Joe Colquhoun isn't going anywhere thanks to Charley’s War and his Johnny Red should give John Cooper a deserved leg up as he shared the strip, but Mike Western’s shot is probably going to be DARKIE’S MOB, so forgive me if I try and make it count.  Because it deserves to count because Mike Western is a kind of old school awesome worth celebrating. Western was a stalwart mainstay of the British comics scene with his realistic rather than cartoony work gracing adventure strips and TV tie-ins in titles such as Knockout, Buster, Valiant and, of course BATTLE. Following DARKIE’S MOB Western would continue working in British comics until he officially retired in the ‘90s. He died in 2008. Throughout his career his work was informed by an admiration of artists from over the pond such as Alex Raymond and Milton Caniff. Studying their work would enable him to maximise the limited page space available in British comics but it was his own remarkable talents which make his work in DARKIE’S MOB so successful.

He's Got A Ticket To DIE!!!!

Western served his country in WW2 and while I do not know if any of his experiences are reflected in his art for Darkie’s Mob I kind of hope not for his own sake, what with the claustrophobic sense of sweaty doom he gives the strip. Reportedly Western enjoyed drawing faces and while this is never a bad thing in a comic artist it’s a sure strength when drawing war comics. As the Army isn't noted for encouraging individuality the Mob are largely differentiated by their faces, somewhat in the manner of real human beings. Western’s solid and lifelike fizzogs ground the melodramatic emotions being experienced and enable the retention of a veneer of realism over events that sometimes might stretch belief. Western’s characters are also placed firmly in environments which in a few lines and slabs of black ensure that the reader comes away from DARKIE’S MOB with a sure sense that the book has occurred within the dank folds of a murky jungle Hell. At first glance Western’s art might appear staid and static but when read with Wagner’s words it comes alive, drawing the reader in and pushing the real world out. Proper Comics there, that is. In DARKIE’S MOB with fewer pages than fingers on a wounded hand Western manages to pack in all the desperate and dingy psychodrama Wagner’s script requires in order to sting. He also works those individual panels. Really works them. Mike Western could cram an indecent amount of action, event, character, information and motion into a single panel and if you gave him a whole page to play with? Glad you asked:

DARKIE’S MOB is a raw blast of ‘70s Brit comics Burmese battle action delivered by the masterful team of Mike Western and John Wagner. War is truly terrible but DARKIE’S MOB is VERY GOOD!

“AAAIIIIEEEEE!!!” – COMICS!!!!

He's Still "The Only Bear On The C.I.A. Death List!" COMICS! Sometimes SHAKO! Speaks!

Rejoice fans of quality reviews! For to celebrate the release of the SHAKO! TPB collection I decided not to review it. For a start I won't have any money until Christmas is over. And I'm talking there about the first Christmas after MiracleBoy leaves home in about 2025. No, I decided to do something else instead to celebrate this momentous occasion. What follows is not entirely sane but then again what is, my American friends, what is?!?

Most importantly of course I decided not to review the SHAKO! TPB as I already reviewed its contents HERE. You will of course remember that vividly because you have nothing else to do but remember badly written old posts on The Savage Critics. So, there didn't seem much point in going over it again but it also seemed a bit shoddy to let the occasion pass uncommemorated. Because as much as I love 2000AD's SHAKO! (and, boy, do I love SHAKO!) I never thought it would be collected. Truly, these are the days.

Your luck was in though as since I am a Savage Critic I, naturally, know loads of people in Comics, or as we gifted insiders call it - The Biz. And using my "juice" I reached out and managed to get the contact details for the star of the book, SHAKO! himself. SHAKO! has kept a low profile since his 2000AD appearance moving into the area of plumbing due to the "perennial" nature of the work and the reliable income it provides for a family oriented bear like SHAKO!. SHAKO! still retains fond memories of his comics work and remained humble and gracious throughout our encounter. Because encounter SHAKO! I did. In fact, as his van was in the garage, I arranged to meet him around the corner from his house at a caff where we both tucked into a full English courtesy of The Savage Critics’ robust expense account. The following conversation ensued:

JK: SHAKO!’s quite an unusual name for a bear isn't it? SHAKO!: No, not really. Although in the strip it claims  “It means simply...KILLER!” or some other such guff. But I'll let you in on a little secret - it’s actually Inuit for Grace Of The Sun’s Soft Fade. Sorry to disillusion everyone there.

JK: Ha! I can see why Mills' went for "...KILLER!" That's more in line with the spirit of the strip. Were you ever bothered by the levels of violence? I mean the audience for this was largely children after all...

SHAKO!: No, no. You can't mollycoddle children. The world is full of things children shouldn't be exposed to but they have a quite unerring radar when it comes to locating them. I mean, sure, it was over the top but it could have been worse. Look, it isn't complicated; do you know the only sure way to stop your kids from finding your jazz mags in the airing cupboard?

JK: Er, no.

SHAKO!: Don't have any jazz mags in your airing cupboard.

JK: Er.

SHAKO!: C'mon, who's going to tell the world it can't have its jazz mags? It just doesn't work like that! So inoculating the little blighters was, I guess, the intention behind all that newsprint nastiness. Of course by jazz mags I mean violence. I'm sorry, I had a late call out last night to bleed a pensioner's radiators. I 'm still a bit tired, not as young as I was y'know. I'm no Spring bear! Could we keep it lighter maybe?

JK: Sure. Sure. You were kidding a bit back there weren't you?

SHAKO!: Yeah, heh. Polar bears love deadpan, what can I say?

JK: I thought so, it's just hard to tell with the snout and the fur and all that.

SHAKO!: That does help with the deadpan. Still, I mean the violence in my strip was nothing compared to that in HOOK JAW. That was like, well, I don't know what that was like! It was off the scale. I'm amazed no one ended up in prison over it. He had a real knack for the violence, I'll give him that. And in real life he was such a sweetie!

JK: You mean Pat Mills?

SHAKO!: I meant Hook Jaw actually but I suppose the same might be said for Pat Mills, yes.

JK: You worked together quite recently didn't you? You and Hook Jaw?

SHAKO!: That’s right! We did indeed. It was just a bit of fluff really, stunt casting overseas under nom de plumes. A bit like when Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing would turn up in some Italian fiasco no-one in England would see for decades. Seabear and Grizzlyshark? I don’t think many people saw it but when you get to our age that’s not so important. Your priorities change as you age and it actually gets to the point where it’s just nice to be asked. I mean at my age my cubs have got cubs of their own so they're too busy to bother with boring old me! Something like Seabear? That's just the ticket, you know? A bit of a lark. Peps the old bones up a bit. Hardly high art, of course, but it was nice to stretch the acting chops again and, of course, Hooky was a riot. No airs or graces with that one! Ho! We kept in touch afterwards. Right up until…

(Legal Note: SEABEAR & GRIZZLY SHARK are nothing to do with HOOK JAW or SHAKO! Nor did the creators intend any such inferences to be made. The shark doesn't even have a hook in its jaw. I am just having a spot of fun. Is that still legal? EH!?!)

JK: Yes, I heard you were there when he…went.

SHAKO!: I…yes..it…sorry…

JK: It’s alright, we can move on if you like.

SHAKO!: No…no. I think Hooky would want people to know he was at peace at the end. In fact his spirits were quite high if anything. You know they’d just started reprinting his work in STRIP? People were recognising him again. Staff and kids from the other wards would go see him in the Day Room and ask for his autographs. Oh, he was fair basking in it. It was nice timing as well because a couple of days later…he...it was...

JK: It’s okay. I know this must be difficult for you...

SHAKO!: Yes..but, no, actually in a strange way it was kind of comforting. I’m not really sure what happened to tell the truth. It was Tuesday visiting and I was sat next to his bed and I remember I was telling him about this little cameo I’d made in one of those terrible Event things. One of those art by committee things. Dreadful tat but awfully popular with the youngsters. There were like five writers or something ,and they still got which Pole we bears live at totally arse about tit. Bless his cotton socks, Hooky was trying not to laugh because of the pain; the drugs weren't really touching it by this point. And suddenly, suddenly I realise there’s a man in the room. Seems daft but at first I thought it was a bear. Big fellow he was. And hairy? I’ll say he was hairy, alright! It was his eyes though, his eyes that held you. Great sad things they were. Sad but dignified. Like he’d been hated by the world and forgiven it. And this chap, he puts his hand on Hooky’s dorsal, and it’s a big hand festooned with these big rings, and he puts this big hand on Hooky like a feather landing. And all the tension in Hooky’s body just goes and this fellow says, in this burr, this rumble, he says, and I can remember every word still, he says:

“S’alright, Hooky. S’all alright, now. C’mon, me Duck, time to go home. Time to go back where the stories live. It’s just going home, luv. They've all missed you, Hooky. C’mon, son. C’mon now. Gently Bently and off home we go.”

And when he lifted his big ringed hand, well, I could tell from how he was laid that Hooky was gone. Well, I mean, obviously he was still there but…

JK: I understand. It sounds very…odd. It sounds like a very…I guess quite a spiritual moment.

SHAKO!: Oh, it was. Of course then I look and this big hairy fellow’s only gone and put shoe polish on his face and now he's chasing nurses down the corridor while making farting noises with his lips.

JK: …!

SHAKO!: Yes, it did take the shine off of things a bit.

JK: Well, er, that sounds like a good place to finish. I thank you for your time and I wish the book every success.

SHAKO!: Oh no, thank you. And I just have to say it’s not about success it’s just...when you're young it's all about the future isn't it? But then you get on a bit and you realise you aren't going to be in the future but you want to have done your bit.

JK: Entertained people?

SHAKO!: Yes. Yes! Maybe more but that'll do. That's no small thing. It's a bit of a magical thing even.

JK: The magic of stories.

SHAKO!: Yes. The lovely, lovely stories. Y'know, for the young.

JK: Thank you, SHAKO! ________________________________________________________

Postscript: Two days later I rang SHAKO! to see if he wanted to give the transcript a once over. The phone was answered by a man who said only “Shako’s with the stories now, luv.” Before the receiver was replaced softly.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This one was for SHAKO! and all the stories, and all the kids that read them.

This one was for all of the COMICS!!!

“…There Must be A Creature Superior To Man.” COMICS! Sometimes Hasslein Was RIGHT!

This isn't actually a post about comics it’s a post about the posts about comics which are to follow. See, I had an idea…oh dear. Click “More” to enter…The Planet of the Nostalgics! (Art by George Tuska)

For a while now I've wanted to write about the experience of comics reading during the ‘70s. I thought this might be of interest as it is now 2012 and some of your parents weren't even born then. I thought it might be of even more interest as, and the keener minds among you will have already noted this, I live in Great Britain. Which isn't that Great but it is certainly called Britain. Alack, alas, I had a great deal of difficulty figuring out where to start, I’ll spare you all the hemming and hawing and just say that I think I've found a solution…

Yeah, stick a flag in it, pal. That'll solve everything! (Art by George Tuska)

What I’m intending (intentions!) to do is look at the entire run of PLANET OF THE APES WEEKLY published by Marvel Comics International Limited. Well, issues #1 (Oct 1974) to #123 (Feb 1977). (Following this it was folded into THE MIGHTY WORLD OF MARVEL.) By having a focal point I am hoping that I will be able to touch on a multitude of areas of historical comical periodical interest. Not only will I be moaning about George Tuska’s inert art but I’ll hopefully go wider and give some idea of the ‘70s via many words on the content, availability, price and format of comics. Most of the words will concern content, I imagine. Largely though I will be hammering home the important sociological point that using comics as surrogate parents ends up with your kid turning out like me. This is certainly what I would call a warning from History.

A really quite significant moment for Tiny me was when Taylor (AKA "Tay-LAH!") just said, "Aw f*** it and f*** you all too!" in the most final of manners. (Art by Alfredo Alcala)

I suppose I could claim some measure of relevance as POTA is back on the radar in the form of the current licensed comic from Boom!, so there’s that and also the UK comic had, aside from the early issues, back ups that maybe(?) represent some of the more varied and perhaps under loved strips Marvel published. I was going to say overlooked but since the advent of the Internet I guess there’s no such thing as an overlooked strip anymore. (Personally I think Atlas’ POLICE ACTION FEATURING LOMAX should get more attention. Get right on that, Internet!). Should worse comes to worse (i.e. I remain true to form) and I never actually say anything of interest or relevance about the ‘70s I can promise you that we will at least have covered a great many creators and bizarre series. Some of which you may never have heard of! (Gullivar Jones, anyone?) I think you’ll like it! And if you don’t I imagine you’ll tell me about it! Possibly using inventive invective. The kind that back in the ‘70s you would have had to deliver in person and probably got a pop on the nose for your troubles. Because things were different back then. They were better. (Of course they weren’t, they were Godawful but for a second you thought I was serious and I, personally, found that second hilarious. Oh, your face!).

Taylor (AKA "Bright-Eyes") was my first hero what with his smoking in a pressurised oxygen environment, heroin addiction and misanthropic attitude. The ideal role model for four year olds everywhere! (Art by George Tuska)

(Oh, who am I kidding, my actual reasons for this are selfish as a bloke at work lent me these comics about two years ago and I imagine he’ll be wanting them back soon. So if I have to tell you lot about them I guess I’ll have to read ‘em!)

I’ll still be posting about other stuff but this should be a nice regular thing I can try and build some consistency around. It's a little bit ambitious but I'll see how I go with it. Trust me, no one will lose out because If all else fails I can just post stuff like this:

EXCELSIOR!

So why not join us next time on Planet of the Nostalgics (aside from the fact it will be sh**) when we hear: "APES! Apes On Horseback!" or PLANET OF THE APES WEEKLY #1 (w/e Oct. 26th 1974) In which I say, “Look, I’m sure George Tuska was a boon to the lives of all who knew him BUT…”

Have A Good One, Everyone!

Season's Greetings to one and all! Had a busy week what with all that festive malarkey and whatnot. Oh yeah, got you a "secret handshake" for Christmas, alright. Self indulgence beyond mortal comprehension follows after the break.

So I noticed this interesting piece by Barry Norman in the 1979 Radio And TV Times Christmas Edition about a film I didn't realise existed:

JACK KIRBY'S THE NEW GODS (Amicus Productions (UK/USA),1975) Directed  by Kevin Connor Screenplay by Harold Pinter Based on the DC Comics creations of Jack Kirby

Cast: Richard Burton (Darkseid) Robert Shaw (Orion) Michael York (Light Ray) Doug McClure (Scott Free) Raquel Welch  (Big Barda) Superman (Robert Mitchum) Caroline Munro (Beautiful Dreamer) Malcolm McDowell (Glorious Godfrey) Peter Cushing (DeSaad) Christopher Lee (Metron) Rod Steiger (Terrible Turpin) Billy Dee Williams (Shilo Norman) Woody Strode (The Black Racer) Peter Cook  (Funky Flashman) Dudley Moore  (House Roy) Peter Ustinov (High Father) Jim Dale (Jimmy Olsen)

Produced by Milton Subotsky & Samuel Z. Arkoff Original Music by Roy Budd Special Effects by Roger Dicken & Derek Meddings

Did You Know? Scott Free was originally to be played by Melvyn Hayes. The hand turning the pages in the latter part of the film belongs to Ridley Scott who only stopped to ask for directions. Richard Burton's scenes were all filmed in front of a backdrop in his local pub while he waited for his pint of Guinness to settle. In order to perfect his Method Rod Steiger had himself blown up. Twice. To this day Malcolm McDowell pretends he wasn't in this film. And he's in Mr. MAGOO.

Goofs. In his introductory scene Darkseid can clearly be seen with a Silk Cut in his hand. Jim Dale's ginger wig moves position from shot to shot. The camera often forgets to move away from Caroline Munro even though the other actors are doing stuff and talking and everything.

About The Film. Almost lost in the tides of history the Amicus production of JACK KIRBY’S THE NEW GODS will “blow” your mind!!! In 1974 Milton Subotsky was approached by Carmine Infantino to bring Jack Kirby’s creations to the silver screen. The kids were wild, crazy and lovin’ in the streets and Infantino thought if he could capture that audience then, perhaps, money might fall from the sky like a rain of dead birds whose hearts had mysteriously all stopped at once.

Most of the talent involved in JK'sNG was British. The British are generally just glad of the chance to get out of the house and are eternally surprised that people pay them for something they’d probably be doing anyway. They tend to work for buttons, basically. This appealed to the budget conscious Subotsky but later bit him on the tailpipe when Pinter left the production in a huff after a contretemps regarding the proper pronunciation of “patronising”. When informed that his name would be removed from the film and that he would receive no payment he remarked, “And I could punch you in the lungs so hard they will fill with your own shit.” Pinter was paid in cash thirty seconds later. In the absence of a screenwriter and a rapidly evaporating budget the decision was made to film Kirby’s tale as it was on the page. Literally.

After the live action conclusion of New Gods #3 the rest of the film consists of the camera panning over actual comic pages in the direction of the action. Nothing is omitted and the only addition is a 20 minute scene in which Big Barda and Beautiful Dreamer wrestle in a rainstorm. “That was for the foreign markets. Yes, um, that’s why that happened.” said Kevin Connor looking a bit shifty. A soundtrack of Roy Budd's characteristically captivating funky warbling and a smattering of Northern Soul songs were added with the dialogue being spoken by the actors as though they were in a radio play. Sound effects were largely provided by a man with an empty sweet tin, some sand and a hammer.This won the film its only Oscar nomination.

The cast themselves had a grand old time by all accounts. Peter Cushing recalled that, "I just can’t speak highly enough of my fellow actors, Dear-heart! They were the very epitome of professionalism! The only real damper on the whole thing was when that scamp Robert Shaw was declared legally dead on three separate occasions due to his love of the grape. And the grain. Oh, and the catering was lovely! Such buns!” Christopher Lee admitted, “It wasn't as bad as when my dog died.” Even Richard Burton effusively praised the film saying, "It paid my Tax Bill for that year and I had some left over for some gaspers, so I did, Boyo! Where's Liz? I feel another marriage coming on!"

Interestingly no one who had ever worked for Marvel Comics was allowed to view the film and this impediment remains in place to this day. This was the result of Jack Kirby suddenly appearing on set like a distressed fireplug in high waisters, he was clearly discombobulated and professed to have received a vision of the future. A vision in which after Kirby's death Stan Lee claimed under oath that Jack Kirby had not created anything and that he, Stan Lee, was merely humouring him all along. Also, that in this bizarre vision Marvel were not paying Kirby or his estate any form of acknowledgement for the creations upon which a multi-billion company was based. Although no one at the time could barely credit such outlandish moral vacuity so intense was Kirby’s belief that Subotsky agreed to his bizarre demand. “He was so upset he almost stopped drawing. We thought the poor guy was going to pop a vein, so we caved.” remembered someone who was probably there at the time.

Critical reception was less than warm to say the least with Alexander Walker declaring in The London Evening Standard, “Oh, for f****’s sake!” while Pauline Kael’s New Yorker review consisted simply of the phrase, "I resented the gift of sight.” Audiences of the time also rejected the film preferring instead some daft film about a rubber shark which eats Robert Shaw. JK'sNG has since found a new life on DVD/Blu-Ray which thanks to technological advances makes it look and sound even worse than ever. This kind of ironic jackassery appeals to hip young people more than you would credit. Trust me, I know. The film was financed primarily by one Janek Noh; about whom nothing is known beyond the fact that he embarked on two later, and even more disastrous, cinematic endeavours; SHAKO! (1985) which led to the Children’s Film Foundation being shut down by the Police and CHAYKIN!: THE MUSICAL! (1993) which was successfully prosecuted for obscenity in Texas. Noh is believed by some to be writing idiocies on other people's web sites, which some might call abusing their hospitality somewhat.

So I guess that was a bit like that time your husband turned up drunk  on Christmas Eve and thrust some flowers from the all-night garage at you. And you remembered: it's the thought that counts!

Merry Christmas or what have you!

"They Gave Their Lives...Just For THAT?" Comics! Sometimes They "Dare To Be Different"!

Old war comics written about by old man - pictures at Eleven! Here's a thing: In MAN OF ROCK by Bill Schelly, a book which is all about Joe Kubert and the things he has spent his time doing, there is no mention of BLITZKRIEG. (Other than that Bill Schelly's book is, however, VERY GOOD!)

It's okay, Bill Schelly, I think I've mentioned BLITZKRIEG enough for everyone!

And now our Feature Presentation:

It was 1976 and it was time to see WW2 “through the eyes of the enemy”. This was hardly unprecedented. Joe Kubert (b. 1929)and Robert Kanigher (1915 – 2002)had previously worked up and on Enemy Ace in Star Spangled War Stories. Said series was an innovative look at WW1 (1914-18) through the character of a German air ace modelled upon The Red Baron (Manfred Von Richthofen not Snoopy). These stories are collected in their entirety in SHOWCASE PRESENTS: ENEMY ACE which is a plump lump of B/W brilliance (VERY GOOD!). Giving in to the temptation to gorge on the contents, however, results in an unavoidable recognition of the repetition in their structure. If read in the short bursts as it was initially published it becomes clear that this repetition was entirely intentional. Read any individual Enemy Ace story and you get a complete story with all the information required to understand the context and point of what was on the pages.

Modern readers may also finds some of the contents a bit broad at best and belief defying at worst. That’s understandable but tends to underestimate the fact that these are primarily stories and their intention is principally to entertain and then, typically, to make a point. To get the most out of them it’s probably best to view them as a form or parable rather than an attempt to accurately reflect reality. You probably remember The Parable Of The Killer Skies from Sunday School. The contents of Showcase: Enemy Ace will always be of interest thanks to the astonishing performance of all the artists involved; Joe Kubert, Neal Adams, Frank Thorne, Howard Victor Chaykin and John Severin. There were indeed giants in those days but it’s worth stressing that of these lofty talents Joe Kubert’s scalp was the most sky scraping. I’m a like me some Joe Kubert, I do. But the fact that these stories are still readable is evidence of the rock solid craft brought to the task by Robert Kanigher.

A lot of people liked Enemy Ace but not enough people, sales on the book kept falling and, as Editor, Kubert was forced to drop the series and replace it with The Unknown Soldier. (Don’t worry if I’m going to talk about The Unknown Soldier it will be a time other than this one.) The point here is that the success of Enemy Ace is due to the fact that the techniques involved were as taut as Cher’s face. So Enemy Ace wasn't a total success but it was very popular which is more than can be said for The War To End All Wars (which is a case of false advertising if ever I saw one). Of course after the world got its breath back it decided to produce the more popular sequel WW2. And it was in this setting that Kubert and Kanigher attempted to replicate the success of their “through the eyes of the enemy” approach.

But because you are paying attention you are now thinking why do that? If Enemy Ace couldn't pull in the punters why launch a whole new series with a similar premise? The DC Explosion is why. It’s aptly named because it was about as controlled and disciplined as an explosion. The fact it was almost immediately followed by the DC Implosion should tell you just how successful cramming as much stuff onto the spinner racks turned out to be.Given the urgent need for fresh recruits to be rushed to the Retailing Front many comics were sacrificed on the spinner racks. BLITZKRIEG was amongst the cannon fodder.

BLITZKRIEG #1 - 5 By Ric Estrada, Sam Glanzman and Lee Elias(a), Joe Kubert & Robert Kanigher(w) (DC Comics, $0.30 ea, 1976)

Sadly the big thing about BLITZKRIEG is how half-baked it seems. There's an interesting premise ("Yeah, but how was WW2 for The Bad Guys?") but it just doesn't get any traction. The stories themselves are solid enough to start with but as the series progresses they start to become more hazy, lacking a point around which Kanigher can cohere his scripts.  It's a good framework though; following three German soldiers through the war and having them reflect the mindset of "The Enemy" (who unsurprisingly will be surprisingly like "Us"). The first problem is that Kanigher has too many protagonists. Sgt. Rock and Enemy Ace have a strong central figure around which events can orbit and whose experiences provide the Reader with an "in". BLITZKRIEG has Franz, Ludwig and Hugo. Franz is blond and handsome representing The Intellectual, Ludwig is a meathead always thinking of ladies and Hugo is a speccy bald weasel always thinking about food. It's fairly clear that they are three separate aspects of Man and their very separation is that which blinds them to the fact that if all three were united in one individual more perspective would be available, possibly even enough to grant them the wit to realise that what they are involved in is both inhuman and insane.

And, to be fair, BLITZKRIEG doesn't stint on the depiction of the horrors perpetrated by these ordinary guys. Throughout the course of this series the "heroes" kill women and children, both armed and unarmed, massacre P.O.W.s and are active in the horror of the pacification of The Warsaw Ghetto. It's unpleasant stuff and there lies BLITZKRIEG's second main difficulty. By focusing on this barbaric string of events it's hard to root for our Three Stooges. The series focuses so hard on these atrocities that there is barely even room for our three chums to pop up and offer their character revealing insights ("I like bread!", "I like ladies!", "I like Butterflies"! Jesus, these guys make Brick Tamland look nuanced.) The Reader never gets to know them because they are hardly present in the narrative and when they are they are always saying the same things. They never change and they never learn no matter how bad things get, no matter how stained their hands.

But then maybe that's the point. Maybe that's how these things happen. Franz, Ludwig and Hugo appear totally at the mercy of events, pulled under by the current of History only to resurface briefly to state to themselves (and to us) the only things that keep them functioning; their appetites and their belief that this is necessary, or at least unavoidable. They are trapped in a narrative not of their making and they cling to sanity only by reducing themselves to their most basic, unthinking needs. That would be good, I think. But I only think that, I don't know that. And I think I only think that because that is how I am naturally inclined to think. I don't believe there is much on the actual pages to convince me that the authors (writers and artists; comics is a gestalt thing remember) are moving me by design to these thoughts. But then inspiring thought in a reader isn't such a bad thing. Even if the particular colour of that thinking is an unintended by product. Because, maybe, WW2 is the kind of thing that happens when people stop thinking and let other people do that for them, particularly when those people doing the thinking are the kind of people who should be heavily medicated and monitored for their own safety.

BLITZKRIEG has other problems too. The premise is a deceptively complex one and the truncated nature of the episodes (roughly 11 pages) doesn't allow enough room for the authors to really start working. What a comic like BLITZKRIEG needs to succeed, amongst other things, is room to breathe. In the '70s comics authors were rarely allowed this luxury. Sure, modern comics do get this break but if comics from 2000 to 2011 have shown us anything it's that if you give comics creators room to breathe often that's all they do; breathe. Then there's the nature of the conflict BLITZKRIEG depicts. Enemy Ace not only has a single protagonist but also benefits from being set in a conflict where "Good" and "Bad" are entirely more nebulous labels, and the meaning of these is further diffused by the concepts of honour, duty and tradition. These concepts had pretty much worn out their welcome by the time WW2 rolled around, sure, they lingered and were important but by no means to the same extent and the longer the war rolled on the more denuded of meaning these concepts became. In a War in which people are putting other people in ovens, reduced to cannibalism, arming their children and dropping nukes on civilian targets honour, duty and tradition aren't really going to be able to cut it. Hell, even "Good" is going to have its work cut out for it. Presenting WW2 "through enemy eyes" would require rather more serious thought than BLITZKRIEG can muster.

Given the moral morass of its setting, its uncharismatic leads, fuzzy storytelling and general lack of polish BLITZKRIEG fails to achieve its lofty ambitions but...but...even at its worst BLITZKRIEG is wholly innocent of the most objectionable charge that could be raised at such an endeavour. At no point are the actions of the Germans glamorised or presented as attractive. That would be the worst thing and BLITZKRIEG doesn't do that thing.

Authenticity is usually a concern with war books. Personally I’m rubbish at authenticity as long as Hitler isn't a space-stoat and the Yanks aren't riding gorillas into battle I’m generally okay. Luckily though back when smoking was good for you readers used to send letters in to comics and in issue #4 we have a letter which addresses the accuracy of BLITZKRIEG #1 thus saving me the bother:

"...mistakes are prevalent in this issue. Uniform insignias and ranks were inaccurate.The main characters were portrayed as privates. However, their weapons sub-machine guns were not issued to privates, who were armed withWW1 bolt action rifles throughout the entire war...German panzer represented was not built until 1941. The Molotov Cocktail was not named until 1941...In the Polish campaign Rommel was a Colonel attached to Hitler's bodyguard..." (text edited from Cadet Captain Rudy S. Nelson's letter from BLITZKRIEG#4)

So, not so accurate then but accurate enough if accuracy isn’t too much of a concern. And I don’t want it come across like special pleading but back when steak was a breakfast cereal research was proper work. You had to leave the house and visit these buildings called "libraries" which had "books" in them with "pages" and, yeah, I know it sounds like a madman's dream or something. Luckily, the ever reliable Sam Glanzman leaps into the trench of doubt and picks up the authenticity potato masher and chucks it back in your face with some pics'n'facts spreads about tanks and planes (The Panther Tank, Dornier DO-335A and the F-40 Corsair) before supplying a "3-D table-top diorama" where kids could paste the pictures to cereal boxes and through the judicious use of scissors and imagination recreate their own hellish scene of human suffering to treasure forever ("U.S.S. Buckley Rams The U-66"). Or at least 'til the cat got hold of it.

The intentions of all involved are, I’d say, honourable and good but we all know where the road paved with those leads. Except Ernest Hemingway who said that the road to Hell was paved with stuffed donkeys, but that guy liked his pop a bit too much. Obviously this comic isn't Hell on paper but the good intentions of all involved don’t stop it being more interesting than successful. Way more interesting than successful in fact but since I like interesting things I’d ultimately call BLITZKRIEG GOOD!, although as entertainment it’s probably EH! Having said that though there is the odd panel like this one below which brings BLITZKRIEG back up to GOOD!

And like moral certainty - I'm GONE!

Have a nice weekend, everybody!