Baltimore Comic-Con: looking in the rearview mirror

                                                                         

Part 1

The Baltimore Comic-con took place a little over a week ago.  And Dan and Matt and I set up in Artists Alley with our wares – copies of Warrior27, Mainelining, and Reading Watchmen, among a few other things.  So, how did it go?

First – the older I get, the more that fact becomes obvious during these 12-hour drives Dan and I endure to attend these conventions.  (when you live in Maine, going anywhere means you have to drive for a while, but there’s nowhere you can’t get to within five hours, so twelve can come off as a bit ridiculous).  But we love these shows, so it isn’t that big a sacrifice.  I just wish we didn’t have to do the overnight drive immediately after the show ends (and, to be fair, the traffic isn’t as bad when you’re traveling at night, so we got home at 4:30, eleven and a half hours after departing, rather than the standard twelve from Maryland to the heart of Maine).

Second – sales were soft, to say the least.  I saw a lot of dead areas in Artists Alley when I got a chance to trawl down the aisles.  One of those happened to be directly in front of our table.  We sold a few things, made back a little less than half our table fee, but we didn’t do nearly as well as we have, in the past, at the Small Press Expo.  I talked to a number of other creators who had similar things to say.  A couple of really talented artists I know, who have a larger profile than myself and Dan and Matt, were not happy with their sales.  They weren’t going to be able to cover costs, and one of these guys had a book published through a small press publisher earlier this year.  Odd. 

But here’s the thing.  As “indy-friendly” as Baltimore is said to be – and I can’t outright deny that, as I know a couple of other guys in Artists Alley who had good shows – it really is a show for fans of Big-2 comics and their creators.  With retailers at the front of the hall offering longboxes full of Marvel and DC comics, along with books from other, smaller publishers, and writers and artists such as Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, Amanda Conner, Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez, Jim Starlin, Frank Cho, Mike Mignola, Art & Franco, Ramona Fradon, Justin Jordan, Rob Venditti, Sean Murphy, et al. available to meet with their fans, this show is heavily geared toward the mainstream comic fan.  And with as much of the market share as is taken up by those two publishers, it makes sense.  That means it’s even harder for the “little guy” to succeed at this show, unless they’re pushing zombies, which does not seem to be a fad that has yet to run out of steam.

The nice thing about doing these shows with Dan, and Matt this year, is the fact that none of us is tied to the table.  We can give each other a breather and allow for opportunities to stretch our legs, maybe do some shopping, peruse the tables of other Artists Alley exhibitors, and do the fan service thing.   Dan and Matt did some of the former, with Dan managing to fill in some more of the dwindling holes in his Batman collection and Matt picking up some cool prints from an artist just down the line from us, while I focused on the latter.  And, to be honest, I was surprised at how easy it was to get to meet some of these creators.  Other than one major exception, which I’ll get to in the next installment, the longest line I got in was for Mark Waid, and that one went very quickly. 

Other creators with whom I spoke included J.M. DeMatteis, Keith Giffen, and Kevin Maguire (I got all three to sign my original Justice League collection), Mark Buckingham, who signed two issues from his Miracleman run with Neil Gaiman, Mike Mignola (who only had three people in line when I got there o_O seriously?), Justin Jordan, Tradd Moore, and Rob Venditti (who’s been a great guy to talk to at conventions through the years and super-supportive of my writing), Mark Nelson (who drew an Alien in my collection of the original Dark Horse series), Greg Larocque, and Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez, who drew a beautiful Wonder Woman sketch in the front of the sketchbook I purchased from him.  I managed to get some of my favorite books signed and was able to thank the creators for what they’ve done, while also getting the opportunity to speak with some newer creators about writing and comics and various other topics.  All the writers and artists, with a glaring exception I will keep to myself, were very approachable and came across as genuinely pleased to meet their fans.  So, from the point of view of a fan, this show was definitely a success. 

But how would I judge it from the point of view of a writer working to “break in,” as it were?  That’s for next time.

-chris

(You can read more from Chris at Warrior 27.)

Dork Art: Battle For The Atom!

Matt may disagree on this matter, but I am LOVING Brian Michael Bendis & Stuart Immonen's All-New X-Men; the series is a celebration of all the things I loved about the X-Comics growing up.  Sure, Bendis loves to take his time, and wander his way through comic book storytelling but I love how his fetishizing of characters as well as the emotional torture he puts them through.  Angst.  It's what the X-Men are all about.  Soon Bendis will be spearheading another massive crossover for his merry band of mutants, The Battle of the Atom.  This event will run through All-New X-Men, Uncanny X-Men, Wolverine & The X-Men, as well as the Battle of the Atom mini-sereis drawn by Frank Cho.  It's so easy to begrudge Marvel and its lackluster sagas (Age of Ultron, Secret Invasion, Fear Itself were snoozes), but I can't help but get giddy over this one.  It harkens to those whacky days of X-Cutioner's Song and the height of my X-Love.  And with Frank Cho bringing those retro cool covers from Savage Wolverine to the party?  I am down.

--Brad

Brad's Week in Dork! (5/26/13-6/1/13)

This week may look deceptively small in the world of Dorkery, but dang, it seriously packed a punch.  Once upon a time, I bitched & moaned about the lack of culture in Washington DC...at least as far as the movie scene was concerned - still lots of killer music venues & events to discover.  But with the recent additions of The Alamo Drafthouse & The Angelika Film Center (along with the old standbys of the AFI Silver, West Side Cinema, & E Street Cinema) Washington DC now has an amazing lineup of movie houses.  You can't go a weekend without a vintage screening of The Wrath of Khan or Rocky Horror Picture Show.  And this week Matt & I finally witnessed Bruce Lee's iconic smasher, Enter The Dragon over at The Alamo, and I crossed off another Cinematic Resolution with Fellini's hipster classic 8 1/2.  And our big screen future sill includes Jaws 3D, Top Gun, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, & The Silence of the Lambs.  This truly is the Silver Screen paradise our Nation's Capital deserves.

However, as fun as those big screen classics were, the film that ruled this week was Rolling Thunder.  Shout Factory finally brought this grindhouse classic to blu ray on Tuesday, and I will be forever grateful.  I remember catching a VHS watch a decade back, enjoyed it a little, but couldn't quite see Quentin Tarantino's obsession.  Now I'm one of the converted, and it's a strong contender for this year's Top DVD Release.  If you're at all interested in exploitation cinema than you have to add this sick puppy to your collection.

Running Scared:  In this neon remake of Kurosawa’s Stray Dog, Paul Walker screams through some sort of New Yorker accent as the criminal goomba charged with stashing his bro’s cop killing revolver. Director Wayne Kramer leaves the slick Vegas cool of The Cooler behind, and attacks his audience with this vile & violent decent down the felonious rabbit hole. Once you get past the accent and the hysterics, Walker ain’t half bad.  The absurdity of the adventures he forces upon his family make Running Scared a must-see for grindhouse fans.  This is certainly not a wannabe exploitation a la Planet Terror, Machete, and The Expendables.  Running Scared is the contemporary "real deal" equivalent to those glory days of Roger Corman kill fests.  This flick relishes the muck of sex & violence; shines a bright red bulb on the gyrating horrors forced upon its characters and smiles at your revulsion or – gulp – perverted entertainment.  Sure, it has its winks too. Karl Roden’s demented admiration for The Duke. The Albino Pimp’s pathetic imitation of Tony Montana. The nosferatu shadows cast by the husband/wife child killing combo.  But there is an honesty to the exploitation that seems lacking from the pale pretenders. With Quentin Tarantino you’re often in on the joke, laughing along with or at his monstrous nods to popcorn past. Wayne Kramer’s Running Scared is sincere filth.  Over the top.  Gross.  Uncomfortable.   Wrong-headed.  But Kramer means it.

What I Did:  Jason’s comics are often painfully funny. He loves to riff on genre, scoring good chuckles from planting Athos on Mars or sending Hitler through the time tunnel.  In this collection of early shorts, there are a couple of good laughs, but mostly it's heartache to be found.  In particular, the coming of age saga “Hey Wait” had me wincing.  I recognize a lot of myself in the fanboy gushing over Neal Adams’ Batman, and their monster squad rules, but then the tale takes that Stand By Me turn, and Jason drops a surreal hiccup in the timeline.  What the cartoonist leaves us with is an event that permanently shapes, if not breaks, a life.  A moment of youth that forever shadows a sad existence. That’s not fun.  But it’s got bite. And Jason excels at bite.

Enter The Dragon:  AKA the film in which Bruce Lee puts all the chips down on the table. Not satisfied with his treatment in Hollywoodland, but riding the wave of a couple of international hits, Lee goes for broke with this Kung Fu Hustle and the result is an action masterpiece with a serious side order of cheese.  His injections of the “Fighting Without Fighting” philosophy add a fanciful flavor to the violence, but when he lands on Mortal Kombat island for a little sibling slaughter revenge, that dime store zen must be ignored.  The production balances out Lee's howling wisdom with the righteous Jim Kelly and the ultra smooth, bad luck sex machine John Saxon.  The trilogy of badasses face off against Jim Henson's evil twin (Bob Wall!) and Mister Han's interchangeable slice & dice hands.  Bruce Lee is a monster of muscle, and it's seriously delightful to watch him storm through their brittle bodies.
 

Repo Man:  "It happens sometimes.  People just explode.  Natural causes."  This is a wicked little comedy.  It's not so much Ha-Ha funny, but Alex Cox obviously understands punk culture and its reactionary anger to 1980s consumerism.  An odd, jokey tone tinged with real bitterness.  In a lot of ways, this is the perfect double bill with John Carpenter's They Live, another film brimming with weird sci-fi anger expertly targeted against the masters of the world - F You Reagan!  Emilio Estevez is a suburban drifter angry at the world for some mysterious reason.  Enter Harry Dean Stanton, a man with purpose, a Repo Man.  Together this dynamic duo snatch back the property of those who dare to live above their means.  And, of course, they're just one wrong repo away from total thermo nuclear warfare!  I'm fascinated that Criterion added this to their collection, but I'm beyond pleased with their Special Edition treatment.  A gorgeous disc, and an essential addition for genre hounds.

Savage Wolverine #5:  Frank Cho's run on this needless Wolverine spin-off comes, thankfully, to a close.  There were some great panels along the way (just look at that bastard snikt his claws into the jolly green giant), but the story left me cold.  Raptors.  Shanna the She-Devil.  Gorillas.  Man-Thing.  Hulk.  Whales.  I love all those things, but the story never brings them together in any kind of satisfying manner.  Maybe it's time to pair Cho with an actual writer, as it's obvious he needed a firmer narrative to hang his big booty action upon.

The Wake #1:  Scott Snyder & Sean Murphy's ten issue mini-series begins like the very best Michael Bay 'splosionfest.  An exiled scientist is recruited into a top secret government project populated with other quirky exiled scientists.  There is an apocalypse coming, but what's it all got to do with a teethy fishman?  Not sure, but I'm happy to find out.  And I'm happy to be enjoying Snyder's writing again.  His last batch of Bat-Books have been tiring; The Wake looks to be a real shot in the arm.

Hangover Part III:  This is a film I saw. I don’t really have much of an opinion. Did I laugh? Yeah. A few times.  But only when the film sinks to its most violently disturbed - Ken Jeong smothering a rooster, that's hilarious right?  Sure, I enjoyed the hangover detective work of the first film, and piecing together their drunken mistakes like a fratboy Sherlock Holmes.  The second films was a sad, pig bursting remake.  But this time the producers actually seem to think we care what happens in the lives of these sophmoric nimrods.  Maybe you care, I certainly don't.  John Goodman steps out of a Coen Brothers flick to scream threats at our trio of dunces, and Bradley Cooper manages to keep his dignity while Zack Galifinakis bulls his way through the china shop.  Attempts at originality just birth character repetition.  Meh.

8 1/2:  Is this the greatest movie about movies?  Some certainly seem to think so, but I must claim ignorance since Federico Fellini's surrealist exploration of craft left me scratching my head.  Although, I certainly see where Woody Allen stole his entire career from.  Marcello Mastroianni holds a certain charm, but as he bashes his ego upon various sexual prey, I found myself growing aggravated with his rich white man problems.  He's an impotent fool, tortured by the gifts that life has mysteriously granted him.  Where is the auteur?  All I see is nerves.  Maybe that's the point?  Maybe I'm just not the creatively haunted soul this film is meant for?  But if we were going to get this mopey, I could have used a bit more of the dreamscape and less of Mastroianni's lifeless reality.  Well, at least I can now check this off the bucket list.

Almost Silent:  The first half is a concoction of brief, repetitive strips mostly circling the monstrous antics of Draculas, Frankensteins, Cave Men, and Zombies.  The second tale is one of love lost, found, and lost again.  Typical sad-funny Jason work.  But with You Can't Get There From Here, the mad cartoonist strikes the heart with a sadsack tale of Frankenstein Love - where Igor might just be the most sympathetic character around.  And for The Living and The Dead, Jason tackles the world of George Romero and discovers his most bittersweet romance yet.  The early work of Jason might not be as strikingly unique as his more recent genre benders, but it also seems like the nutty Norwegian can do no wrong.

Rolling Thunder:  "You learn to love the rope."  In Taxi Driver, screenwriter Paul Schrader delved into the isolation and depression experienced by the returning Vietnam Vet.  It's a masterful exploration of loneliness and obsession helmed with revelatory craft by Martin Scorsese.  Released a year later, Rolling Thunder travels similar themes but under the watch of John Flynn (The Outfit) the result is a much more exploitative and angry vehicle.  After spending years in a POW camp, William Devane returns to Texas only to discover a son that doesn't recognize him, and a wife with a replacement lover.  Hiding behind his mirrored sunglasses, Devane stifles the rage below the surface, refusing to unleash his anger till a roving gang of borderland goons invade his hamlet home.  He's left mutilated on the kitchen floor, but it's just the excuse his temper has been waiting for - on comes the hook hand, then the sawed-ff.  Partnering with Tommy Lee Jones, the two killers cross into Mexico for a bloody whore house showdown.  Rolling Thunder is a shocking beast of a film.  It's success hinges on it's fury, but the heat is only as strong as the undeniable sadness inflicted upon Devane at the very beginning of the film.  The quiet moments between father & son.  His nodding acknowledgement at his wife's infidelity.  And when it's time to Death Wish, the audience is just as thankful for the character to have a mission to let loose biblical terror.  Taxi Driver is for the contemplative cineaste.  Rolling Thunder is for the Old Testament avengers in the audience.

--Brad