Newsstand: November 1981

In addition to the second and third issues of Dragonslayer and Raiders of the Lost Ark, I see that November, 1981 saw the arrival of Jack Kirby's Captain Victory #1, the first comic from brand-new publisher Pacific Comics. I probably didn't buy this the moment it came out, but I'm pretty sure I bought it before issue two was published. So I'm counting it as a comic I bought when it was new.

This would probably have been my first real exposure to Jack Kirby's work, at least with me being aware of his name being connected to it. My recollection is that I found it exciting, but also kind of weird. I felt he drew his heads too square. I also remember thinking that he put quotation marks around words for no apparent reason, and his dialogue overall was kind of silly compared to what I was used to at that point.

Today, when I read some of his other almost-contemporary writing (in the pages of Losers or Kamandi) I can see that, while idiosyncratic, it has a great deal of urgency and energy to it. His art also has a certain bold, in-your-face quality that, while not as nuanced as his work from the 60s, moves across the page like nothing else.

Ultimately, the Jack Kirby from this period onwards is my Jack Kirby. When I think of his work, I appreciate what he did in the pages of Marvel comics in the 60s, and I still adore his work from the 70s. But the first stuff that pops to mind is the stuff that was brand new when I was just becoming a fan. My Jack Kirby is the man who created Captain Victory and Silver Star. My Jack Kirby is the artist of the soon-to-be-reprinted Super Powers comics based on the toys.

While these characters and others have been revived recently, I wish someone would reprint Captain Victory. I don't have those issues any more, and would love to reread them.

In a number of ways, I think finding Captain Victory #1 on the counter of Comics and Comix on Telegraph Avenue may have been the real starting point for my comics collecting days. Not only was it the first issue of a new series, but it was the first issue published by a new publisher. Knowing that gave this issue a certain sense of moment and weight when I bought it. It would have been the first time I bought a comic for reasons other than it featured a familiar character.

So, yeah, this was probably it. This was probably where it all began.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Newstand: September 1981

After a slow month last month, it looks like I picked up a few more books in September of 1981.

Did I buy and read Krypton Chronicles #1? I suppose I must have, but unlike the World of Krypton miniseries that came out at the time of the first Superman movie, I have no real memory of this. (On the other hand, I do distinctly recall that I did not buy the Steve Gerber/Gene Colan Phantom Zone miniseries that came out around the same time. So maybe I didn't get this after all. Who knows?)

I'm more positive that I purchased Marvel Super Special #19, adapting then-new James Bond movie For Your Eyes Only, with art by Howard Chaykin and Vince Colletta. It's still one of my favorite James Bond movies, and I recall this as being an okay adaptation. But how cool would it be to see a James Bond comic with art by Chaykin on his own?

I also bought the first issue of Raiders of the Lost Ark, as a miniseries rather than the complete adaptation in Marvel Super Special #18. At the time, I thought there was something particularly cool about buying the serialized version of a story inspired by the old serials, complete with a cliffhanger ending. Today, I'm impressed that it was written by Walter Simonson, and drawn by John Buscema and Klaus Janson. Regardless, it's a good adaptation of another favorite movie. (In hindsight, I prefer the Chaykin cover on the Marvel Super Special.)

And I believe that would be about it for this month.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Detective Comics 394

Picking up from the cliffhanger ending of Batman 217, Detective Comics 394 continues the story (loosely) of the Wayne Foundation's VIP program.

In a story written by Frank Robbins and drawn by Bob Brown and Joe Giella, Bruce Wayne finds himself confronted by a one-eyed Native American named "Dakota" Jones. Jones, a race car driver, accuses Wayne of having his car shot at during a recent race, so that Wayne's own driver could make his way to victory. This is, of course, absurd, so Batman and Jones investigate.

Unlike Batman 217, the mystery here is a bit overly complicated and Byzantine, and doesn't feel quite as natural. The idea that the shot was fired from a weapon concealed in the Wayne driver's car, triggered from the spectator stand with a remote control disguised as a transistor radio, is just a couple of layers too deep and complicated for what is essentially a gambling scam.

There's a lot more clunky dialogue in this issue, and a lot more of Bruce calling Alfred "Alf" or "Alfie." It's hard to tell how much of that stuff was a result of the Batman writers and editors trying to make a transition away from the camp tone of the Batman TV series, trying to sound "hip" and contemporary, and how much is just clumsy writing.

As one might imagine in a mainstream comic from 1969, the question of "Dakota" Jones' ethnicity isn't dealt with particularly sensitively. He's colored red, and there are a lot of references to pow-wows, peace pipes, and scalping. Having said that, at least Jones' heritage doesn't color every piece of dialogue or action he's involved with. The fact that he's Native American is actually fairly incidental. Since it's not important to the story, I'm not sure why Robbins made this choice. Maybe he was looking for a more exotic option than the usual bunch of white guys? Hard to say.

The art, by Brown and Giella, is fine as far as it goes, although it pales in comparison to the Novick/Giordano team on Batman 217. Brown's figures are just a little more stiff, and his action is just a little less dynamic. It's straightforward and serviceable, but not spectacular. And the fact that I know that the next issue is drawn by Neal Adams makes this issue seem that much less visually exciting.

The book also features a Robin backup story, written by Robbins and drawn by Gil Kane and Murphy Anderson. Telling the story of Dick Grayson's first day at college, we get a view of campus protests that very much feels written by an old man trying to be relevant. The notion of campus protestors faking their arrests and brutality at the hands of the (fake) police isn't bad, but it's not great, either. And the execution feels very simplified, when a story based in any sort of political situation should have all the complexities that political stories bring.

Still, it's only the first part of a multi-part story. And the art, by Kane and Anderson, is gorgeous as always. So no complaints there.

Overall, in its first month, the Bronze Age Batman is still finding its way. The emphasis on Batman as a detective is very welcome. And, with the first Denny O'Neill/Neal Adams story right around the corner, it's only going to get better.

 

Batman #217

I started my Bronze Age Batman reread with Batman 217, written by Johnny Hazard creator Frank Robbins and drawn by Irv Novick and Dick Giordano. The Batcave Companion listed this issue first in their Bronze Age checklist, so that's my guide.

It's also an issue that heralds major changes in the Bat-status quo. I don't want to get off on a rant about the cosmetic changes that contemporary comics foist on readers under the guise of "Nothing will ever be the same again!" (Until, of course, it eventually is the same again.) But the changes in this issue (Robin heading to college, Bruce Wayne moving out of Wayne Manor and into a penthouse atop the Wayne Foundation building) did, in fact, last for quite a long time. (Permanently, in the case of Dick Grayson moving away.) And alongside the changes, we also get a complete story about Batman investigating a mystery.

With this story, we still find ourselves firmly entrenched in the era when Batman was still the World's Greatest Detective, not just the World's Greatest Guy at Hitting Crazy People (not to mention the World's Biggest Dick). In this issue, he begins a (short-lived) initiative to specifically seek out and help victims of crimes who otherwise are not seeing justice done.

The first benificiary is to be a female doctor, whose husband was murdered, and who now needs help with funding their clinic. In the course of meeting and interviewing her, Bruce Wayne learns the circumstances of the doctor's murder. As one might expect, the keen analytical mind of Batman can't help putting the clues together from her story, and ends up investigating the crime himself. And, as one might expect, he solves it.

Although the mystery is solved by the end of the issue, it doesn't feel particularly rushed or simplified. Robbins is a professional writer, and tells a compelling, interesting story within his allotted page count. He also allows the reader to follow along with the investigative process, providing clues but giving the reader the chance to put them together themselves, before revealing the answers.

In terms of characterization, there are a couple of odd moments. Bruce's reaction to Dick leaving seems a bit overwrought. This might be because seeing Bruce Wayne or Batman express any kind of emotion besides anger and dickery has been alien to the character for the past 20 years or so, and also possibly because it's really only dealt with for a couple of panels before getting on with the story. (This may also be related to Robbins' background as a newspaper strip writer, where information needs to be communicated quickly in just a few panels.) Bruce also refers to Alfred as "Alf," which, as a longtime reader, just feels weird.

Art-wise, there are no similar odd moments. Novick retired as an artist when I was just getting into comics, so I am only familiar with his work through reprints and back issues. The few new stories I read when I was a kid were published at a time I was enamored with guys like George Perez, Keith Giffen, and John Byrne. I know Novick drew a Superman/Blackhawk story I read in DC Comics Presents, but since he wasn't as flashy as the guys I liked, it didn't leave a particularly strong impression.

Now, I can see his command of storytelling and anatomy. Neal Adams will always be hailed as the definitive '70s Batman artist, but I'd love to see Novick get some recognition as well, because he's great. He includes some particularly thoughtful touches, such as including a spectral Batman representing Bruce's thoughts as he puts the clues together. And, of course, he's ably inked by Dick Giordano.

Despite the quirks of the writing mentioned above, Batman 217 is a great jumping-on point to the series. (Well, it would have been 40 years ago.) It definitely lives up to the promise of the cover image, making major changes to the series while still presenting an accessible story to show readers what the series is like.