I try my hardest to remove myself from my reviews on comics. Analysis works best with a sense of objectivity, especially when the object under review is laden with the creator's personal intimations, as comics often are. Most cinema is made with an attention to the collective viewing experience - and all of television too - but with comics, especially in creator-owned titles, there is only you, passively receiving what the author wants to tell you.
Autobio comics can amplify this effect, as direct reportage of the creator's life story, like heat-seeking empathy missiles that might hit close to home, or at the very least, dazzle you with their alienated force. In Rick Worley's collected A Waste of Time (graciously given to me by the fine guys at the NYCC Prism comics booth, thanks y'all) the diary-like webcomic of the same name re-formats the strip into an epistolary to all of Rick's twink groupies. But it's more than some San Fran gay's catalog of lovers. Its extra-wide presentation allows the four-panel strip to breathe, so that when the seamlessly-integrated full-page portraits make their appearance, it's as if you were flipping through Rick's actual sketchbook. To see the characters talk about the preparation for a sketch, followed by the sketch itself, you're struck with a feeling of veracity. Take the authenticity of Pekar's American Splendor, and blend it with classicist artcomix values, and you get an idea of the beauty behind Rick's book. He even goes so far as to invite all his readers so moved by his work to contact him and be his groupies. Literally fucking with your audience. It's genius.
Fan interaction has been present in comics since the days of the letters columns, but it's come to a head with the reprints of Matt Fraction's Casanova. So far the backmatter has regaled us with Matt's tales of drug addiction and recently, the psychological impact of an accident in his youth. The 2.5 volumes we've seen have always been a post-modernist backlog of Fraction's favorite comics-cultural references, but the most recent issue, Avaritia II, straight up features Fraction himself, interacting with fans at a con before his creation comes to shoot him down. Casanova Quinn's mission is to eradicate all instances of his arch-nemesis Newman Xeno across the multiverse, and wouldn't you know it, a surrogate for Matt himself falls on the hitlist. Newman recurs as a creative type in any universe, and Fraction uses this to explore some very personal insecurities involved in the creative process, whether or not they apply to him directly.
After probing their authors, both these works turn the bloody forceps on us, and ask to dig a little deeper. There's a bit in universe 9.999 (The Fraction/Xeno reality), where, realizing disappointment in an encounter with a fan, pseudo-Faction/pseudo-Newman despondently claims, "OH GREAT." "YOU'RE GONNA GO HOME AND BLOG ABOUT THIS OR WHATEVER". Which describes, too perfectly, my reaction last year to my meeting with series artist Gabriel Bá. This is precisely when comics are at their most beautiful. When the story gets all bug-eyed and sentimental and all you can mutter is "but...me too...". Whether you're inspiring your readers to draw nudes of their boyfriends, or bitching about how hard it can be to write stuff, those are the moments where the emotional investment pays off. Thank you Rick. Thank you Matt. Thank you comics.
With DC's September initiative to publish their comics digitally on the same day as they're available in print just two months away, I felt it appropriate to have a look at their digital strategy as it stands now, before the big shakeup. What territory have they claimed with their mobile device delivery system, just over a year since it was first introduced? It seems they've made little headway in cornering the future of the comics market, actually, partially due to their partnership with Comixology, their digital publishers.
For those keeping track, there's a new gay comics character to include in your rainbow compendium, but it's your call on what to think of this minor character. He's the son of Chief Blake Morrow, the good guy to Mark Millar's "Nemesis" mini-series. This week's Issue 3 ramps up the trademark Millar disgust when Nemesis challenges the Chief on a grueling psychological level, insulting and threatening his family life. The anti-hero kidnaps the chief's kids and forces Morrow to acknowledge his wife's affair, his son's closested homosexuality, and the fact that his daughter had previously had an abortion. In return for the Chief's cooperation, Nemesis releases the kids, but not before inseminating Morrow's daughter with his son's juice and- wait for it- rigging her uterus to collapse should anyone attempt an abortion. Great villain, eh? He's ruined Morrow in the long run. Consider that Nemesis is a family-driven villain, traumatized by his father's judicial demise and swearing a vendetta on Blake Morrow. His proposition leaves Morrow with the choice of grandfathering an inbred, or being stuck with no reproductive offspring, which Nemesis would see as a huge kick to the 'nads. I can't be personally offended by such a situation, but I think there's a suggested challenge to the legitimacy of homosexual pairing within the ultimatum Nemesis makes. Morrow does state he loves his son regardless of his orientation, and it's less to do with homophobia and more with equating adopted children with the genetically inferior. Though this isn't as if Millar hasn't done incestuous deviants many times before. Could be I'm overreacting, but there's something to chew on.
A brief interview with Darwyn Cooke has been making the rounds recently, where he discusses the pitfalls of modern comics storytelling, maligning the mature themes and drastic character modifications, supposedly because these actions take the fun out of the industry and make them less accessible for everyone. Numerousthreads have gone up in arms taking offense to his statement, which deserves a careful examination.
Last week's Birds of Prey #2 saw the death of a gay protagonist. Given the recent discussions about the seeming dispensability of DC's minority characters, along with the gore that's manifested with disconcerting frequency in Brightest Day's opening issues, I felt that an analysis of the death was fitting, not only as a send-off for the character I loved to read, but to look for implications of what this means for gay heroes, if anything at all.
Spoilers follow.
The husboyfner and I went to go see Kick-Ass last night with some of our friends. It has a hot star, it has superheroes, it's pretty much required viewing, right? When it was over, though, I had no idea what to think: is it satire, farce, mindless action or none of the above? Am I supposed to feel good, bad or nothing by the end?
What I kept finding fascinating prior to seeing it was that no one I knew who had already viewed it could tell me whether or not they liked it. Whenever I asked anyone they would open their mouths to respond, look at the ground and then say, "I don't know." Now I understand why: this is a movie about amoral psychotics whose behavior is almost wholly abhorrent but when we watch an action/adventure movie we expect to root for someone or another and, lulled into that familiar pattern, finding one's self sympathetic for persons who are homicidally disturbed is unsettling to say the least.
Except... I do that almost every time I read a comic book, don't I? Or do I?
Now that digital comics are becoming a more and more viable reading option, it's critical that the printed originals receive careful attention in being adapted. It's a chance for publishers to put out work they already own with just minor tweaks, a way to garner revenue from a series that's lost public attention. When I checked out the IDW app on my iPod touch, I liked what I saw: first issues for free and a healthy library of decently priced, older titles. IDW could stand to gain from increased attention in the App Store as a smaller publisher, so I was surprised to discover how carelessly the group had broken down their products for their pixelated recreation.
This Wednesday's batch of releases includes the comic tie-in to Bioware's hit title Dragon Age: Origins. While most video-game comics draw the irk of fans for their vapid fanwanking, Dragon Age was among last year's greatest RPGs, and was well-received for its progressive depiction of gay characters, so I could see where this site's readership could get behind buying Dragon Age #1. Still, I must urge you, Pink Krytonians, please, please, do not buy this title. As VorpalBunny pointed out earlier on GayGamer, EA thought it would be best to employ that Orson Scott Card guy to flesh out their most forward-thinking franchise. He may be the author of Ender's Game, but he's also a raging homophobe and vocal opponent of same-sex marriage.
Biased paranoia aside, Card is an acclaimed author who knows what he's doing with world-building, but you have to consider that regardless of how great the series may potentially be, any support for the run may benefit the writer and his cause as director of the National Organization for Marriage. EA Comics went for a bigger name to garner sales, but compromised the worth of its most sexually inclusive universe yet.They've dropped the ball here; For a title that so many players remember for its gay elves, an open-minded isn't expected, it's necessary for keeping the maintaining the spirit of its canon. And while it isn't likely that Card will explicitly include homophobic elements in the story, this is yet another example of the author's Mormon values-fueled hatred where he flip-flops on viewpoints without any logical justification. He defends communism, yet attempts to incite popular revolts against the fight for equality. His fictional characters can freely practice idolatry and witchcraft condoned by the book of Mormon, but they can't express and explore the affections that Origins embraced in its storytelling. As a community united, it would be wrong to extend him our patronage. Buy the DLC, read the novels, but when it comes to comics, save your cash for the professional work.
Detective Comicsrecently won the GLAAD award for outstanding comic book, with most interpretative commentary skewed towards celebrating the "Elegy" and "Go" storylines from the past few months, though there' hardly a nod at The Question second feature which appeared in those books. Sure, Kate Kane is DC's undisputed kickass lesbian, but Renee Montoya has had her share of female empowerment, both in her side feature and in her Detective #859 cameo. And yet, awesome as their realistic portrayals might be, these characters owe a lot to Gotham City itself for enabling their storylines. Batman's turf have evolved beyond its crime-ridden alleyways to become a bootcamp of sorts for the emerging gay hero.
Besides the stunning examples of those two lovely ladies, there's Gotham's new DA, Kate Spencer, who has her gay co-counsel Damon Matthews, and gay-in-the-making son Ramsey. Gotham's a fair venue for such a large gay supporting cast; Characters who operate within it benefit from its notoriety. Manhunter relied on Crisis tie-ins to make its sales, her co-feature in Streets of Gotham pits her against Harvey Dent and makes a better story than whatever this Abuse fellow is doing in the main story. Gotham works that way, it's got Arkham and its architecture that give it a certain taste, the backdrop neccesary for a hero's coming out.
Even the most perverse reboot wouldn't be able to out a character from rural Metropolis. Imagine Jimmy Olsen as a fashion photographer, to regurgitate one possible stereotype. It can't even begin to work as well as the characters closer to the Wayne estate could actualize. The Batman villains represent subversions of Batman's realistic elements, corruptions of fear, wealth, law enforcement. Going back to Metropolis, the only place capable of generating the same buzz within the DCU, we have villains that do battle with idealization. They're the smartest, or the shrewdest. Gay characters, regardless of their heroic alignment, need to be challenged by flawed counterparts to develop the depth that can make them stable and established characters. Gotham is more than a springboard for those minor characters vying for the mainstream, it's what makes these realistic men and women the "accurate and inclusive representations" that GLAAD is looking for, wholeheartedly deserving those laurels from the gay community.
If I had written this article for a comic book centric website, then I would have said "Top Ten Gay Moments in SUPER HERO Comic Book History" But for a larger audience, "Comic Book" still means "Super Hero."
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This wasn't a list based on quality, otherwise the awful Rawhide Kid series or Alpha Flight's coming out issue wouldn't even be here. Those stories got headlines in the mainstream press. Stan Lee went on CNN to talk about their "gay cowboy" book. Rictor and Shatterstar were all over sites like Perez Hilton and similar ones.
Which is where he loses me. You could argue that the overtones between Batman and Robin caused a media frenzy when they were more prominent, but to argue that they're significant, or even mildly relevant to LGBT(QI) acceptance in comics simply can't be a honest statement. Doonesbury is a syndicated strip with an expansive readership, and exposed thousands of readers to heartfelt commentary in Andy's battle with AIDS, which, while we're discussing semantics, is much more of a "moment" than the haphazard pairings and character names that appear on the list. No one can blame Diaz for trying to expose his readers to these admittedly prominent, gay characters, but the article would've hugely benefited from additional, comprehensive research and more selective diction. What comics do you think would better fit the "Important Gay Moments" mantle?
Second alternate: Do Tea Parties Happen In Tea Rooms?
I keep trying to articulate the brain-freeze that sets in every time I consider the Tea Baggers' collective finger-waggling at, of all people, Captain America of late. If you follow comics blogs or, in some cases, non-comics political blogs, you've probably heard: Captain America and Falcon went to rural Idaho in issue #602 and found themselves in the middle of a "tax protest" which was transparently a Tea Party protest. Lots of Palinites got their collective knickers in a knot because in that issue Falcon notes that he - a black guy from Harlem - probably isn't going to fit in well with them. In response, Joe Quesada apologized on behalf of Marvel and promised that reprintings and trade paperback collections would have the most obvious hallmarks of Tea Party identity removed from those scenes.
I think apologizing is pointless and editing the imagery in future collections is caving in for no good reason, but I also think the Tea Party reaction to this has probably involved enough pearl-clutching for all of us, so I'll (mostly) spare you the soapboxing. Why bother, anyway, when Brendan McGuirk of Comics Alliance has so clearly laid out exactly why Captain America and Marvel shouldn't apologize to anyone. I had gone in hoping that he would mention Cap's anger over Watergate, which he does. What I don't see mentioned is that the whole Civil War story arc at Marvel was clearly in some ways a reflection of the controversies and questions surrounding the Patriot Act in specific and our society's post-9/11 atmosphere in general and that Captain America was the leader of what could be read as either the liberal faction, the anti-government insurrectionists, or both. Captain America is not a safe, predictable hero who blindly accepts orders or allegiances - what one might expect from one who uses a defensive item as his primary weapon - and the Tea Party reaction, that Captain America is somehow "theirs" or exists only to exemplify the parts of America that are obedient and approving, is an irony too great for me to capture in mere words. These are people who, in the real world, shout down elected representatives at town hall meetings, take guns to political rallies and wave signs about wanting to "water the tree of liberty," an allusion to and complete misapprehension of a quote from Thomas Jefferson that seems to praise violent revolution. Now they want to stop everything and demand an apology because the Falcon said something that hurt their feelings?
Hang on to your fanboy knickers, there's a rumor that's all of a sudden exploded on comics blogs:
First there was the story that DC Comics Publisher and President Paul Levitz had personally prevented any Watchmen 2 projects, because, despite their differences, he believed that as this would be against Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' wishes, it would cause bery bad feeling in the creative community and would be a creatively bankrupt move.
[...]
I understand now that this considered a pet project of Dan DiDio, SVP-Executive Editor. That he is determined to impress new bosses by building on DC's biggest selling comic book of all time with multiple prequel comic miniseries and spinoff ongoing projects.
So what do I think? Read on for a surprisingly detached reaction.
Review: Stormwatch #1
Stormwatch #1, the first of DC's new 52 to feature LGBT characters (before the reboot, at least) is out to add a new cosmic dimension to the post-Flashpoint universe. There isn't much to be said for our beloved broship yet (though the last page shows a handshake between Apollo and Midnighter and promises a "Big Bang"), but the issue is a great gauge for whether or not you'll want to stick with the series to see the romance purportedly unfold....
