The GUIDE Makes Me Perplexed

Five cogent comments on TV GUIDE's recently published list of "the 60 greatest cartoons of all time":

(1)  What, precisely, qualifies as a "TV cartoon"?  TVG doesn't seem to know.  Putting rebroadcasts of classic theatrical cartoons on the same "level" as made-for-TV series makes no sense, unless you're talking about things like the early-60s Popeye cartoons or The Bugs Bunny Show.

(2)  NO Disney Afternoon series???  Well, Disney has no one to blame but itself for that sad fact, given how little respect its video and PR divisions have shown for the marvelous products of the "WDTVA Golden Age."  I'm not going to grouse about the presence of Kim Possible on the list, but it's hard to countenance Phineas and Ferb making the cut but such series as DuckTales, TaleSpin, Darkwing Duck, and Gargoyles being left out.

(3)  There isn't quite as much "presentism" apparent in this list as I'd originally feared.  Sure, there's a clear overrepresentation of 21st-century series, but the inclusion of Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear, The Flintstones, and several other "old-screen" Hanna-Barbera favorites -- not to mention the evergreen Rocky and Bullwinkle -- should be at least somewhat gratifying to those of us of a certain age (including those who, like me, watched these shows in syndication).  Listing Scooby-Doo at #5 may be pushing things, however.

(4)  I'm a bit surprised at the lack of anime series on the list.  Not that I was seriously expecting Astro Boy or Kimba the White Lion to make the cut, but no Speed Racer?  No Pokemon?  No Sailor Moon?  The latter two omissions are particularly noteworthy -- and chilling.  I have in my mind's eye visions of San Diego Cons of 15 to 20 years ago, at which Poke-players and cosplaying "Moonies" were such a massive presence.  (Then again, people selling and collecting Pogs were also easily found at that time.)  Bronies are currently all kinds of excited over My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic's appearance on the list.  Let us hope that history does not repeat itself.

(5)  Jem and the Holograms... Thundercats...  He-Man.  The rest is silence.

Book Review: THE COMPLETE DICK TRACY, VOLUME 15: 1953-54 by Chester Gould (IDW/Library of American Comics, 2013)

It's hard to argue Max Allan Collins' points in the Introduction to this latest TRACY collection that (1) the villains on display are not exactly what you would call "inspired" and (2) Gould appears to be both repeating recent plot tropes and trying to make lightning strike more than once in terms of introducing exploitable new characters.  That's not to say that innovation, of a sort, can't be found here; you just have to be more diligent than usual in searching it out.

Our cover boy, 3-D Magee, doesn't seem to have a lot going for him apart from the "goofy glasses" that represent his only real connection to the contemporary 3-D movie fad.  He and his female partner Pony engage in a lengthy and occasionally tedious scheme to extort money from B.O. Plenty's rich oilman brother Uncle Kincaid (aka "Uncle Canhead").  (What was it about the early 50s that inspired comics creators to dote so heavily on wealthy characters?  First Uncle Scrooge, then Richie Rich, and now "Canhead.")  The fact that the subplot to this story involves "Canhead" (who resembles a cross between a shorn B.O., Popeye, and Harry Truman) building the Plenty family a bathroom tells you all you need to know about the level of inspiration involved.  However, Magee does merit notice in one respect: Despite the Irish surname and the appetite for giant mounds of spaghetti, he is pretty clearly the strip's first major (or semi-major, even) Hispanic villain.  He hails from Peru and is an expert knife-thrower (where did the idea that Hispanics excelled at chucking sharp cutlery originate, I wonder, and where did it disappear to?).  In a sense, the Magee continuity is a precursor to Gould's more elaborate Havana continuity of the late 50s.

Among Magee's nefarious deeds is an attempt to paralyze Sparkle Plenty and her new "sister" Little Wingy by sicking poisonous Peruvian ants on them.  Unfortunately, this is not the girls' only traumatic experience during this period.  Following an "eh" continuity starring jewel crook Open-Mind Monty (so-called because he carries a supposed piece of a knife stuck in his forehead) and featuring an attempt to con an inheritance out of a dying rich man (AGAIN with the rich people!), Sparkle and Wingy are swept away into the wild by a flood.  This is an obvious effort to replay elements of both the Crewy Lou/Bonnie Braids Tracy and Tonsils/Mr. Crime continuities from 1951-52, complete with a mysterious backwoods figure (in this case, the blind sharpshooter Rainbow Reilly) who helps the good guys.  Gould appears to have eventually had second thoughts about the repeated "child endangerment" plots, because they more or less fade away after this one.  Instead, he will pitch into a short period of "villain comeback" stories, starting with the resurrection of the supposedly drowned Mumbles.  Those stories could also be considered "cheaters" of a sort, but at least they're more energetic than the relatively pallid ones on display here.

There seems to be a noticeable amount of cheese-paring in this volume when it comes to the by-now-expected extras.  There is no text feature following the last strip, and the "Previously in DICK TRACY..." writeup leading into the first strip is also absent.  I'm more concerned about the latter omission, since it gives new readers (and there's always a chance that such individuals exist) no clue as to what came before.  At least Collins continues to provide interesting insights in his Introductions, which also feature a wide variety of TRACY ephemera.

Bottom Out of the Tub?

It's been quite some time since I reviewed a "traditional" comic, and I'm beginning to wonder when (if?) I ever will again.  The American Disney comics license remains in limbo despite Disney's ownership of Marvel.  This is disappointing, but, in all honesty, not surprising.  At the moment, I personally believe that the best bet for a new Disney line would be for Disney to strike some kind of deal with IDW Publishing.  IDW's handling of POPEYE and ARCHIE material has earned praise, and the folks who work there have certainly demonstrated a sufficiently sharp "eye for history" to handle the Disney comics well, should they have the chance to do so.  Unfortunately, Marvel's hogging the front of the line and doesn't appear to have the faintest sort of interest in checking out.  Indeed, it's sprawled on the floor, snoring contentedly in a sleeping bag until the next Marvel feature film is released.

As for Ape Entertainment's RICHIE RICH titles, well, I'm beginning to wonder about the viability of the ENTIRE Ape enterprise.  Several weeks have passed without any Ape releases turning up on ComicList.  At last check, the most recent note posted on Ape releases on the Ape home page was dated August 13.  No RICHIE RICH titles are listed among the "Kizoic" September and October releases (assuming that said releases ever actually APPEAR, of course).  What is going ON at the Monkey House?

It appears that I may have reached the same "tipping point" that Joe did in February...  the end of my new-comics-purchasing days.  The main difference, of course, is that I am still getting all of those classic comic-strip reprint volumes.  This seems apropos given that I'm within a month of celebrating a half-century on God's green Earth.  I've always had a bent for nostalgia; the undertow just seems stronger than normal at the moment.

DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 8, "Lost Crown of Genghis Khan"

As this RETROSPECTIVE grinds on, I'll occasionally post DuckTales-related findings that I've gleaned from Internet searches.  Today, I'm offering you a DT commercial of exquisite rarity.  Most of us have probably seen the commercials featuring Launchpad ("It's me, Launchpad McQuack!") and Scrooge ("He's the original million-dollar duck..."), plus perhaps the "Lights -- Camera -- DuckTales!" bit with the Beagle Boys.  (If some of you haven't, just let me know and I'll be sure to post them.)  This Webby-focused commercial, by contrast, I have no clear recollection of seeing at all.  I MUST have seen it at some point, but, if so, it was at most once.  It's of canonical significance because it marks only one of two times that Webby's last name, Vanderquack, was ever revealed; the other came during next week's featured episode, "Pearl of Wisdom."  It's curious that the beans were spilled so early in the game but that Webby's cognomen was never referred to in any other episode.  Perhaps the other writers simply forgot to pick up on the hint?

With its adaptation of Carl Barks' 1956 adventure "The Lost Crown of Genghis Khan" -- why the definite article was dropped is a mystery to me, too -- DuckTales replicates its success with "Scrooge's Pet" even as it takes far more liberties with the Barks story than it did with "The Lemming with the Locket."  I agree with GeoX that a number of the alterations are for the better; in fact, I'm willing to go him one better by heartily wishing that we'd seen more of The Explorers' Club, the gaggle of adventure-lovers that are competing with Scrooge to find Khan's fabled diadem in Shadow Pass.  Putting aside antagonist Sir Guy Standforth for the moment, Percival and the never-named "thin explorer with the monocle" might have played the same role in future Explorers' Club stories that Jackson and Finch do in the Egmont TNT stories, with their efforts serving as a comical contrast to Scrooge's during the course of various races for riches.  (Significantly, when we visit the Explorers' Club HQ early in the episode, a line of portraits depicting various adventurous exploits is shown, and Scrooge's is the only one not showing a slapstick "impending disaster" gag.)  Elderly Lord Battmounten appears to have been reduced to the role of "armchair expert" by this time, but he could have advised Scrooge as to the existence of treasures and otherwise served as a genteel kibitzer.  Scrooge has always had more than his share of foes; a group of adult characters who are at worst "friendly rivals" of his would have been a refreshing addition to the stable of supporting players.

This episode also takes a few notable chances by not being afraid to show the characters -- very much including the youngsters -- in legitimate peril.  As well-told as Barks' story was, you never got the feeling that Scrooge, Donald, and the boys were in any real danger; the Himalayan setting was as climatologically benevolent as such a setting can reasonably be expected to be, and the somewhat pathetic appearance and nature of "Gu," the Abominable Snowman who had the crown and imprisoned the Ducks only to be bought off by a ticking watch, made the Ducks' travails in the ice cave seem something a bit South of serious.  In the DuckTales version, by contrast, our gang survives sabotage and a plane crash, then endure a fierce mountain storm and an avalanche... and, in the gender-bended "Snowy"'s frigid subterranean home, Scrooge, Launchpad, and HD&L come within a feather's breadth of freezing to death!  The scene in which LP and the boys face their gelid fate seems more disturbing today than when I first saw it.  The "blue beaks" are a bit of overkill -- we've never seen the Ducks suffer that malady in other stories set in ultra-cold climes -- but the quartet's valiant efforts to stay awake and avoid falling into what might be an eternal sleep are truly nothing to chuckle at. Some real polar explorers, as we know, were not so lucky. 

The lengthy ice-slide sequence that lands LP and HD&L in this predicament is still visually impressive today, but I've come to appreciate the above sequence a lot more.  As feather-raising as the sliding business is, it's all of a piece with a good deal of more or less "conventional" cartoon action, with the only true frisson arising from the presence of children.  It took a lot more guts to show kids on the verge of hypothermia.  I believe that it was Greg who complained at one point that WDTVA seemed unwilling to skin HD&L up in the manner in which Kit Cloudkicker was often imperiled during TaleSpin.  A revisit of this scene might oblige him to do a rethink. 

Earlier in the episode, of course, our heroes aren't in much better shape.  Occasional gags -- Scrooge duplicating Kimba's "man-shake" of "The Day the Sun Went Out" comes immediately to mind -- lighten the mood just enough to make us temporarily forget that the Ducks are stranded in the mountains with few provisions.  Tellingly, one incident that writer Anthony Adams, about whom more later, did preserve from the Barks original involved one of the Nephews shivering with fear.  Remind me again... even if Scrooge DID intend to leave Webby and HD&L behind in the village while he and Launchpad headed for Shadow Pass, why did he bring the kids to the village in the first place?  Wouldn't it have been simpler to have left them in Duckburg?  Perhaps he remembered "Dinosaur Ducks" and figured that he'd be better off if the kids were under his watchful eye at all times, as opposed to being tempted to stow away.  Whatever Scrooge's rationale was, it's safe to say that it blew up right in his face.  He admits as much by deciding to abandon the search for the Crown and get the kids back to safety, only to have those plans fatally disrupted by Sir Guy's TNT-powered avalanche.  Those looking for prima facie evidence that the DT Scrooge is "softer" than Barks' Scrooge should probably make this episode one of their first stops... though the "softness" displayed here is entirely rational.

The substitution of Launchpad for Donald is this ep's third major advantage over Barks' story -- and here, unlike the series of insults that Scrooge shot LP's way during "Scrooge's Pet," the strength of LP's contribution seems as solid today as it did in 1987.  DT fans are well aware of the numerous references to Launchpad as a "ladies' man" during this episode, from the Russian dance that he does for the village females to the quip "Usually, it's the girls chasin' me!" to his ultimate fate of being pursued by the amorous "Snowy" after having rescued the snow beast from a fall off a cliff.  Less noticeable, but just as funny, is LP's stashing of dozens of glossies of himself in the airplane lockers where the parachutes would normally be stored.  That sounds much more like something Darkwing Duck would do.  (Perhaps all of that egotistical "life force" got sucked out of LP during those years of playing sidekick to DW?)  Adams cleverly pairs these examples of exalted self-regard with more than the usual number of situations in which LP makes a mental and physical fool of himself -- banging his head on an airplane wing, forgetting the chutes, plopping face-first into a snow bank.  LP even flirts with "hero hypocrisy" when he teases finking out of the Ducks' search for the missing Webby because he's scared of the as-yet-unseen "Snowy."

As for Sir Guy Standforth, I think that he makes a reasonably solid villain, a claim that is at least partially supported by his successful "return to action" in kaboom!'s DUCKTALES #4.  Sure, Pat Fraley's voice for the character is whiny, but then, you're supposed to dislike this guy.  If I have one complaint, it's that he would probably have seemed a stronger adversary had his villainy not come served with so many Looney Tunes-style trimmings.  Pulling cages of bunnies, sticks of TNT, and badly designed Yeti costumes out from behind one's back make it just a scoche harder to take one completely seriously.

As enjoyable as this version of "Lost Crown" is, a few logical lapses prevent me from awarding it the "Full LP" (you can only get the "Full Monty" when Rescue Rangers eps are involved).  Even with Launchpad operating at less-than-optimal mental capacity, I think that even HE should have been able to see that the gasoline was draining out of the plane -- and I'm truly shocked that none of the other Ducks picked up on it.  It's never made clear why "Snowy" has amassed such a stockpile of gold in addition to the Crown; "Gu" didn't seem to have a need for all that additional bling (quite the opposite, in fact).  Perhaps I should just mumble something vaguely offensive about "women needing accessories" and let it go at that.  Plus, of course, there's the old "attenuated ending" gambit that I really hate.  How on Earth did Scrooge get back to Duckburg quickly enough to literally pursue Sir Guy through the door of the Explorers' Club?  Since Scrooge and Launchpad both appear in this closing scene, are we to assume that the kids were simply left behind to fend for themselves? 

On balance, though, this is a splendid debut for Anthony Adams, who will turn out to be one of the series' most consistently successful writers.  Adams himself appears to be a rather fascinating individual; he's the head of his own entertainment company and has produced several well-received documentaries on the music of the "Summer of Love" and the history of the guitar, has written several TV movies, has produced a couple of feature films, and has composed and performed his own rock operas and musicals, including the oh-so-early-70s concoction excerpted below.  In his scripts for DuckTales, Adams seemed to have a particular predilection for exploring myth and legend.  I suspect that a combination of his personal artistic interests and (I'm purely speculating here) a youthful interest in Barks' Duck comics contributed to this bent.

For whatever reason, starting in 1987, Adams began writing cartoon scripts, but his contributions to series like Popeye and Son and Fraggle Rock were modest indeed compared to his commitment to DuckTales.  After 1989, however, he left the field for good.  A shame; I would have liked to have seen him tackle a Tale Spin episode or two, or perhaps even a Darkwing Duck episode featuring Morgana Macawber.  But I'll be forever grateful for his fanciful and frequently elegant contributions to DuckTales -- and I'm even willing to include THIS notorious scene in the credit column.  Fanciful and elegant it's not, but it's certainly become... um, mythic.

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DuckBlurbs

(GeoX)  [T]he ending, where the yeti comes back to the explorers' club with Scrooge [sic; Launchpad] and chases around evil-dude? Egregiously silly, no question about it.

I kinda agree, though for different reasons.  See above.

(GeoX)  [P]ortraying the yeti as a more sympathetic character was definitely a good idea--I thought making him into a her would end up being kinda dumb, but it actually works, and most of the original's condescension is removed. 

I could have done without some of the female stereotyping -- the lips, the rouged cheeks, the skill at cooking (cooking soup in an ice fireplace, though??) -- but "Snowy" is certainly a more memorable snow beast than "Gu."  She bonds with Webby (one can see the "Webby's way with animals" theme taking real shape now) and interacts with the Ducks far more, and in far more varied ways, than did "Gu."

(GeoX)  There's also a lot of good character stuff--as when Scrooge finds the crown, excitedly declares himself "King of the Explorers once again!" and then wilts as he realizes that, having lost his entire party in the process, this is a hollow victory. Finally, there's a very atmospheric night blizzard scene, in which the ducks are sleeping in their tend as the winds howl until they are awakened by the yeti, who they can just make out heading off into the storm.

And this last scene makes me very suspicious of the role that Herge's TINTIN story, "Tintin in Tibet," may have played in Adams' development of this adaptation.  The presence of a "misunderstood" Yeti, the theme of a youngster falling in with the Yeti and being searched for by the heroes, and the central role played by a crashed plane are all suggestive of the fact that Adams may have been aware of Herge's famous story... and the blizzard scenes featuring "Snowy" are exceptionally suggestive.  I couldn't make a really good screen grab from "Lost Crown" to show "Snowy" trudging away after having pillaged the Ducks' camp, but here are several scenes from the animated version of "Tintin in Tibet" that may look somewhat familiar:

Need I point out (since Greg already did) that "Snowy" is the English translation of the name of Tintin's dog?  Very suggestive, ver-r-r-r-r-y suggestive.

(GeoX)  The persistence of Scrooge's anger at the yeti is somewhat inexplicable.

Not to me.  Scrooge was probably feeling guilty for bringing the kids with him, so it's entirely understandable that the pendulum has now swung in the opposite direction and he's being overprotective to a fault.

(Greg)  Launchpad goes over to Snowy and Snowy grabs his hand and of course she's just TOO FAT. However; Launchpad manages to do the old wrestling flip over his head and manages to get Snowy up over and landing safely. Now THAT is an amazing feat of strength on par with Kit getting Baloo up in L[a]st Horizons from LP there.

Yep, that was pretty amazing, almost on a par with Bubba Duck heaving Tootsie over his head and into the "Millennium Shortcut" at the close of "Marking Time."   It's almost enough to cancel out the egotism and stumble-bumble-itis from the earlier part of the episode.  Almost. 

Next:  Episode 9, "Pearl of Wisdom." 

Book Review: THE ADVENTURES OF BUCK O'RUE by Dick Huemer and Paul Murry (Classic Comics Press, 2012)

This isn't your garden-variety "classic comics collection" (and, given how many outstanding reprint projects are ongoing at the moment, I actually feel quite tickled to write that).  For starters, the short-lived slapstick Western BUCK O'RUE doesn't honestly merit the label of a "classic," the best efforts of writer Dick Huemer and artist (and, ultimately, replacement writer!) Paul Murry notwithstanding.  Huemer's stated desire, as related by his son Richard in the book's preface, was to create an exaggerated comedy strip "that would forever end all things Western," but, from the very beginning, he was also determined to make BUCK a daily continuity strip.  Very, very few creators have ever been able to maintain that particular balance; indeed, "genius" appears to be one of the prerequisites for doing so (here are two creators who come to mind).  BUCK O'RUE is only partially successful at pulling the trick off, and one can reasonably argue in hindsight that Huemer and Murry would probably have been better off making BUCK a straight Sunday feature, in the mold of, say, SMOKEY STOVER.  That being said, there's quite a lot to enjoy here, especially for Disney comics fans eager to get an eyeful and a half of some of Murry's most noteworthy non-Disney work.

The core of BUCK O'RUE is the conflict between the impossibly handsome, preternaturally gifted -- and, truth be told, somewhat stone-headed and oblivious -- title character and the scar-faced, squinting, overbearing badnik Trigger Mortis for control of the wild 'n woolly Western town of Mesa Trubil, a burg so beyond the pale that the U.S. wouldn't accept it back into the Union after the Civil War.  The Sunday page draws away from this basic confrontation for a while to tell what are purported to be tales of Buck's past adventures, but even it is ultimately pulled back into the tug-of-war.  This conceit might have sustained a Sunday page for a good long time, but, in a daily format, it gets repetitive rather quickly.  Before the strip's 18-month life has ended, we've already seen multiple examples of Mortis almost tricking Deacon Duncan's darling daughter (and Buck's inamorata) Dorable into marrying him, Mortis trying to get Buck out of his hair by appealing to obscure town statutes, Buck periodically "cleaning up the town"... you get the idea.  Before long, Huemer and Murry appear to have gotten cold feet regarding the pint size of the canvas on which they were working.  During the transition period when Huemer was preparing to leave and turn the whole schmeer over to Murry, the strip runs a bizarre series of "coming attractions" bumpers ("Coming Soon!  The Great Beefsteak Scandal!").  I originally thought that these were meant strictly in jest, on the order of the overblown titles announced at the ends of Rocky and Bullwinkle segments, but, according to the volume's extensive series of Endnotes, they may also have been meant to convince client papers to keep running the strip after Murry took over.  The level of creator confidence displayed by this ploy is not very reassuring.

If BUCK O'RUE has a "cult following" in its future, it will probably be because of Murry's artwork.  It is exquisite, rich in detail, and can coax a laugh out of anyone.  Those who are familiar with the look of Murry's dogface characters in Disney comics will quickly recognize the designs of most of the figures herein as human versions of same.  The major exceptions are the strong-chinned Buck himself; Dorable Duncan, who amply displays Murry's considerable talent for drawing beautiful women; and Mortis' right-hand gunman, Skullface Skelly, whom I can best describe as an emaciated, grown-up, weather-beaten sagebrush version of Outcault's Yellow Kid.

The extras provided here rate an extra word or two -- preferably peppered with liberal dashes of asperity.  Co-editors Richard Huemer Jr. and Germund van Wowern chuck the occasional verbal Roman candle at us in the unlikeliest of places.  von Wowern speaks several volumes with these two lines at the end of his biographical sketch of Murry: "By the early 70s, Paul already considered Mickey Mouse a character of the past.  A decade later, he finally retired."  Huemer lets loose this zinger while discussing his Dad's vision of the West:  "The Myth and its Hero tug at the fringes of our collective unconsciousness, unwilling to let a faltering empire succumb to rigor mortis just yet."  And check out the concluding sentence of a Note on BUCK's depiction of Native Americans in one Sunday continuity: "Belief in 'race' persists in the 21st century, providing politicians with an invaluable tool for shepherding citizens into voting blocs."  If you're wondering what opinionation of this sort is doing in a comic-strip collection, this Web site may hold part of the answer.  Hey, it could have been worse.

Book Review: KRAZY AND IGNATZ 1922-1924: AT LAST MY DRIM OF LIFE HAS COME TRUE by George Herriman (Fantagraphics Press, 2012)

With this release, Fantagraphics wraps up its packaging -- in this case, as in the case of the last several volumes of the series, "repackaging" is the more appropriate word -- of Herriman's KRAZY KAT Sunday pages.  The book would be thicker than normal in any case, because three years' worth of strips, rather than the standard two, are included here.  But FG also goes the extra mile and plumps the thing out to near-"brick"-like (see what I did there?) proportions by including several other previously unreprinted Herriman strip series.  Indeed, 1903's MRS. WAITAMINNIT, unearthed by Herriman's soon-to-be biographer Michael Tisserand, is a genuine find, as it appears to be Herriman's first continuing daily strip, running through roughly 20 installments in September and October 1903 in the New York EVENING WORLD.  The conceit is simple (a dithering lady unknowingly causes chaos for her hapless husband), and Herriman's figure drawing was still rather crude and inconsistent at this time (Mrs. W. never quite seems to look the same from strip to strip), but traces of Herriman's tradework verbal facility are already apparent, and the vaudeville-style slapstick gags are punched over with verve.  Tisserand provides a useful page of background text on the strip, in addition to contributing to the "Ignatz Mouse Debaffler Pages" at the back.  If this find is representative of the average level of quality of research that Tisserand has put into his Herriman biography, then that forthcoming book should be something.

Following the Kat-Mouse-Pupp-brick main event, Jeet Heer presents a complete color reprinting of US HUSBANDS, a Sunday domestic-comedy strip from 1926-1927.  This is perhaps the most "normal," not to say mundane, Herriman production that I've ever seen, spinning entire pages out of casual incidents and minor disagreements in married life.  The production was casual to the extent that Herriman didn't even bother to keep names and faces of his supposed "main characters" straight.  Just as well, as the wives, husbands, and "confirmed bachelors" here are pretty interchangeable.  In his text introduction, Heer speculates that Herriman cooked up the US HUSBANDS in order to convince the powers that were at King Features that, just in case William Randolph Hearst ever withdrew his personal "patronage" from the esoteric (and not all that popular) KRAZY KAT, then Herriman could, too, contribute more commercially "salable" material to the syndicate's manifest.  This theory seems reasonable to me, given Herriman's known level of insecurity.  (It was probably for the same reason that Herriman also pitched in to help with the panel feature EMBARRASSING MOMENTS at around this time.)  The standard "topper strip" for US HUSBANDS featured anachronistic husband-vs.-wife conflict in a vaguely medieval setting ("oh, thou rogue, thou hast snuck out to ye poker game agayne?!").  This isn't strange; what's strange is the strip's title: MISTAKES WILL HAPPEN (often with a following "." emphasized for some reason).  George, I love ya and I know that your mind worked in mysterious ways at times, but I can't for the life of me figure out how you fell upon this title for that particular scenario.  A meta-comment, perhaps, on how frustrating you found all this extra work to be as these two strips' brief lives slid by?

The end of this series is unfortunate enough, but an additional melancholy note is sounded with a tribute to the recently deceased Bill Blackbeard, Editor-in-Chief of this series from the start and so much more besides.  Blackbeard's role in the gradual, and often grudging, recognition of the comic strip as a legitimate art form -- one worth preserving, studying, and displaying -- over the last 40-odd years was immense.  He was quite literally one of the first people to bring the qualities of strips like E.C. Segar's THIMBLE THEATRE and Floyd Gottfredson's MICKEY MOUSE to the attention of the wider public.  Since a good deal of the material used to produce the KRAZY KAT volumes came directly from Blackbeard's collection, it seems a real shame that he didn't see the entire project through to this triumphant finish.

Book Review: E.C. SEGAR'S POPEYE, VOLUME 6: "ME LI'L SWEE'PEA" by E. C. Segar (Fantagraphics Press, 2012)

What feeling can possibly arise upon reading the last volume of THE COMPLETE E.C. SEGAR POPEYE, other than genuine sadness and dismay that Segar was taken from his loyal coterie of readers far too quickly?  I'd hesitate to pass definitive judgment on what a Segar THIMBLE THEATER of the 1940s and beyond (as distinct from the war years, which would almost certainly have tempted Segar to make the hard-punching sailor man serve his country in some "official" capacity, much as the animated Popeye in fact did) would have looked like, but we may have gotten a hint in my favorite of this volume's continuities, "A Sock for Susan's Sake."  By 1937, Popeye had been domesticated to a certain extent, and Segar had brought the incorrigible Poopdeck Pappy into the THIMBLE THEATER cast and given the latter some of the more anti-social aspects of Popeye's earlier, rougher persona.  But it's hard to imagine that Segar would have completely drawn out Popeye's eye-teeth and turned him into the less complicated character of the later Famous Studios shorts.  The picaresque "Sock," in which Popeye brusquely assumes the role of protector of and unofficial mentor to a lovely (by Segar's artistic standards, anyway) young female vagabond with a mysterious past, points the way towards what a future Segar Popeye might have looked like.  Popeye is every bit as proactive, arbitrary, and abrupt as he was during his early career, but also evinces compassion, self-sacrifice, and a sense of higher moral good.  Fittingly, after Popeye discovers that Susan's wealthy father had thrown her out into the street, he literally drags her back to a confrontation with him, leading to the obligatory "startling revelations" and, of course, the restoration of Susan to her proper place.  It's much like the tale of Cinderella, that is, if you can imagine the Fairy Godmother employing the occasional "righteous right cross" in place of the waving of a magic wand.

The much-praised "Mystery Melody" continuity, featuring the return of the Sea Hag, leads off the collection daily strips reprinted here.  While it's entertaining enough, it isn't as indelibly memorable as the "Plunder Island" Sunday sequence, probably because of the space limitations inherent in the daily format.  Poopdeck Pappy takes the lead role in "Wild Oats," a somewhat melancholy read in that it was the last daily story that Segar was able to complete before the progress of his leukemia forced him to quit "The Valley of the Goons" and "King Swee'pea" midway through.  Those last two Segar-influenced tales, perhaps reflecting the uncertain state of Segar's health, tended to wander a bit, and so does "Oats," with Poopdeck partying wildly until he gets hauled into court for creating a (rather innocuous) disturbance.  The trial gives Segar another chance to parody the workings of the law, but the depiction of the trial in "Oats" pales in comparison to the wonderful sequence in "A Sock for Susan's Sake" in which Popeye and Susan are arrested by a gung-ho constable (whose perpetual snarl hides the fact that he's a bit of a softy at heart) and arraigned before a rural magistrate on the charge of fishing in and swimming in the local reservoir.  Even the minor characters shine in this extremely funny sequence, in which Segar both pokes fun at and shows his affection for the quirky-but-decent locals, a la Mike Judge's treatment of the residents of Arlen in King of the Hill.

The last batch of Sunday pages continue to give Wimpy multiple chances to shine (he really could have carried his own strip) and feature the last explosion of creativity in the companion strip SAPPO, as John and Myrtle S. accompany Professor O. G. Wottasnozzle and a couple of other long-bearded deep thinkers (including, oddly enough, Wottasnozzle's arch-enemy Professor Finklesnop -- does the phrase "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" come to mind?) on an epic space journey to the worlds "beyond Neptune."  I wish I knew why Segar suddenly switched back to continuities in SAPPO after ditching them for an extended period of time in favor of drawing lessons and the like.  It's almost as if he knew that he had very little time left for active creativity and wanted to expel as many crazy ideas as he could from his cranium before the end.  Short-lived it may have been, but the whole Segar POPEYE oeuvre is now between handsome hard covers, and fans of great comics will be forever grateful.

Defining Digest-cy Down?

There hasn't been much comics-related news of late, nor have I made many (um, make that any) major purchases at the store in recent weeks. Things will start to pick up again in April and May as Fantagraphics and IDW release several volumes in their "continuing series," including the final volumes of the POPEYE and KRAZY KAT Sunday-strip collections. There was also some happy news in today's PREVIEWS: Classic Comics Press is officially soliciting the collected BUCK O'RUE by Dick Huemer and Paul Murry for release in late June or early July. If we can't have new Disney comics, then seeing this little-known early-50s work from a pair of old-line "Disney Masters" is the next best thing.

There's still no indication as to when Ape Entertainment will restart its "rebooted" RICHIE RICH title. Indeed, if the latest Ape releases and solicitations are any indication, then the company appears to be pulling back a bit on its RICHIE commitment, in the manner of a "shrinking violet." Symbolic of the horticultural hesitation are the RICHIE RICH DIGEST releases that have just recently begun to appear. Now, when I think of a comics digest, I think of a chunky collection that delivers fair value for the money: WALT DISNEY COMICS DIGEST from Western Publishing, the "classic" Harvey and "Gladstone I" digests, Gemstone's DONALD DUCK ADVENTURES and MICKEY MOUSE ADVENTURES... and, yes, I'm even willing to throw in DISNEY ADVENTURES, provided that we only count the issues with Disney Afternoon -related material. For Ape to be flogging these 48-page (!) slick-cover pamphlets as "digests," however, I have to stretch the definition of "digest" so far that it snaps back into my face like an over-strained rubber band.

Ape's Web-site description of RICHIE RICH DIGEST is, to put it charitably, somewhat misleading. The "wealth" of additional RICHIE material that appeared in the one RRD issue that I perused appeared to consist of nothing more than one five-page Warren Kremer-drawn story, plus a gag or two. If Richie were that "wealthy," then he'd be forced to run Rich Rescue 24/7 just to make ends meet. What Ape should have done here is obvious -- collect all the parts of the initial RICH RESCUE saga into a trade paperback, perhaps throwing in a few "classic" adventure stories to "make weight." How hard can a decision like that be to make? Or, maybe there's an ulterior motive for Ape's apparent madness. Perhaps Ape's elongated re-release of the early RICH RESCUE material is an attempt to stall for time while the final details (whatever they might be) of the regular title are being worked out. If so, then the company is going to as absurd an extent as did Fenton Crackshell when he was trying to delay getting shot by the Banana Republic firing squad in "Allowance Day."

Wait, it gets worse! Here is the blurb for RICHIE RICH GEMS TREASURES (sic??), solicited in this week's PREVIEWS...

Get ready for thrills and chills in this collection of stories taken from issues #44-47 of the critically acclaimed RICHIE RICH GEMS title! This collection reprints the 4 new stories that were done by Richie Rich's creator Sid Jacobson with art by long-time fan-favorite Ernie Colon! Each issue reprinted digitally re-colored classic RICHIE RICH stories, and there are short stories from the all-new RICHIE RICH: RICH RESCUE series!

The fact that the original Jacobson/Colon stories are headlined takes a bit of the sting out of the revelation that RRGT will be reprinting material from... a reprint title. What really concerns me is the inclusion of RICH RESCUE material. Um, wouldn't this include some of the same material that was just recently reprinted in RRD? How many "variations of repetition" are you planning to feed us, guys?

At this point, Ape is my only source of new newsstand-style comics, so you'll pardon me for getting a bit exercised over exactly what the heck is going on here.

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 45, "Such Sweet Sorrow"

"Such Sweet Sorrow" ranks as one of the best Kimba episodes in terms of sheer level of accomplishment alone. Somehow, the intertwined stories of Roger Ranger, Mr. Pompus, and Mary/Captain Tonga are disentangled and neatly retied in a way that, if it doesn't make entirely coherent sense in terms of what has gone before, at least presents the viewer with a reasonable approximation of a thematically consistent denouement. The "retconning" comes at a fast and furious pace, to be sure, but it seems almost low-key compared with what Marvel and DC comics fans have had to endure over the years.

The episode's script borrows liberally from a similar sequence in JUNGLE EMPEROR, albeit one that takes place considerably later in the narrative, at a time when Kimba is a grown lion and Kitty is his mate. In both the manga and animated versions, we see the "reunion" of Roger and Mr. Pompus, an attack on Kimba's kingdom led by Mary (who is the queen of a jungle tribe in JUNGLE EMPEROR, as opposed to the head of a hunting ground), the second appearance of the Mammoth of Mt. Moon, the "final dispensation" of Mary's jungle m.o., and the permanent departure of Roger and Mary from the jungle. Numerous individual moments, both dramatic and humorous, are transferred intact or quasi-intact from page to screen. Perhaps the most significant change -- one that was initiated by Mushi Studios, it must be noted, rather than the Titan dubbing crew -- concerns the whole matter of how Mary turned into Captain Tonga. In Tezuka, Mary, who's already been established as being an even bigger bitch than she seemed to be in the animated series' "A Human Friend" and "Fair Game," steals a page from Sean Connery and Michael Caine and uses "incomprehensible technology" (to wit: a fountain pen!) to manipulate the gullible primitives into thinking that she is some sort of goddess:

A real charmer, eh? By contrast, Kimba's Mary turns out to have literally lost her memory from grief after Rainbow Bridge collapsed in "A Human Friend" and she thought that she had "lost" her beloved Roger for good. Belated sympathy for the ruthless Tonga -- who'da thunk it? But it still works, provided that you're willing to accept one of the hoariest fictional tropes known to man or beast. Given that the Mary of JUNGLE EMPEROR doesn't appear to face any future legal or moral consequences for her consciously ruthless treatment of natives and jungle animals, I actually prefer the fictionally cruder, yet more emotionally satisfying, demise of Kimba's Tonga.

Link to episode at Hulu

That l-o-o-o-o-o-n-g opening camera pan is nothing if not langorous. It's evidently meant to pump up the idea of this episode being a meaningful epic, but it's the content that makes the ep special, not the presentation.

In leading the hippo-tank invasion of Kimba's kingdom -- a much lower-tech incursion in the manga, BTW -- Tonga initially doesn't mention any particular interest in Kimba. What would be the purpose of "occupying" the entire jungle? Is the hunting ground that hard up for firearm fodder? Tonga will change her tune to an obsessive quest for the white lion soon enough, but only after the initial invasion is defeated. It might have been a better idea to have snuck in a reference to Tonga's longstanding hatred of Kimba right at the start, in order to reorient the audience to the status quo ante of "Catch 'Em If You Can" and "The Hunting Ground" (not to mention write right over the top of the later "Too Many Elephants," in which Tonga didn't appear to recognize Kimba).

The Titan crew wisely seized upon Tonga's meeting with Mr. Pompus on the riverbank as an ideal place to let the "retconned" backstory begin to flow. I'm not going to try to piece it all together just yet, since some additional backstory is coming, but it's immediately clear that Roger, Mr.P., and the newly-acquired Kimba must have picked up Mary after the hotel bill had been settled ("A Friend in Deed") and before they headed for Paris as part of their round-the-world trip. (Presumably, Roger and Mr.P. stopped going to "girlie shows" after Mary joined the party. At least, I would hope so.) Mary's belated participation in the trip may explain why she seemed so resentful in "Fair Game." Having just acquired Kimba, Roger was naturally devoting a good deal of attention to his new pet, and Mary didn't appreciate it. So far, so good.

Methusaleh makes a much better impression here than he did in "Running Wild"; he seems to be legitimately concerned about Kimba's ability to protect the jungle by himself once Roger is no longer on hand to help (can't you just smell the foreshadowing here?). Of course, he's neglecting to mention the large number of eps in which Kimba has shown such leadership qualities in Roger's absence. Even in the case of Tonga's tank attack, the animals were performing reasonably well with their defensive measures before Roger showed up; Roger's advice about attacking the tanks from underneath was more of the "tipping point" of the encounter, and it was Kimba who dreamed up the actual plan of counterattack that put Roger's brainstorm to use.

Mr. Pompus' escape from the hunting ground, and his and Roger's subsequent battles with the alligators, are "inspired" by events in JUNGLE EMPEROR more than they are direct copies of those events. The only direct swipe is Roger's "twirl-a-thon" when he's fighting the gator underwater. The animated version slathers on a much heavier layer of slapstick; Mr.P. may have fought the gators rather ineptly in the manga, but he certainly wasn't knocked koo-koo by falling logs at the time. Gil Mack makes the most of the opportunity for wackiness with his funny riff on the Popeye theme song. Was he inspired by memories of his turn as "The Hungry Goat" when he did so?

First a Maginot Line of defenses (as seen in "Catch 'Em If You Can"), now a ring of bulldog-shaped defensive structures (which later turn out to be mobile)?! Between her apparently unrestricted power to detain "suspects" and the arsenal of weaponry at her command, one has to wonder why Tonga stopped at "merely" running a hunting compound. There must have been at least one "Unsteadystan"-ish country in the vicinity that she could have taken over...

Tonga's origin story, as related by Tonga's hirsute adjutant (Ray Owens this time), ties in quite nicely with what we learned about Tonga's "Daddy," Mr. Triggerman, in "Too Many Elephants." The picture-book-like stills used to illustrate the story give the fanciful encounter a mock-legendary feel. I wonder what happened to "the former boss." Did he die and will the hunting ground to Tonga? (I didn't know that such government positions were hereditary.) Or did she *ahem* "get rid of" him at some point? Given the adjutant's claim that Mr. Triggerman "was very impressed [*cough cough*]" with Tonga "but [knew] that he was old enough to be her father," I can think of some very unsavory scenarios that might have led to Triggerman getting a "one-way ride" into the jungle, or into some hungry animal's cage.

Note below that Mary appears to have changed her wardrobe after the events at Rainbow Bridge; she was wearing a worn brown hunting outfit in the Bridge scene. She may have lost her mind, but she apparently didn't lose her fashion sense.

More "retcons" incoming! Based on Roger's brief flashback to the Rainbow Bridge collapse, we must now wipe the events of large portions of "A Human Friend" and "Too Many Elephants" from our memory banks. If Roger and Mary's trip to the jungle in "A Human Friend" was to deliver Kimba, then, obviously, we have to ignore Kimba's saving them from the snake, Roger and Kimba's meeting at the Bridge being a "reunion," etc., and limit the "real" events of "A Human Friend" to (1) Roger and Mary's delivering Kimba, (2) the Bridge disaster, (3) Mary's crack-up, and (4) the stranded Roger's deciding to stay and teach the animals to speak human language. Likewise, Mr. Pompus' first attempt to get Roger to leave the jungle in "Elephants" never took place; only Kimba's meeting with Pee-Wee, and Kimba's attempts to save Packer Dermus and his elephant herd from being exterminated, did. Got it. Considering how mucked up the storyline had gotten, I don't think that these sacrifices are too much to accept.

Having tidied up the narrative, we now get a beautiful scene that is drawn straight from JUNGLE EMPEROR. Well, that's not strictly true; Mr. Pompus does the piping in Tezuka, and he's not in a cage at the time. But the sentiments and emotions involved are identical.


I prefer the shot of Tonga silhouetted against the starry night sky, myself. But it's strictly a personal choice.

On to the Big Battle sequence! But where would Tonga have gotten a giant flag with Kimba's face on it? Must we now posit the existence of an Omniscient Portrait-Maker Guy, as well?

Relative to JUNGLE EMPEROR, the second invasion, like the hippo-tank attack, involves the use of heavier-duty technology (those bizarre-looking bulldog attack... thingies; given the presence of hound-dog-shaped police cars in Astro Boy, perhaps Tezuka had some sort of bizarre fetish for canine-shaped conveyances). But the participation of Tonga's animal minions is an exact replica of what is seen in Tezuka, right down to the "Noah's Ark in reverse" scenes of identical animals fighting one another and the violent collision, followed by a dizzy Alphonse and Gaston routine, between Pauley Cracker and a much larger beastie. So, too, does Tezuka include the dramatic scene in which Kimba's defeated legions are forced to take shelter on the island in the midst of a rainstorm:

But here is where Kimba actually gives its title character more credit for leadership than does Tezuka. Kimba's vocal lead-in to "Sing a Happy Song" may be feeble (though I do accept that Billie Lou was trying to get across Kimba's depressed mental state by making him sound pathetic), but the manga featured nothing like Kimba's determined dash for the shoreline following the reappearance of Mt. Moon and the Mammoth. In Tezuka, at the animals' moment of deepest despair, the Mammoth appears and starts fighting back against the natives -- a far cry from simply "taking a little stroll," as she does here. Rather than simply pitching in to help the Mammoth fight, Kimba draws strength from the simple fact of his "guardian"'s return and takes it upon himself to lead the counterattack. Need I say that I vastly prefer Kimba's version of these events? The use of the ethereal "Mt. Moon music" in the absence of any additional sound effects gives the whole sequence a dream-like, quasi-mythological feel.


The sphere of Mt. Moon's influence appears to have expanded considerably since the events of "The Hunting Ground." It now includes the hunting ground itself, leading to another adaptation of a scene from Tezuka, that of the bonfire and the rebellion of Mary's long-put-upon animal charges. The animated scene is toned down in one important respect; in JUNGLE EMPEROR, before Mary is subdued, she engages Roger in a vicious knife fight. Plus, of course, Mary breaks down and drops the "Queen of the Natives" facade, as opposed to simply striking her head against a rock and regaining her memory.

The Mary-Roger reunion is almost, but not quite, ruined by the cheesy, tinkly piano-lounge music in the background. For a moment, I thought that a soap opera had suddenly broken out. Perhaps Mr. Pompus' sneeze was meant as a subtle meta-comment on the tackiness of the presentation. Or, perhaps he really was just cold.

The admirably underplayed grand departure scene -- the "ultimate" version of a very familiar Kimba narrative trope -- includes one unusual moment. What does Roger referring to when he "thanks" Kimba for everything the latter has taught him? It seems to me that Kimba should have immediately said the same thing, if not actually spoken the words first. Perhaps Roger is referring to the fact that Kimba has shown how one creature can literally make a world of difference, and that, therefore, the same may be true of the human world. That's a sentiment in which Dr. Tezuka -- and the Muse of History -- would have heartily concurred.

Up next: Episode 46, "The Return of Fancy Prancy."

Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S MICKEY MOUSE: "RACE TO DEATH VALLEY" by Floyd Gottfredson (Fantagraphics Press, 2011)

High-quality newspaper comic-strip reprint projects have become so commonplace in recent years that there may be an unconscious tendency among some readers to simply lump Fantagraphics' new FLOYD GOTTFREDSON LIBRARY in with the crowd. This temptation should be avoided with extreme prejudice. Of all the comics libraries I've seen, this one has by far the most complete and diverse collection of ancillary material. The intrigue of reading the earliest (1930-1931) MICKEY MOUSE strips (including a number written by Walt Disney himself) in restored and remastered form would have been reason enough to pick this book up, but the essays, commentaries, character sketches, and archival features all add immeasurably to one's appreciation of Gottfredson, the creator who invented the funny-animal adventure genre. Only some of the LIBRARY OF AMERICAN COMICS collections come close to this in terms of being a "total package." I'm glad to see Fantagraphics, which has dropped the ball badly on ancillaries in its COMPLETE PEANUTS series and has relied a bit too heavily on previously existing material in its POPEYE collection, taking the hint from IDW and rising to the challenge in the increasingly heated "reprint wars." Hopefully, the company will continue the trend in the upcoming Carl Barks collections.

The volume includes the pre-Gottfredson continuity-of-sorts "Mickey Mouse on a Desert Island" by Disney, Ub Iwerks, and Win Smith, but fittingly stows it away in the archival section. Instead, the first Gottfredson-influenced continuity, "Mickey Mouse in Death Valley," receives pride of place. Once Floyd takes over the writing duties from a too-busy Disney, the classic strip slowly begins to emerge, though, at this early stage, Gottfredson is just as interested in learning how his characters operate as in putting them through adventurous paces. "Death Valley" and the gypsy-infested "The Ransom Plot" are the only continuities here that can even tangentially be described as "exotic." Most of the rest of the action is set in and around the city that would become Mouseton and is rooted in quasi-domestic situations that could easily have arisen in contemporary cartoons: Mickey becomes a circus roustabout, tutors a laid-back boxing champion, helps Clarabelle Cow run a boarding house, etc. When he is responsible for dialogue as well as plotting, Gottfredson at first has a distinct tendency to overwrite, but he seems to be getting this tic under control by the volume's close.

The Mickey we see here is a slightly tamer version of the scrappy rapscallion of the early shorts, with one glaring exception. "Mickey Mouse vs. Kat Nipp" finds Mickey determined to best a pugnacious newcomer to the neighborhood by fair means or foul; a most disreputable battle of wits results. The scenario is a bit like Barks' Neighbor Jones stories in that Mickey more or less welcomes the antagonism and thus can be held at least partially responsible for a number of the things that subsequently befall him. Any number of cartoon stars have been made to look bad in this manner, of course, but seeing Mickey lean so precipitously over the "jackhasm" takes some getting used to!

Butch, a reformed moak who serves as Mickey's uncouth-yet-lovable pal in several 1931 stories, will no doubt be unfamiliar to a number of casual readers, but it's worth considering how the strip -- heck, how the history of Disney -- would have evolved had this character had more staying power. As it was, Butch sneaked his way into a publicity picture that was advertised in the strip and subsequently given away in the thousands, indicating that his fate was at a "tipping point" of sorts. He also appeared at the start of the "Circus Roustabout" continuity but then abruptly vanished, not to be seen again for many decades. What would have happened had Butch really caught on? Would the retention of Butch have meant that Goofy would never have been created? How would Butch's "dem, dese, and dose" patois have worn with audiences, compared with Goofy's hick accent? Would the fact that Butch was an ex-villain have ultimately been suppressed and Butch turned into a generic "lovable lug," only to have some "alternate-universe fanboy" later rip the scab off "the awful truth"? So might we speculate on how the history of America might have been altered had the Pilgrims landed on Manhattan Island, as they were supposed to.

Regarding the extras: The essays are a nice balance of single-story intros (by David Gerstein), reflective pieces (by Thomas Andrae), personal appreciations (by Warren Spector and Floyd Norman), and "out-there" esoterica ("interviews" with the cartoon stars). Among the particularly precious paraphernalia are some original penciled roughs by Gottfredson, the model sheet on which Ub Iwerks sketched the first images of Mickey and Minnie, and a cavalcade of covers from foreign reprint books, mostly Italian (I now begin to understand why Mussolini was so unwilling to ban the strip in Italy). There are thumbnail biographies of all the creators associated with the strip during this period, but, if you want to know exactly who was responsible for penciling and/or inking a specific strip, you'll only find that information in the table of contents. Likewise, it would have been interesting to have learned more about specific non-Disney creators who influenced Gottfredson's approach and humor style. For example, Gottfredson once cited the appearance of the black children "The Blots" in the strip JERRY ON THE JOB as having given him the germ of the idea that led to The Phantom Blot. It appears to me, however, as if that strip may have also influenced Gottfredson's frequent use of "nutty" background gags and signs -- perhaps even MICKEY's early style of lettering. Perhaps this connection should be explored in the future.

The GOTTFREDSON LIBRARY is off to a grand start and I dole out "gobs of good wishes" to everyone involved in the project.