Yoko Tsuno 4 - Electronic adventures

1974's "Electronic adventures" is the only short story collection among Belgian Yoko Tsuno albums. Herge's one-time Tintin assistant seems to have made some of the initial offerings in the book as the try out stories predating the first album, but in lieu of a direct confirmation, they serve the same function of introducing new readers to the character.

Compared to the preceding volumes, Leloup (and his co-creators, who presumably helped with the writing of some of the short stories) presents decidedly low-key episodes featuring his Japanese heroine. Compared to the more complex plots featured in the regular albums, these are merely asides, but even as such, the writer/artist manages to make them unique.

This is in no small part due to the clear concept behind each of the shorts. The opening "Hold up in Hi-Fi" is perhaps the strongest of the efforts present in the collection, and features Yoko solving a crime perpetrated by uncharacteristically technologically savvy criminals. As in all of these stories, the spunky Yoko uses her knowledge of electronics to get to the bottom of the plot, in the process meeting Commissioner Lebrun. The police official is a typical genre archetype, well meaning, but lacking Yoko's expertise to deal with the problem in question.

From a storytelling perspective, having Yoko being in the bank at just the right moment to witness the robbery that starts the story is a little too convenient, but feels right at home with the similar antics employed in "Spirou" and other genre comics set in the period. Despite the criminals' annoyance with Yoko, and the threats hurled her way, Leloup's heroine gets to the bottom of the case using her smarts and cunning. That Yoko is a fine role model for young girls goes without saying, which is especially underlined by her creator's continual effort to avoid presenting her in a way that is crass and vulgar.

Yoko is pretty, and dresses according to the then-current fashions, but she has a character all of her own. Leloup's eastern heroine continually maintains a stoic, even sarcastic stance, but she is genuinely humane, which is nowhere as apparent as in "the Christmas angel" two pager. The sweet, if bordering on saccharine episode, shows the motorcycle-riding Yoko being annoyed at a factory magnate who interrupts her holiday calling her to fix his stereo system, which results in a chance encounter with a family from the other end of the social stratum. In a fairy tale ending, Yoko manages to exert her influence on the company director to help out her new found friends in a very real way, which both shows her altruistic nature and helps the story stand out from the genre offerings it stands alongside in the album.

Starting with "the Beauty and the beast", Leloup returns to the typical mix of cutting edge science and detective story structure. In "Electronic adventures" this means that most of the appeal is communicated by deliberate use of science fiction trappings that later get debunked as ploys of the Cold war villains. The third story subverts the mechanic by positing a horror movie scenario, that of the monster ape rampaging through the city. Once again, Yoko just happens to be at hand when the villain attacks, but the writer/artist presents Yoko's succeeding investigating in such a well paced and intriguing manner that the reader has no time to concentrate on the banality of the tropes involved.

It's very easy to forget the amount of skill involved in presenting this kind of simple, "Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" scenario in a way that is simple and intuitive. From the start, Leloup is aware of the point of the story, and the tone he wants to employ, which results in a slight, but memorable scenario that succeeds despite some of the problems with the villain's background when it comes to the denouement.

That the aforementioned balance is hard to achieve and maintain in the course of a charming short story becomes apparent in "Course 351". Positing a scenario in which Yoko's helping with the launch of experimental rockets almost leads to the international incident involving a group of spies and the East-West German negotiations, Roger Leloup finally gives in the self-indulgence and produces the weakest and most problematic story in the album. The Cold War atmosphere isn't a problem in itself, especially in a way that it's handled here, but the over-reliance on technical terms coupled with a low page count makes for a very cumbersome reading.

The high stakes involved in the terrorist plot are not a problem in themselves, seeing that most of Yoko's previous adventures involve events of planetary importance, but those were presented as stories given adequate room to breathe. And while most readers will quickly pick up where Leloup the first half of Leloup's story is going, the fight scene that climaxes the episode feels somewhat ill-conceived and goes against the previously established tone.

So far, the character of Commissioner Lebrun in the epilogue has served to connect these unrelated pieces, but for the final two stories, Leloup brings in Pol, Yoko's friend from the previous three albums. "Honey for Yoko" has the two of them stopping to rest on the bicycle ride through the countryside. There they find a beehive with unusual properties, in that some of the insects have been tempered with to be of use to the nearby nuclear plant.

Having the comic relief Pol at the start of the story leads to some of the period comedy, which is interrupted for the Cold War paranoia. The story makes a much better use of its protracted length, as the set-up and the investigation proceed as two separate acts, and Yoko's confrontation with the flamboyant spy feels much more like an approximation of a typical "Yoko Tsuno" volume than most of the previous efforts. The unlikely playboy researcher leads Yoko on a chase that again ends with a dangerous confrontation, but it doesn't clash with the series' tone.

And while "Honey for Yoko" will hardly be anyone's favorite Yoko Tsuno adventure, its ending connects it to the last story of the volume, by the way of a motorbike Pol acquires thanks to their grateful hosts. "The Stealing spider" rounds out the volume, and it's again an entry that has some severe flaws in its construction. Beginning with a charmingly naive Pol trying to escape a "giant spider" (that is from Leloup's detailed style instantly apparent as a mechanical construct), Leloup runs into problems when it comes to dramatizing the follow through. An instantly forgettable group of criminals is using the contraption to rob the jewelries by remote control, but once the woken-up Yoko starts on the chase, her creator starts dragging out the scenario.

Almost as if he's trying to make sense of the story in medias res, with every detail Roger Leloup adds to the villainous scheme, the plot grows more tedious and arbitrary, leading the reader to finish the collection more out of habit than genuine interest. The writer/artist manages to wrangle some amount of interest with the addition of the hostage scientist, but even then, it feels like nothing is really at stake, and the spider is little more then a McGuffin. Leloup manages to regain some of the flavor with the climatic chase where Pol and dr. Dubois help Yoko out of the hands of the villains by using remote controls while they chase after her on the motorbike. Yet, in order to make the sequence work, Leloup severely undercuts the intelligence of the villains, who literally aren't aware of what Yoko is doing in the back seat of their car.

When working on "Spirou", Franklin routinely featured the protagonist in similar technology-inspired plots, but he did it with much more whimsy and lightheartedness. At its heart, "Yoko Tsuno" is a different kind of a series, much more akin to Young Adult novels featuring an idealized protagonist, with most of the humor being deadpanned and sarcastic. Yoko is a very determined character, that shows some playfulness when quoting her father and sneering at the things she notices in passing, but these are merely irritants she puts up with as she pursues a clearly defined goal.

Where Pol completely fails as comedic foil is in the simple fact that his existence seems to stem from the desire to have a familiar Marcinelle school bumbling youth simply in order to liven up the atmosphere. Pol is neither the narrator, nor Yoko's romantic interest, but a sidekick that gives Yoko someone to talk to and be the butt of the jokes. As Yoko's friend and part of the supporting cast he is tolerable but, at least at this point in the series, he is merely part of the requisite supporting cast, uninteresting either on his own, or in relation to Yoko.

Looking at "Electronic adventures" as a whole, it's easy to see why Leloup never tried to repeat the experiment. Despite their origin in short stories and comic strips, comic books have largely shied away from dashed off 10 page asides in favor of longer stories, with at least some semblance of continuity. A Yoko Tsuno short story would be a nice way to round out the albums, but it seems that both Leloup and the publisher ultimately decided against it. "Dupuis" seems to have accepted the stance that a denser experience is what most of the audience is interested in, making the short stories superfluous when it comes to the existing serial, and hence underdeveloped on the part of the creator who has long since gotten used to a different way of working.

Yoko Tsuno 3 - Vulcan's Forge

Originally collected as an album in 1973, Yoko Tsuno's third published adventure was serialized over a number of issues of "Spirou magazine". In "Vulcan's Forge", the creator of Yoko, Vic and Paul returns to setting of her original adventure, making for a science fiction episode that further elaborates on the civilization of Vineans.

The album starts innocently enough, with Yoko catching a late night TV newscast and hurrying to notify her friend Paul of the supposed reference to the their alien allies. In a charming scene, the two run into each other, with Paul determined to get the same message to his Japanese friend. Right from the start, it's clear that Leloup has reworked Paul's character design, resulting in bringing his facial features in line with the rest of the cast. Simply put, Paul's caricatural look was decided to be too pronounced, whether by the creator or his editors, with the idea being that his behavior was enough to convey the comic relief.

Otherwise, the character designs are familiarly Franco-Belgian, with no noticeable changes from the previous two entries in the series. Similarly, the plot proceeds with the familiar formula of involving Yoko, Vic and Paul into a mystery by the way of their job working for the television company. Typically, the characters pay lip service to their regular assignments, involved in the plot that could have proceeded precisely the same with Yoko having a completely different background. By having her spot the reference to the Vinean technology on television, and head out to the oil platform in the Carribean, Leloup is clearly wanting to get underwater as soon as possible, so that the real story can get started.

Thankfully, the problems drill workers run into consist of something larger than the crew simply running into a portal to an alien world that the main cast uses to get to their adventure. Thus, by tying the troubles of the oil company to the threat looming beneath the waves, Leloup at least achieves the feeling of a veritable ecological catastrophe that is about to break out if Yoko is unsuccessful in dealing with the return of Karpan. Unfortunately, Leloup hasn't gotten around making the the villain any more charismatic, but the relative lack of focus on the megalomaniacal Vinean, and with the added attention to his plan make up for any of the perceived shortcomings.

Even the pending catastrophe largely factors only in the closing pages of the volume, with the bulk of the pages showcasing the creator's real interests. And while certainly the long tour Khany takes Yoko on centers around the technical facilities involved with Karpan's diabolical plan of carving out a continent for Vineans to occupy using an underwater vulcano, Leloup uses every opportunity to elaborate in the world building he started in "Trio of the bizarre".

Such is the attention paid to the Vinean civilization that it could be argued that the creator would have been happy to simply set the series completely around the science fiction trappings. That he even clads Yoko completely in their clothes, with Vic and Paul conveniently vanishing from the plot for large portions of the book, seems to indicate that the writer/artist is more than convenient concentrating on the alien civilization. Of course, publishing a continuing serial based on such a scenario would be a tough sell for an audience accustomed to the pulp narratives one step removed from the real world. Still, by making this compromise Leloup is effectively working on two series at once.

In the self contained albums Yoko is basically a standard action heroine, suited to oppose a number of plots ranging from simple detective stories, to more elaborate adventures with a supernatural element. On the other hand, perhaps similar to the "X-Files" format, the mythological episodes with a full blown sci-fi feature in from time to time, continuing the narrative arc and, for better or worse, distinguishing the series from a number of similar Franco-Belgian comics.

From the technical point of view, the amount of detail Leloup puts into fleshing out the Vinean civilization is astounding. Compared to "The Trio of the Bizarre", the writer/artist seems determined to carve out even more of his strange new world, filled with elaborate technology. Just seeing Khany's ship sucked into the ocean and heading for the hollow earth beneath makes the reader aware of just how in control the creator is when he gets close to the Vineans. The complicated series of tubes that the blue skinned aliens use to travel in their domain, once again, seems fully functional and at the same time breathtaking to look at. And while a typical room, such as the one Yoko and Khany leave Vic and Paul behind in, as soon as they arrive underwater, seems like a familiar technological base design with a generically busy background, the moment the two women step outside, Leloup is ready to once again amaze the reader.

Not content to merely reuse the pipeline he had the characters take in the first album, the writer/artist relegates it to the use of Yoko's earthbound friends, while he devises a completely new way for the two heroines to travel. Centered around the impressively heavy lava pipes, that Khany drives a support vehicle to point out the background of Karpans plot, Leloup carefully takes his time until he makes sense of the complicated plot. The two fight scenes that bookend the exposition involve Yoko fighting the Vinean secret service that has quickly seen through her disguise.

That none of these encounters are particularly memorable goes without saying, as it feels like the creator is merely going through the motions of maintaining an action heavy adventure plot, where it seems quite clearly that his efforts are centered around world building. Thankfully, the long escape route Yoko and Khany take in order to get to another part of the facility feels much more exciting. Again, seeing Leloup's design of Vinean drill goes the spotlight the amount of respect Leloup paid his readers, determined to create an entire alien civilization whose technology is vastly advanced, yet with an implicit visual continuity in the designs. When the writer/artist draws a huge oil rig in Martinique it feels extremely solid, researched and breathtaking, but getting to see his own design in action feels much more fluid and comic book like.

That Yoko uses it to blast away at Karpan's ship using the water pipeline seen in the first album, and proceeds to escape with Khany using a pair of highly elaborate sleds further feels like Leloup is determined to reward the reader's loyalty by continually introducing new designs and technology. It's interesting then that he decides to follow all this with a short break, involving giant mushrooms and dinosaur skeletons. By reintroducing Vic and Paul to the story at the same time, the creator apparently tries to ground the adventure back in something resembling terrestrial features, however fantastic and distorted.

Yet, having assembled the characters Leloup still proceeds with a scene featuring the forward thinking youth of Vinea equipping the group of friends with weapons needed to try and put a stop to Karpan's plan. Using a method of non lethally dealing with Karpan's secret service Leloup doesn't just shy away from having his protagonist use cold blooded murder as a means to an end, but actually helps her create more allies once some of those guards have woken up. Her scheme is still extremely risky, involving the destruction of key lava transporting equipment. And while some of the new character appear way to late to make an impact on the reader, technological breakdown involved with Yoko's plan still makes for a gripping read. Khany's exposition certainly served to underscore that there would be no clean break from stopping Karpan's plan, as it's first stages have already bore fruit, and will leave at least some kind of impact on the planet's surface.

Thus, the volcano centered meltdown finally has the Vinean ship returning to Carribean to help save the workers that would be the first in line when the catastrophe starts spreading. The wrap up is fast,but effective, with Yoko and her friends once again having been separated from their Vinean allies, along with a gadget that enables some form of communication. Again, it's quite clear that Leloup was certain that he would not be immediately picking up the plot strands involving the aliens, but is determined to leave the reader with a sense of longing regarding the race he created.

Contrary to their first appearance, the Vineans here are not only involved with in-fighting and dealing with newcomers poking their noses into a race millions of years old. And while Leloup forgoes having such a clear message involving the tendency of losing the cultural identity when involved with excessive technology, the lack of a misguided computer as the behind the scenes villain is made up for with a much broader ecological message. And while it would be presumptuous to speculate the inspirations behind the nationalistic tendencies of Karpan and his brethren, it is certain that there is some rationale leading Vineans to continually back up the cartoon villain's byzantine plots.

The very resolution of the story, with Khany informing her new friends that Vineans are still planning for escaping the planet's core, only with the plans readjusted to return to their homeland, instead of carving out a territory for themselves on the Earth's surface, basically reaffirms the race's need chief goals in a more logical setting (given the science fiction trappings of the series). This is precisely the reason why Leloup goes to such great lengths to introduce several new Vineans, even Karpan's secret service members forced to turn to Khany's way of thinking, in order to point out that this is not just a race of evil aliens with a single notable exception, but a complete society with a set of goals that are in fact completely reasonable. Instead of opting for the conveniently small cadre of gifted children, not yet subdued under Karpan's doctrine, to stay hidden in a subterranean grotto, while the bulk of their evil older peers be handwaved a way to their native star system, never to be seen again, the writer/artist pushes for the more complicated solution.

By preserving a sociological reality when dealing with were basically technologically superior elves of the first album, the creator was simply adamant in not letting go of his effort and creative choices. When Yoko is given a scrying mirror, or even an elaborate version of Skype to keep in contact with Khany the reader is meant to feel melancholy for the circumstances that keep these new best friends away, wishing that they could continue reading their joint adventures. In a way, Roger Leloup was informing the reader to stick around for some of the more mundane Yoko Tsuno adventures, while waiting for the real story to continue.

Yoko Tsuno 2 - The Devil's organ

Collected in 1973, "The Devil's Organ" is the second Yoko Tsuno adventure story, serialized in "the Spirou Magazine" by Roger Leloup. As is typical with Franco-Belgian comics, the album offers a complete story that is completely accessible to a reader unfamiliar with the events of the original album. Yoko is simply a resourceful young Japanese woman, traveling with her two friends, and encountering a complicated mystery plot along the way. Finding themselves in Germany, the previously dubbed "trio of the bizarre" are witness to a strange incident involving a beautiful local woman. Once again, the impulsive Paul is quick to respond to Ingrid's charms, while Yoko maintains an objective stance, tempered by her helpful nature.

The elusive Vic is once again continually on the sidelines. That Paul relatively quickly joins in and falls into the background, silent but for the occasional blunder and an aside, speaks to the archetypal characterization Leloup imbues the new character with, who plays the role of the victim right until the very end. Thus, most of the action revolves directly around Yoko, who is tasked not only with coming up with the solution to the murder mystery involving Ingrid's father and local folklore, but also saving the lives of herself and her helpless companions.

One could make the case that Yoko is a stereotypical Japanese woman in that she seems to be a string of racial attributes tied into an Franco-Belgian comic book hero, but ironically this is also what sets her apart. That her technical savvy is coupled with a knowledge of martial arts somehow makes her into a potent protagonist, and not a walking cliche. Leloup is careful to present her as a character having adventures in foreign lands, where her special skills are secondary to her intellect, curiosity and compassion.

Of course, having his Belgium-based character on a dangerous undertaking in a neighboring country, done by Herge's background assistant once again invites direct comparison to "Tintin". In this respect, "The Devil's Organ" appears as a relatively straightforward detective story, with some local flavor to make it more memorable. Where Herge seems somewhat broader in his assessments and more focused on his cast of characters and the specific style of humor he used, Leloup proceeds in a much more direct fashion.

His story takes place in Germany, revolves around the local legends and maintains a subtle note of occult terror throughout, but could otherwise very easily be reworked to star any number of Franco-Belgian protagonists, such as Gil Jordan, and even Colonel Clifton. Roger Leloup's work would be what would still distinguish it from the other albums in a similar series. Having a creator produce a single 44 page album per year makes for a staggering amount of artistic detail and a clear break between volumes. It seems that simply concentrating so much time and energy into a single story made the Franco-Belgian creators mindful to at least change the formula to include different locales in each of the entries in the series.

The resulting research and effort certainly pays off to produce visually startling work that both feels like a continuation of the series, and a pleasant diversion on it's own. Simply watching the Rhine vistas and the craggy hills ancient castles surrounded by the old fashioned town should feel like a typical middle European comics adventure, but in the hands of Leloup it becomes a real treat. The physical model of the castle itself, with the prominent tower and the adjacent area, feels completely realized, befitting it's importance as the story setting. This is particularly notable given so much of the similar locales in the medium typically looking like a cheap cardboard approximation of the same generic fortress. In Leloup's hands, the structure is depicted as looming over the river and the town houses, until it becomes the stage for the final act of the story.

Once again, the artist's attention to detail when it comes to the ferryboat and the train goes far and beyond the usual standards of realism in comics, with vehicles that have weight and mobility far beyond the look of being traced from a postcard in the work of a lot of the figure-centered artists. As befitting ligna claire style, the characters seem much more livelier than their surroundings, which is something of a problem when it comes to the artist's design for Paul, who simply looks like he belongs in a different comic book altogether. And while Yoko is kept in the realistic proportions, some of the side characters sport a somewhat looser style, which when compared to the main character's relatively calm and measured behavior, proceeds to somewhat distract from their surroundings. This is no doubt intended to ease up the characters acting out long swathes of dialogue, but the capable yet not too attractive figure drawings still betrays the artist's preference for depicting still life.

It stands to be pointed out again that this is a complete reversal from the typical comic book illustrations that tend to concentrate on the fast paced physicality of the characters in motion, with the background details provided to liven up the atmosphere, or more often, when the script specifically calls for them. When it comes to the story, in "The Devil's Organ" Leloup decides to mine the larger then life implications involved with having characters investigating a possible local cult, coupled with the depictions of medieval armor and, later on, a dungeon complete with a baroque organ that could hardly possess such a presence in a non-visual medium. Thus, despite the somewhat simple case of detective work Yoko encounters in the town of St. Goar, the writer/artist keeps maintains the aura of supernatural by using familiar tropes such as giant bats coming through the window.

That Leloup builds a peculiar sets of clues involving the audio tape left after the disappearance of Ingrid's father makes for an entertaining technology based investigation involving the town and it's river front. Still, what every 44 page comic book mystery story has to grapple with is the small number of suspects that can be previously alluded to in order for them to turn into the credible antagonists in the final act. Ironically, this makes for some realistic cases when Yoko and her genre colleagues pieces together the motives and evidence pertaining to the case, but still leaves a discerning reader with a mystery that could hardly have revealed a much different outcome.

Leloup tries to diversify the circumstances by coming up with a few final complications, but the explanation only becomes that much more convoluted because of it. Thankfully, such a bizarre set of contraptions that the technologically minded villain comes up with to undertake a simple interest fuel goal feels right at home when it comes to the medium. Reading the story about sound used to hypnotize the opponents and constructing a gigantic organ to echo the local folklore seems much better suited to the material then even watching it on screen, in what could only work as a very peculiar star studded blockbuster. But again, even a serviceable explanation seems more than enough when it comes to the story featuring as many action scenes as "The Devil's Organ".

Yoko in particular, seems to be continuously climbing up hills and falling off the walls, while the underground passages and secret rooms appear just where she imagines them to be, all flawlessly rendered by her creator. In a world where complicated machinery dominates every brightly lit room, this electrical engineer still relies chiefly on her instincts and rational mind to overcome threat against threat that is thrown against her.

That Roger Leloup manages to produce such a well thought out detective story, back to back with what was almost a space opera, belies a comics creator capable of every kind of work in the field. That the very next album represents the return to the series' origins could just mean that he was thinking of his own interests first, no matter the perceived audience's distaste for mixing the two.

Yoko Tsuno 1 - the Trio of the Bizarre

Yoko Tsuno debuted in 1970, starring in a couple of try out short stories published in the pages of Belgian "Spirou" magazine. Created by Roger Leloup, Herge's assistant on "Tintin", the character has since gone on to star in the series of 25 albums, with her adventures being translated and published in several different languages. The first English edition of the material debuted in 1998 and covered two of the early albums, while Cinebook has since picked up the licence. Since 2007, the publisher has kept to the schedule of more or less a single album per year.

The adventures of a beautiful Japanese girl teaming up with Belgian television crew Vic and Paul are somewhat distinctive. While Yoko herself is certainly an independent woman, perfectly suited to the life of an action hero, Leloup treats her with respect and avoids concentrating too heavily on her figure. Her two friends are somewhat more familiar Franco-Belgian Silver age characters, with Vic basically playing the role of the reader identification figure, and the much flawed Paul being around for comic relief and a more pronounced touch of humanity.

In "the Trio of the bizarre", Yoko is introduced as an electrical engineer that is suspected of burglary by the two friends working in the movie studio. What starts as a spy story, all too quickly (due to the album being originally serialized in the course of several installments of "Spirou" magazine) turns into an adventure story, until it becomes apparent that Leloup is actually most interested in placing his characters in a science fiction milieu similar to that of "Star Trek: The Original series". A turn for the bizarre is, of course, nothing new for the Franco-Belgian comics of the era, with even the otherwise semi-realistic "Tintin" having oddball albums dealing with the more outlandish pulp elements.

In fact, 1968's "Flight 714" is particularly of note when discussing the origins of Yoko Tsuno. The second to last Herge album, featuring extensive work by Leloup, is notable for a light-hearted featuring a strange setting, and ending in a denouement that is very tongue in cheek. In the space of several pages, Herge attributes several unexplained phenomena as the work of aliens coming to visit the Earth, clearly inspired by the theories of Erich von Däniken. Däniken's "Chariot of the Gods" was published the same year as the collected edition of Herge and Leloup's work, and it's no coincidence that it plays with the ideas of aliens inhabiting the planet Earth in the past, which would theoretically serve as an explanation for some of the various culture's folklore and scientific wonders the ancient countries produced at seemingly far above the assumed technological level of the eras they lived in.

In any event, more notable then even the beautiful tropical backgrounds in the Tintin album, attributed to Leloup, the artist was reportedly responsible for the design of the airplane which plays a key role in the story and feels thoroughly modern and realistic, despite being the work of Herge's technically minded assistant. Interestingly, in Yoko Tsuno's long form debut, Leloup returns to Däniken's ideas, and crafts a story that takes the concept in a completely different direction that Herge's well meaning satire. Basically, while exploring a current for a possible documentary set in an unnamed Belgian cavern system, the characters stumble upon what at first seems like the remnants of some kind of modern Atlantis, and it's characteristically blue skinned denizens. Even more unlikely, at first chance the Vinean female Khany reveals their origins to the trio of total strangers, revealing that her race has originally come to the planet millions of years ago, while escaping from the destruction of Vinea.

The beautiful images showing the merging of the planet's suns are certainly the visual highlight of the volume, but by having his characters' original adventure, and subsequent supporting cast, integrated so heavily in the science fiction meant that Leloup was very conscious in carving out a niche in the Franco-Belgian comics industry. And while some of the succeeding adventures have featured the more realistic locales, the writer/artist has repeatedly returned Yoko and her two friends to the trappings of Vinean civilization, even going so far as sending them on Vinea. Interestingly, Cinebook has so far steered clear of the albums dealing directly with the Vinean civilization, and judging by the solicited material they certainly seem set on translating the more grounded material first.

It's a very peculiar situation for a reprint publisher to find themselves in, and certainly breaks away from the creator's original idea regarding the series. "The Trio of the Bizarre" is unapologetically an album featuring science fiction elements, and it certainly seems more reminiscent of "Flash Gordon" than "the X-Files".  Namely, once Yoko and her friends come close to the Vinean settlement, Leloup drops all pretense of her companion's ambitions as journalists, proceeding with a long speed chase that highlights several of the book's key elements. Namely, the writer/artist's superbly executed vehicle designs, which seem both visually impressive and entirely plausible, given the setting. Leloup's fertile imagination immediately creates several challenges that use the exotic setting of an underwater alien train chase, making for an uncharacteristically long journey broken by every contrivance possible.

Again, this is certainly not a problem, as the creator uses the space to expand on the just introduced alien culture, introduce a major new character in Khany, and shows the traditional comic heroes coming to grips with the new locale and circumstances. Once Khany's equipment malfunctions after a cascade of problems that overtake their journey, it's transparent that the reader is dealing with a pulp yarn, but the array of tropes  changes again as the story continues in ostensibly new issue of "Spirou", meaning that the final third of the album takes place in Vinean city, with only the threat of a villain serving as the dramatic thread and making the introductory album into more then a tour of the writer/artist's science fantasy setting.

It goes without saying that Leloup's architecture is on pair with his intricate vehicle designs, resulting once again in several breathtaking designs that he takes full advantage of. Returning Yoko, Vic and Paul to their civilian clothes serves to juxtapose these ordinary humans to the advanced alien civilization, but reading the story in 2011 means that her forty year old attire seems very dated and even disconcerting. The Vinean Vulcan-like hostility is on the sidelines through Khany's tour of the computer-colored complex, but in returning to the exposition Leloup once again breaks the suspension of disbelief as some of Yoko's questions seem far too direct to be given such extensive and matter of fact answers, given that she is a complete stranger to an alien civilization that has for millions of years been purposely hidden from the surface world.

Thankfully, in reasserting some semblance of loyalty to her people in Khany's character, the writer/artist manages to round out what has largely been a benevolent alien so far. Given that the otherwise goofy Paul gets the same treatment in the same scene, it's easy to see the last segment of the book as most interesting and dramatically the strongest. That Leloup follows the exposition with an action heavy climax featuring the peak of Vinean technology perverted and manipulated to be used against their people, and in turn surface world goes a long way to give the book some semblance of thematic resonance beyond the simple escapism. Truthfully, the allegorical reminder of the logical endpoint of computer-dominated society seems very familiar to anyone who has had experience with the genre, but it works to sufficiently raise the stakes for the final combat with the villain.

The stern Yoko directly opposing thoroughly evil Karpan is at least more notable then his initial appearance, but the character continues to be problematic, and seems very forgettable. His appearance is perhaps the strongest call back to "Star Trek", but the single minded obsession that the character displays makes him merely the obligatory antagonist, and not by any means a memorable villain in his own right. Still, perhaps it's to much to be expecting the series to launch with the album introducing the main characters, the setting they would remain closely linked throughout the series and a charismatic key opponent all at once. Most of the rest of Franco-Belgian adventure comics the same readership certainly acquired each of these elements during the course of many years they were published, with the creators routinely going back to the drawing board in searching for the appealing combination of the three.

The need for the immediate continuation of another new adventure with it's own set of action set pieces and cliffhangers, necessitated a familiarly quick wrap up of the main plot. In itself, a notable stranger coming to an ancient civilization with the fresh eyes for some of it's newer flaws, and dealing with them in short order is a stock plot that, along with the obligatory "techno babble" that follows most of the similar pulp science fiction scenarios, leads to a somewhat unsatisfying resolution, but Leloup dulls the effect with the advent of Khary's parting gifts to the main characters.

The mere fact that they were given actual items that hint further adventures, instead of some abstract McGuffin, goes a long way to differentiate the series. And while certainly having such a strange science fiction status quo to return to seems a challenge for both the readers and the writer/artist, Leloup has continued on to mine the concepts introduced in "The Trio of the Bizarre" for the following forty years. Perhaps that a simple fact of having such a strong, independent woman at the center of the book that is nevertheless a classic Franco-Belgian adventure story made such an impression on the readers. Considering that Yoko's chief rival was Dupuis' own "Natacha", focusing on much lighter cheesecakey depiction of the female form, it's easy to see why Leloup's heroine has remained such a strong presence in what was originally an industry catering to young boys' serial entertainment.

Spirou and Fantasio: "the Dictator and the mushroom"

"the Dictator and the mushroom" presents the

sixth full length Spirou and Fantasio feature produced by Andre Franquin for Dupuis' "the Spirou magazine". Using Maurice Rosy's plot, Franquin started serializing the story in 1953, which was eventually collected in hardcover album format three years later.

On the face of it, Franquin chose to spotlight an anti-military scenario, while drawing on his own work to provide background context. And while the writer/artist has certainly introduced Palombia as an unstable banana republic from the start, it's doubtful that the simplistic examination of the military coup phenomena featured in "the Dictator and the mushroom" was to be of the primary interest to most of the readers.

The book certainly starts of by pairing the two most of the most memorable over the top ideas Franquin introduced in his work on Spirou, that of town of Culdesac playing host to Marsupilami. The wondrous creative, native to Palombian jungle needed only to be introduced to the Count's newest invention to start wreaking the domestic bliss of the provincial town. And seeing Franquin realize this idea in a series of fast paced comedic sequences could certainly have been used as a basis for a complete adventure in itself.

That Franquin wasn't content on merely marrying two previous ideas in the most obvious scenario, speaks to his commitment to theme first, as the playful antics constitute merely the prologue of the story. The oft endangered Culdesac once again seems such a definite setting for the writer/artist's particular stylings, even if he admits initial skepticism for the Rosy-invented Metomol gas. Despite his propensity for high energy unapologetic storytelling, Franquin still felt that there was a line separating the subjective reality of his characters and the full blown science fiction with little bases in the everyday life that he liked to juxtapose his characters against. Of course, this goes against his having introduced nothing less than a dinosaur to Culdesac in a later volume, but on the whole, speaks of the common ground that his comics had with their chief aesthetic rival that was Herge's "Tintin".

Perhaps this was simply due to the generational gap between the two creators, but as the younger of them, Franquin certainly seemed more interested in satirizing the middle century technological boom that was all around him those days. Thus, Count Culdesac stands as a much more active and progressive scientists, than Herge's absent minded professors, and certainly much more advanced in the biochemistry field. Even then, his aristocratic demeanour still gets shaken as his experiments fail to be contained to the laboratory grounds. Having Marsupilami simply take a canister of his latest invention and run wild around the respectable community is an iconic presentation of the typical Spirou and Fantasio conflict.

As such, it convinces the protagonists that their pet must be returned to the Zoo grounds, but failing that, they resort to return to Palombia with it. As such, in a lot of ways, "the Dictator and the mushroom" is a direct sequel to "Spirou and the heirs", and not so much it's circus-oriented follow-up publication. The journey to Palombia is another chance for Marsupilami to win readers over, with his antics, because right after the characters finally arrive in the fictional South American country, the whole of focus shifts to a much different tale.

If not for the presence of the cover, Franquin would have certainly have succeeded in misdirecting the reader's attention. Without much in the way of foreshadowing Palombian's coup d'etat, the writer/artist suddenly makes it clear that characters once again traveling to secure Marsupilami's voyage was plot point designed to get them back to Palombia, so that he could get to the story he felt the need to tell. Marsupilami's hijinks aside, this is another instance in which the creator demonstrates his use of continuity to tell completely accessible tales. Not only is Marsupilami given a complete introduction and a reason to be taken back to it's native jungle, but the uninitiated reader doesn't really need to know anything about Palombia beforehand.

This is because once Spirou and Fantasio return to it, they are as surprised as the reader to see the signs of new dictatorial regime in place. Even considering that the of Palombia's supreme commander
is another callback to "Spirou and the heirs", doesn't detract from the enjoyment of those unfamiliar with the volume in question. In this instance, they might be even better served, as the character returns in a radically different way compared to his situation when last seen. Even Franquin has gone on record for regretting the creative decision that has made the way for establishing the villain in "the Dictator and the mushrooms".

In any event, the book largely transforms with the promise of the war with the neighboring country. The benevolent humor it starts with gives way to a light hearted war time thriller, as the paranoia starts becoming a pervasive mood. Thus, the antics of Spip and Marsupilami are relegated to background gags, as the secret police agent starts bearing the brunt of Franquin's whimsy. Franquin certainly manages to get across the fear for the lives of the protagonists, and the eventual resolution of the conflict, but this is achieved in a very perfunctory manner.

Spirou and Fantasio are given important military positions, in what what can only be described as an act of madness on the part of their chief enemy so far. And for all of Franquin's satirizing him as a low-rent Hitler, his unexplainable behavior certainly goes a long way from depicting him as a credible threat. Thankfully, the country standing on the brink of war makes up for this, and Spirou and Fantasio's quest to contract outside assistance certainly carries appropriate drama.

That the help eventually arrives in the form of another recent addition to the supporting cast certainly helps cement the feeling that the writer/artist has already created a strong comic, with not it's internal logic and the author's myriad idiosyncrasies, but also a number of recurring characters that strengthen the narrative on the whole.

Yet, seeing the ultimate results of marrying two disparate parts of the story does lead to the feeling that the book is somewhat the less than the sum of it's parts. Certainly Franquin understood that the complicated nature of modern warfare was always going to be simplified in it's depiction in what was a premiere children's comic at the time. Yet, there was no excuse to follow that impulse to it's natural resolution, implying that every storytelling convention is acceptable if the creator has an humane agenda on his mind.

That the reader never gets to really meet the other part of the conflict could have been used to even augment the plot, but it certainly serves to help undermine the story's credibility when coupled with the eventual means of stopping the looming conflict. Such a brief and abbreviated scene is lent some more weight when coupled with the eventual personal showdown with the culprit behind the Palombia's troubles, but it doesn't really go a long way from helping the book cohere as the whole.

As for the epilogue, it could be said that it's much more successful, in that the writer/artist has done everything to prepare the reader for Spirou and Fantasio's final decision regarding Marsupilami's status. Once again, the characterization resurfaces as the real strength of this album, as Spirou and Fantasio leave behind the weak and unconvincing resolution of military conflict. There are certainly whole scenes that effectively drive forward Franquin's urgent pacifistic message, but the work would have perhaps benefited from being wholly focused on those issues, and not splitting the page length with the Culdesac parts, in which the writer/artist definitely felt more at home.

Spirou and Fantasio: the Horn of the Rhinoceros

"the Horn of the Rhinoceros" stands as the fourth longer Spirou and Fantasio adventure, that Andre Franquin produced, originally serialized in "the Spirou magazine" in 1952. Interestingly, the creator's original intention was to publish two adventures starring his characters, with the eponymous one being the follow-up to the spy caper. Yet, when Dupuis serialized the work in 1955, they bundled the pair together, thus providing for a somewhat richer and more complete experience.

Yet, most of the book's problems stem from that very same decision, as the two parts never really cohere story wise. Through enough, the plot points are followed up and expended upon, but the reader is still left with a very concrete ending point at roughly the two thirds of the collected edition, rendering the continuation contrived in a lot of ways.

It's only the epilogue that brings some much needed closure to Spirou and Fantasio's long voyage, and saves the book from the pulpy Golden age adventure feel, with characters literally stepping from one adventure to another. Plot-wise, this is largely because of the role a particular McGuffin plays in the story actually pays off bringing a slight, and very Franquin-like, change into the book image-wise. Still, "the Horn of the Rhinoceros" is much more notable for the writer/artist's other addition, that of Seccotine, female reporter, and the book's first female character of note.

The narrative framework of having adventure comics starring journalists as the protagonists, often gives way to only so much lip service as needed to justify getting the primaries in contact with an interesting assignment. In "the Horn of Rhinoceros", Franquin starts off by actually focusing on his protagonists' work a moment, if only to provide context for the introduction of the new supporting character. The cartoonist uses the same opportunity to introduce the plot in a dynamic way, making for a very interesting beginning of the Spirou and Fantasio story.

Using a department story as the setting for the whole first act of what was originally "Spirou and the turbotraction", proves very fruitful for both Franquin's sense of whimsy and creativity, especially compared to the previous album's opening at the Zoo, similarly depicted past the closing time. A multi-level building housing a long chase sequence might have ended up serving as merely the backdrop for a lot of high energy action sequences, but in the writer/artist's hands, it becomes so much more.

Franquin relishes the opportunity to draw the budget appliances, but never for the sake of cluttering the background for the sake of getting the reader's attention to his bravado. No, in his depiction, all of the myriad objects end up serving a purpose, first for the sake of comedy, than to set up his plot, and eventually to marry the two in a jovial way. The whole of the first act of the story is "Spirou and Fantasio" at it's best, utilizing the department store setting to it's most, while providing for a typical convoluted mystery that will take the protagonists the rest of the story to get on top of it.

Interestingly, the scheme to steal the blueprints of the automobile prototypes ties into "Spirou and the heirs"'s second act, with the "Turbot" factory being the offended party. Franquin's use of continuity is noteworthy in that it mostly deals with recasting the two drivers into new roles, using their familiarity to entice the protagonists into taking action on their behalf. Other than that, Roulebille and Martin could have easily been recast as the a new couple of spy characters, which is what they essentially are in this story.

Unfortunately, the pair of gangsters instigating the plot never really emerge into any kind of credible foils. Thankfully, Franquin realizes this and centers the adventure around the world wide search for the McGuffin, which enables his stock character adversaries just the sort of nuisances used to appear at the most convenient and trouble Spirou and Fantasio that much more. In a longer work, they would have perhaps had the roles of henchmen to a more important villain that would appear later in the story.

As it is, the second act of the story is it's weakest, consisting as it does of a down time needed to get the heavy exposition out of the way, and set up the final part of Spirou and Fantasio's journey. This is done in a very heavy handed and belaboured way, with Franquin clearly being aware as to the true nature of his plot, and treating it as what it is, basically an exercise in thinking of inventive ways of structuring chase scenes around two distinct settings.

Once in Sidi-bou-bouk, Franquin's latest stand in for a stereotypical African country, Seccotine still doesn't get a lot of panel space. This is absolutely intentional because of the relationship that quickly develops between her and Fantasio. Theirs is a friendly rivalry that still infuriates her colleague to no end, which basically forces Franquin to tailor her role to appear mysterious even to the reader.

In any case, the writer/artist is to be commanded for having his female reporter be every bit as resourceful as his male leads, which translates into not so much as irritating but capable and charming in it's own way. For a first appearance, this is more than enough, as the mostly off-panel character still leaves the impression that she has her whole other adventure outside of Spirou and Fantasio, and achieving the same goals in her own way, which naturally ends up beneficial to all.

Thus her peculiar position makes way for the highlight of the book - a long chase sequence through the Arabian market. Franquin employs the quirky streets to their comedic best, supplementing the ludicrousness with fantastic details, such as his villains' wigs, and Fantasio's cheap souvenir. A lot of heart and energy clearly went into staging these comedic escapades, and their creator clearly feels amused at having constructed them.

And while all of "the Horn of Rhinoceros" can hardly be said to carry some sort of a concrete morale, it's still notable for it's sense of good humor. This is definitely the work of an artist that is still finding his feet with this series (judging by the complete absence of Marsupilami, who was just last volume certified as a credible member of the supporting cast), but Franquin's also continually enthusiastic, which shows best in his art, that continues to tighten up and be more and more unique.

The writer/artist unique brand of caricature is leaping in strides even this early into the series, thus reader can already see little of Jije's Golden age incarnation of the characters that preceded it. Franquin has literally abandoned his mentor's model that he started off emulating and has in many ways made the series his own.

This extends into finishing his stories when he feels that he's already said what he wanted, and this is literally how he follows up the masterful display of comics storytelling that was his Sidi-bou-bouk city-based piece. Spirou and Fantasio are given a new African address, and together with their new friend, they come to the journey's end, which quickly wraps up most of the plot threads.

Seemingly at the last minute, the creator and his publisher felt that the setting deserved another adventure, thus allowing for the immediate continuation. Following some inelegant exposition, Spirou and Fantasio start partaking in a truly African quest, for the horn of rhinoceros, giving the second story, and the whole of the eventual collection, it's name. It is, once again, a typically colonial rendition of the pulpy exotic adventure story, but thankfully, with a little more care given the natives.

That is not to say that they're not wholly insensitive racial caricatures, but they are at least given some differentiation, and more importantly, the whole short has a decidedly light-hearted feeling. "the Horn of the Rhinoceros" has none of the spy trappings of it's predecessor, but embraces the African myth wholeheartedly to deliver some of Franquin's bizarre logic, as it features some truly unique comedic scenarios using what might appear as the typical staple of adventure cliches.

For one, the creator uses a previously introduced souvenir so extensively that it becomes almost a character in the story. The effect is hilarious throughout, and certainly unique to Franquin's oddball sense of humor and his unique point of view.

As is the standard with his art, his designs for animals particularly stand out, and together with his satirical leanings help the reader ignore the overcomplicated plot that sends his characters in motion. It is Franquin's creative vision that takes spotlight front and center, and it culminates in the search for the aforementioned horn that takes on a comedic quality that has to be seen to be believed. Once again, the reader is free to judge the creator's attempts at humor on his own terms, but the wholly original situations that are set up in the comic can't be glossed over.

Once again, the writer/artist expresses in the most over the top way imaginable, that is not only endearing, but so self-assured that it projects a feeling that the creator is really trying to amuse himself first and foremost. And even when Spirou and Fantasio finally find the plans they have spent so much time searching for, having been the sole plot element carried over to address their continued stay in Africa, Franquin finally reveals why he chose to call back to the previous volume.

It is precisely because of the epilogue enables him to once again indulge into one of his obsessions, that was nowhere as apparent as in the overlong second act of "Spirou and the heirs". And having spent so much with these characters and developing their world, he can certainly excused for using every excuse to spotlight his passion for technology of the era. It is precisely because of his own interests and personality that these comics have developed such a following, and even today continue to be wholly original for readers interested in the medium and all of the forms it has taken across the world.

Spirou and Fantasio: the Marsupilami robbers

“The Marsupilami robbers” is the third extended Spirou and Fantasio adventure produced by Andre Franquin. After serializing it in the pages of “Spirou magazine”, Dupuis published it as an album in 1952. As with “the Sorcerer of Culdesac”, the story features a co-writer credit, this time to Jo Almo (a pseudonym of Geo Salmon).

Salmon was a sports journalist and a long -time friend, who drifted away from making comics to model making of some of the weird inventions Franquin displayed in the pages of "Spirou and Fantasio". His contribution to the third volume consists of a first draft, produced in collaboration with his wife, that served to convince Franquin of Marsupilami's value for the series as a whole. Thus, by having a hand in elevating the venerable character from a one time curiosity to the comic book icon, the Salmon couple have ended up playing a small but crucial role in the history of Marcinelle school of drawing.

Franquin has taken their cue to play upon his own frustrations with the ill treatment the captive animals see at the Zoos and circuses, and that parallel ended up serving as a backbone to the story. Unfortunately, no matter the inspiration, “the Robbers” is certainly a much less ambitious tale than its two predecessors, ending up a transitory volume that helped its creator step back, deciding how to integrate the many new ideas presented thus far.

The first half of the album stands up as some of the strongest work Franquin had done up to that point, with a chase sequence in the ZOO representing his characteristic eye for detail and a penchant for physical comedy. Despite the contrived plot of gangsters faking Marsupilami’s death as the cover for his subsequent kidnapping, once the night falls on the premises, the setup yields the series’ typical charms. This means that, in trying to find their new companion, Spirou and Fantasio are repeatedly beset by a typical incompetent groundskeeper, while the kidnapper is doing his best to get over the wall with his prey.

The writer/artist doesn’t let the gloomy backdrop rob the story of comic relief though. Indeed its early highlight is the pavilion sequence, where the nostalgic Nile monitor steals the show with his perfect comedic timing.

In any event, through the advent of some heavy handed clues, Franquin transitions the plot with a clunky scene, trying to add some ambiguity to the actions on part of one of the kidnappers. The manner in which the writer/artist communicates this idea ends up acting almost as a parody of a social realism drama. Yet, this is quickly forgotten, as mid-section goes on to provide the comedic highlight of the volume, portraying an encounter with the customs that goes horribly wrong.

Our always-rushed reporters are once again unprepared for the bureaucracy behind Franquin’s 1950s France, but the annoyance quickly culminates in a no holds barred showdown that has to be seen to be believed. Unfortunately, it appears that Franquin’s enthusiasm starts waning right after this over the top sequence, as if returning to the straight forward plot structure does not really interest him as a storyteller. Likewise, the protagonists’ catching up with the kidnapper and his subsequent moral decision feel too soon and would certainly have made for a more dramatic moment if placed at the conclusion of the episode.

As it is, the final third of the story, centering around the circus Zabaglione (yet another villain whose name starts with the final letter of the alphabet), seems oddly drawn out and anti-climatic. It’s not just that the ring master feels like a lazy and generic villain, the whole milieu feels tacked on and acts as a weak parallel to the album’s opening pages, set in the ZOO.

True, the writer/artist has Spirou and Fantasio try numerous plays in order to get close to Marsupilami, but the resultant physical gags feel played out and seen before. Interestingly, another recently debuting major player resurfaces in the closing scenes, carrying with him a unique McGuffin needed to finally bring the plot to it’s violent resolution. Still, this signature touch of weirdness does not make up for the weak ending that manifests none of the story's strenghts.

Circus ring master Zabaglione once again fails to establish himself as a proper villain in his own right, and ends up being a minor nuisance, needing the help of the strongman Goliath to take care of the titular heroes. In the resulting match, all of their new found allies show up for the grand brawl, but it nonetheless feels that nothing is really at stake ( with one of the kidnappers already having faced the accusations for his crime beforehand), especially following the iconic tussle with the customs.

On the other hand, Marsupilami’s scenes are succinct and convincing, going a long way to, if not make up for the convulted story that they inspired, at least convince the readers that the wonderfully strange animal is a welcome addition to the series. Salmon's storytelling instincts ended up making a smart choice considering the focus Franquin’s signature creation would end up getting in subsequent stories.

In the end, “the Marsupilami robbers” ends up being a minor “Spirou and Fantasio” volume, despite some of the charming details along the way. It definitely benefits from being read in sequence alongside the whole of Franquin’s 20 years in the making run, but some of it's deeper themes, regarding cruelty to animals feel glossed over and touched upon only in broad strokes, which is perhaps suitable considering it's intended audience.

Franquin certainly emerges as a creator with a much clearer grasp on how to continue the series, basically by following through with the ideas he more or less developed on his own. It is in that spirit of trying to amuse himself that he would definitely reach the most readers, even if it meant leaving the big city reporters angle that never really gelled with his version of Spirou and Fantasio’s adventures.

Spirou and the heirs

Serialized in "the Spirou magazine" in 1951, "Spirou and the heirs" was Andre Franquin's second major album working on the series. Unlike the title page of "the Wizard of Culdesac", the 1952 "Dupuis" published collected edition lists no creative assists in the credits. This is only the first indication that the writer/artist's effort feels much closer to his later works than even the first, lucid album.

It takes a very brave artist to proceed with the series by making next to no reference to the perfect long-form debut symbolized by the addition of Culdesac to the mythos. And yet, with "Spirou and the heirs" Franquin feels almost giddy in getting to enjoy the creative freedom all by himself. On the surface, the creator starts off seemingly naively, by revisiting the idea of Fantasio coming to the inheritance of the rich, previously unmentioned, cousin. By returning to the basic scenario of one of his first collaborations with Jije, Franquin doesn't satisfy himself with substituting the lead protagonist in charge of receiving the eponymous will and all the complications that go with it. The writer/artist uses this simple trope to wrap around three complete episodes, all spotlighting a major part of his creative inspirations.

The overarching plot of Fantasio and his cousin Zantafio competing to fulfill the three obligations needed to come into possession of the secret inheritance is therefore little more than a framing device that houses three distinctive chapters. Traditionally, the first one settles around Fantasio fixing to create a new invention, that is for once called for. This part of the plot begins as a fast paced physical comedy that must have been a delight to read in serial form. By the time the scheming cousin Zantafio rears his head in, Franquin is ready to start showing off his talent for drawing needlessly complicated machinery with very little practical purpose that has become the basis for most gags in his later "Gaston" series. This first part of the book actually peaks right before the big finish, with a series of hilariously over the top gags in the solicitor's house.

Thus, the final score on who gets to lead in the overall challenge feels tacked on and overlong, serving the wider plot that is largely superfluous. Interestingly, in the closing pages of this segment a rare metafictional bit occurs, bringing with it the only substantial reference to "the Wizard of Culdesac". And while it's easy to speculate on the inclusion of the arbitrary sequence, perhaps it's best to treat it as an advertisement for the collected edition of the preceding adventure. Despite the later "Gaston" spin-off being a place for the constant in jokes involving the publisher's office politics, Franquin sticks with the adventure storyline throughout "the Spirou and the heirs".

Yet, for all the fantastic contraptions Franquin comes up with as a running commentary on the continuing industrialization of the mid 20th century, there is no doubt that his inspiration comes from the cars. And while some of the artist's previous panels could be accused of having little in the way of atmospheric backgrounds, it all becomes next to irrelevant as the middle chapter comes speeding. Once again, the comic makes way for a sports event, that best encapsulates the challenge of the framing story. Even more, Franquin is so entranced by the prospect of depicting a formula race that he lends it by far the most space in the book, depicting in detail all of it's stages and ancillary events.

As for the story logic behind it, it's so childlike and naive that it defies criticism. Despite the idea of Fantasio and Zantafio receiving some training, it's best that the writer chose to spend as little time as he did on explaining how the two of them actually ended up in such a high end race. Once again, the artist falls back on using Golden Age criminals to set the plot in motion, and thankfully, he keeps it around to provide motion during the long racing sequence. Because, strangely, the all important track ends up feeling intensely decompressed, and actively in need of the subplot starring Spirou and Spip to inject energy in it.

On the other hand, technically, Franquin's craft is impressive, especially considering when it was produced. The cars' physical models, the sensation of movement and the intensity of the race is all depicted peerlessly, as if the artist was coming to the book fully educated on the subject. Of course, being a fan of auto sports doesn't explain the astounding layouts presented in "Spirou and the heirs", particularly considering that they hardly have much of a precedent in the comic book art before him. That Franquin more or less devised all of this movement himself is the album's definite high point art-wise.

Nonetheless, the race and the many machinations that erupt around it, would have benefited from some focusing and streamlining. Due to the rapid inclusion of seemingly every possible trope set around the race, the event loses a lot of momentum. It's almost certain that this was nowhere near a problem when originally serialized, but it definitely detracts from the work as a whole when sampled all in one reading. The problem can be summed up in the way the whole sequence ends, with Spirou and Fantasio riding an antique automobile, for no purpose than to provide Franquin to draw one. Interestingly, the crucial plot point tying the whole thing with the struggle for inheritance is dealt with in a single page, so as to propel the story forward and reignite the sense of rivalry between cousins.

Still, showing that Franquin indulging in his whims is creatively a very rewarding experience, is once again clear with the lest leg of Spirou and Fantasio's journey. After all, he is the creator that almost solely propelled them into one of the most popular Franco Belgian characters, and by taking them to the Palmobian jungle, he was preparing to make his mark that much more permanent. In fact, by presenting a fictional South American republic as a stand-in, Franquin unleashes some of his funniest moments right on the first couple of pages. The charming satire is quickly abandoned for a seemingly generic jungle hunt though, which can certainly be excused considering the animal involved.

Because, no matter the legal status of the character following the ending of Franquin's run on the title, Marsupilami has achieved an enormous and enduring popularity, and it all stems from a single plot strand of "Spirou and the heirs". Even in his original appearance, the weird monkey-like creature completely overshadows the protagonists. Of course, their trying to capture it results in a series of gags, but it's clear throughout that Franquin is absolutely fascinated by his new creation, and wants nothing more but to showcase its weird habits and abilities.

It's difficult to describe Marsupilami or even articulate what lead to his charm, but it's certain that somewhere amid it's gruff and unlikely ways lies a very endearing character. In any event, Franquin ended up being much more taken by his own creation than Spip, the squirrel that Spirou's original creator Rob-Vel came up with. It cannot be overstated that Marsupilami is an instantly memorable comic book character, and one that sticks in mind much more than Franquin's plots. On the other hand, his subsequent inclusion in the series' constant supporting cast has certainly lead the title far away from the subjective reality of the series, marking a clear line that delineates the Marcinelle comic book style. Simply put, depicting Marsupilami is as far away from drawing from life as the Smurfs are from "Tintin" and the more realistic ligne claire style.

Franquin must have been fully aware of the potential impact of his creation, as he quickly wraps up the last chapter of the adventure, and in turn the whole plot involving the inheritance. The unceremonious ending is valiantly hidden behind Zantafio's emotional breakdown, and the succeeding morale of the story, as imparted by the solicitor. After all the troubles, the ending feels hugely anti-climatic, and substitutes the actual pay off for shallow philosophy, seemingly thought up at the last moment. Still, this was arguably the only possible ending of a framing story that was from the start deceptively simple and unconvincing.

Yet again, the characters have ended their adventure with a very formidable reward indeed. The addition of Marsupilami to the cast, coupled with "the Wizard"'s setting of Culdesac have proven to be the chief elements that have made Golden Age characters Spirou and Fantasio such an enduring part of the Franco Belgian comic book scene. The only other, final major addition to the series was the introduction of a permanent villain, which was Franquin's final contribution to the mythos, after a long slew of albums.

Still, Franquin's departure as a way of maturing to different kinds of comics was still ways off in 1952, as the writer/artist was preparing to further integrate his new character in the world of Spirou, as set up by Rob-Vel and Jije before him.