Wayne Shelton 1 - the Mission

In 2001, the longtime "XIII" scribe has negotiated a deal with Dargaud, to have the publisher invest in the new spy actioneer along similar lines. Illustrated by Christian Denayer, "the Mission" both looked and read like a "XIII" album, but with some clear differences. For a start, Jean Van Hamme begins his story as a detective mystery, divorced of the trappings of global conspiracy and Cold War intrigue. The titular Wayne Shelton is a veteran soldier turned realist, hired to put together a team of mercenary friends in order to fulfill a mission in regards to corporate interests. That his financiers come from France instead of America seems almost an afterthought, as the work derives most of its aesthetic from cinematic excesses and crime novel inspired plots. Yet, it's the distinction that makes the strongest impression on the new reader.

Wayne Shelton himself of course isn't French, but his creators are, and that's what makes all the difference. At one point, the late 40s protagonist specifically mentions Steven Spielberg's "Indiana Jones" movies as part of a ploy to get a new acquaintance to join his group of specialists. By inviting the comparison, Van Hamme deliberately poses his narrative as that of a more nuanced genre work, something that doesn't wear its influences on the sleeve. A more apt comparison would be to "James Bond" movies, with the chief difference being that Van Hamme and Denayer employ an ensemble cast to achieve the objective.

It's telling that of all of Shelton's military friends, the protagonist remains the most brutish, albeit genuinely likable. The opening scenes featuring Shelton in a trench coat did bode for a one-note characterization, but thankfully the creators sidestep that approach in favor of something a bit more interesting. As presented, Shelton is well connected when it comes to operating in the Middle East and the former Soviet republics, and the introductory volume serves mainly to set up the mission which takes place in the second volume, concluding Van Hamme's original proposal.

The introductory volume thus roughly corresponds to for the first hour of an action movie, with Van Hamme plotting a dense story that still manages to maintain tension throughout. The veteran scribe starts off with a tense scene followed by the expository dialog, a common technique, but even then the "XIII" creator is careful to provide some diversion so as to avoid page after page of tedious background information. The writer continues in a similarly lively fashion, depicting the characters charming their way through numerous potentially dangerous situations, only resorting to their fists when they have no other choice. For a world weary adventure story featuring a band of mercenaries, "the Mission" is decidedly restrained, while still teasing a messy showdown in the next volume.

Thus, after the protagonist gets his orders, most of the volume is taken up by his approaching new and former specialists, while gathering the team to go to the fictional Kalakchistan. As for the immediate drama, the creators pick up on one of Shelton's friends and use his middle Eastern predicament to provide for a diversion. Lord Bellie is certainly an interesting character, in that he maintains the English nobleman facade even though he has long since become a smuggler and a grifter like the rest of his friends. The creators steer off from going too far into camp, following Bellie's debut with a scene which serves to give the reader some concrete information on Shelton's background, while stealthily setting up a new addition to Shelton's crew.

Despite the bluster, "Wayne Shelton" is a comic that thrives on details, and the complicated set-up still manages to be entertaining and genuinely smart the whole way through. On the surface, each of Shelton's associates is a familiar genre archetype, such as a smuggler turned bordello owner, but the creators still manage to make them seem fresh individual. Except for the movie stunt-man that gets little more than a cameo appearance, Shelton's associates strike an interesting dynamic. Most interestingly, the sole female of the group, Honesty Goodness (a tongue in cheek name if there ever was one) enters the story as a stage magician that humors his ruggedness for the sole purpose of avoiding boredom.

Compared to the overweight Kalahar pleasure den owner, the flirty Honesty provides more than comic relief, and does more than play into the archetype. As unlikely as it seems, following Wayne himself, the gorgeous ms. Goodness is the closest the series gets to a fully fleshed out character. More often than not, Shelton himself seems just like a walking series of cliches, but there is a genuine attempt at characterization on the part of the creators. Sidestepping his genre-requirement street smarts and the ability to put together an international operation, Shelton's instant enmity to his client's secretary does seem like interesting in that he never stops with the hostility. Likewise, his smooth talking an expatriate Kalakchistan actor does seem contrary to Shelton's no nonsense attitude, but this, along with the hint of age creeping up on Shelton at least work toward rounding him out as a more realistic character.

As for the presentation, Denayer offers a more traditional comic book style than somewhat rigidly realistic Vance on "XIII". The artist still relies heavily on research for the setting and vehicles, but his characters are much less static and seem don't appear to be photo referenced. That kind of spontaneity animates the character designs, which are designed so clearly and distinctively that they wouldn't be out of place in the better known series. Most effectively, Van Hamme breaks up some of the longer scenes with a last panel establishing shot that works against the cohesiveness of the individual page, but helps with the pacing. Just seeing the story cutting away to an interesting new location mid page works to keep the reader interested and unable to put the book down.

And while the mix of real world settings and fictionalized locales does serve to remind the reader of some of the troubling simplifications made in all too many of the underwritten actioneers, only a particularly gung-ho scene featuring the escape from a orientalist gang lord particularly grates of working in tropes so broad so as to approach self parody. Otherwise, "the Mission" remains a well told, competently put action comic that does more than enough to entertain the reader and set up the sequel that completes the protagonist's introduction to the world of Franco-Belgian comics.

Change of direction and the value of the protracted Second Act (PART FOUR)

The decades of creator-owned comics in America have shown us the stories that actively break from the conventional superhero standards. Characters would die and stay dead ("Hellboy"'s Roger the Homunuclus), they were allowed to have a definite victory over the chief villain ("Fables"), with the creators capable of completely changing the setting and the cast in a way that felt much more realistic ("Walking dead"). Even when it came to superhero titles, Paul Grist's "Union Jack" displayed a confident, well paced storytelling that functioned in a much more organic way, without the clunky narration that supposedly shed a light on the impossible to relate characters.

At the very same time, the creators faced an uphill battle when their own fan base objected to some of their own creative decisions. Breaking away from the iconic team of the original League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, to supplant their pulp adventures with metafictional encyclopedias? It was a choice that only the biggest of Alan Moore's fans actively supported, and even then it's doubtful that they enjoyed the results in quite the same way. Moore and O'Neill's "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" appeared in 1999 and quickly filled the pop cultural niche established by Philip Jose Farmer and more specifically Kim Newman, with a group of characters that seemed perfectly poised to explore the darker side of the Victorian fictions. A simple, easily understandable idea around which the creators framed a world of allusions and references to literature both obscure and ambitious.

It's easy to understand how the creators ended up having the movie optioned even before the production of the first issue was complete. This is also how the project ended up being exempt from the Wildstorm/DC buying the rights on all of Moore's ABC imprint. These were experimental books launched by high caliber artists in a very peculiar moment for the industry. It's somewhat understandable that the publisher would wanted some control over the work it was paying the freelancers in advance. Alan Moore's relationship being historically strained with DC, it was understandable that the arrangement was not to prove lasting.

When he finally severed ties with the company, the writer was under obligation to complete the work on the new entry in the series, 2007's the infamous "Black Dossier". The resulting collaboration proved tumultuous, and he once again parted ways with the publisher, vowing never to work for them again. As for the ABC books, the rights to all of them stayed with DC, with "the League" being the sole exception, due to its creator owned status being decided upon before the project was officially brought to Wildstorm/DC. Yet, judging the content of "Black Dossier", it's not difficult to at least understand some of the publisher's qualms. They were paying creators to create highly experimental content, to be produced on varying paper stock, including a 3D section and even a playable record, all the while completely breaking from the well received format of the first two "League" mini-series.

Moore was vocal about breaking from the set-up that he felt being detrimental creatively in the long run, but what supplanted it was both hard to read and even harder to like. Seeing Allan Quartermain and Mina Murray break character and go on a madcap chase, while behaving like a pair of sexually obsessed teenagers seemed largely to confirm solely to the creator's own views on entertainment. That they were losing control of the setting, which was progressively turning into a popular culture an-joke between the two creators. Yet, most problematic of all, the work retained very little of character and energy of the original. Turning a character-centric series into an interactive essay on the nature of fiction was certainly familiar to the fans of Alan Moore's "Promethea", but the "League" was a much more accessible and beloved work before the creators gave in to indulge their every whim.

With "Century", the succeeding third official volume of "the League", the project has managed to emerge back into the realm of comic books it seemed largely disinterested with in the "Black Dossier" compendium, but the result was still problematic. Working for the new publisher assuaged the creator's fears of escaping any kind of censorship, but it's hard to read the pages and not compare it to the original work. It seems that by elaborating on the idea of using existing characters to recreate a superhero universe  adventures in Victorian London and taking it to its extreme end was basically the change of direction that few can truly appreciate. It boils down to the reader trusting Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill's taste almost despite their better judgment.

And while certainly, having each phase of the property's life being a story on its own, with its own set of goals and underpinning philosophy, there is also much to be said in exploring an idea to the limits of its potential. By treating the Victorian incarnation of the League as the purely introductory phase of a much wider concept, the creators seemed to benefit with the increased Moore's move from the ABC line allowed them. By focusing all of his comics writing on the "League", the writer felt like he should enjoy the new found freedom and craft the story that he himself would be delighted to read. And certainly, a sizable part of his own audience followed. But, recreating the concept from the ground up would also mean supplanting its initial appeal with an equally likable version of the property, which is simply something that hasn't happened.

Moore and O'Neill may be free to delight in the knowledge that as two veterans of the medium, they are finally reminded of the freedom that comes with no restrictions, but it's doubtful that anyone would want to make a movie based on the versions of the League shown in "Century". Certainly, the core thematic focus on the work is the changing role of the heroic fiction in the modern world, but the movie adaptation, and moreover, the concept that it tried to bring over to the wider audience perception, depended on a particularly appeal group of characters that are nowhere to be found again in the creators' subsequent work.

The sexual frolics the estranged Mina and utterly unrecognizable Allan seem to enjoy with the obnoxious Orlando almost seem to mirror the creators' own attitude to a much liked property. The thoughtful combination of pulp tropes and borrowed characters has given a way to a plot that brings together the fictional versions of Aleister Crowley, focused on recreating the magician's novel "Moonchild" through the open world of the League. Where once the Victorian incarnation of the team lived through their own version of the events of H. G. Wells' "War of the Worlds", they are now rampaging through their writer's favorite occult literature, while poised to make a broader commentary on the declining quality of the cultural imagination.

Having a valid point to make is a chief philosophical underpinning of any serious work of art, but judging the history of the "League", it's almost certain that most of its audience would have been happier to enjoy Moore's intellectual accomplishments in his other projects. Leaving the Victorian League in the perpetual Second Act might have been creatively dry on a deeper level, but proceeding to detail some of their related adventures in text form in the back matter of the second mini-series and "the Black Dossier", in order to free the upcoming volumes to be first and foremost Alan Moore comics seems like a slight to the concept.

Simply leaving it as two heady mini-series could have proven more memorable and inspirational in the long run. Reading in text form about the various groups of pulp heroes and villains meeting around the plot of Gaston Leroux' "Phantom of the Opera" while getting to follow Allan and Mina in a tiresome spy plot which even they don't care almost seems a waste of both O'Neill's talent and the readers' enthusiasm for the League.

Strangely enough, it's doubtful that DC would have handled these two segments of the "Black Dossier" in much the same way if the editorial had a tighter control of the property. Of course, this does not glorify the publisher as an ideal caretaker of the well realized stories, but once again reaffirms that the creators themselves can just as equally lose sight of the core of the titles when they try to head in a new direction. If continuing to hone the craft by producing better and more diverse stories in a manner that presents the strongest version of the property ultimately proves a bore, the creator should still think twice about the commercial potential of a radically different idea before proceeding to deconstruct their own work.

Change of direction and the value of the protracted Second Act (PART THREE)

The creative team set to follow Uderzo on "Asterix" will not seek to undo the appeal of the series with glaring changes in direction. At best, they will be returning some vigor to the long gestating best seller by infusing it with their own talent and energy, but there is no need to artificially change the working formula. Following Goscinny's death in 1977, Uderzo himself has undertaken to preserving the flair of the series' best period, even going so far to sign Goscinny on the albums done decades after his friend's passing.

Without a rigid adherence on continuity these stories work as complete episodes that are fully rounded and accessible, but at a glance might seem slighter than the storytelling model prevalent in American comics. Yet, another regular staple of the "Pilote" magazine illustrates the point much more efficiently.

Charlier and Giraud's "Blueberry" is a comic book series that has endured at least one major change in direction. Starting out as an ensemble piece military western, following the initial story cycle, the creators have started mapping out smaller stories, that complimented each other and basically all fit in the western mold despite the many twists and turns. All told the story of Mike S. Donovan, an roguish character whose travels made for a very engrossing genre adventures. With the writer's death and the main strand of the series finished, Giraud simply shifted the story to Blueberry's final days, determined to tell a Tombstone epic that stood on its own, and hardly qualifies as a change of direction.

Yet, it's clear that the Franco-Belgian premier western title has had its phases and hardly constitutes a single story, except when viewed as the story of Blueberry's life, which is certainly a reading encouraged by its creators, seeing as how Donovan, actually ages through the saga that allowed its creators to create their own spins of most of the typical western scenarios. Precisely this aspect of Blueberry is picked up by Swiss-born Derib, whose "Buddy Longway" presents a much more unified story of a trapper living with his family in frontier, with all of the changes coming naturally, due to the passage of time and his children coming of age.

Of all the popular Franco-Belgian comics, American genre comics most resemble the popular fantasy "Lanfeust of Troy". Derived from singular creative vision of its creators, the genre hybrid mixes lighthearted epic fantasy with the idea of what can be described in the terms of comics as mutant superpowers, the series has progressed to multiple spin offs and direction changes. After Arleston and Tarquin send their sword and sorcery mutant off on a "Star Wars" like science fiction adventure, and spin-off the popular Troll character into its own open ended "Troll of Troll" series of albums, its difficult to talk about the aesthetic unity and creative cohesiveness. "Lanfeust" is another victim of its own success, with the publisher more than happy to flood the market with dozens of spin-offs. Once again, only the most ardent fans will stick with all of the many incarnations, leaving a more typical medium afficianado to pick and choose what constitutes Lanfeust's story for them. It's clear that the tangential stories hurt the brand and dilute the brand, but "Soleil" so far seems perfectly content to forgo the priorities of a well rounded, well told story in lieu of satisfying short-term financial reports.

To pick a less extreme example, Vance and Van Hamme's "XIII" has followed the progression that thankfully inches much closer to Blueberry's part of the spectrum. The initial five album story was so successful that the creators decided to chart a new course for their popular characters, that tried to expand the conspiracy to more of the XX century hot-spots. This proved every bit as diverting and uneven as this implies, but the "Bourne identity"-inspired mystery provided with a canvas broad enough to let the reader gravitate to Vance and Van Hamme's detailed, entertaining stylings when the story details felt forced and stretched too thin.

Along the way, Vance and Van Hamme finished their run, but have arranged with "Dargaud" to have another creative team follow them. As with "Blueberry", the series was spun-off into a companion title spotlighting the past of the characters prior to the dramatic events of the main series. And while it's still early to tell what course will Jigounov and Sente's "XIII" take, in regards to the continuity of the original albums, it's certain that the editorial oversight will sooner or later return the series to its roots, preserving that much suffering
man with the XIII tattooed on his skin will likely continue to exist in the late Cold war world of spies and characters hinting secrets about his past, quickly forgetting about the original creators' lukewarm epilogue.

Again, despite the fact that most of the cast ended up dead during the course of preceding albums, "Dargaud" is not at fault for continuing in the same mold. Despite the pretense of realism, at its core "XIII" is an adventure serial and as such more than welcome to continue to spin its wheels. After all, Vance and Van Hamme were the first to provide the road map for just such continued exploitation.

Taking a different publishing model into account, it's clear that the American genre comic book still has much more in common with traditional superhero industry than it appears at a first glance. In many ways, with its beginnings at DC and the subsequent Top Shelf edition, Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill's "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" becomes a unique mirror to look upon the development of the modern genre comic in America.

Change of direction and the value of the protracted Second Act (PART TWO)

The long derided superhero serial model derives most of it's strength out of the protracted Second Act. In 2010s, both Marvel and DC, historically the sole owners of nearly all of the work done in their superhero lines, have long abandoned their support for new titles. Their superhero lines basically consist of the continuing adventures of characters most of the fans are at least casually familiar with, and typically well past their creative prime

"X-Men" have long since evolved past Chris Claremont and John Byrne's contributions, "Iron Man" is decades away from it's defining Bob Layton and David Michelinie days, but they still have a presence in the market beyond their licensing appeal in other media. Contemporary fans hold out hope for the reinvigorating runs such as the Grant Morrison's take on Marvel's mutants, or even Matt Fraction's take on the armored Avenger, presented as a solid piece of well told genre entertainment. Even on titles like "Iron Fist", that had a late in the day commercial revival, its clear that the authors are mostly calling back on the original incarnation of the character, while recasting it in a more stylistically unified whole.

It's clear that the 1970s popularity of kung-fu in America that birthed the original series is decades away, but in continuing the story and adapting it to the retro sensibility of some the more accomplished modern Marvel titles, the creators at least get to indulge their own sensibilities. Yet, even when they are writing what was marketed to the fans as "the Last Iron Fist Story", and having to abandon it year and a half from the resurgence's conception, even faced with a swift cancellation following the new creative team continuing in the same vein, Marvel refuses to actually finish the story. Even at its most creative, even when there are slim chances that the character will ever garner a large following in the market place, the editorial does not accept anything but an open ending, providing for more stories down the line.

Such stubbornness is easily understandable given that the company makes most of it's sales from its ongoing titles. The older stories, even when they are much more accomplished than "Marvel Premiere" that birthed the kung fu superhero, get treated as nostalgic inspirations relevant to long time customers and discerning fans patient enough to stick with the outdated storytelling and yesterday's superhero trends. Marvel acknowledges the decades of the broad strokes of its own continuity, but theoretically, a new reader accustomed to the superhero stories needs only the working knowledge behind the character's origin and background to follow the latest renovation.

Essentially, the company has settled into the protracted Second Act as a main storytelling model. Regularly, the solicitations proclaim major changes in the direction for all of its titles, but what these do is mostly tease the climatic end of the Second Act, and presenting a possible continuation of the final Act of the story, before backtracking and returning to the Second Act, for a new take. Cumulatively, the collective weight of the hundreds of fall starts end up with a veritable encyclopedia of abandoned plot lines, and underused characters, that are then revisited for thematic resonance, or more commonly sheer novelty.

This is nowhere as clear as in Marvel's "Spider-Man", the title that has made its lead's inability to bring his often self-destructive superhero career to an end a character trait. Indeed, the publisher ultimately saw the hint of closure provided by the character's marriage and the possibility of children as working at cross purposes to the title's appeal in such a way that it went to infamously controversial stories designed with the express purpose of returning the character to his roots.

It can be said that it was Frank Miller that it was Frank Miller who was the first creator to react to this basic contradiction of the market in a creatively memorable way. By publishing his and David Mazzucchelli's  "Batman: Year one", DC was well aware that it was presenting its readers with a thoughtful and stylized reconstruction of the Bob Kane originals that were seldom seen by its audience. Generally, the idea was that the character was improved upon in the years since he debuted, but placing the highly accomplished update of the character's First Act in the pages of the ongoing Batman title, it's doubtful that DC could predict how Miller would react to its eventual popularity.

Instead of producing a follow-up Year Two in the same understated retro aesthetic, to provide for an inspirational break from the continuing Second Act of Batman's regular adventures, Miller produced a much more controversial work. Taking full control of the project as the premiere writer/artist of his generation, he decided to create the final Batman story, distilling the essence of the mythos into a near-futuristic dystopia that owed as much to studio-mate Howard Chaykin as the Bob Kane (co) creations. The resulting "Dark Knight Returns" proved a landmark genre work, that worked not just as the Final Act in the Batman saga, but as a potent work in it's own right, a satire that put its creator and his artistic voice into the spotlight, at the same time both empowering the DC characters he was using, as well as transcending them.

The universal acclaim helped the creator to forge his own path in the medium, but one of the many close minded ways of the industry's reaction was the embrace of artificial endings to the characters purposefully kept young and ideally continually relevant. Perhaps the first of these was Alan Moore and Curt Swan's "Whatever happened to the Man of Tomorrow", debuting while Miller's series was still in publication, ending the story of Superman while the company prepares for the relaunch. Marvel's "The End" line of mini-series likewise make flirting with the Third Act a sub-genre of its own, but it should be noted that there is nothing morally wrong with the company's decision to indefinitely continue the adventures of its characters.

It's all but expected, and in the history of genre fiction generally looked upon as a positive. As long as the audience responds to continuing efforts on the part of the creators and the commercial structure that supports them, the Second Act serves as a viable way to tell the story that was never truly designed with a clear endpoint in mind. Any kind of adventure storytelling basically follows this model, as long it keeps to the episodic format with little to no overall continuity.

The problems accumulated in Marvel and DC superhero universes stem from a number of inconsistencies, both in story and presentation, that stem from the continually changes in creative talent, the rigid approach to continuity and the publishers' propensity of imitating the overall trends of the moment. A much healthier model is presented in Franco-Belgian comics album tradition, where the relaxed publishing schedule and the respect of the original creator's set-up leads to a storytelling model that arguably still produces stories with no set ending, but with one clear difference.

Change of direction and the value of the protracted Second Act (PART ONE)

Faced with decades of history of creator-owned genre ongoing series, it's easy to highlight some of the established trends. Following the brief turn in the 1980s where the creator owned titles continued past their originators, making for seldom sequels of Dean Motter's original "Mister X" run, the non-Mike Grell "Sable" follow-up, and perhaps most famously, additional "American Flagg" material with no participation of Howard Chaykin (all of which probably had to do with the contracts drafted with publishers), the advent of self-publishing lead to a different set-up in the next decade. And while some of the 1990s creators opted for a long but ultimately finite story, like Jeff Smith with "Bone", most of the creators were still forced to confirm to the realities of the market and strike a deal with the existing publisher. And while some of the creators were adamant that the publisher respects the envisioned ending of their work, such as Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon's "Preacher", this has still lead to some of their peers deciding to retain a presence in the market with more than the collections of the already published work.

Continuing with the Vertigo example, the publisher's move into 2000s book reflects this philosophy. On the one hand, DC's creator friendly imprint provided for the acclaimed "Y the Last Man", a finite story that would stay in print thanks to the good will of the fans and kind reviews, it's another title that has fully exploited its popularity in precisely the manner which pertains to this post. Bill Willingham's "the Fables", an eminently likable title that still exhibits all of the weaknesses of the major publisher's flagship title, has from the start mapped out a sprawling story geared with a seemingly clear endpoint. It's doubtful that its creator, who himself debuted in the pages of a 1980ies independent title, had a clear idea that it's appeal was going to win over so many fans and cement itself as the imprint's premiere title. Yet, with the advent of a spin-off ongoing, it was clear that the publisher was eager to change its plans to support the demand for more stories in the same general vein.

Yet, coming into 2010s, rare are the fans who wholeheartedly endorse the creative team's decision to continue past of the obvious endpoint of the story. By continuing the subplots, Willingham was certainly able to tide over the fans and have the new direction feel like an organic continuation, but it's difficult not to think that something was lost in the translation. Of course, this turn of events is nothing new when it comes to serial published genre work. Looking over at Dark Horse, it's easy to see Mike Mignola coming to a natural, if unwieldy endpoint for Hellboy in "the Conquerer Worm" mini-series. Faced with a market that was still positively responding to his creation, and the advent of the movie adaptation on the way, the writer/artist was determined to find a way of launching a less ambitious yet quality genre spin-off, while he reworks his signature creation into another direction. Interestingly, due to the strength of the talent involved with "B.P.R.D.", the title formed a separate identity while retaining enough of old Hellboy charm, but "Hellboy" the series continued in a very uncertain direction.

A couple of short, distinctively patchy mini-series followed, testing the resolve of the fans, before Mignola settled for handing over the artistic duties, a major part of the series' charm, to another artist. Following the terminated collaboration with Lee Bermejo, Mignola gave the script to Duncan Fegredo, a considerably accomplished artist in his own right, which finally provided for the continuation of a much teased and very controversial second phase in the life of Hellboy.

Continuing in the direction of the acclaimed short-stories featuring the character leaning in a more mythological direction has meant for some puzzling and very disconcerting events. A vocal majority of Mignola's fans defended the new direction, but it's clear that it's at odds with the initial pulp-inspired roots of the character. Just like "Fables", "Hellboy" had taken a significant overhaul when it comes to it's initial story structure to assure it's continued existance in the second decade of its publishing. Right now, as it enters its third decade in the American direct market, from editorial standpoint the title's never been stronger, but it comes at the expanse of "B.P.R.D." undergoing a major change in the direction, and the main title entering it's third, and supposedly final transformation.

Both the Vertigo and Dark Horse flagships, with their numerous spin-offs, changes in direction, and growing lists of contributors have long since abandoned their initial set-up, but the real question is have they lost some of their appeal with all the reshuffling?

To fully comprehend the answer, one must ironically look back at their superhero predecessors, which is pertinent considering that both Willingham and Mignola made their names in the industry by working on superhero titles.

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.

An "Avengers" suggestion

Re-blogging from:
http://calamityjon.tumblr.com/post/21851744946/the-avengers-opens-in-theaters-in-the-us-on-may

The Avengers opens in theaters in the US on May 4th, and it’s going to do blockbuster business. The individual films featuring these characters have already  grossed more than $2.2 billion dollars – that’s greater than the Gross National Product of almost half the countries on Earth – and it’s not unlikely that The Avengers will earn a hundred million dollars on its opening day alone.
This represents a pretty big payday to a lot of people – the actors, obviously, will take home pretty big paychecks. The director and the writers are well-compensated, and certainly the executives who greenlighted this project get to sit back and rake in large bonuses and healthy salaries.
Well, you know where this is going; shamefully, the people who aren’t making a big profit from these movies are the people (and the families of the people) who did the essential work of creating them in the first place. It’s not just Jack Kirby, either, or (Black Widow and Hawkeye co-creator) Don Heck, but also Steve Engelhart, Peter David, Herb Trimpe, Jim Steranko, Roy Thomas and dozens more – the artists and writers who refined and defined the characters appearing in this movie, who fleshed out the original creations and molded them into the figures we cheer for when we see them on the screen.
Some very sensible people are calling for a boycott of this film on those grounds, but I think it’s fairly obvious that a boycott of idealistic comic fans isn’t going to accomplish much – it’s not only comic book fans who’ll be dropping a collective billion dollars over the next eight weeks to see this movie, it’s going to be a lot of movie-goers who haven’t read a comic since they were kids, much less know anything of the controversy.
Plus, of course, you – the collective “you”, representing comic book fans all over the world - want to see this movie. And you’re going to, most likely, right? Even though you know of the morally shady practices of Marvel towards its creators, they’ve got you hooked. Don’t be ashamed, they’ve had you hooked for years. It’s what they do.
So how about this: You’re probably going to go see The Avengers and, judging by the early reviews, you’ll probably enjoy it. How about – as a thank you to the creators who brought you these characters in the first place, who gave you something to enjoy so much – you match your ticket price as a donation to The Hero Initiative? 
THI is a charity which provides essential financial assistance to comic book professionals who have fallen on hard times; for decades, the comic industry provided no financial safety net to its employees, most of whom it regarded only as freelancers and journeymen, meaning they were offered no health insurance, no unemployment insurance, no retirement plans – none of the financial support most of us enjoy from our jobs and careers. A small donation will help this agency provide a valuable safety net in times of need to these beloved entertainers.
I don’t plan on seeing The Avengers, but I’ve donated $15 – the price of a 3-D ticket – to Hero. If every concerned comic fan – every superhero aficionado who learned to live by the lessons of altruism and sacrifice taught by these comics – donated the price of their ticket, well, it may not hit a billion dollars but it’ll bring in a lot of money for a good and relevant cause.
One last note: Remember what Spider-Man always says? “With great power comes great responsibility”. The lesson in that is that everyone has great power. Spider-Man’s great power is being able to lift a bus. Your great power is the ability to help good causes do good work for good reasons – so why not go be a superhero instead of just watching them on the screen…
(PS: “Liking” this post is nice, thank you, but reblogging/retweeting it helps get the message out and would be even more appreciated)