"None Shall Escape My Wrath!!"

I Shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets: The Fantastic Comics Of Fletcher Hanks, edited by Paul Karasik (B)

Amongst the sub-classes of comic fans, there's the group of hard-core nostalgia buffs who carefully and patiently unearth ancient comics to show off to each other. It's kind of like being a Yukon prospector, with the nostalgia buff carefully sifting through the mounds of accumulated detritus to pick out the nuggets of interest. Fletcher Hanks' work comes to us from the beginning of the Golden age of comics, where he had a very brief career in the lower end of an already disreputable publishing trade. (1939-1941)

Hanks' prospector in this case is Paul Karasik, Art Spieglman's assistant for Raw magazine, where a Fletcher Hanks story first re-appeared. The art is, on the surface, below journey-man at best. (It's pretty obvious where Hanks is just tracing backgrounds off of photos.) The stories, on the surface, are simplistic tales of Good taking vengeance over Evil. Actually, they all seem to follow the same tack: Evil commits atrocities, Good captures Evil and spends the rest of the story sadistically torturing and punishing Evil. I suspect it was the odd intensity of these comics which drew Karasik to them in the first place. 'Scuse me while I tangent...

I'm reminded of a bit on Robert Smiegel's 'TV Funhouse' where Smiegel takes on a forgotten T.V. cartoon of the late 60's called, 'Shazang'. The original story thread, I recall, had a friendly genie helping out two lost children trapped in the Middle East of olden days. A villain would threaten the kids, and the kids would call on Shazang to use his genie powers to save them, and perhaps humiliate the villan in the process.

What Smiegel did is to ramp up the genie's whimsical sense of justice to a pathological level of vindictiveness for comic effect. Here's the clip:




Back to Hanks. The only real difference between Hanks' body of work and Smiegel's 'Shazzang' is that there was a) slightly less poo, vomit, blood and cannibalism in Hanks' work and b) Smiegel was exaggerating for comic effect. You get the impression Hanks was like a Depression-era version of Travis Bickel. Don't take my word for it, though. Check out this eight pager, 'Stardust Vs. The Fifth Column Again'...

Whew! I suspect Hanks didn't take his acts of vengeance any further because he didn't have the imagination and his time in comic books wasn't rewarding enough for him in the long haul.
Karasik's afterword in the volume takes the Fletcher Hanks story into the macabre. An interview with Fletcher Hanks Jr. (who, really, deserves a book of his own -here's a profile) reveals that his dad was 'a no-good bum', an abusive alcoholic who left his family in 1930. After the elder Hanks gave up on comics, there's no information about him until 1970, when the police found him frozen to death on a park bench. Seems he wound up sharing the fate of his villains in his comics. It's this information about the man Fletcher Hanks that gives his work a dark, Freudian twist to it. Frankly, knowing what I know now, it really makes these simple-minded comics hard to read.

Hooray For Hollywood!

"Hey, kid, how ya doin' and welcome aboard the film set. In order to get your job as a production assistant here, you must've won out over a couple hundred other applicants. That's quite an achievement. I see by your resume that you spent four years at film school getting your BFA. Mmm. Let's see... Tuition is about 40 thou a year... so multiply that by four... Jeez, that's a cool hundred and sixty grand you're on the hook for! Too bad being a p.a. only pays eight bucks an hour. Well, if you live the spartan and austere life of a monk for the next thirty years, you should be able to pay that off..."

"So! To business... My name's Kyle Randall, I'm the third unit director on this set. But don't call me Kyle, or even Mr. Randall. Nope, when you're addressing me, the first and last words out of your cheesepipe have got to be Sir. Got that? Try it on for size. Good. You'll be reporting to me mostly through the time you spend on this set, though I plan on being in one of the makeup trailers most of the time, boinking one of the makeup girls. That means you'll be running around looking for me, and taking the heat for not being able to find me. When you do find me, you'll mostly be running personal errands for me. You know, dropping off and picking up my dry cleaning, taking my Audi TT to get washed, purchasing crack cocaine from the bad side of town, and picking my kid up from the elite private school he goes to. Oh, he's got ADD or something, and he likes to stab people and things with a pencil."

"When I'm not using you, you'll be helping out Gunther over there. See Gunther? The blond, middle-aged guy with the enormous beer gut? Yeah, that one, the guy urinating in the bushes in the front yard over there. He's in the Electrician's Union, and he pulls in seventy-five K a year. Hm? Doing what? Oh, he gets power cables from the truck in the morning, and unspools them to the power generator. Then at the end of the day, he rolls them back up and puts them into the truck. No, he doesn't plug them in or unplug them; that's another union guy's job. He's usually too drunk to do that task, so you'll be basically doing his job for him. Yes, that's right, you're still making eight bucks an hour. Yes, he's a member of the Electrician's Union, um-hm. His English isn't very good, so expect to be yelled at in drunken German most of the time. I do believe also, when he's in his cups, that he can get quite randy, so expect to have him try and have his way with you. Sexually, I mean. Well, he is in the Electrician's Union, after all. Yes, I suppose there's harassment laws and all that, but look, you really don't want to be blacklisted as a troublemaker around here, do you? I suggest you let Gunther have his way with you. It's easier for everyone in the long run, and besides, you might make a new close friend! Haw, haw."

"And when me and Gunther's not using you, you'll be working 'Security'. That means you'll be standing on the outskirts of the set with a walkie-talkie with your arms folded across your chest. We've closed off this street to traffic, so you'll be diverting cars who try to come through here. Despite the walkie-talkie, you'll essentially have no authority whatsoever, so when understandably pissed-off drivers demand an explanation from you for the massive inconvenience you're causing them, you'll be on your own. No, actually, the walkie-talkie isn't connected to anyone, it's just for show. You're there to take the heat, really. I'm not sure if we even have a permit to shoot here, that's not my department, so if the cops show up, stall 'em. Also, you'll be working with that big, bald guy in the black shirt and sunglasses over there. Yes, the one with the prison tattoos up and down his massive arms. I think his name's, 'Fuckpig'. You can learn a lot from 'Fuckpig', really. Notice how he adopts a superior attitude to any civilian who comes near the set. Oh, look, he pushed that kid off her bike while screaming, 'This is a closed set, bitch! Move along!" Now he's urinating on her bike!

Good old 'Fuckpig'! Um, I should mention that when I say, 'working with Fuckpig', I really mean, 'doing both your job and his', since when he's not punching old ladies trying to cross the street, he's passed out from shooting heroin in the port-a-potty. Interesting note: Though 'Fuckpig' and you have the same job, he's making forty an hour! Mm, yes. Forty. Well, he's a paid up Union member. Which Union? I'm not sure, really."

"Oh, right, that's another thing. You'll notice how everyone around here acts like they're some sort of super-human demi-god that deigned to come down from Olympus to make a movie. That's S.O.P. for the movie business. Since you're low man on the totem pole- well, actually, you don't even rate a spot on the pole, really - expect to be the butt of everyone else's jokes. That's called 'hazing' and it's quite common on movie sets. We like to call it 'paying your dues', but really, it's just the manifestation that we're all conscious of the fact that our jobs, and by extension, our lives, are vestigial flailing failures. We're all quite bitter about the path we've taken, resent your youth and optimism, and will be taking out our frustrations and disappointments on you."

"What's the movie about? My, you are eager, aren't you? Well, that's a good sign! I've been involved with this production since day one, and as far as I know, it's about lesbian space vampires. Yes, that's right. Yes, they're lesbians. Yes, from outer space. Mm. Actually, if this movie ever sees the light of day, it'll be a direct-to-video release that goes straight to the bargain bin at Blockbuster two weeks after it hits the 'new release' shelf. I believe when it was pitched to the studio producers, it originally started out as a young girl's coming-of-age story. My goodness, what a picayune path the movie business is, eh?"

"Look, kid. I like you. Really. Even though I'll be regularly screaming abuse at you in front of the cast and crew, and especially when there are attractive women present, and slapping the proffered lattes you bring me out of your hand because 'there's too much foam' or something, I really like you. Perhaps because you remind me of a young me, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and rarin' to be a part of the magic of the cinema. So, move in closer and I'll impart to
you the secret of the movie business."

"Yes, closer."

"I SAID 'CLOSER', YOU LITTLE SHIT!!"

"There. The secret of the movie industry is this: All movies make money. Even the shitty ones. Even the god-awful, hacked-out, indifferently acted-produced-directed ones. Someone put up huge sums of cash to finance this picture. And that some one's almost certainly got insurance on their money. And if they don't, it's a tax write-off. And, even if by some act of God, this picture makes a dime, the money guy will turn around and plow that dime into another tax write-off. And so on and so on, amen. But why, you ask. You don't think anyone in their right mind would do all this shit for free, do you? Well, you practically are, but that's because you think you're 'paying your dues', and one day it'll be you standing around with the air of a god, wearing headphones not connected to anything, sipping five dollar lattes, surveying your domain like you're the lord of all creation. All the while, a baseball cap with the movie's title sits atop your swollen head while men and women who actually make things and have actual, useful skills kowtow to your every petty whim."

"The movies that people watch and enjoy, you know, the type of films that inspired you to follow your path, were made in spite of this system, not because of it. If you really wanted to make movies, you wouldn't have gone to film school in the first place. You'd have bought a second-hand camera and just. Started. Making movies. Granted, once you reach a certain level of skill and attention as a filmmaker, this system becomes indispensable owing to it's innate efficiency.
But really, for the most part, a truly good movie's dependence on this system we're locked into is non-existent. You really should've figured that out before you took on that crushing debt. In order to pay that off before you're old and grey, you'll be stuck on sets like this, crapping out schlock for a paycheck. Well, you could always go work for your dad, and make your own movies on your own dime, I suppose. But then you wouldn't be able to impress girls at bars when you try and pick them up, would you?"

"Wow! You should really look at yourself in a mirror! You just aged a decade in two minutes! Ha-ha, I love that. See, petty ego battles and power games are really why I stay in this business. Yes, crushing the hopes and dreams of the young are all I pretty much have to look forward to these days. Well, that and porking script girls, actually."

"Okay, so your first errand of the day is to head to the DMV and wait in line for several hours to renew my driver's licence for me. Then, head over to this address on the bad side of town to purchase some crystal meth for me. Yes, mm-hmm, out of your own pocket. Well, I'll say I'm going to reimburse you, but I'll brush you off until the shoot's finished, then I'll just threaten to turn you over to the cops for trafficking, and blacklist you from working on a movie set for the rest of your life. Hurry! Go! Oh, and pick me up a Venti Latte on your way back as well, would you?"

"Not too much foam, mind, or I'll slap it out of your hand in front of everyone else on the set to their glee and your humiliation!"

"Ha-ha! Look at him run off on his stubby little legs! He's gonna work out just fine!"

Botox Culture

"That said, there are a lot of awfully talented people around. I'm more inpressed with what I see today in mainstream comics than what I saw during my Lampoon days. They do tend to look alike, but the level of quality in draftsmanship is way up there. This is what I call the 'botoxing of America'. It's like music. The work is all a little better than the work from years ago, but none of it is great. There's no one that stands out, because there's too much of it. It's true in movies, true in literature, true in books, true in publishing, true in music. There's too many comics. There's too many good guys."


-from Comic Book Artist magazine, April 2003- interview with National Lampoon art director Michael Gross (1970-75)


...Which sums up my attitude to most mainstream entertainment today. Because there's so much money tied up in the production of a movie, or a music alblum or a t.v. show, the suits feel that they absolutely MUST have a hit. As a result, the commercial process becomes even more ruthlessly Darwinian- Executives become even more pusilaminous, and creative types, either out of cowardice or sheer economic neccesity, conform to what's more of 'the next big thing'. As a result, you get work that has it's low points filled in, but has it's high points filed down. Thus the reference by Mr. Gross to 'Botoxing'.


I'm gonna go out on a limb here and point my stubby little finger at two specific reasons why a lot of stuff coming out of the pipeline these days is so bland. One is the prevalence of 'market research' for entertainment like movies, t.v. , and well, music. ("What did you like best about the movie?" "When the hero got the girl?" "What did you like least?" "Um, when the hero lost the girl?" ...oh, bugger...) By pandering to a market that tells it, somewhat sheepishly, what that market would like to see or hear, the entertainment industry shoots itself in the foot. People don't know what they want to see until they've seen it. Otherwise, we wouldn't keep getting all these flops like "Evan Almighty" and that new Lindsey Lohan movie coming out, wouldn't we?


The second reason is CGI. Hear me out. Traditionally, the craft of filmmaking is the craft of solving problems. The lead actress cut off her long, red hair halfway through the movie, throwing the continuity off and we've got no time to get a wig? Film a scene where she just came out of the shower, and her hair's in a towel. Harrison Ford's too sick to shoot an elaborate fight scene with a sword-wielding maniac? Just have him groan in exasperation and shoot the fellow. You get the idea.


When you 'go to the CG people' for a shot, however, you're short-circuiting the whole process of story-telling. There's no wit, no craft, no pleasure in seeing a movie that's heavy on the CGI. It's like you're being bullied into enjoying yourself. "Dammit, we had an army of CGI studios work on this background of Civil-war Atlanta burning to the ground for eight months! You, the audience, are going to sit there in your seats and watch this three minute-long scene that essentially stops the movie dead in its tracks, or so help me, WE'LL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!"


It makes directors sloppy and lazy, hamstrings the editors, and most importantly, turns the movie into a ride at Disneyland, instead of an engaging story. The upside, I guess, is that some spotty nerd who got a two-year certificate at some 'media training center' gets a job, at least...("Hey, ya know the embers flickering off the torches in the background there in that one shot?" "Eeyeah..?" "Our studio worked on those! Man, the procedurals on those were a bitch!" "Oookay, then...")





Which is why Transformers (D) stunk. Okay, I bitched about this movie before, but in my defense a) I was in another city without anything to do, and b) it was hot out and the theater was air-conditioned. Wait, what am I saying? I have no defense. Well, it was my twelve dollars and not yours. Anyway, I fell asleep halfway through the movie, woke up three-quarters of the way in, (really.) and didn't think I missed a single thing. That's how dreary it was. Autobots fight Decepticons, Shia LeBoeuf macks on Megan Fox, Micheal Bay mixes his usual visual bombast with an early 80's teen sex comedy, references are made to the 'Transformers' t.v. show...and we're done.





The Simpsons Movie (C+) What's going on here is the beginning of the end. The t.v. show's been on for so long now that it's hit critical mass a long time ago in terms of its being surprising and entertaining. Well, it's still entertaining, but in the same way that old chestnuts like the comic strip 'Garfield' are. The people involved in the Simpsons realized this a long time ago and are on the horns of a dilemma. If they stick with the show, they've all got big, fat paychecks for the forseeable future. In the entertainment industry, that's never a bad thing. However, if they all walk away from the Simpsons, they are free to head out for new territories, without the financial uncertainties that people in their position usually have. In this case, the answer seems to be thusly:


"If the movie is a smash hit (and it certainly looks that way.), we all can stop doing the show now and re-unite every few years to crap out a sequel every so often to satisfy Fox's coffers, and to be honest, our own. For both us, and the Fox network, this is a win-win situation."


The only question is, when will Fox drop the Simpsons? I'd like to think this upcoming season is it's last, but considering that in Fox's accounting ledgers, the Simpsons is the only consistent money-maker it's got on the shelf.


As for the movie itself, eh, not bad. It's an episode drawn out to movie-length meant more to reassure than to astonish. The only gag that stuck in my mind was Bart's nude skateboard run, and the controversy it ignited ruined the gag before I saw it. Let it die, fellas. Let it die.




Smoking Aces (C-) What we have here is a case of an American director (Joe Carnahan) trying to do what Guy Richie and Matthew Vaughn do so well and falling on his face. It's a 'gangster' pic where several different 'hitmen' try to take out one oily Vegas magician at the same time. Meanwhile, he's being protected by his own hired hands and the FBI, who want to have him name names. The only way this could work is as a farce, but Carnahan chooses to play it straight. Since he also wrote the script, it's really strange to see a director who fights his own work. Any quirks in the movie are tangential, and don't add up to anything. (The aggressive kid with a boner, and Jason Bateman as a depressed lawyer-I honestly thought his character was going to tie in later...)





Extras: the T.V. Series (B) Ricky Gervias occupies a unique space in the contemporary comedy firmament. The 'comedy of embarassment', if you will. It originated in England, where a sense of propriety is held in higher regard than over here in the colonies. However, with the relative success of 'Borat', the american version of 'The Office', and Larry David's 'Curb Your Enthusiasm', the 'comedy of embarassment' seems to be taking hold over here as well. It's humour based on characters without the willpower or common sense they require to achieve their goals constantly making social gaffes. It's both painful and funny at the same time.


Gervais' character in this one is a struggling actor, 'Andy Millman' who spends the first season trying to ingratiate himself with the rich and powerful in hopes of getting his own t.v. series off the ground. Season two has Andy's series getting made, however, since he's too weak-willed at his core to stand up to the B.B.C. producers, it turns into an insipid run-of-the-mill sitcom which "relies on silly wigs and stupid catch-phrases" to get a laugh. Naturally, it becomes quite popular with most people, while reviled by the cultural elite.


The following clip with David Bowie perfectly sums up the series in a nutshell: Andy trying to rub shoulders with the high priests of the current landscape, and immediately getting shot down for his troubles. Enjoy...