Comics Reviews: 10/5/2009

by Various -- Publishers Weekly, 10/5/2009 3:44:00 PM

In his introduction, guest editor Burns admits that most of the artists therein “were already well known to me... if you’re a reasonably talented cartoonist, it’s hard to stay under the radar for long.” So many of the usual suspects are in this volume. There’s Adrian Tomine, with a particularly funny excerpt from his charged epic of postmillennial self-hatred, Shortcomings. Robert Crumb and Aline Kominsky-Crumb deliver one of their droll, kvetchy riffs on anachronisms, from the New Yorker. Art Spiegelman, Chris Ware, Peter Bagge, Tony Millionaire and Gilbert Hernandez are all present. Whereas this recitation of familiar names would in most other circumstances prove to be a minus, here it seems simply a recognition that the comics world may just be small enough that the core of truly excellent artists can (unlike print fiction) still be counted in the dozens, not the hundreds. Still, Burns and Co. have also dug up less expected pieces, including a number of Tim Hensley’s wildly subversive Archie-esque deconstructions from Mome and Kevin Huizenga’s surprisingly heartfelt take on the dot-com bust, “Glenn Ganges in Pulverize.” A collection of the mostly expected, maybe, but never less than satisfying. (Oct.)

Kingdom Come writer Waid lends his considerable talents to Disney/Pixar’s superpowered family and comes up with a brisk and fun story for all ages, ably aided by Takara’s appealing animation-influenced artwork. Publicly in action following the events of their hit film, the Parr family—aka the Incredibles—tackle the assorted diabolical villains and disasters that are part of the superheroic job description. But there’s a big problem: Bob, better known to the world at large as Mr. Incredible, is losing his powers and no one can figure out why, not even physician to the metahuman community, Doc Sunbright, cousin to Edna Mode, the memorable superhero costume designer par excellence seen in the film. Bob is unwillingly sidelined and left to care for infant Jack-Jack while the rest of his family carries on the heroing without him. Along the way, the Parrs meet their new neighbors; Violet discovers first love; and an unexpected enemy from Elasti-Girl’s past returns to wreak havoc. With Waid’s script perfectly nailing the characters, this collected edition is loads of fun and leaves readers eager for future installments. (Oct.)

Maybe it’s because blood and brain matter look somewhat more disturbing in the chunky, primitive black and white favored by famed French cartoonist Tardi, but there’s something particularly creepy about his adaptation of the late Manchette’s crime novel that wouldn’t have been well served by color. The protagonist, George Gerfaut, is a dead-souled Parisian businessman who’s just about as irritated by his work as he is by his family. There’s little he seems to like but for booze, cigarettes and West Coast–style jazz. His foul demeanor seems to serve him in good stead, though, when he becomes an accidental witness to a murder and has to fend off a determined assault by a pair of hit men who happen to be lovers. Not only does his mood leave him with fewer compunctions about resorting to violence but it also ensures that when a bloody shootout at a gas station leaves him wounded, he’s not too broken up about not seeing his wife and children for a while. Manchette’s plot is pure pulp, with a driving engine for a plot and a Lee Marvin–like inclination toward swift and unreflective action. Tardi’s art delivers the action with admirable punch and attitude to spare. (Oct.)

Spiegelman and Mouly reinvented comics as pop art in their classic anthology RAW. This time out, they’re reclaiming comics as a medium of far gentler thrills in a bountiful collection of story gems from a more whimsical era of graphic storytelling. Cartoonists little known to nonscholars are standouts: Sheldon Mayer’s Sugar and Spike—toddler pals who speak their own language, much to the consternation of grownups—are a delight with their sweet hijinks. Andre LeBlanc’s oddball “Intellectual Amos” marries lush artwork to a bald boy who mysteriously soliloquizes about science to his silent imp companion. Dick Briefer’s Frankenstein is a gentle freak who longs to play the tuba. But the genius triumvirate of John Stanley, Carl Barks and Walt Kelly dominates—the first two with their wry fables of greed, revenge and childhood hubris. Kelly is simply one of the most endearing cartoonists of all time—every line he draws or character he creates exudes charm. Adults and comics fans will pore over this revelatory treasury for the stunning art; kids will simply pore over it, immersed in worlds of fantasy that are worth visiting again and again. (Sept.)