The Spirit Review: Frank Miller's Head is a Weapon

When the credits rolled at the end of The Spirit, and Television's Ryan Callahan (visiting for the Holidays from sunny California) handed me my jacket and prepared to leave the theater, I said, "Why leave now? This is the best part."

I was referring to the Frank Miller black-and-white illustrations that accompanied the credits, and I wasn't joking. His bold, blocky pen and ink drawings of the Spirit displayed the stark visual aesthetic that would have made a Frank Miller version of The Spirit worth sitting through for nearly two hours.

I'm on the Geoff Klock train of thought regarding this movie, by the way: there's no point even thinking of it as any kind of adaptation of Will Eisner's work. You basically have to approach it as a new creation by Frank Miller, and by taking that angle you don't have to worry about who's going to be rolling over in any graves.

Even by that standard -- even if you look at The Spirit as a cinematic culmination of the Frank Miller sensibility and nothing more -- this thing is a complete failure as a film.

And as a movie that anyone with a heart, mind, and/or soul would want to spend more than a handful of minutes with, it's an unwatchable disaster.

The Spirit is like Sin City mixed with Looney Tunes, minus the humor.

The Spirit is like those bootleg dvds of student film versions of Batman or Spider-Man stories, but with more inconsistent visual appeal.

The Spirit is the kind of movie that might anger you, physically, in nearly every scene.

The Spirit is Boondock Saints for comic book fans, except maybe even worse.

Did you ever see that fight scene that was screened at San Diego this summer? It was on YouTube for a while, though I can't find it now. It had Sam Jackson and Gabe Macht smacking each other around in a mud flat and it was embarassingly bad? The one with the toilet? That scene comes pretty early on in the film, and it sets the tone for what will be a pretty painful experience at the cinema.

One of the running gags in this movie involves the cloned minions of Sam Jackson's Octopus character. They always have names that end in "-os" and at first we get "Pathos" and "Ethos" and "Logos." They don't last all that long, but one of the perks of clone minions is their nearly endless supply (though a non-hilarious plot point is that the supply won't last forever), and so we get more minions later in the film. Like "Huevos" and "Rancheros" and let's not forget "Dildos." And, at the end, what else would we expect but "Adios" and "Amigos."

Yeah, that's the humor of this movie.

Sam Jackson does tear it up, at least. He is maniacal in all the right ways, like he's performing for a dinner theater crowd who isn't really paying attention. Probably because we're all so engrossed in Gabriel Macht's relentless voice-over about his city. The Spirit and "The City" have a special bond, or so the voice-over keeps telling us. It's a whole lot of meaningless talk -- more in the mold of All-Star Batman and Robin parody than in the mold of any kind of noirish precursors -- and the Spirit will just not shut up about how his city "provides" for him. Sometimes he even turns and addresses the camera, just in case we didn't get the winking tone of the rest of the movie. As bad as all the voice-overs are, at least we get to watch Sam Jackson have all the fun he didn't seem to have playing a Jedi.

In the middle of it all, we get glimpses of how this movie might have worked, maybe. The flashback funeral-for-Denny-Colt sequence shows a visual grace that's missing from most of the film (which, in general, alternates between cheap-looking stagecraft and random bits of Sin City moments for no particular reason). And when the resurrected Denny Colt visits Dolan (played by Dan Lauria -- the dad from The Wonder Years -- who is really goddamn great in the film, by the way), we see a sepia-toned Dolan through a screen door and a Spirit silhouette and the whole thing just works in a way that the rest of the film doesn't.

Sure, the girls are nice. Eva Mendes is beautiful and Miller decks her out in some costumes that show her off, and Scarlett Johansson is a goofy-hot right hand woman for the Octopus, and that's all well and good, but it doesn't make the movie into anything resembling a story worth caring about (emotionally, intellectually, or even aesthetically, really -- not for 103 minutes).

The plot doesn't even try to make sense, even by what we might derisively call "comic book logic" (though we should know better that to use that term, for a variety of reasons). In once scene, the Spirit recognizes Eva Mendes's Sand Seref by the shape of her photocopied ass, even though he hadn't seen her since she was a much, much thinner teenager. It's not a detective movie, I know, but it's not really anything else either.

What it is, ultimately, is a Frank Miller-gasm all over the silver screen. It's his familiar territory (harsh city life, lethal beauties, Nazi iconography, scatology, grimly prosaic narration, bombast) writ large. It is a fiercely Milleresque vision, at least. It doesn't seem the least bit compromised by studio interference, and it certainly doesn't feel like any other movie this year. But it's still not any good.

Miller famously abandoned his Hollywood hopes a couple of decades ago after the Robocop 2 fiasco, only to be lured back by the siren song of Robert Rodriguez's green screen. The thing is, the completely compromised, soulless Robocop 2 is probably a better movie than the uncompromised, soulless The Spirit.

When Words Collide: Frank Miller's Sci-Fi Samurai Epic

Take a look at this page from Frank Miller's Ronin. What's not to like? Miller was doing things 25 years ago that no one had ever done in American comics before, and yet somehow Ronin has fallen into some kind of vaguely forgotten bottom drawer of significant comic book history.

It's really quite a book, and the Absolute Ronin edition taught me to look at it with fresh eyes.

So that's what I do in this week's "When Words Collide," and I also give you some more Miller musings from that classic issue of The Comics Journal I've referenced a few times here this week.

Check out WWC: Frank Miller's Sci-Fi Samurai Epic. And let me know what you think.

Frank Miller on "Wild Work"

More from The Comics Journal #101's 1985 interview with Frank Miller:

"I want to see wild work, even reckless work, cartoonists trying out new approaches that don't even look like they have a chance in hell of being successful. This atmosphere of caution is not only keeping the form stuck 20 years in the past, it's losing us nearly every reader who passes."

I was going to use this in my column this week, but it ended up not fitting in very smoothly. But, man, those words seem to apply to mainstream, direct-market comics today, don't they? Except for the notion that anyone "passes" by the comic rack. Nobody even sees comics anymore unless they go into shop specifically looking for them.

Of course, these days the argument is that the superhero market becomes smaller due to attrition, and "passes" could mean people dying off. But if the comic book market loses "nearly every" reader who "passes," does that mean that there are comics in the afterlife? Is that where "Brother Power" and "The Inferior Five" ended up?

Frank Miller on Superhero Comics and Their Readers

"I feel that pulp super-hero comics depend on a safer, less risky approach to the telling of a story. They're children's books for Christ's sake. Since what I want to do, and what must be done, is to explore the form, to play with different kinds of contents, I work primarily in different formats. What has to develop is a structure to the industry where the avant-garde of the talent is encouraged to do the more ambitious work, where the pulp super-hero comics and the buttheadedness of their readership no longer restrain bolder work, but rather are affected by it, synthesizing techniques that develop, and are steadily pulled forward from the storytelling methods of the '40s."
--Frank Miller

In my research for this week's "When Words Collide" column, I came across that excerpt from a 1985 interview with Miller, published in The Comics Journal #101. (That whole issue of TCJ is a fascinating time capsule of the time right before Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns.)

Here are my questions:

1. Even though we talk about how different the comic book landscape looks now compared to 1985, have Miller's words become true?

2. Have the superhero comics truly synthesized the techniques of the "bolder" work done in the medium?

3. Is it the "buttheadedness" of the readers that continues to restrain the genre?

All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder #10 Review

Recently reviewed by me at CBR: All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder #10, about which I write the following sentences: "And this issue also explores the anguish of Jim Gordon, very much in line with the way he has been portrayed in Miller's other Batman works. But the Gordon story is crowded out by Batgirl on a skateboard and Black Canary yapping endlessly to herself. Miller's Batman monologues work well enough, but his Black Canary is verbose and flaccid. He still doesn't have a handle on her narrative voice, but that doesn't stop him from using a whole lot of it. I would say it's an improvement over her awkward Irish brogue in previous issues, but there's so many ineffective Black Canary narrative captions in this issue that I found myself longing for a time when she said fewer words, even if they sounded silly."

Read the entire review HERE.

All-Star Superman/Batman Hits THE SPLASH PAGE

I've written a lot about All-Star Superman in the past week, and I have a review of the newest All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder issue hitting CBR this weekend. Yet, I'm not done talking about either of those books, apparently, because here I come -- along with my partner-in-awesomeness, Chad Nevett -- to talk about Morrison, Miller, Quitely, and Lee.

But here's the catch: Chad actually prefers the Miller/Lee stuff to the Morrison/Quitely All-Star Superman. Is he mad? Is he justified? Is he right?!?

Check out the newest installment of the debate-tastic Splash Page to find out what happens when two men disagree about their precious comic books.

Or, you know, click HERE.

(One thing Chad and I would agree on: Quitely's version of All-Star Batman is pretty amazing.)

Batman, More Batman, Kicking Ass, and Dick's Meta-List

Quick Reviews:

Batman #674: Just in case you didn't believe how important 1963's Batman #156 was to Morrison's run, this week's issue hammers the point home. He turns this page into a central part of Batman continuity and starts pulling all the threads of his narrative together, leading into the upcoming "Batman R.I.P." storyline. Guess what? It looks like the Black Glove will be involved. He's not only the mystery villain behind the Club of Heroes three-issue arc, but he's the "Ultimate Enemy" behind many of Batman's troubles. Perhaps he'll turn out to be Norman Osbourne.

All-Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder #9: This series has caught up to All-Star Superman! In numbering, that is, not quite in quality, although this is the first issue that feels like what I expected All-Star Batman to be like. It features humor (yellow Batman drinking lemonade to taunt Green Lantern--take that, ring impurity!), brutality (tracheotomy time!), and a bit of heart (parental concern!). I was getting into the Goddamn groove on this title, and now Miller switches things up with something more sincere. What's up with that? (And, if you had given up on this title, which you were crazy to do, this issue might make you regret your hasty decision.)

Kick-Ass #1: Super-heroes in the real world. Millar claims they've never been done like he's doing them here, and as much as I assumed he was using hyperbole, I think he's kind of right. This issue doesn't feel groundbreaking, but Romita jr.'s art captures the right amount of awkwardness and courage required to pull of the conceit. It's like Bernie Mireault's The Jam (which, by the way, TOTALLY deserves the deluxe hardcover treatment. Are you listening, Image or Dark Horse?), but while Mireault brought in supernatural elements, Millar and Romita jr. keep it real. Harshly real. Ironically real. It undermines every romantic notion of super-heroics, but it doesn't do it in a Garth Ennis, "I'm going to piss all over the feces of your idols" kind of way. It does it in a pure, idealistic way, even with all of the suffering involved. I liked the first issue a lot.

Dick Hyacinth's Meta-List 2008: Who has not been eagerly awaiting this list? Come on! Who can resist seeing how everything adds up for 2007 quality? Not me. And what I'm most curious about, of course, is not just what seems plain wrong (not wrong mathematically, but wrong aesthetically: Buffy ranked so high? Really--is it such an amazing comic? And Shooting War in the Top 20? Doesn't the quality of the artwork count for anything? And Acme Novelty Library #18 NOT even in the Top 50? Even recognizing that it came out late in the year, come on people! It was a great book), but what I need to go out and read. Stuff I missed or haven't gotten around to reading yet, like Exit Wounds, Shortcomings, Alias the Cat (all of which in the Top 10, and all of which I really want to read, but I just...haven't), and Superspy, The Blot, Notes for a War Story, and Three Paradoxes, among other things I probably will never make time for.

What do you want to read from the Meta-List?

The Canon's Already Under Attack!

Yesterday I posted my declaration of the American Comic Canon, and the comments have been great. I fully expect my Canon to spark debate and discussion, and it already has.

For the record, here's what's been suggested as essential additions to the Canon, followed by my brief rebuttal:

1. Thomas Nast added to Early Comic Strips
--I say yes, although I know very little about Nast. From what I do know, he sounds like an influential pioneer, and that's important to have at the beginning of the Canon, at least for historical perspective. Perhaps he doesn't belong because he doesn't do sequential work, though. What do you think?

2. Teen Titans, Uncanny X-Men, and Squadron Supreme moved from Bronze Age to the Modern Age (and, Squadron Supreme was actually my own suggestion as an addition, but the request to move it to the later era belonged to a reader).
--I say no, because the Titans, X-Men, and Squadron Supreme are the logical conclusion to the promise of the Bronze Age. Squadron Supreme, in particular, takes the O'Neil/Adams formula and projects it onto a larger stage. It, along with the other two titles, are the perfect end point for the Bronze Age. (And, in retrospect, I think I should add Squadron Supreme into that Bronze Age category.)

3. Walt Simonson's Thor added to the Modern Age
--I say no, although Simonson is a wonderful artist. I just don't think this one makes the cut as a singular work, although some of Simonson's page layouts are innovative enough to make it a close call.

4. John Byrne's Fantastic Four added to the Modern Age
--I say no, it's not even close. In many ways, Byrne's FF is a mashup of Silver Age plots with Bronze Age characterizations, and it's not truly representative of the promise of the Modern Era

5. Frank Miller's Ronin added to the Modern Age
--I say no, because Miller is overly represented as it is. Ronin is clearly a transformative work for Miller and you can see him literally progressing to a new style over the course of the book. It's him shedding his Daredevil skin and preparing for Dark Knight Returns, and it's an essential link between the two, but I don't think it stands on its own as canonical.

6. Chester Brown or Seth added to the Modern Age
--I say yes, but I don't know which work(s) I would add. I seriously considered Clyde Fans, by Seth, as an original addition to the list, but it's incomplete. I think he may have a masterpiece that will yet emerge. Chester Brown is important, but what's his major work? I honestly don't know. Suggestions?

7. Cerebus moved from Bronze Age to the Modern Age
--I say yes, definitely. The best, most important Cerebus stuff was during the mid to late 1980s, and it was high Modernist in style and content. I only placed it in the Bronze Age as a kind of bridge between the Undergrounds to the Moderns, but that's not fair to Cerebus.

8. The Authority added to the Modern Age
--I say yes, for two reasons. 1) Even though it's not truly an Image book, it represents the logical outgrowth of the Image approach to super-heroes, and it's worthy of inclusion as a kind of pinnacle of that sub-era, and 2) the comic has influenced other super-hero comics ever since its release.

What do you say? What else did I leave out? What should be removed? How many is too many? Do you love comics as much as I do?

EDITED TO ADD: Abhay has joined the fray HERE.

Legion, Star-Lord, and All-Star Batman: Special Bonus Review Section--Number Three of Three

I couldn't decide which of these titles to review in this last slot (and I wanted to give myself a finite amount of review space so I wouldn't spend all day writing blog posts), so decided to go with some three-way action here today and cover Supergirl and the Legion of Super-Heroes #32, Annihilation: Conquest--Star-Lord #1, and All-Star Batman and Robin #6.

Unlike my last two entries on Morrison and Brubaker/Fraction which deal with self-contained flashforwards or flashbacks, my post here deals with three comics which are part of larger story arcs, and all three of which might read better if not read in isolation.

But how do they rate as chapters in larger serials? Flawed, all of them. But interesting.

I wrote about Morrison's Batman and Brubaker/Fraction's Iron Fist first, not just because I was most excited about those two issues (even though I was), but because I think both of those issues (and surrounding stories by those creators) belong in the top tier of super-hero comics. As disappointed as some people have been with Morrison's run on the title, I think, by the time he's finished, his tenure on the series will be considered one of the major Batman contributions ever. People will look back on this stuff in 10, 20, 30 years time. And the same goes for the Iron Fist stuff coming out now. It's some of the best stuff ever produced at Marvel (a company with relatively little top-tier work, once you get past the early stuff from Kirby and Ditko and Miller's Daredevil). If the current Iron Fist series keeps going as it has, it will be remembered as one of the great comics of all time.

These next three comics belong in the second tier (and my tiers are pretty large, as you can probably guess, but I do think of comics in this way--For example, I'd put Gaiman's Sandman in the top tier, his Books of Magic in the second tier, and his Eternals in the third tier.) These are some interesting comics, but they aren't anything I'd give to someone as an example of super-hero comics anywhere near their best.

Supergirl and the Legion of Super-Heroes #32 is a back-to-Legion-basics story by new writer Tony Bedard (featuring some strange, wildly inconsistent artwork by Dennis Calero). While the Waid/Kitson run featured a large cast of characters and an exploration into social dynamics and intergalactic threats of destruction (or oppression), this first part of a two-part storyline features a handful of characters on a much smaller "mission." It's reminiscent of the old 8 or 12 page Legion stories from the late Silver Age, and the content of the story matches that style, as Bedard brings back some of the classic Legion concepts like Lightning Lord and Validus. Calero's art, though, looks too rough in some panels, and too photo-real in others. Particularly jarring are the first panel on page 2, with Mekt Ranzz's bed-head, the two side-by side panels on the top of pages 7 and 8 which look as if Calero scanned the same exact pencils into the computer and then used it for two different panels but added different facial details and a different haircut on Mekt Ranzz, and the constantly shifting lightning design on the shoulders of Mekt's costume throughout the issue (why the Mekt hate, Dennis?). Calero does a nice job with Tenzil Kem throughout the issue, and I've enjoyed his artwork elsewhere, so I'm guessing he was rushed on this particular story. Nevertheless, his Mekt-related problems ruin the narrative consistency and distract from Bedard's story--which is quite good.

Star-Lord #1 doesn't actually have a cover that looks anything like this image, but I already showed the cover for this issue in my enthusiastic preview of this story, and I didn't want to put the same image up two days in a row. Plus, it's important to the new Star-Lord series that you consider how dorky he used to look back in the Bronze Age. He looked less like a Star-LORD and more like a Star-Speed-Skater. And he also killed thousands of people in an attempt to save millions. Such is the backstory given to us at the beginning of this new issue #1. I'm not a big fan of multi-page exposition to start a story, but writer Keith Giffen gets the backstory out of the way so he can show us a bit about Peter Quill's tortured past and his lack of eagerness about the future. The exposition establishes Peter Quill's self-depracating tone, at least, even if the narration goes on a bit longer than it needs to. The rest of the story is great. We're introduced to the members of Star-Lord's strike team, who will undertake a suicide mission against the Phalanx threat. These strike-team members are all Kree prisoners: a big tree dude, a Captain Universe, Mantis (from the Avengers), and Rocket Raccoon to name a few. Quill makes a Dirty Dozen reference, and that's clearly the archetype Giffen's drawing upon for this series. Sounds good to me! Although this series, coupled with the Wraith comic, which is also part of the Annihilation crossover and is clearly a homage to the "Man with No Name" Spaghetti Westerns, makes me think about what movies the other two Annihilation series are referencing. Here's my guess: Quasar is Thelma and Louise in space, and Nova is Rebel Without a Cause except James Dean gets replaced by a girl halfway through.

All-Star Batman and Robin #6 is finally here, and I'm not going to make any jokes about how late this series has been running, but it is rather difficult to even remember how the series first began those many years ago. This issue features a sensitive portrayal of two important female characters, Black Canary and Batgirl. Both characters have long been an integral part of the Batman mythos and Frank Miller and Jim Lee allow for enough tender moments to reward the close reading such a dense story requires.

Who am I kidding? You guys know that's all a total lie. All-Star Bats #6 is a ridiculous mess, and what does Black Canary have to do with anything? When she first appeared in the series, a few issues ago, she seemed unrelated to the main "plot," and now that her "storyline" has converged with Batman's, she still doesn't seem to fit. And now she's Irish too?!? I though Frank Miller was just being verbose with her speech on page 13 (or I thought he was referencing some bad film noir dialogue), but I guess that was his attempt at an Irish cadence. What's that about? And we get more close-ups on Vicki Vale's ass! Oh, and Batgirl appears! And there's some attempt to establish a theme of "youth, hope, inspiration" and then there are some swear words crossed out.

Everyone seems to have a theory about this comic. Some say it's Frank Miller taken to the extreme, some say it's his attempt to subvert his Dark Knight work, some say the whole thing's a satire of super-heroes. Here's my theory: Frank Miller wants to make Jim Lee draw stuff that makes my eyes bleed and he wants to make me even more thankful for the really great Morrison work on the character. Why else would he so strategically time the slow-release of this title to coincide with Morrison's run? Think about it.

I also lied about All-Star Bats being a "second tier" comic. It's not. It gets a tier all to itself. A very, very low tier. Right between Liefeld's X-Force and Bilson and DeMeo's Flash.

Frank Miller and I

In addition to my ungodly love for any archive editions, I can't resist the higher-end Absolute Editions published by DC either. These things are massive, oversizes hardcover editions of the greatest works in recent comic book history, and they come complete with extra pages of commentary, or artwork, or whatever they decide would be cool. I have several of these suckers so far, and with so many new ones being released over the next year or so, I'm doomed to poverty.

The most recent one, by the way, is the Absolute Dark Knight. My recent posts may lead you to believe that I loves me some Batman. That's not exactly true. I actually prefer Superman. In fact, if I had to rank superheroes (which is stupid for me to even think about, because I buy comic books for the creators, rather than the characters), I would place Green Lantern and Flash even above Superman. So I'm not a big Batman guy. But I do love Frank Miller, so I couldn't resist this giant book, which collects The Dark Knight Returns along with The Dark Knight Strikes Again and some other supplemental sketches and original proposals, etc. I haven't actually read this volume yet, so I'll hold off on commenting upon it in more detail. I've read the stories several times in earlier printings, but it's been years since I've revisited either, so I'll let you know if my previous opinion still holds up. (For the record: my previous opinion would be that Dark Knight Returns is savage and brutal and shockingly good and Dark Knight Strikes Again is sloppy but still excellent--and I've always thought the negative criticism it received was due to expectations that were unrealistically high and inconsistent shipping dates when it was first released. But we'll see if that opinion holds.)

The point of this post is that I've always loved the stark, blocky, boldness of Frank Miller's style, and in going through my older artwork, I found an early tribute to his work. I thought this was interesting because it actually shows a bit of my process, and it shows how pathetically unoriginal I was back in those days (as opposed to today, when I'm expertly unoriginal). Here's the rough sketch I drew over a dozen years ago:

It's clearly based on Miller's Ronin, which is the story a science-fiction samurai. I might not have recognized the sketch as a Miller homage, though, if it wasn't accompanied by my finished piece:

Now this looks good, right? Except it's TOTALLY copied from a Miller illustration. But you can see that I at least improved my plagiarism between the sketch and the final, inked drawing. I can't remember exactly what I was thinking at the time, but I knew I thought of this as a "study" of Miller's drawing style, and for some reason I got the scale completely wrong when I did that first sketch. Anyway, I still love Frank Miller, but I don't copy his work anymore. Maybe I should. Maybe it would help. And, by the way, I also found other examples of times I "swiped" a pose or a design from another artist, and I will be posting them someday. For now, though, marvel at the awesomeness that is Frank Miller, as interpreted by me.