Archive for the Comics Category

I don’t know who Jack the Ripper was -

Posted in Comics, FILM, Politics, Science with tags , , , , on September 15, 2014 by dcairns

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- despite the recent news stories announcing that his DNA has been identified.

Read a little closer and that story sounds extremely unlikely. A “shawl” (in reality a piece of material 8ft by 2ft, seemingly designed as a table runner) has been claimed, via a runs-in-the-family bit of lore, to have been taken from a murder scene, some guy buys it, he decides he thinks he knows who the Ripper was, he tests for that guy’s DNA using a direct matrilineal descendent, and to his joy, one imagines, his tame DNA expert makes a positive match. Turns out the shawl has bloodstains traceable to a victim (or at any rate her matrilineal descendent) and sperm cells traceable to the suspect (or his m.d.)

The trouble with all this, apart from its stupefying convenience, is that we have a complete record of the victim’s possessions, and the shawl wasn’t there. Also, the story of how the shawl came to be in the keeping of the policeman’s family is highly improbable. And we have a list of the policemen’s postings in London, and he wasn’t at the crime scene. What good is finding DNA from both suspect and victim on an object that has no relationship to their story?

Of course The Daily Mail loves this story because they can print that JTR was “a Polish lunatic.” In fact, Aaron Kosminski, the named suspect, isn’t the least plausible figure put forward for the role — I mean, he wasn’t royalty, or gay, or an eminent surgeon, or a famous painter, or any of the other things that might attract a writer to claiming his for the killer but in fact make him highly unlikely to be the guy. Kosminski was locked up for being hopelessly mad a couple of years after the killings, so there’s nothing that REALLY explains why the murders stopped, but he lived in the area, as the killer undoubtedly did, and he was apparently schizophrenic, as some serial killers of this kind apparently have been. As a Jew, he does seem a less likely fit for leaving antisemitic graffiti near one of his crime scenes, but anything’s possible.

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Of course, the really interesting thing about JACK THE RIPPER is that he was never caught and cannot be positively identified. But the scholarly books laying out the often-distorted facts of the case probably don’t sell as well as the ludicrous theory books, and so the script Fiona & I wrote, JACK AND THE DAUGHTERS OF JOY, might present difficulties since we don’t say precisely who the killer is. It seems people are attracted to the unsolved case most when somebody offers a solution. It’s weird to me when I see the 1976 JACK THE RIPPER by Jess Franco or the 1959 one from Monty Berman and Robert S. Baker, in which the Ripper is safely apprehended by the authorities (in the 50s version, not so much apprehended as flattened by a nearly anachronistic elevator) which not only didn’t happen, but is practically the one thing everybody knows didn’t happen. (Also, note the hilariously prominent modern window frame in my top image.)

Historically, the movies are all ridiculous. Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell’s comic From Hell is compelling, despite being based on a ludicrous conspiracy theory, but the movie made from it dispensed with historical accuracy immediately — the casting wrecked it before you even saw it. The worst aspect is detective Johnny Depp taking opium and having psychic visions (because that’s what opium does), none of which tell him who the killer is and so all of which are a complete waste of screen time.

The real case is so horrible that no movie intended as mere entertainment can get into the reality, and even a trace of it, whether the movie be A STUDY IN TERROR or DR. JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE can sour the fun. The actual events, with homeless alcoholics as victims, grotesque mutilation of corpses, no picturesque gaslit fog, and a lot of confused and misguided bumbling by the authorities, is not really the stuff of an enjoyable detective or horror story. It’s several degrees darker than SE7EN.

Of course, Fiona and I cracked all those problems, but we would say that, wouldn’t we?

Kidstuff

Posted in Comics, FILM, Painting, Television with tags , , , , , , on September 1, 2014 by dcairns

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Click to enlarge. And then it all happens.

I was always dimly aware of The Kin-Der Kids, in a collected volume of newspaper cartoons by Lyonel Feininger, lurking on a shelf in Edinburgh College of Art library, but something had kept me from taking it out. Now I realize it was probably the unreadable text — Feininger, like his near-contemporary Winsor McCay, believed in drawing the artwork and speech balloons first, before writing the dialogue, and then would cram whatever he had to say into the available space (McKay sometimes goes the opposite way, finding his balloon to capacious for the plotline, he’ll bung in random cries of “Oh!” until the bubble is snugly used up) — also, the original broadsheet-sized hugeness has been shrunk to half its original scale, meaning that I had to dig out a green magnifying glass I found in the back yard to read it (I can’t think what I did with the nice steel magnifier I bought for M. Natan to use in the documentary “reconstructions” of NATAN).

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Anyway, it’s worth it. The surreal adventures of Daniel Webster (a child with a stovepipe hat and male-pattern baldness), Piemouth, Strenuous Teddy and Little Japansky (a clockwork Japanese boy of unexplained origin) are worth anybody’s time. And not much time is required — the strip was a flopperoo and was cancelled in short order, leaving behind a scant few pages that promised some kind of long-form continuing madness, more eccentric even than Little Nemo and Popeye and the other, later greats. It couldn’t last, but the bold experiment of putting a Bauhaus painter in charge of a piece of mainstream entertainment at least left us with 29 pages of madness (plus another 18 of Wee Willie Winkie’s World.)

A modern-day follower of Feininger’s approach seems to me to be Tony Millionaire, whose Maakies strip, dealing with the adventures of an alcoholic crow and a sock puppet monkey, at sea, have a similar cockamamie picaresque rambunctiousness. There was a TV show which you can watch. It, too, was cancelled. In fact, in its pilot episode, a harpooned sea monster jets blood from its blowhole/s, an image incredibly present in The Kin-Der Kids (children’s entertainment was tougher then). Feininger, apparently sensing that having anthropomorphic animals with their own speech balloons might be problematic when it’s time for them to be killed and eaten, resolves the tonal difficulty by giving his sea creatures crap dialogue, such as, “Who would have thunk it” (no question mark, making it even lamer) and “Drat it all! This is one on me” — the implication being that they are not so much living thinking sentient characters like Daniel Webster and (debatably) Piemouth, as pasteboard caricatures jerked into the simulacrum of life by a quill-wielding kraut.

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To give you some idea of Feininger’s eccentricity, here is his dramatis personae, in which he sees fit to include the Kin-Der family bathtub — which never appears again.

 

Space Punch-Up: The Movie

Posted in Comics, FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 14, 2014 by dcairns

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This piece has multiple beginnings and no ending, which makes it the opposite of most blockbuster movies.

“The summer had crashed,” is a very good sentence in Patrick Hamilton’s Hangover Square and it came true as a hot July switched to a thundery, rainy, windy, cold August. God, who for a fictional construct can be a total dick, had decided to flip the dial to “November” to keep us on our toes, and Robin Williams killed himself. The guy who played Patch Adams committed suicide. I can’t even think of an analogy for that.

So we went to see GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY because a movie, even an indifferent one, kind of rapts you out of yourself — a friend who worked on it recommended it. I wasn’t sure I would like it but I figured either I would feel worse, and thus drive a car over my own head, or better. Instead I feel about the same, but the actual movie was OK.

What made me wary of it, apart from it being a mainstream release dated after 1980, was the reports that it has no story and everyone in it is an asshole. In fact, it has as much story as any of these things — a bunch of characters who want different things run around while stuff explodes — that’s the whole history of western literature right there, according to Stan Lee — there is an orb everybody wants, but it might as well have been a cube — and the characters’ obnoxious tendencies are actually explained/redeemed a bit as it goes on. And Groot, the walking tree is a kind of positive guy — source of the only moments of visual poetry, if you can call it that — though he has no drives of his own and seems to exist only to help the others. He’s a dendritic Magic Negro — or Magic Tree-Gro.

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Oh, the other thing that made me wary of it was that the director, James Gunn, made SUPER, which I hated. God. Just remembering it. How anything with the delightful Ellen Page could be so horrible to watch I can’t think. Kind of makes me want to drive a car over my head, just remembering it. And I can’t even drive.

He’s basically redeemed himself — GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY easily surpasses the low expectations I had. It has Henry Portrait (which is what we have to call actor Michael Rooker) painted blue, with a screw foe a tooth and what looks like a headlight emerging through his scalp. It has a planet called Morag. It has a soundtrack structured around an 80s mixtape of super sounds of the seventies. It has Zoe Saldana (so versatile — first she was blue, now she’s green!) pronouncing the word “doom” as “dume” for no reason. It has a mining colony inside the severed head of a god. It has John C. Reilly. Mainly, it has decided what it thinks of its characters, which is that they’re “not 100% dicks.” And that saves it from being SUPER.

I generally try to see some contemporary relevance in these things — this one seems to be an American fantasy vision of Israel as a sort of Epcot Center world, besieged by vari-hued genocidal barbarians and protecting itself with a sophisticated aerial defense system. Unfortunate timing, then, but nobody seems to mind.

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