Archive for March, 2009

Anyone could have done a parody of Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ much-lauded graphic novel Watchmen, especially one whose release is so precariously synced with the U.S. premiere of Zack Snyder’s film adaptation. But with Watchmensch (Brain Scan Studios), Rich Johnston and Simon Rohrmuller merely use the familiar settings and characters of the original book as a platform to tell quite a different tale, that of creators’ rights and publishers’ legal acrobatics. Of course, the story of Moore’s ongoing disputes with DC Comics is the stuff of legend at this point, but Watchmensch goes beyond that single case, delving as far back as the birth of the superhero comic industry: When Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster sold their creation, Superman, for $130 to the future DC Comics.

If there’s any one person qualified to write such a far-reaching work of critical satire about the comic industry, it’s Johnston, whose weekly column, “Lying in the Gutters,” has been spilling the inside dirt on all things geeky since 2002. There’s a lot of meta commentary happening in Watchmensch, and it’s a lot to digest, but just as in the series that inspired it, Johnston includes a helpful text page, “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow Stories?,” which spells out some of the between-the-panels details.

It takes about half of the book to really grasp who characters such as “Mr. Broadway,” “Nite Nurse” and “OzyOsbourne” represent and how everything relates, but by the time you get to the surprise ending (no, really, much like Watchmen, this tale has a few twists you won’t expect), the payoff is worth the sometimes-difficult journey.

The art by Rohrmuller is pitch perfect: He apes Gibbons’ detailed-yet-clean lines well enough without merely copying, but the revealing spreads on pages 18 to 20 are some of the best-drawn panels I’ve seen in years. And presented in black-and-white, the artwork is crisp, clear and refreshing.

While Watchmensch shoves a lot down your throat in just 28 pages, it’s a good primer for anyone interested in the somewhat-sketchy, behind-the-scenes workings of the entertainment industry. The story works even better if you’ve read Watchmen, as otherwise the stylistic storytelling choices make little sense, but on its own, you could do worse with your $3.99 than send it the way of Mssrs. Johnston and Rohrmuller when Watchmensch ships next week.

Anyone could have done a parody of Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ much-lauded graphic novel Watchmen, especially one whose release is so precariously synced with the U.S. premiere of Zack Snyder’s film adaptation. But with Watchmensch (Brain Scan Studios), Rich Johnston and Simon Rohrmuller merely use the familiar settings and characters of the original book as a platform to tell quite a different tale, that of creators’ rights and publishers’ legal acrobatics. Of course, the story of Moore’s ongoing disputes with DC Comics is the stuff of legend at this point, but Watchmensch goes beyond that single case, delving as far back as the birth of the superhero comic industry: When Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster sold their creation, Superman, for $130 to the future DC Comics.

If there’s any one person qualified to write such a far-reaching work of critical satire about the comic industry, it’s Johnston, whose weekly column, “Lying in the Gutters,” has been spilling the inside dirt on all things geeky since 2002. There’s a lot of meta commentary happening in Watchmensch, and it’s a lot to digest, but just as in the series that inspired it, Johnston includes a helpful text page, “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow Stories?,” which spells out some of the between-the-panels details.

It takes about half of the book to really grasp who characters such as “Mr. Broadway,” “Nite Nurse” and “OzyOsbourne” represent and how everything relates, but by the time you get to the surprise ending (no, really, much like Watchmen, this tale has a few twists you won’t expect), the payoff is worth the sometimes-difficult journey.

The art by Rohrmuller is pitch perfect: He apes Gibbons’ detailed-yet-clean lines well enough without merely copying, but the revealing spreads on pages 18 to 20 are some of the best-drawn panels I’ve seen in years. And presented in black-and-white, the artwork is crisp, clear and refreshing.

While Watchmensch shoves a lot down your throat in just 28 pages, it’s a good primer for anyone interested in the somewhat-sketchy, behind-the-scenes workings of the entertainment industry. The story works even better if you’ve read Watchmen, as otherwise the stylistic storytelling choices make little sense, but on its own, you could do worse with your $3.99 than send it the way of Mssrs. Johnston and Rohrmuller when Watchmensch ships next week.

I’ve gotten hold of a bunch of quality new music lately (and I have a feeling there’s more coming), so I figured I’d share a little of what I’m listening to these days in my CD player/iTunes playlist/iPod Shuffle:

White Lies, To Lose My Life: This UK trio rocks the post-punk in a familiar manner, with heavy shades of Psychedelic Furs, Echo and the Bunnymen and early Tears for Fears. Really, I challenge you to find evidence that songs such as “A Place to Hide” or “Fifty on Our Foreheads” were not recorded in 1983. But White Lies pulls off the reverb-drenched, bass-driven, keyboard-accented sound so well, I can’t help but dig it. These guys are touring the United States this spring with stops at both Coachella and South By Southwest, so you should definitely check them out should they come to your town. Or pick up To Lose My Life, which drops on March 17 in the States.

Morrissey, Years of Refusal: On the flipside of White Lies is Morrissey, who actually was an iconic 1980s post-punk artist, but you’ll find barely any hint of his Smiths origins on Years of Refusal, a worthy entry in Moz’s return to glory that began with 2004′s You Are The Quarry. From the outset, Steven Patrick Morrissey makes it quite clear that he’s not going to disappear quietly into the night even as he stares down his 50th birthday. He’s angrier and more bitter than ever, and his music is more aggressive than it has been in years. Right off the bat, the high-paced, loud opener, “Something is Squeezing My Skull,” unleashes lyrical venom such as “I know by now you think I should have straightened myself out, thank you, drop dead” and “It’s a miracle I even made it this far.” It’s good stuff for anyone, and great stuff for Morrissey fans. Moz is also touring the Colonies the next few months, though sadly, he’s not coming to Las Vegas anytime soon (surely he’ll fix that later this year — his last few shows have done considerably well).

SFMoMA, viewed from Yerba Buena Gardens

A lot of people complain about the overcrowded, over-popularized atmosphere of San Diego Comic-Con, but after dropping in for about half a day on San Francisco WonderCon, I have to admit: I kind of prefer the hustle and bustle of America’s Finest City’s summer nerdfest.

As an editor friend noted, WonderCon is more of a true industry convention, where colleagues from different publishers can actually get together without the eyes of the world so intensely upon them. And admittedly, it was nice to be able to have quieter conversations and not wait in lines to meet with people. But the palpable energy of Comic-Con is truly a unique experience — one that, after some consideration, I’ll likely endure again this year.

Still, the three-day excursion to the Bay Area was good. Sara and I met up with her friends from Michigan, spent a too-short lunch at the Metreon with pals I hadn’t seen in easily a decade (super-couple Frank and Jill Beaton, down from Portland for the con) and enjoyed a tasty meal at Ponzu with another buddy and ex-Las Vegan, Leo (and his fab boyfriend). I spent some time exchanging comics industry and Vegas stories with Steve Englehart. Paul Horn and I finally connected and I picked up a collection of his engaging and funny strip Cool Jerk. I did more walking in three days than I typically do in six months — which was OK, aside from the vagrants, junkies and whores every 5 feet. Most of the photo-snapping was left to our party’s resident amateur shutterbug, Aaron, but I did capture a few moments from the “It Was the Age of Marvel Comics” panel, Alcatraz Island and Yerba Buena Gardens, if you’re interested.

I also did something this weekend I haven’t done in about four years: turned over a freelance assignment to another writer. Without going into details, a few other stories that should have been wrapped up weeks ago bled over into time set for this other story, which then crashed into WonderCon weekend, before which I had to scramble to tie up other loose ends. Thankfully, I not only had a star writer to pick up the ball running, but I also have a good editor who (I think) understands the circumstances (right, Michael?).

That being said, the results of tying those loose ends will hopefully make themselves evident sooner than later. Stay tuned, true believers, because as always, news is forthcoming.

I just received an invitation to the March issue launch party at Blush inside the Wynn for Six Degrees (Thursday at 11 p.m. for anyone interested), so I’m guessing that coming to a salon/bar/whatever near you this week is the tiny magazine with the cover to the right.

Inside — on page 128 to be exact — I take a look at Fado Irish Pub in Henderson, and preview the bar’s St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Fado’s probably my favorite Irish pub in Las Vegas. Sprawled out across two stories in the corner of a trendy shopping pavilion near Eastern Avenue and the 215, Fado can be anything you want: loud party destination, intimate hideaway, friendly dinner spot — oh, just pick up the magazine and read about it. Or visit the website and squint really hard.

The April issue of Six Degrees should have a few more stories from yours truly in there, including a preview of Coachella. Yes, I know, there’s very little point to previewing the music festival in 250 words two months after the lineup was announced. But, hey, I don’t make the assignments — I just take them.