RR GEMS' first "non-SPECIAL!" issue keeps the indicial and "creditorial" errors to a minimum -- with one whopping exception -- but the trumpeted "return" of Super Richie (or Superichie, depending upon what issue of the original 1970s comic you read) isn't the absolute best way to start the regular "classics" series, I don't think. There was a reason why SUPER RICHIE/SUPERICHIE was one of the VERY few RICHIE titles to be cancelled during the hothouse period of 1974-1982, when the Harvey line essentially became all Richie, all the time. Once the basic premise is established of Richie and Cadbury "play-acting" as supposed superheroes Rippy and Crashman -- only to get caught up in realcrimefighting -- the range of permissible stories is dramatically curtailed, and things become tedious pretty quickly. The two main SR reprints in this issue, Ernie Colon's "The Robot Goes Wild" and "The Revolting Butler" (SUPERICHIE #14, April 1978), appeared just six months or so before the SR title went away for good. While they look OK in isolation, you should know that (1) "The Robot Goes Wild" was just the latest in a string of "Rippy and Crashman battle giant robots" stories, and (2) "The Revolting Butler" was a similar "repeat riff" on the well-worn theme of crooks posing as Rip and/or Crash in order to "ruin their reputation." These stories actually represent the concept's decadent stage, rather than its full flowering.
If Ape had to do a Super Richie tribute, I'd much rather it reprinted some of the stories featuring Badman, the burly crook with the poofyBruce Jenner 'do and the Negaduck-style "bad is good" attitude. At least those stories showed energy... which is more than I can say for Colon and Sid Jacobson's new five-page tale "The Kidnapping of Mr. Rich!". Not only does this story feature some disturbingly wonky art (HOW is Richie's head shaped in that first splash panel? Like a trapezoid?!) and an out-of-left-field revival of Rippy and Crashman's original "too-close-to-Superman-for-comfort" costumes, it doesn't even fully dignify the original conceit: Richie's heroic adventures turn out to be a dream! I honestly don't think that Ernie and Sid's hearts were in this one.
At the book's back end, we abruptly return to the bad old days of slipshod Harvey editing when a promised "Introduction to Rich Rescue" written by Sid Jacobson (!?!?) is nowhere to be found. Instead, we get an early-60s one-page gag drawn by Colon. Then follows a reprint of the "Welcome to Rich Rescue" story from issue #1 of the mini-series. As I noted when commenting on the SPECIAL!s, I'd prefer GEMS to focus on "classic" material... but, to be fair, the tiny type under the GEMS cover logo does mention that "new" material (which could, of course, mean reprinted RICH RESCUE fodder) will be included in the title. Indeed, using modern material sparingly in GEMS might be a good way of reminding older Harvey fans of the "reboot" title's existence... or it would be, had Ape actually included a reminder that the latter title existed here.I consider this to be a missed opportunity. With the launch of the regular RICH RESCUE title having been delayed for so long, I think that a little memory-nudge, in the form of a "Coming Soon" box or under-panel crawl, would not have been out of place.
What will arrive next? GEMS #45, or the revived RICH RESCUE? Your guess is as good as mine.
Several of the later episodes of Kimba have, somewhat curiously, depicted the jungle prince as "younger" than we would expect him to be. In "Soldier of Fortune," however, the Titan crew may actually have taken things a bit too far. It is surely jarring, two episodes before series' end, to hear Kimba actually asking "Uncle" Dan'l Baboon for PERMISSION to join world traveler Floppo the Seal (Hal Studer) on a trip across eastern Africa to the Indian Ocean. Is this really the same lion who sailed away to combat the "chimera" in "Monster of the Mountain" with nary an audible peep being raised by his "peeps," save Cheetah, who just happened to be on the scene when Kimba shoved off? And could that truly be our Kimba essentially pitching a temper tantrum (a fairly mannered one, all things considered, but still...) in order to convince an atypically splenetic Dan'l to let him go? As we'll see, there's internal evidence that this episode was not one of the very last to be dubbed, but neither was it an early effort. It still seems a rather curious decision to suddenly amplify latent bratty tendencies in Kimba, no matter when the deed was actually done.
Iffy character quirks aside, this is about as straightforward an episode of Kimba as exists in captivity. The setup promises a scenic African jaunt, and that's exactly what we get, though the geography gets pretty wonky pretty quickly (as was the case in "Monster of the Mountain") and it's even harder to guess how the Floppo-less gang will get back to the jungle than it was to dope out how Kimba, Dot, Dash, and Dinky would make it home after the events of "The Balloon that Blows Up." Boss Rhino gets his most memorable post-"Volcano Island" role as what basically amounts to the Gruffi Gummi part in our little expedition. Floppo is an ingratiating one-shotter, and I'm glad that Hal Studer didn't simply try to reproduce the familiar Roger Ranger voice for the character; he really tries to do something different with his standard voice, though exactly what he had in mind is difficult to tell. Not a classic, to be sure, but there's a mellow, genial vibe to this ep that makes the occasional moments of tension and peril that much more effective by contrast.
Intriguingly, Ray Owens' brief opening narration sets the story up to be some sort of fairy tale. (We'll get a similar "And that's the story of..." bookend at ep's end.) What's funny about this is that there's no paranormal, otherworldly, or "magical" aspect to the story whatsoever. Not that Kimba would have stood for it, mind you.
We get several quick hints that Kimba is kinda-sorta meant to be a juvenile here: he literally runs Bucky over in his eagerness to see the mysterious "creature" and then requires the prickly assistance of Harry/Harvey Hedgehog (making his last bow here) to get through the crowd of curious animals. Um, he's the prince of the jungle... he should simply be able to request to be let through.
In introducing himself, Floppo goes all Gertrude Stein-ish on us by declaring "A seal is a seal," but, according to whoever wrote the Kimba entry on Wikipedia, he's a South African fur seal. If so, then I wonder where he started his trip around the world. He later declares that he entered the heart of Africa by following the Congo River "as far inland as it would take me," which makes some sense, as the river makes a huge bend to the South in mid-continent. But that would indicate that he entered Africa from the west. If he's from South Africa, then why would he do that? Hang on, I may have an answer for you later...
If a couch could talk, it'd probably sound like Floppo. He's got a cozy-sounding, laid-back voice that sounds like an imitation of someone, but I can't tell who. There may be some W.C. Fields in there, but, given Floppo's overall air of geniality, that seems like a questionable assumption. Wherever Studer got the notion for this voice, it quickly charms the audience, not to mention the eager, wide-eyed Kimba. Of course, Kimba has already seen a good portion of Africa thanks to the balloon trip in "The Balloon That Blows Up," but part of Kimba's anticipation may lie in the fact that this trip will be planned, rather than involuntary. This strongly suggests that "Soldier of Fortune" was intended to proceed, say, the events of "Monster of the Mountain." Extra-jungular adventure is still seen by Kimba as a bit of a lark, rather than a leader's mission.
So why does Dan'l have such a burr up his ass over the notion of Kimba going on this jaunt? He does everything but snarl "Get off my savanna!" to Floppo but never actually provides a reason for his opposition to the idea. It might have worked better had Dan'l made some reference to Kimba's need to stick to his duties as leader of his kingdom. Dan'l still would have come across as heavy-pawed, but he wouldn't have seemed so confounded crabby in the process. Kimba "matches" Dan'l's maturity level by doing the taunt-'n-tease bit with the rock. It's cute, but, once again, not really what we would expect from Kimba in what is billed as a "late-series" episode.
Pauley's past experience in the human world (cf. the flashback in "Two Hearts and Two Minds") would presumably explain his interest in going on the trip. The lottery that selects Dodie, however, is a bit curious. I wonder whether this was a clever ploy to hide the fact that the animators didn't want to take as many characters on the expedition. The trip will, as it turns out, venture into some decidedly deer-unfriendly territory.
Boss Rhino's epochally stubborn "adherence to instructions," to the point of ramming (and destroying) the only tree within miles rather than alter his course, is positively brilliant. To resurrect the Gruffi analogy, this is like Gruffi insisting on repairing floorboards in Gummi Glen even as the Gummis are preparing to "leave for good" during the episode "Up, Up, and Away." It doesn't make the character any more or less likable; it simply encapsulates his personality perfectly.
The encounter with the gorillas basically burns time and little more, but the Titan crew does make some clever use of the embedded Japanese song, and Hal Studer slips in the nugget of news that Floppo once belonged to a circus. That might explain Floppo's port of entry into Africa; he may have escaped somewhere on the West Coast of Africa and decided to turn his departure into a circumnavigation of the entire globe. For sure, I'd want to celebrate my newfound freedom in a big way.
I'm not sure what's more improbable -- the existence of mammal-munching pitcher plants in Africa or the sudden appearance of forbidding mountains in our friends' path. Here is where the geography spins out of control. Assuming that Floppo, Kimba, et al. followed the most logical path from the environs of the bend of the Congo, they must be traversing part of Uganda and the South of Kenya on their way to the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately, there don't appear to be any massive mountain ranges in that general vicinity (Mount Kenya is closer to the center of Kenya). The cliffs are just there... no, not to suck, Greg, but to provide a fitting backdrop for the obligatory "Never give up... never surrender!" scene between Floppo and Kimba (which I don't take entirely seriously, BTW; it's not very likely that Kimba would abandon the pinniped in such a treacherous area) and the memorable "Saving Boss Rhino" sequence, in which the Titanistas sell the animals' physical duress exceptionally well. Even Kimba of the seemingly indestructible tail seems to be tested to the utmost here.
No sooner do we get over the mountains and into the lake than we get a CONTEMPORARY POP CULTURE REFERENCE COMPLETELY OUT OF NOWHERE! Kimba's delighted cry, "I love this dirty water!" during this scene:
makes absolutely zero sense in context, so Billie Lou Watt must certainly have been referencing this garage-band standard:
This song peaked on the charts (at #11) in early July of 1966, so that allows us to pinpoint the recording date of this ep with reasonable accuracy. Was it something that Billie Lou thought of on the spur of the moment? Had she heard it on the car radio that morning during the drive into Manhattan? Who knows?
The encounter with the (somewhat implausibly situated, not to mention implausibly artistically rendered) "sea monster" is notable primarily because it gives Kimba a belated chance to pay Pauley back for all the support the parrot gave him during the darkest moments of "Destroyers from the Desert." Pauley has shown a number of moments of conspicuous courage on behalf of Kimba's ideals during the series, dating all the way back to the classic "Jungle Thief," so one might consider this Kimba's way of showing just how much he has appreciated all of those gestures. It's too bad that Kimba didn't smack the beastie in the face with his tail as he was doing the slow-motion backflip into the water... just for old time's sake.
Perhaps that mountain lake is the source of the Fountain of Youth; during the escape, Kimba suddenly changes appearance to the cub of "Go, White Lion!" Whatever the nature of the effect (besides cheapness, that is), it's quickly remedied as the perilous passage under the rocks rather improbably opens up into a waterfall by the oceanside. Well, whatever works to get you there. Just don't expect to get back home by the exact same route. You should also hope that Floppo was just kidding about actually swimming the Indian Ocean. Even a mammal who possesses the amazing ability to talk under waterwithout drowning -- a trait he imparts to Kimba, no less! -- will have his breath control tested by that challenge. In any event, have a safe journey home, guys.
The last two weeks have been SPECIAL! (sorry, force of overemphasized habit)... real, live dead-tree comics have actually shown up at the local store. And they're RICHIE RICH comics, to boot. While we wait for the "reboot" series to wend its way storewards, these two packages of reprint material will do very nicely, thank you... even if the seemingly inevitable Harvey-related screwups are all too noticeable.
I'm not certain of this, but I believe that VALENTINE'S SPECIAL! was prepared first -- and hurriedly. The huge number of artist-credit errors in this book can't possibly be a coincidence, and some of the goofs are positively egregious. How can you possibly mistake the art of Sid "Crouchey" (sic) for that of Ernie Colon (in the one-page gag "Garden Party")? It's the funnybook equivalent of confusing Norman Rockwell with Grandma Moses (and, since I once referred to Sid Couchey as the G.M. of comics, that's not meant to be an insult). In the gags "Box of Chocolate" and "Just Married," Ernie is mid-ID'd as Warren Kremer, which is at least a little more fathomable. Ben Brown fares the worst; his gag "Big Drink" is attributed to "Crouchey," and, in WINTER SPECIAL!, his longer story "Seems Like Real Fun" is given to Colon. I suppose you could call that a Couchey/Colon "confusance" of the second degree, or something. In any event, I sincerely hope that such avoidable errors can be minimized in future reprint books.
For all of its factual faults, VALENTINE'S SPECIAL! does best WINTER SPECIAL! in the area of variety. You get 13 separate stories and "storylettes" for your V-Day money; WINTER gives you only seven, not counting the four KEENBEAN'S CORNER reprints (from the RICH RESCUE mini-series) at the back of the book. (BTW, I'm not exactly crazy to see these reprints, as enjoyable as they originally were, in a title that's supposed to be devoted to classic RICHIE material. The source of the KEENBEAN gags is at least acknowledged on the back cover, but cutting them loose from their source material and presenting them out of context like this really cuts into their effectiveness.) Each book leads off with a Sid Jacobson/Ernie Colon original, and both efforts are decent enough, though Ernie seems to be having all sorts of trouble drawing Richie's eyes correctly for some reason.
Not only are there a lot of stories in VALENTINE'S SPECIAL!; a lot of eras from the classic Harvey are also represented. We get an Ernie Colon indicia-page gag from a mid-60s issue of RICHIE RICH SUCCESS STORIES (how can I tell? They helpfully left the SUCCESS logo in the first panel!), some Colon stuff from the prime period of the late 60s and early 70s, and two MaydaMunny appearances featuring two very different models of the character -- the early Warren Kremer edition of 1973 or thereabouts, and Ernie Colon's redesigned Cher lookalike of the post-1975 era. And that's just part of the mix. I do have to applaud Ape for selecting Colon's "The Great Mansion Mystery" as one of the featured (read: five-page) offerings. That brief but enjoyable tale doesn't have any specific tie to Valentine's Day, but its story of young love thwarted and then redeemed seems more in the spirit of the holiday than yet another story about Gloria's resentment of Richie's elaborate gifts. WINTER SPECIAL! has a tougher set of material to sell -- a bunch of stories set around winter sports and activities doesn't get the blood flowing, except perhaps when one is actively engaged in said activities -- but it does include the only ten-pager in these two books, Warren Kremer's "The Abominable Snow Plan." And, yes, they kept the "Continued in This Issue" reminder... even though part two of the story commenced on the very next page. Some traditions simply shouldn't be shattered.
Circle of Life? Kimba the White Lion don't need no stinkin' Circle of Life -- or, should I say, he need to try to disrupt said Circle out of sheer, cussed stubbornness.
OK, enough of trying to give you the wrong impression about this fine episode. Kimba's heroic effort to save the legendary Sun Tree, the jungle's oldest living denizen, is a well-told story with an ample supply of "Heart" and an ending that's sure to provide a satisfying feeling of closure. Kimba's dream-interchange with the noble spirit of the ancient tree in mid-episode licks most other animated arboreal encounters hollow (apologies to Grandmother Willow) and tees up the rest of the episode perfectly... this, despite the fact that Kimba chooses to ignore the tree's plea to be allowed to die with dignity. One would expect no other reaction, though, from a character fueled by idealism. The ep does have one major flaw; Dan'l's distant relative Muffy Baboon (Hal Studer), the most irritatingly schizophrenic one-shot character of the series, provides some conflict that quite frankly wasn't necessary in what would otherwise have been a perfectly acceptable "Lion vs. Nature" story. Muffy's mood-swings and consequent disputes with Kimba largely serve only to pad the running time of an ep the plot of which was already a bit on the slender side. Otherwise, this is rock-solid (oak-solid?) entertainment in the best tradition of the series.
If Pauley knew that he would be going on an extended "trans-jungular" journey with Kimba in Episode 50, "Soldier of Fortune," he probably wouldn't have been such a whiner here. In all honesty, haven't Bucky and Pauley already been taken on at least a couple of adventures outside Kimba's kingdom? "Two Hearts and Two Minds" comes to mind (and heart). Heck, Bucky actually led school excursions in "Volcano Island" and "The Troublemaker" that turned out to be chock-full of adventure. Still, B&P deserved a better rejoinder than a verbal slapdown from Dan'l and a pointless aphorism from Kimba.
Kimba and Dan'l's approach to the Sun Tree allows the episode to slide in a nice, subtle introduction to the notion of the tree as a complete ecosystem unto itself -- a miniature version of Kimba's realm without the civilizational trappings. The semi-comical bickering by the likes of Smelly Civet (Gilbert Mack) and Dan'l's description of the environs of the tree as "a mess" are a good-natured reminder that the natural world isn't nearly as neat and tidy as the most dreamy-eyed of tree-huggers evidently believe it to be.
So why IS Muffy so schizoid, anyway? He switches from threatening to toss Kimba "into the dirt" to docilely bringing Dan'l and Kimba to Dan'l's Uncle Scratch (Mack) with no "transition game" whatsoever. And this is just the first of his peculiar pivots. My own theory on Muffy's weird personality is that he simply couldn't handle... being named Muffy. This brawny young baboon with the tailfin topknot was given a handle more appropriate for someone who spends his time sipping on appletinis and monitoring his trust fund... or, in a world of talking animals, perhaps the more appropriate analogy would be to a high-society vulpine poseur who's actually a jewel smuggler. Yep, I think I'd be resentful too, though perhaps not to the extent of developing a split (or is that shattered?) personality.
"I hate you! ... But give me a couple of minutes, it'll pass."
It's quite believable that Kimba is originally noncommittal regarding the conflict between Muffy and Scratch as to whether to abandon the "ailing" tree. Aside from the fact that he's a stranger in these parts and doesn't know all of the backstory (in particular, what we'll learn later about Scratch's rather... intense identification with the aging tree), Kimba is a forward thinker. His whole mindset is geared towards bringing positive change to a world ruled by "The Law of the Jungle" and, yes, "The Circle of Life." To his credit, though, Kimba seems to keep an open mind as to whom to support... at least, until he has his unforgettable exchange with the spirit of the tree (Ray Owens, who really sounds like a creaky, but proud, old tree here -- I wonder how this voice effect was produced?) and is told the "Just So Story" of the tree's birth and growth. The animators have previously used the outlines of characters for visual effect -- remember Kimba's visualization of the imperiled Speedy/Dash in "The Return of Fancy Prancy"? -- but nowhere else is the effect employed so memorably. The "wave effects" during Kimba's dream are also noteworthy.
Fired with the idealistic impulse to fight on behalf of tradition, Kimba decides, of his own accord, to attempt to save the tree, albeit using what passes for modern technology in the jungle (the vine-binding used to construct the schoolhouse back home). I suppose his decision could be questioned, but it's hard to deny his good intentions. Unfortunately, it's also hard to buy his acceptance of the bet with Muffy. Truthfully, the valiant effort to save the tree would have provided more than enough motivation for Kimba, with Muffy perhaps playing the role of the Cassandra carping from the sidelines. But putting his life in the paws of someone who claims to want to "get back at [him]" for no apparent reason whatsoever (unless Muffy somehow assumed, with no real evidence in hand, that Kimba would "naturally" back him up against the stubborn older generation)? That's way too far-fetched to accept. Muffy continues his wildly schizoid behavior by (1) pitching enthusiastically into the work, (2) cackling gleefully when news of the impending monsoon arrives, and then (3) imploring Kimba to run for safety as if he actually cared about Kimba's well-being. Sheesh! This character literally makes my head spin.
Kimba, tormented by wind and weather, has rarely flashed such admirable stubbornness as he shows while he's trying to save the tree. Scratch's refusal to "bough out" is just as admirable, but he tips his hand as to his motivation when he cries, "If you [the Sun Tree] go, I go too!" Projection much? To his credit, Muffy refuses to let "Grandad" imperil himself any longer than necessary and (we may assume) helps Dan'l get the old baboon to safety.
Kimba's weeping when the tree finally falls (which Billie Lou sells well, all things considered; it really is weeping, rather than bawling) turns out to be for the past alone, as a "new sprout of the old tree" survives the deluge. To be sure, none of the former denizens of the Sun Tree will be alive to see the new tree flourish, but the Circle of Life's renascence prompts Kimba and Muffy to abandon their fairly ridiculous feud and bury the hatchet. It's a disagreement that should probably never have existed, but, hey, at least we got to see a formal end to the conflict.
It's easy to miss the subtle tear that Kimba sheds during the fade-out scene. This is just the right note on which to end -- well-earned nostalgia for the best of the past, coupled with optimism for the future. I'd like to think that Kimba has a deeper respect for jungle tradition after this adventure -- not the red-in-tooth-and-claw anarchy that his civilization was built to combat, but the rich, multi-layered, interconnected ecosystem that his civilization can both complement and enhance. In that regard, "The Sun Tree" could be termed a "growth in office" episode. Pretty fitting for an ep centered on death and REbirth, wouldn't you say?
OK, Greg, "Bubba's Big Brainstorm" is certainly no classic, but "the worst" DTVA production until the era of Quack Pack?? I can't go that far.
I completely agree with Greg and GeoX that the subtle-as-an-icepick-to-the-head anti-intellectual theme of this ep is completely wrong-headed. The ideological objections to "Brainstorm" as some sort of right-wing commentary on the fecklessness of intellectuals are, however, way off base. Why else would Frank Welker have essayed a voice-parody of William F. Buckley, of all people, as the voice of the super-smart Bubba. This was, I would assume, an attempt to make Bubba seem all the more repulsive to the (not-entirely-inconsequential) adult segment of the DT viewing audience. Actually, I find Welker's Buckley parody virtually the only thing to truly enjoy about this episode. But its use does rather undercut any attempt to fasten a "quick and neat" ideological label onto the production.
What would be the consequences if Wile E. Coyote finally did manage to destroy and/or eat the Road Runner? Or if Elmer Fudd's aim at Bugs Bunny were for once true? This ambitious graphic novel tackles the great philosophical conundrum of Toon-dom, and, when all is said and done, counts as at least half of a success. The immediate fallout from "Meanie" Rascal Raccoon's presence at the demise of "Merrie" Jumpin' Jackalope (and I'm wording that description carefully for a good reason, as you'll see) is funny and very believable, while Rascal's subsequent sojourn into the world of the human "Pen Men" to give his broken life some new purpose (and, just perhaps, to win over Jumpin' ex-wife and Rascal's ex-flame, the luscious, hot-pants-sporting Janey Jackalope) is... well... philosophically problematic, at best. At the very least, the latter adventure opens up a very big can of worms regarding the extent to which the denizens of "Toonie Terrace" possess free will or are the puppets of forces beyond their control. Writer Brendan Hay's overarching approach is "whatever works... and is funny," but I wasn't entirely convinced by his explanation of the dilemma, and the ending is particularly underwhelming. Still, thanks in great measure to the charming artwork of Justin Wagner, this is a fun read and well worth an investment by anyone who enjoys those Golden Age Toons of yesteryear.
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It's fitting that Rascal Raccoon -- who actually looks a lot more like Wile E. Coyote with a ringed tail than an adult version of, say, POGO's Rackety Coon Chile -- gets the title to himself. Though a "Meanie," complete with a cloud-shrouded dump of a lair on the literal "bad side" of Toonie Terrace and a big line of credit with the gadget-suppliers at Pits (get it?), he's actually pretty likable from the off. His crabbiness is understandable, given Jumpin' smart-aleck comments and annoying, Newton-esque repeated-phrases shtick ("You old wheeler! You old dealer!"), and despite the occasional (OK, make that reasonably frequent) moment of despair, he seems to enjoy his scheming in a manner that Wile E. never did. It's almost too bad, therefore, that he doesn't actually cause Jumpin's death; he's simply "present at the de-creation" when the despised "jerk-a-lope" is struck by a couple of semis (I assume that Hay was being ironic here, recalling how often Wile E. was smashed into by trucks, trains, etc.) The other Meanies, of course, treat Rascal like a hero... but then, he realizes just how empty his life has really been. I imagine that the guilty knowledge that he took credit for the kill-shot was a major reason for Rascal's quick degeneration into a bar-haunting ne'er-do-well.
Rascal's pal Monty Boombast (imagine a combination of Elmer Fudd, Yosemite Sam, and Speedy Gonzales -- and then stand back) triggers a new ambition in the ex-"arch" (short for "archenemy," don'tcha know) when he tells Rascal about the "magic pens" that the "Merries" get from allies in the mysterious world of the "Pen Men." This is cleverly played as a creationist vs. evolutionist conceit (Rascal thinks that Toonies evolved from "silent, black and white animals" rather than being "creatified" by some outside agency) and gives Rascal a new target to pursue, but it also begins to blur the distinction between the world of the Toonies and the world of humans. The point of cartoons like Duck Amuck and Comicalamities is that the breaking of the divide between worlds was portrayed as atypical. Here, the barrier seems more like a permeable membrane.
Rascal gets Jumpin's ex Janey to lend her "magic pen" to the cause by claiming that he wants to bring Jumpin' back to life, and away the duo go into a human world that, at times, seems almost as cartoony as that of Toonie Terrace. The expected amount of fun is poked at theme parks ("Toonie World"), Korean assembly-line animation studios, clueless CEOs who are living off the progeny of long-dead creators, "furry" fans and cosplayers (a bit of a surprise, actually, given the outfit that published this book), and overwrought cartoon fans with too much time on their hands. (The mock-critical essay "The Rise of Rascal Raccoon" that follows the story reminds me of nothing more than a cross-breeding of the notorious "Elmo Aardvark" article that ran in WILD CARTOON KINGDOM and the "Please Get a Life Foundation" segment that ran on Animaniacs.) We also get some teasing hints (though no more than that -- this isn't one of Oni's regular titles!) that, despite Janey's understandable anger at Rascal for taking the credit for her husband's death, they might actually strike up a relationship at some point. The problem is, I can't really get a handle on how, exactly, the human creation of "Toonie Treats" led to the "real" denizens of Toonie Terrace going through their repetitive paces, or even if there was a cause and effect relationship. Case in point: Rascal looks horrified when he watches some old cartoons and rips into the CEO for "allowing" him to sustain all that punishment. He even clearly references one of the injuries he's seen. But, in the very next panel, the CEO claims that "nobody [at the studio] makes you do anything." I confess to being as confused as Rascal was. Some references are also made to the fact that Toons have a harder time bouncing back from pratfalls in the human world than they do in Toonie Terrace, which shows at least some awareness of the dilemmas involved here. To be frank, though, I think that my friend Matt Plotecher did a much better job of handling this matter when he brought Darkwing Duck into the Rescue Rangers' world in his fanfic "There and Back... Again?".
Not surprisingly, Rascal finally slips back into "Meanie" mode and creates a monster that's destined to destroy Burbank... until Rascal himself has a change of heart and literally erases the monster himself, nearly killing himself in the process. (Luckily, Janey helps him step back from the brink.) Vowing to get out of the "arching" business for good so he can be "the only idiot in control of me" (but I thought the human world had no control over him?), Rascal returns with Janey to the world of the Toonies...
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... just in time for Jumpin' to come back to life. And Rascal doesn't even seem to be that surprised by the development. Say wha'? Rascal, the other "Meanies," and the grieving "Merries" sure didn't evince any such advance knowledge of Jumpin's eventual return earlier in the story. The return to the status quo ante is certainly consistent with the "permanent reset button" used in classic Toons past, but, in this context, it comes totally out of left field. Since he has renounced "Meanie-dom," Rascal now faces a life of inventive tinkering (with, it must be said, at least some hope of success). It could be counted as a happy ending for him, but, from my perspective, the tale just sort of peters out. Rascal even figuratively throws up his hands when he says that, despite his apparent success in building a "video thing" that literally allows the Toonies to see their own cartoon adventures, he "still doesn't quite get the rules" of how the two worlds relate. You and me both, pal.
Despite its flaws, RASCAL RACCOON'S RAGING REVENGE! is very enjoyable. On a slow day during a comics convention, you might even be able to get a really good discussion group going amongst your Toon-fancying peers as to how to untangle the various philosophical issues raised herein. Or, you might just enjoy looking at Janey Jackalope in hot pants. It's your choice... and that's a good thing.
RR GEMS' first "non-SPECIAL!" issue keeps the indicial and "creditorial" errors to a minimum -- with one whopping exception -- but the trumpeted "return" of Super Richie (or Superichie, depending upon what issue of the original 1970s comic you read) isn't the absolute best way to start the regular "classics" series, I don't think. There was a reason why SUPER RICHIE/SUPERICHIE was one of the VERY few RICHIE titles to be cancelled during the hothouse period of 1974-1982, when the Harvey line essentially became all Richie, all the time. Once the basic premise is established of Richie and Cadbury "play-acting" as supposed superheroes Rippy and Crashman -- only to get caught up in real crimefighting -- the range of permissible stories is dramatically curtailed, and things become tedious pretty quickly. The two main SR reprints in this issue, Ernie Colon's "The Robot Goes Wild" and "The Revolting Butler" (SUPERICHIE #14, April 1978), appeared just six months or so before the SR title went away for good. While they look OK in isolation, you should know that (1) "The Robot Goes Wild" was just the latest in a string of "Rippy and Crashman battle giant robots" stories, and (2) "The Revolting Butler" was a similar "repeat riff" on the well-worn theme of crooks posing as Rip and/or Crash in order to "ruin their reputation." These stories actually represent the concept's decadent stage, rather than its full flowering.
