We're going to get only one more of these -- one featuring Princess Luna -- before the Micro-Series ends and the new team-up title MY LITTLE PONY: FRIENDS FOREVER begins. With Rob Anderson and Agnes Garbowska's SPIKE offering, we step back just a bit from the highs of the previous two issues featuring the Cutie Mark Crusaders and Princess Celestia. There are some admittedly funny moments here, but Garbowska's art harkens back to the "Colorforms approaches" of some of the earlier Micro issues, and the story isn't SO strong that it can overcome the weaknesses of the presentation.
** SPOILERS **
I must admit, I was surprised that an issue focusing on Spike did NOT have anything to do with his crush on Rarity. That would seem to be a logical hook for further development. Instead, Anderson takes a cue from the episodes "Dragon Quest" and "Just for Sidekicks." Having returned the baby Phoenix Peewee to its parents, Spike wants to burnish his parenting/pet-care-taking skills and buys some "Sea Beasts" (read: "Sea Monkeys") that were advertised in his DARING DO comic. (I thought that Daring Do was a character who appeared in novels, but whatever.) After absorbing the inevitable disappointment experienced by all those of us who actually invested in those "magical critters," Spike tries various means to make his pets grow, gliding over "small details" at every turn. The Beasts not only grow, they actually evolve, and Spike finds himself having a hard time keeping up with their evolution. After overhearing a conversation between a mother pony and her impatient foal, Spike decides to help his charges along in a more organized fashion, and the Beasts, with his assistance, ultimately mutate into a weird combination of sentient frogs, Hare Krishnas, and the Little Green Men from the Toy Story movies. Alas, Spike must let them go into the world to seek further "enlightenment." But he HAS earned his pet-care-taking spurs.
I'm told that The Simpsons and Futurama did plots similar to this, which wouldn't surprise me at all. The MLP version is OK, though the Beasts' growing legs immediately after leaving Spike's aquarium was a bit much (and that certainly wasn't the only suspiciously convenient moment in the story). Spike's lack of patience and carelessness are a major focus here, but, just as the Beasts grow and evolve during the story, so too does the baby dragon "evolve" in the sense that he learns something about accepting responsibility above and beyond taking care of Twilight Sparkle's bibliographical needs and keeping the library clean. The slightly clunky art, unfortunately, undercuts the impact of the Beasts' growth.
Comics, book, and DVD reviews (and occasional eruptions of other kinds)
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S MICKEY MOUSE COLOR SUNDAYS, VOLUME 2 by Floyd Gottfredson "and friends" (Fantagraphics, 2013)
It's the "... and friends" portion of the header that kind of gets me, in the sense of slightly coloring my opinion of this handsomely-produced volume. In addition to reprinting the balance of Gottfredson's MICKEY MOUSE Sunday work from January 1936 to December 1938, the book also serves up all subsequent MICKEY Sundays on which Gottfredson filled in for other artists, as well as the Mouse master's contributions to the Disney Studio's TREASURY OF CLASSIC TALES Sunday page. TREASURY was basically a printed vehicle for propagandizing then-current Disney films, though established characters would occasionally appear in completely "new" stories, such as the Gottfredson-scripted, Julius Svendsen-drawn "The Seven Dwarfs and the Witch-Queen" (1958). TREASURY definitely deserves a comprehensive reprinting project of its own; the problem is that this volume explicitly advertises Mickey Mouse as the star attraction. Personally, I would have preferred to have seen one or two prime examples of Gottfredson's non-Mouse work -- Gottfredson's handful of DONALD DUCK strips and "Lambert the Sheepish Lion" (1956), which was drawn by Floyd and written by Disney Comic Strip Department manager Frank Reilly, would have been my choices -- and then devoted the rest of the volume to a more extensive feature on ALL of Gottfredson's "Sunday successors," such as Manuel Gonzales, who does get a brief bio here but who deserved to have a bit more of his fine Sunday work reprinted. I would venture to guess that more newspapers in the 60s, 70s, and 80s were running the Sunday MICKEY page than the daily strip; my hometown paper in Wilmington, DE, which used to run the Gottfredson daily back in the latter's heyday, was doing so by the time I came along. A fuller-fledged tribute to the Sunday page would therefore not have seemed out of place.
I have no complaints concerning the MICKEY matter herein. During the latter part of his tenure on the Sundays, Gottfredson seems to have made a conscious decision to use the page as a sort of "training ground" for characterizations and plot ideas that would get more serious workouts in the daily strip. Thus, as the Sunday Goofy developed from a clumsy clod into a more complicated character who baffled his pals and delighted readers with his sideways logic and skewed "inventiveness," so too did Goofy take many of those traits with him into the daily adventures that he shared with Mickey. Thus, for example, the Goofy who stumbled into the role of a supposed "desperado" in the 1937 Sunday tale "Sheriff of Nugget Gulch" would reappear, in a manner of speaking, as a self-deluded, would-be cowpoke in the 1940 daily story "The Bar-None Ranch." The Sunday continuities "The Robin Hood Adventure" (with its storybook human supporting players) and "The Brave Little Tailor" (with "movie actor" Mickey starring in a story within a story), glued together, produced the later daily continuity "Mickey Mouse Meets Robinson Crusoe." In both cases, the relatively straightforward Sunday developments were amplified, and their implications were explored in more depth, when they were applied in the daily format.
In the waning days of Gottfredson's "Sunday best," Merrill de Maris took over the dialogue chores, as he did on the daily strip, and the characters' patter becomes at once snappier and more imaginative, reflecting, in a sense, the impending cultural shift from the patched-pants, "gas house" 1930s to the brassier and quicker-tempoed 1940s. It was during this era -- the strip's zenith, I would argue -- that Minnie started to mutate from Mickey's finicky but nonetheless loyal mate to a much more flighty character who is obsessed with style, fashion, party-going, and the maintenance of image to a degree that at times makes Rarity seem grounded. Not coincidentally, this Minnie is more quickly "exasperated" by Mickey and his actions, both real and perceived, setting the stage for the classic continuity "Love Trouble" (1941). You can see the start of these developments in the last several Gottfredson-de Maris Sundays. So, too, do these late pages reflect a somewhat edgier approach, particularly in a psychological sense. In his "Mickey's Sunday Best" essay at the front of the book, J. B. Kaufman notes one particularly problematic 1937 Sunday strip in which Mickey "gets even with" Morty and Ferdie for stealing some bread and jam and trying to frame Pluto for the offense by threatening to wallop Pluto with a baseball bat. It was all a ruse to make the kids confess, of course, but Pluto had no idea of Mickey's intentions. Nor did we see Mickey witness the crime as it happened, which would have made his benign motive clearer from the outset. This is a very disturbing strip, indeed, but it does presage the daily strip's turn to less overtly sentimental characterizations and situations in the late 30s and early 40s. The very next MICKEY volume will lead us into that era and its considerable glories.
I have no complaints concerning the MICKEY matter herein. During the latter part of his tenure on the Sundays, Gottfredson seems to have made a conscious decision to use the page as a sort of "training ground" for characterizations and plot ideas that would get more serious workouts in the daily strip. Thus, as the Sunday Goofy developed from a clumsy clod into a more complicated character who baffled his pals and delighted readers with his sideways logic and skewed "inventiveness," so too did Goofy take many of those traits with him into the daily adventures that he shared with Mickey. Thus, for example, the Goofy who stumbled into the role of a supposed "desperado" in the 1937 Sunday tale "Sheriff of Nugget Gulch" would reappear, in a manner of speaking, as a self-deluded, would-be cowpoke in the 1940 daily story "The Bar-None Ranch." The Sunday continuities "The Robin Hood Adventure" (with its storybook human supporting players) and "The Brave Little Tailor" (with "movie actor" Mickey starring in a story within a story), glued together, produced the later daily continuity "Mickey Mouse Meets Robinson Crusoe." In both cases, the relatively straightforward Sunday developments were amplified, and their implications were explored in more depth, when they were applied in the daily format.
In the waning days of Gottfredson's "Sunday best," Merrill de Maris took over the dialogue chores, as he did on the daily strip, and the characters' patter becomes at once snappier and more imaginative, reflecting, in a sense, the impending cultural shift from the patched-pants, "gas house" 1930s to the brassier and quicker-tempoed 1940s. It was during this era -- the strip's zenith, I would argue -- that Minnie started to mutate from Mickey's finicky but nonetheless loyal mate to a much more flighty character who is obsessed with style, fashion, party-going, and the maintenance of image to a degree that at times makes Rarity seem grounded. Not coincidentally, this Minnie is more quickly "exasperated" by Mickey and his actions, both real and perceived, setting the stage for the classic continuity "Love Trouble" (1941). You can see the start of these developments in the last several Gottfredson-de Maris Sundays. So, too, do these late pages reflect a somewhat edgier approach, particularly in a psychological sense. In his "Mickey's Sunday Best" essay at the front of the book, J. B. Kaufman notes one particularly problematic 1937 Sunday strip in which Mickey "gets even with" Morty and Ferdie for stealing some bread and jam and trying to frame Pluto for the offense by threatening to wallop Pluto with a baseball bat. It was all a ruse to make the kids confess, of course, but Pluto had no idea of Mickey's intentions. Nor did we see Mickey witness the crime as it happened, which would have made his benign motive clearer from the outset. This is a very disturbing strip, indeed, but it does presage the daily strip's turn to less overtly sentimental characterizations and situations in the late 30s and early 40s. The very next MICKEY volume will lead us into that era and its considerable glories.
Labels:
Books,
Comic Strips,
Disney comics,
Floyd Gottfredson,
Mickey Mouse,
MLP:FIM
Monday, November 18, 2013
Lycoming 36, Stevenson 20... and more sports news
They just didn't have it in them -- players, coaches, the whole lot. Especially in the second half. The Mustangs outscored their three weakest opponents of the season 84-6 after halftime... but in their other seven games, they were outscored 107-22 in the third and fourth quarters. With that much-sought-after .500 record at stake, the home finale against Lycoming was more of the same. Despite giving away eight points thanks to a fumbled snap by the punter and a blocked extra point that was returned for two points by the Warriors, SU trailed only 22-20 at halftime. With Lycoming pounding out yards on the ground and the offense basically impotent, the Mustangs' defense was dog-tired by the end. Given the 3-0 start, the 4-6 final record has to be regarded as a disappointment of sorts. Next year, with an immense senior class, the pressure will REALLY be on.
The conduct of the Mustangs' head coach during the game was extremely displeasing and became almost comical towards the end. He tore the refs a new one following a disputed reception call early in the game, and that seemed to set the tone. Nicky and I both thought that he spent far too much time bitching about this, that, and the other thing and not nearly enough getting his team to concentrate on the tasks at hand. I can imagine that he was even more disappointed in the finish to the season than we were. However, combined with the boorish behavior of the assistant coach at the end of the Misericordia game, I'm beginning to sense a disturbing pattern here. We're not expecting ballroom deportment, but there is a limit, especially when the meltdowns are taking place in full view of university officials.
We were finally able to get a complete video of the marching band's halftime show:
The conduct of the Mustangs' head coach during the game was extremely displeasing and became almost comical towards the end. He tore the refs a new one following a disputed reception call early in the game, and that seemed to set the tone. Nicky and I both thought that he spent far too much time bitching about this, that, and the other thing and not nearly enough getting his team to concentrate on the tasks at hand. I can imagine that he was even more disappointed in the finish to the season than we were. However, combined with the boorish behavior of the assistant coach at the end of the Misericordia game, I'm beginning to sense a disturbing pattern here. We're not expecting ballroom deportment, but there is a limit, especially when the meltdowns are taking place in full view of university officials.
We were finally able to get a complete video of the marching band's halftime show:
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Even after a decade away from Virginia State University, I was appalled and even slightly embarrassed by the news that some VSU football players allegedly beat up a player from Winston-Salem State before the CIAA championship game. Obviously, an investigation is still ongoing, but VSU's team was banned from the Division II football playoffs. I still keep in touch with some of my former colleagues from the VSU Math Department, and I can only imagine the emotions over such a self-inflicted black eye. It's not as if VSU hadn't been its own worst enemy many times before in terms of its treatment of certain employees, but that news was strictly local. Sustaining national humiliation is something else again.
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College basketball season is here, and Stevenson's men's team started with an easy victory over Cairn University. The women, meanwhile, dropped two games in a tournament in the Boston area. This coming weekend, SU will host the second annual Hoopsville Classic tournament, featuring 10 men's teams from around the country, many with high (for D-III) national profiles. Nicky and I hope to attend some of the tournament and I'll be sure to file a report.
Labels:
Barats,
College Basketball,
Football,
Stevenson University
Friday, November 15, 2013
Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S DONALD DUCK: "CHRISTMAS ON BEAR MOUNTAIN" (Fantagraphics, 2013)
We continue to "back up in time" in the Barks reprint series; this latest volume reprints material from FOUR COLOR and WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES issues dated May 1947-January 1948. While the strongest adventure in the lot is probably "Ghost of the Grotto," the decision to lead with "Christmas on Bear Mountain," the tale that introduced Uncle Scrooge, is entirely understandable. I can even accept the decision to keep Scrooge off the cover, seeing as how this is a Donald-centric release.
Barks was still polishing his art and storytelling styles at this time. With the core cast still relatively small, the "ten-pagers" are primarily focused on the perennial theme of "Donald the hard-headed braggart." The hardy "rescue" trope that sustained most of the early Barks adventures is still being put to good use; for example, "The Ghost of the Grotto" kidnaps Dewey, while Donald, disguised as a kangaroo, is shanghaied by the bitter Mournful Mary in "Adventure Down Under." Ethnic stereotypes, such as the "wild bushmen" in "Adventure Down Under" and the sleepy-eyed Hispanic Volcanovians in "Volcano Valley," are frequently employed, though Barks is sufficiently wide-awake (see what I did there?) to upset lazy contemporary or modern assumptions about how he expects these stereotypes to be interpreted. (The bushmen are drawn in quasi-realistic, as opposed to "exaggerated minstrel," style, while the population of Volcanovia includes a somnolent Texan who had been "run out o' San Antone" and a couple of authority figures who seem eminently alert, at least when it comes to getting Donald and the boys in trouble.) But changes are coming; for example, we see the first signs of contemporary pop-culture references in stories like "The Waltz King," which pokes fun at classical waltz music, the "hepcat" pop music of the post-WWII period, and the cliched views that the devotees of each genre hold about one another.
"Ghost of the Grotto," in my view, marks an important turning point in the development of Barks' ability to craft a superior adventure tale. Ironically, Barks achieves this by keeping the Ducks in one geographical location for the vast majority of the time. The focus is on the gradual deepening of the mystery of the kelp-choked reef, the wrecked ship at its center, and the creatures who inhabit the place. The story develops logically and features numerous "mini-climaxes" (the Ducks crashing their boat onto the reef, the discovery and ultimate ejection of the giant octopus, Donald barely escaping getting blown up by the armored man's cannon) before a "grand" climax that, oddly enough, isn't much of one. By that time, we are far more interested in learning about "old jingle joints" and how he got to be the way he is than seeing the geezer destroyed, jailed, or anything quite so mundane. Barks probably overdoes the Olde English references a bit near "ye end," but one gets the distinct impression that he was in complete control of this narrative to an extent that he never had been before.
Barks was still polishing his art and storytelling styles at this time. With the core cast still relatively small, the "ten-pagers" are primarily focused on the perennial theme of "Donald the hard-headed braggart." The hardy "rescue" trope that sustained most of the early Barks adventures is still being put to good use; for example, "The Ghost of the Grotto" kidnaps Dewey, while Donald, disguised as a kangaroo, is shanghaied by the bitter Mournful Mary in "Adventure Down Under." Ethnic stereotypes, such as the "wild bushmen" in "Adventure Down Under" and the sleepy-eyed Hispanic Volcanovians in "Volcano Valley," are frequently employed, though Barks is sufficiently wide-awake (see what I did there?) to upset lazy contemporary or modern assumptions about how he expects these stereotypes to be interpreted. (The bushmen are drawn in quasi-realistic, as opposed to "exaggerated minstrel," style, while the population of Volcanovia includes a somnolent Texan who had been "run out o' San Antone" and a couple of authority figures who seem eminently alert, at least when it comes to getting Donald and the boys in trouble.) But changes are coming; for example, we see the first signs of contemporary pop-culture references in stories like "The Waltz King," which pokes fun at classical waltz music, the "hepcat" pop music of the post-WWII period, and the cliched views that the devotees of each genre hold about one another.
"Ghost of the Grotto," in my view, marks an important turning point in the development of Barks' ability to craft a superior adventure tale. Ironically, Barks achieves this by keeping the Ducks in one geographical location for the vast majority of the time. The focus is on the gradual deepening of the mystery of the kelp-choked reef, the wrecked ship at its center, and the creatures who inhabit the place. The story develops logically and features numerous "mini-climaxes" (the Ducks crashing their boat onto the reef, the discovery and ultimate ejection of the giant octopus, Donald barely escaping getting blown up by the armored man's cannon) before a "grand" climax that, oddly enough, isn't much of one. By that time, we are far more interested in learning about "old jingle joints" and how he got to be the way he is than seeing the geezer destroyed, jailed, or anything quite so mundane. Barks probably overdoes the Olde English references a bit near "ye end," but one gets the distinct impression that he was in complete control of this narrative to an extent that he never had been before.
Labels:
Books,
Carl Barks,
Disney comics,
Four Color series,
Uncle $crooge,
WDC&S
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 63, "All Ducks on Deck"
"All Ducks on Deck" isn't a character-building episode on the order of "Hero for Hire," "Sir Gyro de Gearloose," or "Top Duck." Nor is it an old-fashioned Barksian treasure trek like "Raiders of the Lost Harp." Its original air date, a couple of days after the similarly-themed "Spies in Their Eyes," may actually have worked against it a bit, at least in the minds of those viewers who were unfamiliar with the history of Disney comics. However, for those "in the know," the ep took no time at all to shoot to the top of the "faves" list, for one rather obvious, obsidian-cloaked reason...
Yep, the appearance of The Phantom Blot was a stunner, all right, not least because he had long been linked with Mickey Mouse in fans' minds. (It also may have marked something of a turning point in the depiction of The Blot in all media, an argument which I will explore below.) Why did the DT crew wait until almost literally the last minute of the first season to bring him on board? The big-canvas criminal plans that The Blot typically favors would seem to provide an excellent contrast to the more Scrooge-centric obsessions of The Beagle Boys (robbing the Money Bin), Flintheart Glomgold (topping Scrooge on the money list), and Magica De Spell (getting her hands on Old #1). Moreover, in battling The Blot's machinations for the good of the wider world, Scrooge would have multiple chances to grow in moral stature, just as he did when he tearfully left the petrified Nephews and the rest of his family behind at the Mansion and went off to secure "The Golden Goose." Oh, well, at least we'll always have Cat Island.
As memorable as The Blot's performance is, he's not the only star of this particular show. For example, he must (no doubt reluctantly) share the stage with Donald, who turns in his most comprehensively Barksian performance of the series here. Any Duck fan who doesn't recognize the influence of Barks in Don's desire to impress his Nephews by relating tall tales of his supposed Navy exploits is hereby required to turn in his or her honorary key to the city of Duckburg -- no exceptions. At the same time, the specific sin that Donald commits also makes perfect sense in the context of his role in DT, and, more specifically, of his relationship to HD&L in the series. The slightly more "grounded" and cynical Nephews of most Barks "ten-pagers" would more than likely have seen through Donald's exaggerated stories relatively quickly and blown them off without having to set a webbed foot inside their uncle's duffle bag. By contrast, from the opening moments of "Don't Give Up the Ship," the DT HD&L have generally tried to give Don the benefit of the doubt, and they maintain that attitude throughout the course of "Deck." Even after the boys stow away and learn that Don's stories of heroism were bogus, Louie declares that he's proud of Unca Donald anyway, and the trio dig into the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and set about trying to create situations in which Don can live up to his inflated self-image. In the end, after braving a fair amount of adversity and bum luck -- most of which happens to him through no direct fault of his own -- Don comes up with the plan to guide Scrooge and Launchpad back to the carrier with flares (OK, GeoX, it may not have been "brilliant," but Don hatched the idea at the precise time it was needed, which has to count for something), and the boys reward him with the handmade medal in a touching scene that does, indeed, evoke memories of the heartfelt concluding panels of Barks' 1956 story "The Olympic Hopeful."
Most of the ep's other supporting players -- Launchpad, Admiral Grimitz, and the traitorous dork Ensign Plover -- are also in excellent form. LP doesn't actually have all that much of substance to do, but whatever he does do is pretty much pure gold, starting with his using the top of Scrooge's rolltop desk as a miniature aircraft carrier...
... then carrying through to the classic "double-parkin' crash"...
Season the dish with such memorable lines as "What a sunset -- ya'd hafta get up pretty early in the morning to see a better one!" and "A net, and I don't mean Funicello!", and the viewer winds up getting an unexpected amount of bang for his McQuack buck here. Speaking of bangs, Admiral Grimitz, while he's still suffering from "Spies in Their Eyes" "kablooey" syndrome here (although he does get a chance to experience the feeling from the other end of the gun, as it were), both behaves and is treated more like a legitimate naval commander. The Navy saw fit to use Grimitz's carrier as the place to land the invisible jet, didn't it? Would it have dared to do so if the Admiral were a complete stumblebum? Not in the Reagan 80's, it wouldn't have. As if to make up for his shabby treatment of the much-put-upon Seaman Duck in "Spies," Grimitz also acts a little bit more benignly, towards Donald here. Donald's deck-swabbing penance is justified -- Launchpad and Scrooge did bring him back late, after all -- and Grimitz subsequently thinks highly enough of him to (1) have Don accompany himself and Plover during the lifeboat drill and (2) permit Don to actively participate in the missile exercise. Even after both activities have ended in disaster for Grimitz, Donald is merely sentenced to peeling potatoes, which, according to Plover, Don was originally slated to do anyway. The punishment could certainly have been a lot worse.
Greg pointed out that IMDB misidentified Ensign Plover as "Ensign Plummer." In this case, the movie reference site has even less of an excuse to get things wrong than Disney Captions typically does. Like Jack Lemmon's Ensign Pulver in Mister Roberts (1955), Mark Taylor's Plover is a callow, vaguely obsequious sort who "grows" in unexpected ways by the end of the production. The problem is that one can "grow" in the manner of a weed as well as a flower, and Plover, like Taylor's infamous Dougie Benson of TaleSpin's "Louie's Last Stand," turns out to be a thoroughly bad egg -- a worse one than Dougie, in fact, since "Agent X" was presumably corrupted by The Blot long before he actually turned to the dark side and stole the jet.
Oh, Scrooge was in this, too, wasn't he? I guess that the biggest contribution that he makes to the ep was... getting netted by The Blot? That, or using some fishing paraphernalia to manipulate a "wonky-sounding" lever. Take your pick. The beauty part of Scrooge's presence is, of course, that he does not need to make a huge impression in order to, well, make an impression. He is secure enough in his role as star of the show that he can gracefully step aside, accept a decidedly minor role, and allow others to shine. There can be no better example of the depth of DuckTales' cast, and its ability to mix cast elements in an effective manner, than that.
But make no mistake, it's The Blot who steals the show from the moment we hear that raspy offscreen voice "calling Agent X." I'm not one of those people who dislikes the reuse of The Blot even after the character had been unmasked in the original 1939 Floyd Gottfredson story. It's not the ID of The Blot that matters so much as the quality of the opposition that he provides. The portrayal of The Blot, especially in artistic terms, has been far less consistent over the years. The original article was a hulking "man of mystery" who played for keeps despite never wanting to hang around until the death trap had been sprung. The addition of long fingernails to The Blot's arsenal of menace on the cover of that first comic-book reprint may have been a slight exaggeration, but it was certainly an understandable one.
When Gold Key decided to let The Blot "return" to American comics in a 1964 WDC&S serial, the "mystery look," in particular the blank eyes, was retained:
The decision to give The Blot his own title -- yes, Western "went there" (as it did with The Beagle Boys) long before any superhero publisher decided to tribute a villain in this manner -- was accompanied by a slight "softening" of the character's appearance, in the form of pupils being added to his eyes. It certainly wasn't as bizarre-looking as Harold Gray's giving Little Orphan Annie pupils late in his career, but it did have the residual effect of making The Blot seem a bit more like a conventional big-scheme villain, albeit one who has opted for an interesting choice of habiliment.
We're still a long way from the ravening-eyed, cackling Blot of "Deck" at this point... or are we? By 1972, a cover artist for Brazilian Disney comics had stuck a smile on The Blot's cape, the first instance that I've been able to find of an artist treating the character as a kind of "shadow figure," as opposed to a man in a cloak. Roger Armstrong introduced the grinning Blot to American comics when he teamed up with writer Mark Evanier on a couple of SUPER GOOF adventures in the mid-70s. It's unlikely that any cross-pollination took place here, but, hey, you never know. Before long, even longtime Mouse comics master Paul Murry had abandoned past practice (including all seven issues of the PHANTOM BLOT title) and had started to affix a smile to HIS Blot.
Some overseas treatments of The Blot got even looser and goofier than this in the 1980s. In this 1984 French cover, The Blot has not only acquired a wide, gaping mouth, he appears to have hair growing out of his (cloak-covered??) scalp! I don't know which is more "incroyable mais vrai" (incredible but true), the "flying kayak" at upper right or the mere existence of this image.
Most intriguing of all is the following cover to Brazilian MICKEY #454 (October 15, 1987). Yes, you read the date right -- just a shade over two months before "Deck" had its premiere on December 30. If that figure at lower right isn't a close relative of the "Deck" Blot, then I'll be gravely disappointed. Can Frank Welker transpose that raspy Blot voice into Portuguese, by any chance?
Much more of this, and The Blot will become unrecognizable as that clever cloaked fellow from 1939 and will morph into something like a dusky devil-figure. The Blot of "Deck," however, marks a spot where the trend of silly abstraction seems to have executed something of a U-turn. Granted, we would still see an "exaggerated" Blot on occasion: for example, on Rick Hoover's classic cover to Disney Comics MICKEY MOUSE ADVENTURES #3 (August 1990)...
... but most modern stories featuring The Blot have returned to the classic, blank-eyed, clearly-cloaked version of the character. It was this Blot that made such an impression in the wonderful Disney Comics two-parter "The Big Fall"/"A Phantom Blot Bedtime Story" (MMA #7-8, December 1990-January 1991)...
... surprised us by showing up in the modern TV shorts Mickey Foils the Phantom Blot (1999) and Mickey and the Color Caper (2002)...
... and (sigh) got slimed and sucked into God knows WHAT alternative plane of existence at the end of the "Dangerous Currency" arc that wrote finis to the Boom! Disney comics era.
While he may have been a logical result of various trends of artistic Blot-dom at the time of his one appearance, the Blot of "Deck" stands wholly alone as the only version of The Blot to not only break through the "fourth wall" into the world of "human" pop culture, but to smash the "wall" to smithereens in the process. Did this Blot have a psychic pipeline to the future in his comparison of himself to entities like Darth Vader and Dr. Doom, both of whom are now "Disney properties," as the Disney version of Captain Hook has always been? I don't know; perhaps we ought to do some surreptitious checking and see whether the Disney Company has sunk some of its capital into the purchase of vintage 1953 Buicks.
Needless to say, "All Ducks on Deck" is one DuckTales tale that has aged quite gracefully, even as its version of The Blot appears to have subsumed into the past.
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"DuckBlurbs"
(GeoX) Oh, yeah, anyway, the Blot tries to steal an experimental invisible
plane--though the idea that he's going to somehow be able to RULE THE
WORLD with this plane needs some fine-tuning.
This is one of the ep's few obvious flaws. Had we gotten some detail about the jet's potential as a weapon of mass destruction, The Blot's confidence in its vital importance would have been slightly more justified.
(GeoX) [The Blot] actually has comparatively little screen time, but his ranting IS
entertaining to watch, and I have to admit, I was not expecting -- spoiler
alert! -- for Grimitz's ass-kissing adjutant to be in league with him.
The remarkable thing is that Plover's heel turn (thanks, Greg) still came as something of a surprise despite the obvious Scooby-Doo "Economy of Characters" principle being in force (to wit: once it was learned that one of the characters was an enemy agent, it was obvious that it would have to be someone who had appeared during the episode). I guess that Mark Taylor's "dork" act really WAS convincing.
(GeoX) Seems like the idea of the nephews stowing away in luggage is a bit ragged by this point…
Well, let's see: there was "Dinosaur Ducks," this episode, and... um... what am I missing?
(Greg) Quick logic break;
when they do the pinball spot; the carrier actually nails the sharp
rock in the middle; which would have caused a huge hole in the bottom
of the carrier and the carrier would have sank; but it whizzed by as
if it didn't hit the carrier at all. Bad, bad form there Wang Films.
Donald's tale-telling had the effect of "rubberizing" the carrier. End of problem!
(Greg) Some Youtube
users were suggesting that if TaleSpin ever continued into a second
season that the Phantom Blot would make a great villain to replace
Don Karnage (or at least give TaleSpin a really bad ass second main
villain) and he would have all the one shot villains who lost to
Baloo, Rebecca and Kit working for him to destroy Higher For Hire.
You know, if the TaleSpin High Flight project had lasted longer than it did, then I can easily imagine someone coming up with an idea like this. It's hard to visualize The Blot as a kingpin ruling over a multitude of minions, though. Typically, either he works alone or he has a very small group of associates assisting him.
(Greg) Louie claims that the Junior Woodchuck
Guidebook even amazes them. Doesn't that kind of prove that the book
is a crap shoot? Huey proclaims that they hope it never falls into
the wrong hands. Don't worry; no sane person would ever touch that
book with a ten foot pole.
It'd be kind of hard to blame what went wrong here on the Guidebook. Donald just happened to hit the remote-controlled "shark" in the worst possible place, and Admiral Grimitz pocketed the missile homing device under the mistaken impression that it was a radio.
No, in this case, I believe that they showed common sense.
(Greg) We then cut to Scrooge and Launchpad as Scrooge pops up and hits his head on the canopy and he wants LP to open it. Big mistake there Scroogie and he pushes the invisible button which commits logic break #2 for the entire episode as the GOOFS WITH ATTITUDE eject without the canopy being open; or glass shattering no less.
You may have missed the canopy flying off to the right during the ejection sequence. Good attention to detail there, as the canopy would naturally become visible once it detached from the invisible jet.
Next: Episode 64, "Ducky Horror Picture Show."
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Comics Reviews: MY LITTLE PONY: FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC #11-12 (IDW Publishing, September & October 2013)
* SPOILERS TO THE MAX, OR SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO IT*
After receiving panel-to-panel raves for their impeccable handling of "The Return of Queen Chrysalis," MLP:FIM comic stalwarts Katie Cook and Andy Price apparently got a fair bit of blowback from a certain segment of MLP fandom regarding how they handled these two issues. While their approach is certainly... let us say... debatable, they had a perfect right to handle the tale of the first meeting of Twilight Sparkle's brother Shining Armor and his wife, Princess Cadance, in any way they chose, provided that it paid at least a basic fealty to the parameters laid down in the TV show. What the negative fan reax show is that some people interpret said parameters in a very narrow and constricted fashion. You might say that I'm not surprised.
The two-issue arc -- which is mostly told in flashback, with Shining Armor getting to narrate #11 and Cadance #12 -- relates how the pair's paths first crossed in high school. And not just any high school, mind you, but a ponified version of one of those halls of learning from the popular teenage movies of the 1980s. It is quite possible that Cook and Price spun the entire concept out of a single scene in the episode "Call of the Cutie," in which the schoolteacher Cheerilee showed her charges what she looked like in H.S. You can see the same sight in the lower-left-hand corner of Price's cover to #11. C&P evidently grabbed this meager evidence and ran with it, packing their story with all sorts of references to 80s fads, music, and so forth. Said shoutouts include a Dungeons and Dragons-style game called Oubliettes and Ogres, of which the teenage Shining Armor and his three nerdish buddies are devotees. Princess Cadance, as a representative of Equestrian royalty (though her precise relationship to Princess Celestia is never established), plays the role of the untouchable "popular girl" who would normally be considered well out of a dweeb's league. Shining Armor, not being your average nerd, is bound and determined to make her his "very special somepony" before a lunkheaded, arrogant "big stallion on campus" can muscle in. The expected physical hi-jinx and emotional agonies ensue.
While I found most of this fanciful concoction to be clever and amusing -- even though I must confess to having missed a couple of the cultural tributes the first time through -- I can understand, in an intellectual sense, why this got so many Bronies' legwarmers in a twist. The pinning of Shining Armor and Cadance's youth to a specific spot on the universal time line reminded me of the depiction of Goofy as a literal "child of the 70s" in the Disney OVA An Extremely Goofy Movie (2000). I hated that twist, but the two situations are not really comparable. Goofy's personality was well established long before AEGM and had never been tied down by any set of cultural references, except those that might be fodder for general parody, as in the classic House of Mouse short "How to Be Groovy, Cool, and Fly" (2001). Shining Armor and Cadance, by contrast, were pretty much ciphers before these issues. They played major roles in the TV adventures "A Canterlot Wedding" and "The Crystal Empire," but the focuses there were on action and outside threats to Equestria, rather than on the characters themselves. There was plenty of room for character development; Cook and Price simply took a far different route than what most people had been expecting.
One thing that Cook and Price unfortunately did not make clear -- an omission that probably explains a good deal of the vitriol hurled their way -- is how the "dork" version of Shining Armor managed to metamorphosed into the somewhat stolid Captain of the Royal Guard we saw on TV. I'm sure that the relationship with Cadance boosted Shining Armor's confidence and all that, but what specific actions completed the transformation? It also seems a little unlikely that Twilight, who, as a precocious young filly, helped her foal-sitter Cadance literally figure out that Shining Armor was the pony for her, had forgotten her key role in pushing the relationship along by the time of "A Canterlot Wedding." On balance, though, these issues are great fun, especially for children of the 80s and those who wish they had been.
Labels:
General Comics,
House of Mouse,
MLP:FIM,
Movies
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