Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Comics Review: UNCLE $CROOGE #401 (March 2011, Boom! Kids)

Boom! follows up the splendid U$ #400 with a less splashy, but no less gratifying, reprinting of Don Rosa's 1995 adventure "The Universal Solvent," which had previously appeared only in three-part serialized form in the U.S.  Boom!'s official bumpf for this issue claims, in fact, that this is the first-ever "one-and-done" reprint of this story, but that's incorrect; the deed has been done in Brazil and Italy, among other places. Perhaps Boom! was referring to American reprints only and didn't say so ("Those ignorant, insulated Americans!" I can hear Rosa scowling). The "Rosimaniacs" can probably tell me all about the subtle differences between the serialized version and the one-part version, but I, for one, miss the cliffhanger between parts two and three, when it appears that the Ducks are about to be ground to pulp between a shower of falling rocks and a spume of upward-surging magma. The splash panel at the start of part three is still there, with a few uninteresting bits of dialogue from Donald and Scrooge thrown in, but it's simply not the same.

I really ought to like Rosa's stories more than I do. He loves to craft epics, and I love the "big-stage" Duck stories, up to and including the multi-part DuckTales adventures. I have certain obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and Keno D. is perhaps the ultimate example of OCS in four-color form. Rosa first came along when my "Duck fandom" was just rounding into shape, and, given that I had no problem accepting DuckTales as a viable take on the Ducks' world, I should have been able to swallow Rosa as "my" generation's version of Carl Barks. Somehow, it didn't happen, though there are plenty of excellent Rosa stories out there. Perhaps it's the sense I've always gotten that Rosa doesn't write stories so much as engineer them. "The Universal Solvent" is fully emblematic of that approach: well thought out, carefully constructed, generally exciting, and as cold as the inside of a refrigerator.

"Solvent" is a classic example of a "Ducks Are Done To" story. Scrooge, of course, gets the ball rolling -- or *glorp*ing, as the case may be -- by foolishly (and believably) pouring Gyro Gearloose's all-dissolving Omnisolve(tm) onto the ground in a moment of spite, but the story then leaves characterization aside. During their trip to the Earth's core to recover the goo, the Ducks are quite literally "along for the ride," with most of the attention being focused on the technical aspects of the trip. There are a few attempts at humor of the most elementary kind (Donald's hungry, we get it!), but, in truth, it could have been Blackie the Lamb and HIS Nephews riding on that platform, and very little would have needed to be changed (except that there would be a Wolf after them). Recall my review of Kimba's "Go, White Lion!" and the distinction I drew between Kimba and Astro Boy. Like Astro Boy, the Ducks were "on a mission" here, and the "mission" took precedence. A Barks adventure, by contrast, often is animated or motivated by a healthy dose of characterization -- and, even when the plot comes first, the story's humor seems organically derived, rather than tacked on almost as an obligation.

"Solvent" also contains one of the worst examples of Rosa's determination to tie his body of work to Barks' oeuvre. Why involve the Terries and Fermies at all, especially for a two-panel bit in which the TFs and the Ducks don't even interact meaningfully? The TFs serve as a handy plot device and nothing more. If nothing else, the TFs could have helped push (or roll) the Ducks on their way, which would have been most helpful, given that the Ducks literally have to run up hill for miles to escape the magma.

In the long run, this tale's primary legacy is that it led to the creation of two better -- because character-driven -- stories in which the gentleman thief Arpin Lusene, aka The Black Knight, uses Omnisolve(tm)-coated armor to stage raids on Scrooge's Money Bin. No impersonal physical threat there, just a good, old-fashioned direct assault on the core of Scrooge's existence. "Solvent" does feature a nice twist ending and some effective pokes at The Disney Company, but this isn't one of Rosa's better efforts. Seeing it in the one-issue format, though, is most welcome.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Comics Review: CHIP AND DALE'S RESCUE RANGERS #4 (March 2011, Boom! Studios)

Leonel Castellani's artwork snaps back to top form for this concluding issue of the "Worldwide Rescue" arc, but Ian Brill's scripting doesn't come along for the ride. The net result is a rather muddled, vaguely unsatisfactory experience that simply doesn't live up to the glowing promise of issues #1 and #2.

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Almost right out of the chute, we learn of the chain of reasoning that led Chip to conclude that Fat Cat has been behind the misuse of the Animal Rescue Signal... and a gossamer-tenuous daisy-chain it turns out to be. "There were lots of security cameras around, therefore Fat Cat must have done it, because he owns a casino"? With that kind of logic, Chip could also have indicted (animal) bankers, (animal) department-store owners, and the slightly unsavory critters who run (animal) parking garages. I have a horrible suspicion that Brill got the idea for this explanation from the opening flashback sequence in which we learn how poor Professor Foo-Foo fell into Mr. Fat's clutches (not to mention how Mr. Fat suddenly gained the power to teleport -- a gimmick which is virtually thrown away here but could be put to very menacing use in future stories, should Brill choose to do so).

Beginning with the Rangers' arrival at Fat Cat's lair, the never-very-sturdy storyline breaks down completely. It's thoroughly in character for Fat Cat to want to watch the Rangers destroy themselves, but c'mon... even Mepps (especially the apparently slightly more intelligent Mepps of this title) should know better than to eat a huge piece of cheese within sniffing distance of an "otherwise distracted" Monterey Jack's nose. The cheese, of course, knocks Monty out of his A.R.S.-addled trance... and then, Monty breaks the spell over everyone else by SHOUTING? Sure, the Rangers are tight with each other and all that, but that earned a big old eye-roll from me. A convenient connection between the A.R.S. and the teleportation device then lands Mr. Fat and crew in a bad spot, from which the Rangers will "deal with" the bad guys in a manner that's never shown or described. Even the grateful Foo-Foo's "gift" to the Rangers is somewhat less than impressive to anyone who can recall how often the Rangers traveled to exotic locations in TV episodes.

The best part of this chapter actually turned out to be the Rangers' recovery of the final piece of the Super-Key, because (1) it got the Rangers back together with Monty's parents Cheddarhead Charlie and Camembert Katie, if only for a moment; (2) the Rangers' "whipped-up-in-a-jif" anti-crab armor was an inspired idea, drawn, in a very real sense, from the best moments of the TV show. An authentic touch like this makes me optimistic about the future of this title... though, in light of how Boom! is handling the DUCKTALES book, perhaps the company ought to consider identifying a "Ranger-focused" writer and turning him or her loose on C&DRR. Brill is a talented writer, but having him script both DARKWING DUCK and C&DRR may not be the optimal use of his abilities.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 5, "Fair Game"

Sometimes, refusing to accept the obvious can have severe consequences. Take this episode, for instance. An intriguing first glimpse into Kimba's past experiences in the civilized human world, a fairly dramatic conflict between the heir of Caesar and another heir (of sorts) who appears to resent the white lions' privileged status as jungle kingpins -- for most of its length, this ep has all the makings of a classic. Then, by refusing to acknowledge the obvious death of a character who perishes in pretty much the exact same way as did Caesar in "Go, White Lion!", the Titan crew in effect ties its own hands and forces the ep into a patently absurd ending. For mismanaged denouements, this makes the abandoned "super miniature bomb" of "The Wind in the Desert" look like a spent and sputtering Fourth of July squib. The episode still holds plenty of interest, but it could have been so much better had the performers trusted their audience just a bit more.

Lamenting a lost opportunity?


An OUT OF NOWHERE opening (and a nice one, with a catchy musical theme tossed in) provides us with our first glimpse of Mr. Pompus (aka "Old Man Mustache"), one of the most famous members of Osamu Tezuka's unusual "rota" of supporting players. Tezuka used and reused a number of distinctive-looking characters in several of his manga, always playing different roles in the story. Mr. P., for example, served as Astro Boy's teacher and as a freelance detective in the Paul Murry MICKEY MOUSE tradition (assisted by a young version of Roger Ranger in the latter role) before getting assigned to the duty of being the grown-up Roger's uncle in Kimba. The excitable Mr. P. is the kind of guy who spouts cliches (already in full evidence with his string of French-isms here) and refers to tourist guidebooks (as will be seen later). Gilbert Mack has pretty much the perfect voice for him.

Kimba makes it sound as if Roger and Mr. P. picked him up "on the coast" (the same one seen in "The Wind and the Desert"?) and then traveled directly to Paris as some sort of modern version of the "Grand Tour." As you might imagine, the white lion's "period of acculturation" in the manga was considerably longer; when he adopted Kimba, in fact, Roger was still a young boy. It would have been remarkable, in any event, for Kimba to have been trained so quickly, to the extent that he would be able to visit museums and use public bathrooms.

How can the animals know the countries? Well, the later ep "Two Hearts and Two Minds" reveals that Pauley Cracker spent part of his life among humans, too. Being a parrot, he might have picked up some French quite naturally. As for the others, perhaps Roger filled them in. It's still kind of amusing, especially when you compare Kimba with The Lion King, in which the animals seem to exist in a world without humans.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I ought to mention that Sonia Owens in real life is much nicer than Mary, who's even more of a whiny bitch here than she was in "A Human Friend," and for even less reason. Mary's so negative towards Kimba here that it's a wonder that she agreed to accompany Roger on his trip into the jungle in (the continuity-corrected version of) that episode. Her comment "why should we be kind to animals?" ties in with her attitude towards the human-animal relationship as displayed in the manga. For his part, Roger displays the patience of Job in putting up with her.

Dated visions of "The World of Tomorrow... Today!" are always interesting to mine for unintended laughs, and the "Paris World's Fair" -- entirely fictitious, BTW, though appearing to borrow the world globe from the 1964-65 Flushing Meadows fete -- certainly delivers at least some of the goods. "Melting the polar ice caps to make them livable" used to seem as good a way of dealing with the overpopulation crisis as allowing people to live on the ocean floor, but both "pipe dreams" have pretty much been fatally compromised. The obligatory robot exhibit, besides providing a golden opportunity for an Astro Boy cameo, is accompanied by the same "bleepy-bloopy" sound effects that frequently turned up in "lab scenes" in the Astro Boy series. (I wouldn't be surprised if some of those other robot models originally appeared on Astro Boy, as well.) And do we have "one-day flowers" by now? Perhaps the Coke Zero guy could inquire.

Geraldine's brief mention of the animals' farm "lets the white lion out of the bag" one episode early: the farm will be established in Episode 6, "Jungle Thief." It also suggests that this ep was recorded after that one.

Trivia question: Can you identify the two "farmer paintings" that Kimba sees in the museum? It took a bit of digging, but I found the originals online. Answers below.


The marble-mouthed Speedy Cheetah (Owens) gets the subplot of the episode going with a literal bang -- but where the holy hay did Speedy originally LEARN that Caesar "punished" his grandfather? As we'll soon see, this (false) charge may be all of a piece with a general sense of resentment that Speedy's clan harbors towards Kimba's "legendary" father.

Can you really blame Dusty (Sonia Owens) for "flushing" Kimba out of the bathroom? Even if he "really hadda go" (and it sure looks as if he did), Kimba couldn't have expected a human to take that "invasion of private space" lying down. The confrontation provides the (rather contrived) means whereby Kimba enters the domain of Ed Norton's hero, Pierre-Francois de la Brioche, and meets Speedy's Grandfather Quasimodo (Owens). Apart from his problems with "water on the face," Kimba, who must be pretty young at the time this tale takes place, actually handles himself reasonably well in the fight with the old cheetah, who seems to possess abilities far beyond those of the mortal Acinonyx jubatus. (To wit: Spider-Cheetah!)

The visit to the police, aside from providing a Gallic non sequitur (the Prefect [Ray Owens] quitting the premises with a "Bonjour!" -- no wonder we hear the flushing toilet again as a reaction), leads to an obvious question. From the looks of things (mostly the stains on his body -- and I'm not interested in their origin, thanks), Quasimodo has been in the sewers for quite some time. So why are the police just now getting around to searching for "the monster"? Did they make an earlier effort, only to -- I almost hate to say it -- surrender?

Hard luck and living underground for so long have evidently given poor Quasimodo a touch of schizophrenia. Consider:

(1) He promises to fight until he "destroys" Kimba, then suddenly stops when he realizes how much Kimba resembles Caesar and starts a conversation.

(2) He claims that he's "not complaining" about his status, then turns right around and begins to -- you guessed it -- complain.

(3) He "wants to go back to the jungle," then suddenly decides that he's too old to make the trip.

Addled though Quasi's mental state may be, he deserved much better than to be given a cheesy "extra lease on life" when he is obviously shot by the police. The police actually had more reason to shoot Quasi down than Caesar had to be killed by Viper Snakely, since the old cheetah was charging right at them. If Quasi's death had been acknowledged, then Speedy's angry, disbelieving reaction to Kimba's story of what Speedy would surely have regarded as a pathetic, unworthy death would have packed far more emotional punch. The last fight would have represented Speedy's last psychological stand against what he no doubt sees as the pride and arrogance of the "too-perfect" white lions, and the tender scene in which Kimba licks the defeated young cheetah would have symbolized Speedy's final acceptance of the truth.

The final sequence was originally a "dream idyll" in which Kimba imagines a future world in which humans and animals coexist peacefully. Given that humans show both nobility and meanness in this episode, this was probably intended to be sort of like an animal's-eye version of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Dream"; humans and animals have a long way to go to realize the promise of coexistence, but the goal is certainly worth striving for. Instead, thanks to the refusal to accept Quasimodo's fate, we're left wondering where the "animal airport" is, how Kimba's followers will exchange "animal money" for francs, and how one validates "animal passports." A real shame.

Trivia question answers: The Angelus and The Gleaners by Jean-Francois Millet, both on display in the Musee d'Orsay (though not in 1965, when this ep was produced; the Musee, a converted train station, did not open until the 1980s).

Up next: Episode 6, "Jungle Thief."

Thursday, March 3, 2011

DVD Review: ZIEGFELD FOLLIES (MGM, 1946)

What a nice DVD package this was -- giving the full flavor of a night out at a friendly neighborhood Loew's Theatre, circa 1946. In this case, the main feature fully complements the accompanying grab-bag of shorts and cartoons, since this is MGM's grand, brassy attempt to simulate the high-gloss vaudeville of Florenz Ziegfeld's famed stage productions. Ziegfeld Follies was actually the third in a series of MGM films celebrating the flamboyant showman: the first (The Great Ziegfeld {1936}) had bagged a Best Picture Oscar, while the second (Ziegfeld Girl {1941}) featured such stars as Judy Garland, Lana Turner, and Hedy Lamarr and did good b.o. business. Ziegfeld Follies, originally intended to celebrate MGM's 20th anniversary, was supposed to top them all... or doesn't the tag line "Greatest Production Since the Birth of Motion Pictures!" suggest a little something special? Actually, the movie is more famous for its troubled production history than anything else. Most of the acts were filmed in 1944 and early 1945, but the original three-hour version of the film didn't go over well in test previews, and MGM commenced to slicing and dicing, not releasing the svelter finished product until the Spring of 1946. In all, seven directors got some piece of credit for the activities herein, though Vincente Minnelli's name is by far the most prominently featured.

There is at least a feeble attempt to construct a premise for this hotch-potch: from his suite in Heaven, Ziegfeld (William Powell -- who played the character in The Great Ziegfeld but here appears to be a weird cross between a peeping Tom and Captain Kangaroo) maps out one final, ultimate Follies to be remembered by. His reminiscences of days gone by are acted out by a troupe of truly creepy-looking puppets. This is a fitting beginning to what is perhaps the "fakiest" movie I've ever seen. Literally everything in the movie is completely unreal and stylized -- which, I suppose, was the point. This is supposed to be pure escapist entertainment. As you might expect, things are hit-or-miss. Fred Astaire (the closest thing to a headliner; he is featured in four major pieces and three dance routines) exudes class whenever he's on stage, even when he plays a suave jewel thief in "This Heart of Mine." His memorable "Babbitt and the Bromide" duet with Gene Kelly is unquestionably the film's highlight and really should have been the final number. Instead, we get a rather leaden delivery of a ballad called "Beauty" by Kathryn Grayson, in a production number that notoriously turned into a near-disaster thanks to a hyperactive bubble machine. Think Lawrence Welk on steroids. I suppose that this number, with its bevy of beauties, was meant to be a bookend for the opening "Pink" number starring Lucille Ball and a cast of babes, but, given that part of that earlier bit involved pink-clad Lucy cracking a whip at women in cat costumes, it couldn't help but come up a bit short. The recently deceased Lena Horne's sassy delivery of "Love" should also be mentioned, though setting the performance in what contemporaries might have termed a "low Negro den" tended to undercut the very idea of featuring a woman of color at all.

The "old-time" comedy routines hold more historic interest than actual entertainment value. It is instructive to see such old Ziegfeld troupers as Victor Moore and Fanny Brice plying their trade, and watching a frustrated Keenan Wynn eat a telephone (!) is certainly memorable, but the most famous business shown here is Red Skelton's "Guzzler's Gin" routine, and, quite frankly, I wasn't impressed. This is strange, as I've always liked the equally broad humor of The Honeymooners. Actually, the best comedy bit of all herein is the strangely rap-anticipatory "The Great Lady Gives an Interview" starring Judy Garland, who plays a "Grande Dame" actress famous for her biographical roles. (This was apparently meant to be a poke of some sort at Greer Garson, who was originally slated for this role.) Pressed by the press to "give with the scoop" about her newest bio-pic, Judy basically starts to rap about the story of the female inventor of... the safety pin! It's very funny and well-choreographed, and Judy is, as always, excellent.

Oh... and Esther Williams swims around for a while, too. I guess that the phrase "you had to be there" applies equally well underwater.

Overall: a pleasant viewing experience, but certainly not a "new era in entertainment," much as MGM might have wished it were so.

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The extras include a brief documentary on Ziegfeld Follies' production history and the trailers for the three MGM Ziegfeld movies. Now, for the other subjects:

(1) A black-and-white Crime Does Not Pay short, The Luckiest Guy in the World (1947), starring Barry Nelson (the first actor ever to play James Bond, let's not forget). This series was not based on the famous comic-book series of the same name; the first CDNP film actually predated the comic books by some seven years. The Luckiest Guy is the classic tale of a guy who thinks he's gotten away with murder, BUT... This was nominated for an Oscar for Best Short Subject.

(2) Tex Avery's The Hick Chick (1946) and Hanna and Barbera's Tom and Jerry joint, Solid Serenade (1946) (aka "The One Where Tom Sings and Talks More Than He Ever Did Before or Would Ever Do Again, At Least at MGM"). Both good, both completely representative of the vastly different styles of their creative "driving forces." Never having been much of an Avery fan, I prefer the classic H-B mayhem. The female cat (she actually has an official name: Toodles Galore [why not Pussy? Never mind...]) is a treat for the eyes, especially those that enjoy looking at Miss Ma'amselle Hepzibah.

If you ever run across this DVD, you could do much worse than renting it for an enjoyable night's entertainment in the grand MGM tradition. Buying it, now... that's probably another story, depending upon how much of an obsessive-compulsive MGM completist you are.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 4, "Great Caesar's Ghost"

In large part due to the very positive feedback I've gotten thus far, I've decided to go "the full Kimba" and review all 52 episodes, as opposed to merely focusing in on the ones I like. It's been surprisingly easy to find legitimately meaningful things to say about these episodes, even those bits and pieces that I don't particularly care for. Take this ep, for instance; it's at once (1) marred by a bad continuity gaffe and some atypically substandard voice acting and (2) lifted to a higher plane of importance by the first real internal challenge to Kimba's authority and Kimba's literal and symbolic recovery of the legendary father that he never knew.


The opening battle with the python doesn't have much to do with the balance of the episode... or does it? Kimba uses brains more than sheer animal brawn to dispose of the sinister snake -- an approach that will ultimately be directly questioned by Samson, the Texas-accented (I suppose that Ray Owens was making an LBJ reference here of some sort) water buffalo who wants Kimba to show his mettle by "getting rid of" the mules that the big buff has brought as a gift. The irony is that Samson originally overflows with praise for Kimba's feat before turning around and dunning Kimba for being a "sissy."


"Do away with," "get rid of"... gotta love those euphemisms. I almost regret that Kimba didn't jump on Samson's indirect speech and use it as an excuse to allow the mules to leave: "You said get rid of them! You didn't say how."

It's not entirely surprising that the young lion prince, challenged on the grounds of not only his own authority but also his father's vision, folds like an accordion. Not that he hasn't previously faced adversity, but he isn't yet equipped to handle this confrontation, especially not without strong backing from his subjects... several of whom decide on an unorthodox, but ultimately successful, way of making up for their earlier reticence and reconnecting Kimba with the legacy of Caesar.

Hotshot Hopper (Owens), of course, did not kill -- er, "get rid of" Caesar -- Viper Snakely did -- and I can't see how the Titan crew could possibly have overlooked the obvious physical difference between the two hunters. Perhaps they were misled by Hopper's sweeping of his gun towards Caesar's hide. In any event, Hopper appears to be such an incurable braggart that he may actually believe that he did the deed, in his bubbly little world at least.

Animals dressing up in Caesar's hide and attempting to influence Kimba was also a key scene in Tezuka's manga, but the psychological dynamics were totally different. In the first place, Kimba himself spirited the hide away from a native chieftain's hut, so he was, in a sense, in control of the situation from the off. Secondly, the animals used the hide to convince the pampered, unwilling Kimba to stay in the jungle and take over for his father (and since Kimba reacted to the original suggestion by tweaking Bucky's nose, he kinda was asking for it), which strikes me as akin to blackmail (or, in this case, whitemail). Kimba may initially have thought that Pauley, Bucky, and Dan'l "played a dumb trick," but the trio's hearts were unquestionably in the right place, and Kimba, to his credit, quickly realizes that fact. But the way in which Kimba does so... well, it sounds like a line reading from a badly dubbed Japanese monster movie. "YOU... really ARE... MY FRIENDS!" Not one of Billie Lou Watt's finest moments. Had that reading been even close to natural, this sequence would have been practically perfect. There's even a clever bit of humor injected when Gilbert Mack, speaking as Caesar, rattles off the Boy Scouts' laundry list of virtues.


A couple of spots during this part strike me as a bit... well, squirm-inducing for modern sensibilities. When Hopper fires the guns to rouse the locals to go after the "thieving animals," we see a bunch of heads popping out of huts. The faces are white, but this almost seems like an impromptu corvee. Later, Caesar's claim that "the white lion is born to lead!" sounds like something out of Kipling: "Take up the white lion's burden!" Actually, as we'll see in the important later episode "Journey into Time," "chemical additives" had as much to do with creating white lions' "leadership qualities" as any supposed genetic superiority.

Dan'l's momentary lapse into "Law of the Jungle" mode -- "let the hunters kill -- er, 'get rid of' -- Samson" reflects just how far Kimba's subjects still have to go to fully appreciate his ideas. Of course, Hopper's hunting party doesn't exactly stand for humanity at its finest, and Kimba et al.'s beating them off with a "baobab bath" both confirms the wisdom of the indirect approach and provides a thoroughly satisfactory "cleansing" of the infiltrating despoilers. Apparently, baobabs do serve as natural water storage facilities, including large deposits of water's being stored in their roots, so this scheme served a didactic purpose in addition to providing a good visual climax. Nice musical accompaniment, too.

I'd like to report that Samson became a staunch ally of Kimba after this "meaningful confrontation," but, in fact, he would have just as nasty an attitude (not to mention a completely different voice) in his putative next appearance (Episode 6, "Jungle Thief") and would pretty much fade away after that. That seems a shame, even for a character who supposedly lived at a distance and could only appear on occasion as a result.

Up next: Episode 5, "Fair Game".

Comics Review: WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES #716 (February 2011, Boom! Kids)

Mickey and Scrooge may appear on Don Rosa's homage-cover, but WDC&S #716 is wall-to-wall Donald, featuring two Duck stories written by Carl Barks. We lead off with "A Day in a Duck's Life," Barks' last original script for the Gold Key DONALD DUCK, as redrawn by Daan Jippes in 1999. Since the original story from 1971 was illo'd by Kay Wright, I think it is fair to say that this is one "reboot" that no one is going to argue with. As you might expect, Jippes is more faithful to Barks' original penciled version of the tale than Wright could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, Jippes can't do anything about the plot, which Barks himself once dismissed as "about the worst story I ever did." It's hard to argue with The Duck Man on that one; this episodic, "one-mishap-clumsily-follows-another" tale is clearly the work of a tired creator. The action, or what there is of it, centers around Don's attempts to gain funds to refurbish his noisy "muscle car." Don has rarely looked as morally dubious as he does here -- muscling in on HD&L's successful delivery business, stealing coins from the boys' piggy bank (in a sequence that goes on much too long), engaging in dangerous drag races in the streets of Duckburg. Don's ultimate involvement in a would-be hijacking (in which Barks' script originally had the 'jacker exclaiming "Carramba!", a reference to the "take-this-plane-to-Cuba!" era of aerial theft; I kinda wish they'd kept that bit) is tooth-grindingly contrived. Even HD&L are badly off the beam here, with their repeated laments that Donald will "never get ahead!" transcending the cute-and-clever and toppling beak-first into the slough of outright annoyingness. Jippes makes the story fun to look at, at least (and at long last!).

In sharp contrast, "Rival Beachcombers" (WDC&S #103, April 1949) is a vintage Barks ten-pager, and one given some extra cachet due to its foreshadowing of what Barks had planned for the future of Gladstone Gander. Just two months after this story was produced, Barks would fully unveil Gladstone's lucky streak in "Race to the South Seas." Here, Donald's cousin is still merely an annoying "chiseler" and "connoisseur of the fast buck," attempting to horn in on Donald and HD&L's beach-combing activities. Once it is revealed that a visiting Maharajah lost a valuable gem on the beach, the stakes go up a notch, and Gladstone begins to assume the attitude that we will come to know and loathe. He refuses to dig for the treasure, gloating, "All things come to him who sits and waits!" As Donald and the boys labor unsuccessfully to find the booty, they begin to wonder whether fate means to hand the prize to Gladstone. It's as if the Ducks are anticipating what is just over the horizon. The ending -- with Don getting in trouble with the law for despoiling the beach (thanks in part to Gladstone's bent-beaked lies) and HD&L being forced to find the ruby or see their uncle land in jail -- clearly looks forward to such last-minute, karma-laced anti-Gander payoffs as those seen in "Race to the South Seas," "The Gilded Man," and "Secret of Hondorica". Of course, the schadenfreude doesn't taste quite as sweet here, because Gladstone has yet to become a noxious force of nature, as opposed to a dishonest jerk who gets what is coming to him. But Barks evidently liked what he had stumbled upon here -- an analogy to unexpectedly digging up a ruby, perhaps? -- and kept it very much in mind.

Despite the presence of the Barks material, I have to say that #716 rates as a rather poor follow-up to the previous issue, especially in light of the much-ballyhooed 70th-anniversary business. Using a pair of DONALD stories is not exactly taking complete advantage of the full panoply of features that have graced WDC&S over the past seven decades. #716 is so unlike the "everybody gets involved" approach taken in #715 that I have to wonder whether the material was originally slated for DONALD DUCK, only to get shifted to WDC&S for some reason.