Author: Marc Alan Fishman

Marc Alan Fishman: Super Civic Pride

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Marvel recently announced a set of variant covers for its newly launching U.S. Avengers series. As with most listicle-ized ideas in modern comic bookery, it wasn’t much of a shock to me as a stunt. It will provide local comic shops something cool to order to entice collectors with, and for the super serious collectors, there will be a future market to Pokemon Go! and just go ahead and collect ‘em all. It’s a novelty, sure, but there’s been worse ones.

What it really does, though, is cause fans to curiously align themselves to a particular hero — as jocks will take to their geographically-proximate sports-ball-teams. With that, comes that nearly indescribable urge to gain a soft-spot for a particular character… and of course then talk smack at other hero/state pairings in an effort to show one’s newfound super civic pride.

For my home-sweet-home in the south suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, comes Dr. Hank McCoy. Beast, if you’re naughty. The choice, for those in the know, isn’t too surprising. McCoy hails from the suburbs of Chicago himself (or so sayeth Wikipedia, Chicago’s Time Out edition, and countless other sources). Hence, the blue beast was chosen as the surrogate super son of Illinois.

I’ll be honest. Prior to seeing the cover and assignment, I wasn’t a fan of Beast. I don’t hate the fur ball, mind you… but even amongst various X teams and Avengers teams, he’d be nowhere close to a personal favorite. Funny enough though, seeing the cover with Hank leaping stoically off the Illinois map made me reconsider my personal feelings. Whereas California got the glitz and glamour choice of Iron Man and New York nabbed native son Luke Cage, Illinois got what I’d certainly say was a deep cut. We are home to the third largest city in the nation, and the best we muster is a guy who proclaims “Oh my stars and garters!”? In true Chicagoan spirit, my answer to that very question was a resounding “F*ck right he is!”

Beast is strong, fast, flexible, ambidextrous with four limbs, and a genius. He cured the legacy virus. He’s fluent in nine languages. He can hold up his end of the conversation with Reed Richards, Steven Strange, and Tony Stark… all while hanging upside down and teaching a class of X-babies. You see? And he’s my home state hero. It’s like we got Spider-Man and Mr. Fantastic all in one guy! And he’s the same color as our beloved Chicago Bears. Hell, he could play quarterback if he wanted!

See how quickly my opinion changed? The second they aligned my home to Hank, an affinity arose. Because he was offered as ours, suddenly there became an emotional edge to my opinion. Now when I open up my Marvel Contest of Champions mobile app, I’m more apt to hope I open up a crystal with the periwinkle protector to add to my cadre of combatants. And should people hold up their state-assigned hero as a better (“Indiana has the friggen’ Winter Solder, brah!”)? Well, I’ll be happy to scoff as I rattle off 17 ways my Dundee-native doctor can whup their candy ass twelve ways from Sunday. Curse you Marvel. What did you do to me?

It’s a cherry idea, I give them that. To turn a cash-grab novelty to in a buzzfeedesque game of proclivity is an instant hit in my book. Same way I felt when the Initiative post Civil War gave us the “Illinois Space Knights.” Same way I felt when I found out my broader home soil was home to such characters as Maria Hill, the Question (well, sort of… ask Mike Gold or Denny O’Neil), Ghost Rider, and Savage Dragon. To know that a fictional character shares the same air as you… may love a good Italian Beef — dipped, of course — and occasionally knock back an Old Style in a tallboy? Well, nothing makes me quicker to warm my icy Illinois heart.

So, it begs the question of you: What lilly-licking punk hero did your silly state get?

GO BEAST!

Marc Alan Fishman: The Science of Selling

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If there’s one thing Unshaven Comics has been celebrated for by our peers, our fans, and our nemeses alike, it’s our ABC mentality. “Always. Be. Closing.” Alec Baldwin barked at us through gritted teeth. And boy howdy did that lesson stick. Since our second-ever convention appearance, my cohorts and I have adopted the mentality that while we love what we do, that we can’t do it unless our convention appearances end lucratively. Hence, we operate adhering to the science of the sale.

In less poetic terms, that means that every possible decision / choice we’ve made — from the products offered, to the pitch, the bundles we offer, straight through to the question we ask to close business — has been scrutinized to the Nth degree. It’s been a while since I’ve unpacked these bags for you, my adoring fans, so let’s dump all the dirty laundry on the floor, shall we?

When it comes to our products, the answer became notoriously simple given trial and error. Our first book was an educational graphic novel. Suffice to say we got mild interest, and a lot of back-patting from teachers and rare fans who really like the idea of seeing how far a comic could travel away from tights and fights.

Our next book was R-Rated horror. Then R-Rated superheroes. Both of those books were better sellers for us. But… then… book 4 was The Samurnauts, a title built with sell-ability in mind. Tongue-in-cheek pastiche to the tropes we loved growing up, nestled in a warm chocolatey shell of all-age fun. And the sales and response we saw to that? Well, the rest (they say) is history. Put plainly: for Unshaven Comics, our path to maximum return drives straight down the line towards the largest audience possible.

I’ve droned on and on about our pitch in the past. Feel free to read up on it here. The short and dirty version for those with less time: we keep it simple, stupid. In less than 22 seconds (with an additional eight seconds added afterwards for jazz hands/spirit fingers) we’re able to distill the essence of our comic book series to any passerby. We talk about the big picture feelings the book evokes, we share the artwork and hooks of the story, as well as detail the specific nature of our deal. You get 36 pages of story for just five bucks. And if you get it here at the show today, all three creators will happily sign your copy. And with that – jazz hands. Make no bones about it. We’ve crafted literally every word of that pitch a thousand times over. And we’ve likely answered every possible retort to it dozens (if not hundreds) of times.

I’ve also perhaps droned a bit before about our magical closing question. Those last few words uttered that have turned more faces of unsure-ness into alleviated buyers. We used to ask “So, what do you think?” More often than not, it would end with the potential buyer now bending our ears off on their 30 second critique of literally any number of sundry points they needed to make about our book. And while it did close sales for us, it wasn’t until it hit me to ask Kyle to be a bit more direct. “So, would you like to give it a try?” Boom. Sales. That simple shift in our line of questioning helps address the elephant in the artist alley. At the end of the day, yes, we all love comics and pop culture. But we are the business and you are the customer. If we’ve earned your business by presenting you with a product you find to be priced appropriately and contains written and visual content you find pleasing, then let’s do business. Otherwise? We happy accept “No thanks!” as your answer, and allow you to continue on your merry way. It’s not rude. It’s how we keep the lights on in the studio.

So let’s say now you dig that pitch, and find our price point to be fair. Well, let’s gladly upsell you! Unshaven Comics has cultivated a masters degree in the bundle sale. How? Easy! By tossing as many extra freebies onto a deal to make our customer happy. We always travel with collectible stickers, and poster prints (occasionally adding in some buttons as well). We’ve no qualms about losing a bit of profit off our bottom line if it turns a single book purchase into four. Soon to be five. And for those fans who are so sold on the books without the extra bric-a-brak? Well, we go ahead and still shower them in swag because it’s good karma. When new customers see the passion we have for our series, giving them that little extra thank you in the form of stickers and a poster is just a way we pay it forward.

And with that, you have the science to the sale. Our products attract a large swatch of convention goers. Our artwork and storylines are aesthetically pleasing. Our pitch is tight, and to the point. Our price is fair. Our upsell is ludicrously so. Each convention day sees us pitch to hundreds of potential fans. And typically we’ll see hundreds of books be moved. It’s through the hard work, hypothesis, analysis, and Immortal Kung Fu Monkeys do we see the success. And we’ll see you on the convention floor soon!

So, I have to ask…

Can I tell you about my comic book?

Marc Alan Fishman’s Ten Easy Steps To Make Justice League Great

 

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Welcome to LinkBait 2016, kiddos! After last week, I was left wandering the streets thinking “How can Warner Brothers make Justice League not just good but completely balls-out awesomesauce?” Well, here I am stuck in New York City (day job, baybae!) with nothing better to do than listicle my way towards freedom. Let’s break it down:

  1. Be Funny.
    If the teaser trailer thing they tossed at us via SDCC was any indication, this one may be in the bag. Between Batfleck’s quips to the angry Aquaman and the Flash’s quips to Bats… I laughed more in two minutes of footage than I did after watching all of the DC films combined.
  2. Stop Brooding.
    Can we just state the obvious? Batman v. Superman and Man of Steel were chores to survive through. With rain and darkness and death and crying and smoke and ashes and pain and lasers, we’ve now sat through about five hours of tragedy shaded by angst. Simply put, we don’t need any more of it.
  3. Open up After Effects and turn off all filters.
    Forgive my insincerity to any of the directors of photography, art directors, and cinematographers who worked on the previous films. They were ugly brown-blue nightmare-scapes. For the love of Rao, please just up that saturation. Want a guide? Open up a comic book. I realize the brands need some consistency. But when your competition can level a city in broad daylight, and still have bright blue skies, it proves you don’t need to muck up the screen just because there’s a fight going on.
  4. Remember: Nothing is truly ever solved by punching.
    Listen, I don’t want to keep beating the “Marvel’s doing it better” tree too often, but I need to call a spade a spade. The Avengers? The day was saved by sacrifice. Civil War? A stalemate and respect for common sense. Heck! Guardians of the Galaxy? Friggen friendship, love, and having Kurt Russel alien-DNA. Consider it your blueprint: the Justice League needs to beat whatever villainy that arises with their wit, their courage, and their unwavering compassion for humanity. Simply put, only martial arts movies get away with winning by using better punching.
  5. In Media Res… Love It.
    We don’t need anyone’s secret origin. Not anymore. The movie-going public has been well-versed now by a decade’s worth of them. Start us ready to assemble… err… gather the League and save the day.
  6. Aquaman will be cool if you play it cool.
    We all know Aquaman is a pop-culture icon for morty hero-dom. But what makes him awesome isn’t the tattoos, Samoan looks, angry grit, or massive pecs. It’s his confidence. It’s his heroism. It’s his humanity. It’s clear that Momoa’s Arthur Curry is an intense individual. That’s fine. But he need not be a snarling snarky shark-man to garner favor with the lowest common denominator.
  7. No one believes Superman is dead.
    Well, you sorta’ let that cat outta the bag quickly, didn’t you? So be clear, and to the point. Bring him back. Spare us the mullet and/or black costume and give us the big blue boy scout America has been begging for.
  8. Wonder Woman must be the force to be reckoned with.
    Up until now, Black Widow has been the super hero little girls are looking up to. But she’s a complicated character who’s been buried behind the bigger toys in the toybox over at Club Mickey. DC has the opportunity to steal the title of best female hero and bury Marvel in that respect. Wonder Woman stole every scene she was in back in Sadman v. Badman. While we know she’ll soon get her own solo flick to flood the cinemas with aspiration. But in the team setting, she’s set to break out and be the biggest, baddest bitch of the bunch.
  9. The villain needs to matter.
    To date, Marvel’s malevolent mad men have been shallow at best, save only – perhaps – for the lukewarm Loki. DC’s rogues frankly spank Marvel’s ne’er-do-wells on paper. It’s about time they proved it. It looks like Darkseid may be the big baddie. And all it takes is boning up on how he was portrayed in Justice League: Unlimited and Superman: The Animated Series. Simply put? Darkseid is the better Thanos. DC has the opportunity to spare us seventeen ten-second teasers to get to a true villain. Roll out the parademons and a few Apokolyptian lieutenants for larger fight scenes, and you’re golden as a Kirby panel.
  10. Go ahead and tell us this is a multi-verse.
    There’s no better way to make all the fanboys lose their minds then to say Arrow, Flash, Supergirl and (to a much lesser degree) Gotham could exist and travel into the movies, and vice versa. With all the goodwill being built on the CW thus far… those whoops, hollers, and rounds of applause will come if people got the notion Grant Gustin and Ezra Miller would ever run across one another.

So, ComicMixers… what would you tell DC and WB to do to make Justice League a movie you’ll crave seeing?

Marc Alan Fishman: When Page Does Not Translate To Screen

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The battle lines are drawn each time a leaked picture hits the web. The tattooed Joker. The dark-costumed Superman. The old-school-but-with-new-web-shooters Spider-Man. The Flash — the TV one or the movie one? Aquaman, a.k.a. the WWE’s Roman Reigns. Starlord by way of Han Solo. And whatever the hell Lex Luthor was doing with wardrobe from the porn parody of The Social Network. It sets the nerds on fire in heated debates and discussions. At their core, no true fan of a character can draw peaceful breath while their favorite character is reinterpreted by Hollywood costumers and art directors who totally do not even know what comics are!

And then the stories themselves! What good is Batman v. Superman when it seems like the writer’s room and director are hell-bent on cramming eight major stories into a single bloated cry-fest? Or what of Marvel basically rewriting the same script over and over, but changing the lead character to whatever name is on the title page, to fill in a roster spot for the next massive crossover planned in 2021?

And of course, the studios get their fair share of the blame. How many more retreads of the Fantastic Four will we have to sludge through until the owners of the license finally figure out they can’t make work? Who will tell DC that it’s not a great idea to take the notes on your universally not-loved picture and just apply them willy-nilly to the next movie in line? And I haven’t even scratched the surface on some of the indie debacles we’ve seen that utterly miss the point of their source material.

For every amazing adaptation like Sin City, Hellboy, Deadpool, and Iron Man, we are made to suffer through the muck of Ghost Rider, Catwoman, and Green Lantern. And in all of those cases, it’s seemingly impossible for the nerd masses to unite in love. And even sometimes when the creators totally get it right — Scott Pilgrim, American Splendor, or Ghost World — it doesn’t always spell mind-blowing blockbuster. Which in turn causes the studios to intervene and hire writers and directors to apply their “Hollywood Magic,” and thus we get Batsad v. SuperSerious: Dawn of RainFights or the recently released Batman: The Killing Joke of Barbara Gordon Having Sex With Batman, WTF!

So, how do we deal? Well, I’d say you take a page right out of John Ostrander’s book. No, please don’t tear up the man’s comics! John’s review of Suicide Squad was the best review of the film a fan could ask for. Why? Because John proved that one can love the source material separated from the film is winds up inspiring. What a novel idea! Taken without the source material in mind, Suicide Squad is a loud-brash-loud-angry-loud-bright-loud action flick. A decent one, in fact. Is it Hamlet? No. But it’s a good popcorn flick where things go boom, and the one-liners make you giggle. Are there better comic book adaptations? Yup. Plenty. But taken for what it is — an action movie that will tie-in to future action movies — it was a nifty romp.

This, of course, leads to my unanswered question of the week. How can we, the nerdiest of the nerds, separate ourselves from the horded minutiae of the pulpy roots we commit to memory that now morph into multiple new media? I am truly of two minds on the subject. I think immediately of an adolescent girl who sees Suicide Squad without any knowledge of the source material. I think how she walks away loving Harley Quinn. And I bristle at the thought. “How could you like that vapid one-liner spouting Hot Topic walking advertisement!” I chortle in my mind. But then, the counterpoint seeps in creepily behind the bluster. “If she truly loves the character, she might seek out more information, with which she might partake of Mad Love, or several other better interpretations of the character and come to love Harley more wholly!” And that my friends may end up being the grey answer out of our world of black and white.

We simply can’t blame Hollywood for attempting (and failing) to stick closely to the roots of any license they gobble up. They are in it to make money. That means casting Will Smith and writing Deadshot less like John Ostrander did and more in line with what puts butts in seats instead of eyes at the local comic shoppe. At the end of the day, the character is able to live in infinite iterations. The cream will always rise to the top. Lest we forget: Harley Quinn was made for a cartoon long before she was comic cannon. Starlord as a wise-cracking anthropologist with a love for scoundrels just looks and feels cooler than an uptight space-Nazi.

In a world where every comic has potential to become a great TV show or movie, we are actually allowed to have our cake and eat it too… so long as what makes it to screen is treated with depth, clarity, and care.

Marc Alan Fishman: Where There’s A Will, There’s A Way … To Fail

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For those following along with the never-ending struggle in my attempt to finish The Samurnauts: Curse of the Dreadnuts #4, it becomes clear that when I declare “Each comic takes about 250 hours to complete from concept to final print,” I’m being very serious. And with this, the last issue of the mini-series, 250 hours is a massive understatement. As I was lamenting on my social feeds how I was without topic this week – because I figured no one wants to really know my lengthy thoughts about Arrow given I just started on Season 3 last night on Netflix – the consensus spoke.

Chicago’s Resident King of Nerds, Elliot Serrano, made the pitch:

Dude, you’ve been going through all these trials with life and creating your book, talk about that. Talk about the process and what drives you to keep going.

And his suggestion was liked by numerous compatriots of mine. Who am I to argue when the masses (exactly three people) demand I share the secret inner workings of Unshaven Comics?

So, let’s start at the top, shall we? This issue was supposed to be done last November. December if I was being lazy. Here we are in August of the following year, and we’re still inking pages. I myself have three left. Matt has four or five. And then the whole thing needs to be colored, have special effects added, lettered, proofed, and then printed. Shortly thereafter, the whole mini-series needs to be compiled, bonus materials built, and the graphic novel (that 125 very very very patient fans have awaited) will be done too.

So what happened?

Well, Elliot, the answer comes in two parts as you suggest. First, the quality of the final issue. Issue 1 of the series was all about the setup. For me personally, the only challenge was a cold-open action sequence, and having to learn how best to draw my Samurai-Astronauts panel after panel. While, yes, I’d completed Samurnauts: Genesis the year prior to Curse, the truth is I used as many cheats as I could to get to the final panel. Speedlines instead of a background? Sure! But I digress. By issue 4, there’s no more room to hide. Every page is the last of major sequences. Major fights. Transforming Zombie-Cyborg space pirates. Super move after super move. And probably a story somewhere in there. For Matt? It’s page after page of giant robots fighting. Suffice to say, we’d bitten more off than we could chew, but would be damned if we let it beat us.

But if our own stipulation of making the final issue be as good as we want it to be wasn’t enough, life gets in the way. As detailed before, in several columns, both Matt and I each brought another child into the world some five months ago. While we didn’t carry the children in our beer guts (thank Rao…), it was no less stressful. Another mouth to feed is another blessing on your home (yes, indeed, Rabbi Krustofsky), it’s also not fed for free. Both Matt Wright and I have more than doubled our efforts in the work-a-day world; Matt has taken to Uber’ing for secondary sources of income, whilst I have taken on massive amounts of freelance web and print design. Both of us work solid 18 hour days, minus some of the weekend when we just get to play dad and husband. Somewhere without those 18 hours, we scrape, scratch, and claw to complete panels. We still meet every Friday night to work together. We still attend conventions – with Dragon Con coming in about a week, and the New York Comic Con a month later.

So, what of the process, and what drives us to keep going? Well, it’s perhaps a bit rote to say it, but it bears stating it anyways. What drives us is the same thing we assume all other indie creators; the thrill of selling our wares to complete strangers who get what we do and want to support us. We create because we can’t exist without creating. Since our friendship blossomed in the sixth grade (with the unmentioned-until-now-but-still-just-as-important Kyle Gnepper), we’ve spend decades creating and destroying creation after creation. It’s simply part of what gets each of us up in the morning. I could work 25 hours a day, and still need to make my own work before my head hit a pillow. And to that point, the process itself is even more predictable. We work. We don’t stop working. We second guess how deep the undertaking was every damned week. But then we look at the pile of pages of the best-rendered, best-written ideas of our young careers, and we yearn to see it in the hands of those who supported us.

Sometimes, it’s the simplest of answers that drive home the most salient points. We do what we do, because we simply couldn’t be ourselves if we didn’t. And while we’re not punctual, the proof will exist in print soon enough.

Please note that Unshaven Comics is declaring that issue 4 of Curse of the Dreadnuts will be debuting at the 2016 New York Comic Con this October, even if Marc and Matt end up working 25 hours a day until then to ensure it happens.

Marc Alan Fishman: Everything’s Better When You Relaunch

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It’s about that time of the year again for the annual Wizard World Chicago Comic Con. The show itself is very close to my heart. It’s the first comic con I ever attended as a fan. It’s where I went year in and year out to see DC and Marvel fight for comics supremacy. It’s where I went to grab bargains on lost toys and statues not found in my local comic shop. It’s where I’d attend numerous “How to Break Into Comics” panels every year and leave with my heart full of hope.

It’s also where my little studio, Unshaven Comics, would take the leap to the other side of the aisle and learn the fine art of the pitch. It’s where we’d learn that our future was with making books on our own terms and selling them to fans who appreciated the indie movement for what it was; where unpolished professionals honed their craft by presenting unbalanced final products with the hope of finding future success. This show has been, and will always be, our home show.

This is the first year since I can honestly remember where Unshaven Comics will not have a table. Let me make it known, of course, that my studio mate Matt Wright will be at the show, at the ComicMix table (Table 625! Come say hi!) to offer some commissions and maybe move a few books. But Unshaven Kyle will be visiting his mother in Ohio. And me… I’ll be at home. Working. OK. Maybe sulking a bit. Heh.

The reason? As a business, Unshaven Comics lives on the profits we earn at comic cons. But at this point our fourth installment of The Samurnauts: Curse of the Dreadnuts remains unfinished. With a hefty table cost and limited vacation days for the entirety of our threesome, there’s a commodity cost to doing said business. And with the dire threat of go big or go home, we need to have that final issue in hand by the time we make it to New York Comic Con this October. So, basic economics dictated our abandoning of the home show. Bigger risk begets bigger rewards. You dig?

Also… last year we were bitten by the DragonCon bug. The four-day excursion in Hotlanta netted us the second greatest showing at a convention ever, especially when compared to the table cost. Therefore, when we were granted a green light to return, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. Sure, Atlanta includes long car trips to and from, a potentially pricey hotel stay, as well as the general doldrums of being on the road. But with attendance that rivals NYCC, well… Bigger risk begets bigger rewards.

By abstaining from our home show this year, I’ll have time to plug away at the final pages of a soon-to-be-released comic. Without Kyle being available, we could never have seen the sales we would have needed to be profitable at a show the size of ole’ Wally World. As they like to say often on my beloved WWE… it’s what’s best for business.

But all that being said, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow. One that will go down easier knowing I’ll be able to break bread with EIC Mike Gold (and as John Ostrander notes, that means good BBQ) and the rest of the ComicMix crew that comes out. I know the show floor will be a little less bearded without me this year… but we all know the truth in comics:

Everything’s better when you relaunch the next year.

Suicide Squad: Marc Alan Fishman’s Conflict of Interest!

Harley Quinn GloveHello all. As I’m sure nearly everyone else here on ComicMix has given their two cents on the recent release of Suicide Squad (with the most important among us, John Ostrander, being the end-all-be-all in his review), I’d be remiss if I didn’t also drop a few opinionated pennies in the bucket.

My opinion of the flick, sadly, isn’t a high one. Had John – someone I admire so much as a writer, and cherish as a (dare I say it) personal friend – not been one of the sources by which David Ayer and his team built the Squad around? I’d really be inclined to say I left the theater unsurprisingly disgruntled. But I left at least with a snicker and some joy for the good things buried in the layers of bad.

Walking in, admittedly, my expectations were low. Given the bar to clear thanks to Batman v. Superman, all I really wanted was a film that could at least take a step back now and again to have a laugh and/or human moment. I didn’t need to see Deadshot and his dirty dozen eat gyros in Central City mind you, but I needed to be reminded now and again that the DC Movie Universe wasn’t all angsty rainstorms and mommy issues.

Walking out, I felt I’d been treated to – as my friend and comic shop owner Eric Garneau quipped — a two hour music video. Stuff exploded. One liners were dropped. A little depth and human emotion permeated a few of the Wall’s wicked wrongdoers. And I didn’t leave exhausted by most of the ham-fistedness of it all.

If I’m allowed to file some complaints… (And, duh, SPOILERS be ahead, matey)

Jared Leto may had thought going method was the way to really capture the Joker. But the inked and lovelorn desperate putz they paraded out during the film was hardly the clown prince of crime I personally love to loathe. As presented, he was a chalk white gangster without a soul. If it’s one thing every Joker before him has shown (and much of that comes with the script) is a depth beyond the forced smile and purple pants. In Suicide Squad, he served only one purpose: to grant us our Harley Quinn, the sexpot screwloose heart-of-the-team.

A secondary concern would pop up when it came to the obvious screen time of Will Smith’s Deadshot as well as the aforementioned Dr. Quinzelle. Clearly the studio loved how marketable each would be; Deadshot is basically a living action figure, and Harley is Hot Topic made flesh. But with each of them getting considerably longer stretches to dominate the film, the more interesting members of the team were left to fill fodder roles.

Had we not seen Captain Boomerang stuff the pink unicorn into his jacket several dozen times, would there even be much to the character as given to us? He was funny as he continually opted to try to half escape or drink beer, sure… But there’s far more to Digger than the movie opted to offer.

And what of Killer Croc or El Diablo? To me, Diablo stole the film, with his well-paced slow burn (natch) arc. It left me wanting to know far more about him. While Croc apparently was happy to be the muscle of the team who was always relegated to wide shots due to the budget clearly being spent on Enchantresses’ CGI maelstrom.

Which leads me to the last nit to pick. From the second she was introduced, Enchantress was truly used as nothing more than a deus ex machinsquad. Overpowered, over CGI’ed, and under-acted, I never believed for a second that the June Moon inside wanted our Not-Tom-Hardy Rick Flag. But the point is moot. She was there to give us a squad and produce yet-another-army of expendable computer monsters to bash. Meh.

For what it’s worth, I feel the need to end on an uplifting note. Much as John himself pointed out, so much of the success of this film would rest on Amanda Waller. As the Samuel L. Jackson Nick Fury of the DCU (who predates that actual character by several decades… thank you, John), Viola Davis was everything I wanted in the Wall and more. In fact, I hope we catch her rooting around every DC movie from here to the eventual Kingdom Come.

Ultimately, if someone were to ask me about Task Force X I’d pop in my DVD of Justice League Unlimited and show them how it was done as a masterstroke. Otherwise, I suggest switching your brain to mute, getting a large greasy bucket of popcorn, and just enjoy the madness. Suicide Squad is, to date, the best DC’s movie makers have yet to offer. Enough glints of hope exist for the casual fans to have a good time.

And hey, should the Squad return? Well, if it drops a few shekels of credit to John Ostrander… my next ticket will be bought in advance.

Marc Alan Fishman: “God, Where Are You Anyway?”

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Prior to it appearing on AMC (home of Meth!), I’d never been indoctrinated into the seminal comic book series Preacher. I long knew of its quality – nary a person within the geek-menagerie of every comic shop I’d lived in was without someone constantly droning on the merits of the Garth Ennis road-trip-opus. But much like many series of my middle-youth (Transmetropolitan, Fables, Sandman, etc.) I was far too much of a commercial whore to appreciate the boundary stretching sequential fiction that didn’t plaster its protagonists in capes and cowls. Luckily, I grew up.

We live in a gilded age of comic-to-mainstream-media. Even just listing the current crop of comic-based bounty choking our airspace right now could be an article unto itself. That Seth Rogan and his production team would tackle a show as complex as Preacher due to their love of the source meant good things. And let’s be honest: AMC rarely puts out less-than-stellar work. With a cast anchored by the formerly young Howard Stark – Dominic Cooper – and a commitment to not barrel into the world of Preacher without care produced a well-paced epic dramedy that soon moved from DVR fodder to appointment TV in my house.

For those not in-the-know, Preacher concerns itself with one Jesse Custer. Jesse is a bad man trying to make good. He’s joined by his long-standing love (and ball-busting, rocket launcher building, frozen vegetable cooking) Tulip, and the Irish vampire Cassidy. In the comic, we’re immediately in media res with the odd trio as they take to road trip to find (and pummel?) the Lord almighty. Instant hook, no? Well then what balls Rogen had with his team to spend the entirety of the recently completed first season to take a step back to do a bit of world building.

Most other critics (and my good friends throughout the social media spheres) felt that this choice – with a Southern-slow-as-molasses plot – was a yawn that lasted for plenty of episodes before the pace quickened. In my mind, this deliberate plodding helped create what many decent-but-not-great TV shows have been lacking as of late: an original tone. Look only to stalwart standbys like Arrow, or Agents of SHIELD for one-note (but still very entertaining) story telling. Here, Preacher professes to build the town of Annville, Texas one sad life story at a time. And we’re better for having to been made to soak it all in before the season finale.

Spoiler Alert. Turn back now, in case you’re shy.

By the time Jessie, Tulip, and Cassidy take off on their mission to find God (insert Blues Brothers reference here), Annville is a crater of ashes – a searing cloud of fart fumes and death. To have started out the series on this explosion would have been a lurid choice. By making us live in the town first, Preacher sets us up for so much more pain in the pending future seasons. That the town itself ignited amidst a miles-wide pandemic of sin merely served as the icing on a deliciously sadistic cake.

And all of this is beset by methodical and memorable characterization and astounding plot beats. Obviously owing the debt to the comics crew for the source material to draw upon, Preacher was a bold experiment in the boundaries of shows directed towards the semi-masses. Unlike the immediately engrossing Breaking Bad, here Preacher introduces the insane concept of Genesis straight away. While it would take us several episodes to get the full explanation, knowing that I can now tell a curious stranger about the show where the spawn of an angel and demon inhabits a criminal man of God, granting him the angelic/demonic power to bend a persons will to his words? Well, you don’t run across that much on TV. Join that to the notion that vampires are real, Heaven’s angels are inept hitmen, and God has gone missing? That all adds up to a striking series that I will egregiously wait for enthusiastically watch when the second season comes a’callin’.

All this and I haven’t even touched on Arseface.

Preacher gives me faith that our beloved comics will continue to permeate the masses in the best ways possible. So long as those responsible are beholden to the original creators? We can all say a little prayer that this golden era never ends.

Marc Alan Fishman: The Green Lantern Rebirther    

Green Lanterns                                  

With a wavering hand, I cracked the seal on Green Lanterns: Rebirth #1 and Rebirth: Green Lanterns #1. That was not a typo. Just the crazy dumb way DC Comics wanted to release the first pair of issues concerning their emerald knights in this new and lovey-dovey DC Comics era. I read both books while my four-year-old bathed.

“What’s that dad?” He inquired. “Dat Gween Wanturn?”

“Yeah buddy.”

“No, it’s not. Why there two? There not two Gween Wanterns…” Why indeed, Bennett.

Why indeed. Well, as Geoff Johns and new scribe Sam Humphries are rebirthing the GL universe, they start with two distinct directions. Stalwart GL Hal Jordan is called off-world to deal with yet another massive threat that threatens the Corps whilst Earth is defended by a pair of rookie ring slingers: the he’s-not-a-terrorist Simon Baz, and the shut-in-Marc-never-heard-of Jessica Cruz. BazCruz get the flagship Green Lantern book, whilst Jordan will get his own series. And never shall the two meet. Or maybe they will. Who knows?

Concerning myself only with the sans-Jordan book for now, yields a rocky – if promising – start. As I myself came into reading (and loving) DC books by way of Kyle Rayner, seeing rookie ring bearers makes me nostalgic. One of the tent-poles of DC has long been their ability to create legacy in their brands that feels fresh. As the generation that grew up with Rayner, Wally West, Conner Hawk, et al, seeing Baz and Cruz under the domino masks feels like a necessary breath of fresh air. With Jordan off-world, there’s a sense of the larger scale the Lanterns hold in the DCU. And it’s hard not to like the deeply rooted buddy-cop vibe within the new series.

Like all good buddy cop pieces, Baz and Cruz play well off of one another, in spite of the dual-narration script device that forces the reader into lonely territory. Both Baz and Cruz are still light in the loafers when it comes to their characterization. In spite of whatever past exists for them both, I myself here am basically a virgin reader. I read the very first arc of Baz as GL, and frankly forgot it all by the time I cracked the spine on Rebirth. In the broad strokes, he’s the brash, violent, potentially chauvinist ring-slinger prone to hurl a construct first and bark orders at his partner… than to assess criminal situations.

This pairs well then with Jessica, whose lone trait thus far is that she was a shut-in prior to receiving her ring. Normally I’d take pains to look her up on Wikipedia, but I consider this my test of Sam Humphries’ scripting abilities to win my eyes for subsequent issues. Cruz plays the role of good cop decently. She is seemingly more cautious and more curious than Baz. The interplay between them truly feels like a police partnership. When Cruz is shot in the chest with a shotgun by a Red Lantern human puppet (more on that in a second), Baz screams for his partner, but not in that rote Oh my! I loved you all along! way. It’s a scream of concern. No surprise the ring came in handy in ensuring Cruz wasn’t immediately construct fodder. It helps to show both of them being bad at their job.

And what of that job? The big bad of the issue(s) is the Red Lantern Corp leader, Atrocitus. Seems that the New52 wasn’t so kind to his legions, as we find him choking out lead lieutenant Bleez whilst he complains of the dwindling number of red recruits. Never mind the irony of nearly killing one of your own, mind you. Seems yet another prophecy (Red Lanterns love ‘em) about the “Red Dawn” is coming. Helpful then of course that Baz develops Emerald Sight. Apparently the Oans loved Thundercats. But I digress.

Atrocitus sets in motion the erection (natch) of a Hell Tower, as well random Red Lantern recruitments of normal Earth folks, turning them into angry bile spewing meat puppets consumed with random fits of rage. Useful I suppose, as it will provide ample opportunity for Baz and Cruz to decide between using maximum force on would-be rage monsters… or attempting to break the blood curses through less violent ways. And hey, worst case scenario? Baz carries a sidearm because he don’t trust whitey. Ugh.

Ultimately, Green Lanterns: Rebirth is a promising (if a bit slow / shallow) start to a new series. Rookie heroes make mistakes, which make for good drama. Having two obvious minorities filling the role of Earth’s Green Lanterns add a ton of potential for new perspectives on old problems. The potential here is enough to sign on for more. Whether Humphries can deliver on the police procedural structure while delivering originality and depth will remain to be seen… like so much of Rebirth thus far.

I’m optimistic for the future.

Is Marc Alan Fishman Throwing in the Towel?

Isolation

It’s typically around this time of the year where I admit to you that I feel like giving up on comics. On reading them. On writing them. On drawing them. On attending the innumerous conventions. On being so far on the outskirts of the industry I want so badly to be right in the center of, it feels like the mountain between success and where I stand is nigh insurmountable. Truly from this vantage point, I can’t see even beyond the first plateau before reaching menacing storm clouds.

Why so glum, chum? Well, for starters… My own book, The Samurnauts: Curse of the Dreadnuts is just killing me. Between a full-time job, a plethora of freelance work, and two full-time children? My energy reserves around 11:30 begin to wane heavy. If I can ink a single figure in a night, I call it a victory. For those who play the home game, even know that Unshaven Matt Wright and I dedicate Friday nights to just Unshaven Work. But after we compare war stories of being husbands and fathers, after we go over what we did and didn’t catch on our DVRs (when we, you know, have time to even watch them), after we look at one another’s (lack of…) progress from the week before… well, we scribble, and scratch, and dream of the day the book is done.

Funnier still, we are all actually really wanting to start our next projects when this book finally gets done. Natch.

Beyond my personal book woes, comes the inevitable pangs of being far out of reach of the Mecca of comic-dom, the San Diego Comic Con. Unshaven Comics made one single attempt to get in, on a whim. We faintly heard the show-runners laughter booming from our south-suburban Chicago homes. To see the various postings, announcements, and general hilarity that spews forth from that geeky humanity bomb brings those deep seated resentments all indie creators must feel from time to time: Why not me?

And pair that with that that feeling where you’re elated for your fellow creators when they have a huge announcement (David Peterson’s Mouse Guard being greenlit for a movie, or knowing they’re filming Chris Burnham’s Officer Downe, or that Katie Cook is just minting mini mountains of money making work for Star Wars and some other properties she loves)… but then look back at your professional résumé and silently weep a bit. Natch.

It’s usually around this time I take stock of what all my little studio has accomplished. I look to the four complete Samurnaut books that have sold thousands of copies. I sift through memories of Baltimore, Charlotte, New York, Columbus, Kokomo, and Detroit. I bask in my Facebook Friendlist literally choked with true friends made solely because me and my two best friends decided to make comics and sell them. I inhale all of this slowly. Repeatedly. I squash those doubts, fears, regrets, and pains from my mind.

So we’re not in San Diego. Doesn’t mean we can’t do it next year. So Samurnauts isn’t minting us movie and merchandising deals. The first trade will be done in time, and ready for the public before the end of the year. Once that’s in our burly paws? Well, that’s when we can do more than dream. And when it comes to those jealous flashes from our friends and associates success; well, that’s met quickly with an old adage from the WWE locker room. “When those on top are over the most? Then it’s good for all of us.” The more comics continue to dominate TV schedules, movie releases, and merchandising meccas… the more demand there will be for more content. And so long as we believe that our content is worth the look? Well, we’ll be ready if someone ever does come a calling. And if they never do? Well I will still leave with thousands of fans, legendary friends, and a lifetime of memories.

With all that in mind? Consider the towel back on my shoulders. That’s the good part of being down. So long as you believe in yourself…

There’s always hope…

But for real, if Trump is elected, there’s no hope. Pack your things and meet me in Canada. FanExpo is great, aye?

 

 

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