We thought this was settled by now. Certainly Marvel Comics should know it. But apparently not. In the recent trade paperback, Spider-Man Fights Substance Abuse, we find this blurb on the credits page:
The creators of Spider-Man, Storm, and Power Man are unknown.
Apparently, Marvel is having some substance abuse problems of their own over there, or this is the latest salvo in the Disneyfication of Marvel where they decide they own everything, and it was all created by nameless workers.
Since some people at Marvel appear to be on drugs themselves, let us make this perfectly clear:
“…and I’d also like to thank the guy who parks my car on Wednesday nights and the waiter at the Chinese restaurant we ate at last month and, oh, I almost forgot – forgive me – the young mom with the wild mane of reddish hair at the deli counter yesterday, oh lordy, she was gorgeous! And who else? Mr. Electricity Man who puts the electricity through the wires so my television set can light up with pictures and stuff and…”
On the subject of the television: the one that’s in the room above my head will, within the hour, be colonized by show-biz elite because this is the magic night when my sweetie and I part video-viewing company. She’ll be watching the Academy Awards and I’ll be…doing something that isn’t watching the Academy Awards. Why? Well… I feel consternated by mountain-size helpings of glitz and besides, no superhero movies are up for any of the prizes. (Those Hollywood philistines! Didn’t they seeThe Green Hornet?)
Though the red-carpet trodders do have things in common with superheroes. For openers: costumes. Listen, I’ve been to Hollywood – I’ve even been to three movie studios – and people don’t wear stuff like that on the street. Just as Batman only dons his cape and cowl on certain occasions – often involving dark rooftops and maniacs – these performers apparently wear their special finery on ceremonial occasions – maybe only this ceremonial occasion – and then shed it and put on, you know, clothes. And the wearing of it doesn’t even please everyone: expect the snarkfest to begin late tonight and continue through tomorrow’s cable news cycle: eyebrow archers who probably have AFTRA union cards commenting uncharitably on couture, coiffure, décolletage, footwear, anklewear, wristwear, neckwear and, if someone is just a tiny bit daring, even underwear, providing all the glorious entertainment of hearing a couple of preadolescents discussing the best looking child in the seventh grade who, of course, isn’t them.
Costumes not enough? Then add masks. Oh, not the kind of masks you wear on Halloween, nor the kind that Catwoman and Spider-Man wear to work (unless one of the trodders decides to make a Fashion Statement and harvest really major snarkery.) The masks I refer to are not donned, they’re applied with brushes and pencils and powder puffs and fingertips and…I don’t know…trowels?
Like our superheroes, these actors have something to hide – insecurity? pimples? – and I don’t think we see them at their best on Oscar night. Weirdly enough, we do see them at their best when they’re most hidden – when they’re saying others’ words and, in some cases, even mimicking others’ gestures. When they’re doing their jobs. That’s how I like to enjoy them, how I like to remember them, as wonder workers who can, however briefly, transform my world and maybe and brighten my existence for the two hours I sit in darkness.
My pick? I thought you’d never ask. I gotta go with The Artist. By the time you read this, we’ll know if I’m right. And you can do me the favor of not giving a damn.
Every year for almost 20 years (since I was 5, Jean) like clockwork I give a party at Comic Con.
Every year like clockwork I host a dinner at Comic Con.
Every year like clockwork I host The Black Panel at Comic Con.
Every year like clockwork I hear from people I have not heard from since last year looking for an invite to my party.
Every year like clockwork I hear from people I have not heard from since last year looking for an invite to my dinner.
Every year like clockwork I hear from people I have not heard from since last year looking for me to put them on The Black Panel.
Every year like clockwork I hear from people I have not heard from since last year looking for me to get them a hotel room or a pass to Comic Con.
Comic Con is in July. It’s only February. The requests don’t usually start until a couple of weeks before Comic Con so I’m a few months ahead of the game.
Well, this year I’m nipping all that bullshit in the bud.
No.
The answer is no.
No.
No. No. No.
NONONONONONONON0NONONONNONONONO.
Hell, no.
No, if I don’t know you, you cannot come to my party or my dinner and you certainty cannot not be on the Black Panel.
Regarding the party and dinner, I don’t care who told you they could get you in. You can’t.
They lied.
Let me explain something to those who are among the many who ask of me the above. Like I said in last week’s article, the Comic book industry is a business. It’s part of the entertainment business. Comic Con is not a place where those who are serious about business come just to hang out.
Comic Con is where deals get done, relationships are cemented, partnerships are explored, opportunities are exploited and money is made.
When you operate at a certain level Comic Con is not a place where you hang out with friends and look for that copy of Spider-Man you had as a kid.
No, Comic Con is a place where you come to solidify and grow your business.
So, no, you cannot come to my annual party, person I don’t know, because it’s business.
Do you think the club my party is at is free?
No, no it’s not. So why, person I don’t know, should I grant you admittance when you don’t even know what I do? What possible reason is there for me to do that?
Do you think the dinner I have is free?
No, it’s not. That dinner costs thousands of freakin’ dollars.
Do you think that the ash can book you drew makes you worthy to sit on The Black Panel?
Really?
Go to www.theblackpanel.com and check out the alumni. Once you do, ask yourself if you really think you belong in that group.
I’ll help you out with that one, no.
Like I said last week, comics are a business. Yes, I have fun at Comic Con. That fun is usually at around midnight while sitting at the bar at the top of the Hyatt with 30 or so other hard working comic professionals getting blazed on shots of tequila.
But before I can have that fun I have to spend months setting up the party, the dinner and the panel and that is not fun.
That’s business.
So the answer is no.
However, if Mark Turner (Yes you, Mark) is at Comic Con this year he is invited to anything I’m doing because he gets it.
Hot off the lips of far better men and women than I (aka all the other ComicMix columnists) comes a little discussion weighing in on all this legal mumbo-jumbo going on in comic-book-land. Not to be outdone (remember when I lit a wee fire under Michael Davis a few weeks back?), I figured I’d let loose a few witticisms on the injustices being faced by far too many comic creators these days. Or just as every week, I’ll bury my foot in my mouth making wild assumptions, and asking dumb questions. Either way, you’re entertained… right?
For those not following the drama, read a few posts (such as here and here) and catch up. Basically Gary Friedrich got torched by Marvel for having the gall to turn a pocket out to them now that Ghost Rider is making them a few greenbacks. Gary isn’t alone in doing this. The creators of Superman did it. The family of Jack Kirby did it. And even over in the land ruled by Robert Kirkman, his longtime friend is doing it. And in all the cases, there seems to be a very simple precedent: When the check was cut to these creators for their initial involvement, signing it waived their rights to own their creation. Before the 1980s these checks had the contract right there on the check. I assume in the Kirkman case there were contracts and papers and lawyers, etc. In any event, for a small-time creator like myself, it’s scary and sad to read. A large part of me is angry. A smaller, more Jewish part of me is saying “Didn’t they know what they were signing?”
Please note, I am Jewish. So, it’s cool for me to go there.
Honestly, I’m torn on the subject. On one hand you’d figure that the person who did the legwork creating something should see the eventual fruit of their labor, when the money starts flowing. Would Marvel or DC be anywhere near as big as they are right now without the hard work and creativity of guys like Jack Kirby, Bob Kane, Bill Finger, Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, and the rest? The short answer: Hell No!
Creating a character that becomes a cultural icon, even for five minutes, takes real skill. And a suitcase of money doesn’t make Spider-Man’s rogues gallery, or designs Superman’s iconic costume. When the profits from the Spider-Man franchise, or the Nolan Bat-Franchise started rolling in, is it wrong to think that the person who initially created the character be able to see a little cash come their way? Certainly, as a compassionate person, I say of course. I’m not looking to be a communist here, but seriously, are a few shekels sent to the Mr. Friedrich when Nic Cage’s movie sells a few pairs of Underoos really going break Marvel’s bank? I doubt it.
On the other hand… if the paperwork is all signed, these creators are up a creek without a paddle. When I signed on the dotted line for my car, it’s mine. Even if I hate it the second I take the keys from the salesman… I’m stuck with it. Not a perfect metaphor, but I think my point is clear enough, no? When Gary, or any of the aforementioned creators were given their assignments from their editors… was there not a discussion about compensation? Assuming there was, it’s really on the head of said creators to know exactly what they are getting into. At the end of the day, if you sell your soul to the Devil, there’s no way out of Hell. Even if everyone agrees that you got screwed. It’s your name on the dotted line, and it’s your duty to read every word above it.
Face facts, no comic book artist or writer I know is living in a mansion, with extra money flowing out of their pockets. The fact is as I write this very column, I’m scouring Craigslist for freelance gigs in hopes of earning a few more bucks so I don’t have to send my wife back to work, so we can barely pay for daycare for our son (who is only a few weeks old). If Marvel or DC came calling at my door right now and told me they wanted to offer me a book, I’d sign papers so fast they’d need a fire extinguisher to cool my hands off.
Why? Money. I need it. They have it. And I’m safely assuming most anyone working in comics before me was in the same position. And therein lies the problem. The bigwigs behind these publishers have all shared the same evil grin behind their creators’ faces. Having the rights to the characters means raking in all the money from all the avenues open to said characters. Movies, TeeVee, T-shirts, action figures, sippy cups, night lights, toothbrushes, online fan club memberships, cereal, and oh yeah… comics. There’s no doubt in my mind that those with the cash have maintained the mentality that it’s their money, and they’ll hold onto it by any means necessary.
Remember that whole #OccupyWallStreet thing? Well, I’m certain the people behind the people behind the people at both the House of Ideas and the Brothers Warner aren’t in the 99%.
At the root of all this is the human factor. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and when you need to pay a bill, you do what you have to do to pay it. If the check is sitting on your desk, and all that stands between your next meal is your integrity, do you starve with a belly full of pride? Do you go the route of Robert Kirkman or Mike Mignola, and take your million dollar ideas to places where they let you keep your soul? Well, it’s different for everyone in comics. And when the good guys like Paul Levitz (see John’s column) step down, who will be there to fight for the little guys? Cause let’s face it… the second someone turns heels and walks away with their idea, there’s a line out the door and around the block of people waiting for a chance to walk right in.
Followers of the Alternate Reality Game hinted at in the recent trailer of “The Amazing Spider-Man” have been watching the web site markofthespider-man.com to play along as people found backpacks from Peter Parker and followed clues and instructions to tag certain locations with Spider-graffiti and take pictures.
Now those efforts have born fruit as the tasks have been completed, and we’ve all been rewarded with a new clip from the film.
The film opens July 3rd and stars Andrew Garfield, Emma Stone, Rhys Ifans, Denis Leary, Martin Sheen, and Sally Field.
The countdown clock has ticked down, and there’s a new message:
So, you’ve found us.
If you support us, if you support Spider-Man, now is your time.
Follow the Twitter accounts of our operatives in each of these cities. They’ll tell you where to go to uncover the next step. For this pursuit we ask that you please be over the age of 18.
So I found myself with a bit of time to kill while my wife and mother-in-law went out and about for lunch. My week-old son and I decided it was time to enjoy a bit of cable TV goodness. A quick surf left with me few options. Food Network was showing yet-another cupcake show… USA was playing that episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where his wife is a shrew and his mother annoys him, and TBS was on Tyler Perry’s Black People Watch Everything I Put Out, Not That It’s Good. And FX? Callooh-Callay! They had on the Fantastic Four movie from a few years back. Given that I was still sporting half a nerd-boner for the Super Bowl Avengers spot, and the recent web-release of The Amazing Spider-Man trailer, FF seemed like the perfect way to wet my whistle for a bit of comic goodness.
Granted, I’ve seen the movie a few times. Saw it opening weekend, and didn’t hate it. Didn’t love it either, but somehow, it was one of those guilty “Hey, if it’s on, it’s really not that bad is it?” pleasures. A few hours later, my favorite ladies returned to a house with both their boys rife with a case of the cranky pants. I’m pretty sure my son Bennett had pooped himself. I didn’t have a mess in my trousers, but I had a tear in my eye. Seems I crossed that threshold where the movie stopped being “worth” the free cable viewing, and slid right into “Good lord, people paid money for this crap?” zone.
I could spend the remainder of this column dissecting how putrid the FF movie ended up being. But it’s old-hat, right? So, why not make this a turn for the positive. I’d like to outline four things Marvel can do to reboot the familial franchise into something… dare I say… more fantastic.
1. Explore the emotional origins as well as the basic plot points. We all know the bullet points by now, don’t we? On an outer space adventure… they got hit by cosmic rays. And that moment changed forever… in the most fantastic ways. No need to fear, their here… just call the four! Sorry, it was a damn catchy theme song. Suffice to say, the rocket ride with Kirby dots isn’t ALL that the origin of the FF is. You have romance between Sue and Reed. You have Ben, the stalwart pilot. Johnny, the joker, and comic relief. While these points were hit on in the last iteration, we miss the history. Use flashbacks (ala Batman Begins) to enhance our emotional ties to the characters. It’s not a race to the whiz-bang-special effects, when you have solid characterization. And each of the Four present a solid opportunity for fun beats.
2. Ditch the “We’re learning to use our powers until it matters at the end” montage. Face it. What killed Green Lantern (OK, one of the things that killed it…) was the age-old power development plot line. A solid 45 minutes of the last FF movie spent time building the revolvers it would later shoot at the movie’s climax. It’s just not needed. When you cross over into the sci-fi, plausibility takes a backseat to adventure. If we took time to dissect the fact that Luke Skywalker was able to get a shot into a teeny hole on a battle station that decimated nearly all of his backup (who were all far more experienced fighter pilots)… we’d go mad. Once you accept that “Comic Rays” can turn one man into a walking pilot light, and another into silly putty, you don’t need to spend an hour back-peddling to make us “believe” they’ll know what to do when it’s clobbering time.
3. The big villain? Mole Man. Follow me down the rabbit hole if you will. Batman Begins took a venerable B-Lister in Ra’s Al Ghul as its first antagonist. It was a smart choice. As Nolan said in countless interviews, the villain suits the arc the hero takes across the movie. In Spider-Man 2 (easily the best of Raimi’s Marvel contributions), we got a brilliant update on a pretty mort-worthy villain. And because Peter was learning to have balance in his life during the course of the movie, Doc Oc was a perfect foil. The Fantastic Four have a pretty decent rogues gallery. It’s easy to want to jump immediately to Doom or Galactus. But the first in a franchise needn’t aim so high. In both cases, those villains would outshine the stars of the film. First and foremost, it’s the FF that people should be ooohing and aaahing over. With Mole Man you have an obvious foe who will test the Four and their ability to become this odd family unit of world-savers. The villain fits the arc, as it were. Plus, it gives us a chance to recreate that iconic first issue cover on the big screen. And you know that’d be the bee’s knees.
4. Casting. Most every comic book film lands an amazing cast… even if they don’t get utilized properly. I didn’t hate anyone in the last FF iteration per say, but let’s be honest – Ioan Gruffudd looked OK but lacked the cockiness-by-way-of-supreme-intelligence. Jessica Alba was there for eye-candy only. Chris Evans stole the show, Michael Chiklis looked the part, but had no Yancy Street swagger. Ole’ Blue Eyes needs have a definitive balance between boisterous banter and tragic pathos. Some of this could easily be the scripting, but let’s say I was a casting agent? I’d cast accordingly: Jon Hamm as Mr. Fantastic. Uma Thurman as Sue Storm. Breaking Bad’s Aaron Paul as Johnny Storm. And Brendan Fraser as Ben Grimm. Hamm can pull off “the smartest man in the room, with ease. Thurman is equally weighted when on screen (and can pull off shorter hair, and heroic). Paul can sling insults, and certainly could look the part… And Fraser, who I know most would say is a stretch, is built big, can pull off a New York accent, and has more potential than most nerds give him credit for. And as my Mole Man? Paul Giamatti. He’s damn good in everything.
So there you have it. I know a new FF movie is already in the works… here’s hoping someone over at Marvel is trolling my articles, and a few of my hopes and dreams gets swept into the pre-production fracas. What do you think? Voice your opinion below, true believers!
Now, a new Twitter feed @markofspiderman has popped up, along with what appear to be latitude and longitude for comic book stores in New York, Atlanta, and Denver, noting that property of Peter Parker has been lost.
What was lost, we don’t know yet. But as soon as we hear, we’ll let you know– right after we sell our tips to the Daily Bugle, of course.
Of course, if anybody finds anything interesting, our “Contact Us” form is right at the top of the page… or you can comment below.
The Amazing Spider-Man comes out July 3rd, and stars Andrew Garfield, Emma Stone, Denis Leary, Rhys Ifans, Sally Field, and Martin Sheen.
UPDATE 5:35 PM: And now he’s losing things in Phoenix… are we sure it’s not Nightcrawler teleporting all over the country?
UPDATE 6:15 PM: Hello, Seattle… we’re listening.
UPDATE 6:37 PM: According to @dag_kurt, he’s gotten to one of the Atlanta locations, where he found a backpack. Photos to come.
For those of you who have never been Catholic, here’s a quick definition of patron saint, via the invaluable Wikipedia: “A patron saint is a saint who is regarded as the intercessor and advocate in heaven of a nation, place, craft, activity, class, clan, family, or person…(They) are believed to be able to intercede for the needs of heir special charges.”
I mean, when you think about it superheroes and patron saints have a lot in common. Both are dedicated to helping the good guys (though the definition of “good guys” is liable to change) and both have powers that help the aforementioned good guys. You’re Lois Lane falling from a window, you yell and here comes Superman to prevent you from splatting. You’re a Giants fan, you want your team too win the Super Bowl, you pray to the appropriate saint and – yay Giants.
Okay, maybe your saint didn’t affect the game directly – though who knows? – but he or she obviously had some influence on the final score. I mean, saints obviously have a lot of clout. And these things are, by their very nature, mysterious.
Now, I don’t know if there is actually a patron saint of football, or a patron saint of the Giants, or of the New England Patriots, but if not, these surely are blanks easily filed in. If we can put a man on the moon, we can give he Patriots a patron! And by the way, there is a patron saint of athletes: St. Sebastian. So what if a Giants fan and a Patriots fan both prayed to Sebastian? Gee, another darn mystery…Maybe whoever prayed loudest?
We’re going to ignore “pagan” deities, who had a lot in common with both saints and superheroes because…well, this is a Christian country! (I believe I heard a guy wearing a suit on television say that, so I know it has to be straight.)
And that brings us to patron superheroes, though there really isn’t much to say about them, once you acknowledge the similarities between saints and superdoers. It’s just a matter of dotting the I’s and crossing the t’s, and you can manage that on your own.
But to help you get started, here’s a brief, off-the-top-of-my-head list of heroes and what they might be patron of.
Superman – immigrants.
Plastic Man – politicians.
Spider-Man – entomologists.
Green Arrow – acupuncturists.
The Human Torch – arsonists.
Invisible Scarlett O’Neil – wallflowers. (No relation, in case you’re wondering.)
According to Britian’s Daily Mail , authorities have discovered white cobwebs on nuclear waste at the Savannah River National Laboratory, located at (go figure) the Savannah River Site in South Carolina.
The Defense Nuclear Facilities Safety Board (did you know we even had a Defense Nuclear Facilities Safety Board?) says “The growth, which resembles a spider web, has yet to be characterized but may be biological in nature.”
Where did it come from? And… where have we heard this story before?
According to the omnipresent “experts,” any living creature inside in the pools of “safety” water would have been exposed to the nuclear fuel and could have evolved into a new species. It turns out there is a bacterium that scientists call Deinococcus radiodurans (normal humans really don’t care – thus far) that is so resistant to radioactivity that it has been reengineered for use in the treatment of radioactive waste. So, I guess it’s possible that the spider that weaved a web, if it indeed is a web, could have survived to… oh, say, bite a wandering science student.
Which, as we all know, could give him the proportionate power of a spider. Then again, it’s probably more likely it would simply kill the poor bastard.
Or… then again… the whole thing simply could be a really nuanced promotion for the upcoming Spider-Man reboot.
Either way, you can’t be too careful and ComicMix recommends our South Carolina readers invest in some bug spray.
