Sat, May 24, 2003

There's a movie coming out this summer called The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and it will probably be pretty bad. The rumors are that the production was plagued by problems both logistical and creative, and based on how much buzz we've seen from Fox so far, they don't seem to be behind it that much. Which is a shame, because it's a fantastic concept. It's based on a comic book by Alan Moore (whose graphic novel From Hell was made into a popular film starring Johnny Depp), and the basic premise is that a handful of literary villains are drafted by some rich zealot to band together and fight crime in the late Victorian era. Allan Quatermain from his own adventure series, Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, Mina Harker from the Dracula books, Captain Nemo, the Invisible Man, etc.

When I first heard about the comic book (in relation to early reports about the film) I was floored. What a fantastic idea! First of all, I love the concept of an adventure film in the 19th century. Anyone can do "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," where everything's so removed that the past is actually futuristic. Here's the recent past. All full of hydraulics and steam power. It's somewhat like Indiana Jones; it's more fun if it's not modern. Also, the idea of characters from a series of separate literary works existing in the same "world" is vastly appealing. In film school, it was always my goal for me and my film school buddies to grow up and make films which intertwined ever-so-slightly, as in-jokes. (For example, if I have a film set in New York and Joe has a film set in New York two years later, a couple of my characters walk by in the background or something.) I'm tickled by the fantasy of interweaving multiple layers the fictional world.

To top that off, they've got Sean Connery in the movie which is delectable icing on any cake.

So, I dashed out to get myself a copy of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and do some catching up. Two things happened: one, I loved the series; and two, I fell in love with the comic book store. I'm lucky enough to live in L.A. where there is no niche market too small, so we have a comics superstore called Meltdown with a delightful little alien mascot designed by Daniel Clowes. (He wrote the graphic novel Ghost World is based on.) It's got enormous storefront space on Sunset Boulevard and it's huge and well-lit and staffed by cheery, helpful people. It does a lot to defeat the stereotype of the Comic Book Guy-type comic book guy. No dark, cramped, windowless store with a sloppy fat guy fantasizing about Mary Jane Watson. It gives me a great feeling to walk into Meltdown because everyone is knowledgeable in that pedantic comic book way, but not judgmental in that sarcastic comic book way. I'm clearly an outsider, but I'm not treated as one.

I don't have a lot of comic book experience. I had a couple of Justice League hardcover books that came with read-along cassettes when I was younger, but I never bought DC comics or anything. In college, a photography instructor turned me on to a book called Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud and I loved it. I heartily recommend it for anyone who's engaged in or interested in any visual pursuit: design, filmmaking, drawing, photography, comic books. It's a really fascinating overview of the philosophy of interpreting visual input. (I had strongly wanted to draw on some of McCloud's examples in my Matrix Week articles, but there wasn't room. In fact, there were so many things that I was excited about that didn't make it into Matrix Week that it led directly to Post-Matrix Burnout Week and my three-for-seven record this week.)

So, I was a comic-book newbie, but I had an appreciation for the craft and I definitely felt rewarded by my visit to Meltdown. The first five-issue series of the comic book had been released in a single volume, so I was able to read the full story straight through. The combination of visual design and storytelling in the same space grabbed me right away. It's like a movie and a book at the same time! I guess I'm not alone enjoying this, due to the recent spike of graphic-novel adaptations on the big screen. (From Hell and Ghost World were followed by Road to Perdition not to mention all the comic book superheroes moving to film!) I was enthralled by the story and the visual style and from everything I found online, Moore seemed to be a big favorite and an industry redefiner in terms of comics/graphic novels. Everyone seemed to think his graphic novel Watchmen was a must-read.

Well, I wasn't going to say no to another trip to Meltdown, so I stopped by there a few weekends ago on my way home from another adventure, and I picked up Watchmen and another comic-book series of his called Tom Strong. Both are very strong conceptually, just like Extraordinary Gentlemen. Watchmen explores a world in which superheroes are part of real life, and the cascading effects that ensue. The government's involvement, public reaction, etc. Tom Strong is about an inventor at the turn of the 20th century who wants to raise his son in the perfect environment, and retreats to an island locale where the boy can be raised in a pressure chamber to build his strength and other fascinating ideas. Tom grows up (fast, due to an earthquake in his dormant-volcano home that kills his parents at a young age; he grows old slowly because of an island root extract) becoming a famous superhero and making Millennium City his home for the next hundred years. He deftly protects its citizens from crime with the help his wife, daughter, robot Pneuman, and talking ape friend.

I'm only a few chapters into Watchmen so far, but I'm enjoying it a lot. Partly because of the fine craftsmanship of the plot and storytelling devices (and visual style), but mostly because of the new experience. A year ago, I might have been tempted to say "Graphic novel? Pshaw! I'll read grown-up books, thank you." But now I have a different perspective. It reminds me of the paleontology course I took in college senior year. Everyone else in the class had taken paleontology for four years, but I was just there out of interest. There's something about the just-getting-my-feet-wet perspective that makes it more invigorating. In this case particularly, I feel that I've proved to myself that it can be done. You can enjoy the world of comics without being the cliché Star Trek geek with the crates of mylar-bagged comic books collecting dust in the basement.

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