Tintin > Plastic Man

I'm going to be brief about the man of plastic because GOD DAMN it's weird. Actually, no, that's just about all I wanted to say. I'm a big fan of Mr. Fantastic (or as big a fan as you can be with a frame of reference consisting of the Venture Bros' parody character of a similar name), but I just can't get into this guy. He's way too into his own powers.

So screw it, let's talk about Tintin because I just spent a pretty solid chunk of my time reading "Tintin and the Blue Lotus" without realizing how late it had gotten. In general, when that happens, it's a pretty good sign that whatever you're reading is pretty freakin' good. I'd seen the movie from 2011, or maybe 2012 (I don't quite recall), and I did quite like the character of Tintin, but not quite enough to get off of my ass and read some old Tintin comics. My dad actually tried to get me to do so, as he'd read Tintin as a child whilst traveling the world as a military brat and related to him; I'm kind of glad that I can now talk to him about a big part of his childhood.

Anyway, analysis time. Not much to say about the art, as it's a gorgeous classical comic style that I can't really critique. It reminds me a bit of Asterix, and for some reason Beetle Bailey (though I'm not sure the reason for that... perhaps it's the Chinese military uniforms). One thing I will say about the actual content of the story that I'd read is that it seems fairly progressive as far as respecting other cultures goes. There's a distinct theme of orientalism among the white villains we're meant to loathe, and Tintin, whom we're meant to empathize with, is always befriending multicultural allies and commenting on how fascinating and respectable their societies are. I found that a bit strange for the time period, considering pre-WW2 wasn't the most tolerant of times. I'd say the work benefits from that, though; it really helps Tintin stick out as a hero with a heart of gold.

Side note, though... how old is he? He dodged a drive-by and beat the snot out of three burly prison guards in "Blue Lotus", so he's got to be some kind of weathered combat veteran.

-Will Avery

Krazy Konfusing

Well I must say, I've always heard of this "Windsor McKay" (hell of a name, huh?), and his "Little Nemo", but I'd never actually gotten a chance to read any. I've seen the cover of the animated film based on the series, but that'd been about it up until just now. Conceptually, I love it. As a child I was a huge fan of the show "Rugrats", which normally involved the imaginations of the infant characters running wild and mingling with reality -- clearly there's a similarity with Little Nemo, though you have to add in the context of dreaming. When you think about Nemo's situation realistically, though, I've just got to say that I feel so, so sorry for him. Nearly dying in your sleep on a nightly basis? Waking up your no-doubt furious parents so often that you'd probably have to endure several scoldings? Perhaps even be sent to a psychiatrist for your chronic night terrors? Count me out.

From an analytical standpoint, I've got one hang-up: the fact that there are speech bubbles in each panel, but also a narration of each panel at the bottom. Now we've all seen this before; normally this narration is used to provide context to what we're about to see ("Superman arrives at the bank and spots the crooks... with Dr. Mathews as a hostage!") or tie two scenes together ("Meanwhile, at the Fortress of Solitude..."), but rarely have I seen narration describing exactly what the visuals are already showing me in every single panel. It can get a bit difficult to read, too, as sentences will be cut in half between panels, often ending on "and" or "to, and that just makes me want to continue right on to the next scene without actually looking at the image yet. Contrarily, when I tried to read just the images, I felt compelled to double-check the narration to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Every time, I realized I'd already seen what I'd just read, and when I continue reading just to double back and take in the illustrations, I realized I'd already read what I'd just seen.

This strange back-and-forth process didn't affect my enjoyment of the piece, strangely enough (as I usually loathe repetition), so... I really can't knock it. Somehow, it works. Maybe it's because it meshes so well with the surreal "wait... what just happened?" kind of feeling you get when dreaming.

Now then, pertaining to the title of this post: Krazy Kat is weird. I also like it. Weird, though.

Goodnight.

-Will A.