THE PERFECT SONG FOR MY CURRENT STATE OF MIND

"Wide Wide River" from the album "It Crawled Into My Hand, Honest" (1968) by The Fugs.

River of shit
River of shit
Flow on, flow on
River of shit
Right from my toes
On up to my nose
Flow on, flow on
River of shit
I've been swimming
In this river of shit
More than 20 years
And I'm getting tired of it
Don't like swimming
Hope it'll run dry
Got to go on swimming
'Cause I don't want to die

YE OLDE CARTOON MOVIE REVIEWS

(NOTE: "Wide Wide River" by The Fugs is playing on my computer as I type this, and HOO-BOY, is it ever appropriate...)

Dear Vaulities, there's a lot going on in the world of Yer Bunche and not all of it is necessarily good, so I'm glad that I have all of this stuff that I unearthed to act as content while I attempt to get things sorted. I'm personally okay, but there is stuff to be dealt with and I'll tell you about it when I can actually discuss matters freely. Anyway, here's another oldie; just double-click on the images to see them large.

LET THE PEOPLE REJOICE: THE FANTASTIC FOUR ARE ONCE AGAIN READABLE!!!

A stunning promo piece for what's to come this year. (Art by Dale Eaglesham with colors by Paul Mounts)

You may recall that almost exactly one year ago, after a lifetime of sticking by them through a number of arcs that were considerably less than stellar, I officially swore off reading FANTASTIC FOUR in the wake of the ultra-boring run scripted by Mark Millar (NOTE: Bryan Hitch's art was very nice and utterly without blame for my decision). As the dullness compounded itself on an issue-to-issue basis, it became too much for me to take and so I kissed the FF goodbye, an act of self-preservation that felt akin to severing a long-in-duration friendship that had long ago run its course and was now best left in the past. Then, a little over a week ago, my pal Amber alerted me to FANTASTIC FOUR #575 and how good that was, and she has a thus far unbroken track record for making solid recommendations for what and what not to read, so I figured I'd take her advice. I read FF #575 and the issue after that, and simply put, Amber's right. So right in fact, that I ran out and picked up the hardcover containing the issues that I'd missed from the current run.

The hardcover collection of the new creative team's first arc (FANTASTIC FOUR #570-574).

The new scripter is one Jonathan Hickman, and from his first issue on the book it is clear that he knows and understands the characters and how they're a family first, super-scientific explorers second, and superheroes last. Sure, they get into all manner of bizarre crap from which the end result is that they just so happen to save the world, but the FF just are not crime-fighters per se. Hickman wisely focuses on the family's close-knit nature and the normal dysfunction that is by far the most ordinary thing about the lot of them, so my attention was riveted. Reed is absorbed in his research to such a degree that it once again disrupts the stability of his status as a husband and dad, a conflicted Sue must weather Reed's unintentional neglect while also anchoring the whole of the extended family, Ben is the Ben that I have adored since childhood, and Johnny is just as much of a douche as always, only much better-written than usual. The Richards children, Franklin and Valeria, are also given some solid scripting and as a result they read like recognizable kids, something sorely lacking in their characterizations for far too long. Think about what it would be like to be the children in the FF family; your parents are famous, rich meta-humans with unlimited resources for creating Nth-degree technology and using it to explore virtually any realm conceivable by man (and then some), and your uncles are two of the most fun (and unashamedly sophomoric) knuckleheads out there, plus the daily sense of unbridled wonder would be immense, especially to a pair of under-tens. Hickman twigged to that narrative potentiality and has imbued the little ones with real personality and the dynamic between the older brother and little sister is both charming and funny, especially when considering Valeria taking the dominant sibling role thanks to her super-intelligence (she's smarter than Reed and she's maybe three, so think about that for a minute).

The first arc consists of Hickman settling into the writing reigns and re-introducing readers to the FF on a typical day in their lives. Reed's lost in thought, Sue is corralling the kids, and Ben and Johnny are figuring out which alternate reality they want to hit for their vacation, jibing at each other all the while. It's an opening that features everything I love about the FF; I care about them and am interested in them as people, and their superpowers and mind-boggling adventures are just spice to their family chronicle. A damned fun spice, but you get what I mean.

Once the family's characters are clearly laid out, the stories proper can get started, and in the first one Reed retires to his lab for a few days of deep thought, interrupted only by breaks for sustenance or sleep (something that long-suffering Sue is definitely not pleased about). While pondering what project to tackle next, Reed writes his goal on the already notes-scrawled wall: "Solve everything." Where that goal takes him leads to incredible possibilities involving Reed being offered membership in a brain-trust of many Reed Richards doppelgangers from alternate realities, and ultimately culminating is a rare moment of serious introspection and an epiphany fueled by flashbacks to his own childhood and a very sage piece of advice imparted to him by his father.

The second story takes Ben and Johnny to an alternate world for a vacation aimed at getting Ben laid (after an apparently bad breakup with his boring from-out-of-nowhere girlfriend from Millar's avalanche of boredom), but their plans go straight down the toilet when their destination turns out to be quite different than they expected and they must fight for their lives while stranded on a nigh-barren and very hostile environment as the alternate Earth makes its way on an inexorable course into a huge singularity that was once the Sun. Also compounding matters are Franklin and Valeria, who have tagged along because they wanted to spend time with their uncles on the vacation (a plan completely shot down in flames by their mom).

Ben, Johnny and the junior FF contingent of course eventually make it back to our world where, after a scolding from Sue, the whole gang celebrates Franklin's birthday (judging by the cake, I think he's supposed to be five), and other than a fun guest spot featuring Spider-Man, none of the usual destruction and mayhem occurs that usually mars such events in the Marvel Universe. Nonetheless, hours after the party, a mysterious stranger arrives, bypasses Reed's security defenses with ridiculous ease, and enters little Valeria's room, where he warns her of an upcoming war between four great cities. Causing her no harm, the stranger also tells her that she can tell no one of what she now knows...

The two monthly issues following the collected edition — issues 575 and 576 — waste zero time in bringing us two of the prophesied ancient cities and the fascinating creatures who inhabit them.

FANTASTIC FOUR #575 (cover by Alan Davis)

The first of the ancient cities proves to be an underground realm that's a leftover of CENSORED FROM THIS POST SO YOU CAN READ IT FOR YOURSELF and the FF's first adversary, the Mole Man, figures into the proceedings.

Issue 576 moves the action from underground to the deepest recesses of the ocean beneath Antarctica, where the FF encounter an underwater society with inhabitants descended from fish, Moray eels and crustaceans. After saving their city from the evil intentions of heavily-armed A.I.M. operatives in an impressive and silent deep sea battle, the FF are welcomed as friends by the fish-people and Sue ends up as the surface world's emissary on behalf of the newfound Atlanteans.

Yeah, they're another group laying claim to being Atlantean and the story ends with a text statement saying that Namor could not be reached for comment... (Cue ominous music.)

So much goes on in the just the last two issues, events that expand the playing field of the Marvel Universe to an appreciable degree, that I can't wait to see the next two cities and discover how and why they all end up in direct conflict. And please let the Sub-Mariner rear his arrogant head and bring some testosterone/ego-fueled action that will thrill both the readers and Sue alike (but for completely differing reasons).

Thus far I know I've stressed the story, because the FF are nothing without a solid narrative, but the art here, the majority of which is more than capably handled by Dale Eaglesham, with Neil Edwards providing Hitch-esque work on the Ben/Johnny'Franklin/Valeria stories, is very much on par with what Hickman's putting down. The art is clear and crisp, fun and engaging, and Eaglesham's Reed's face owes a huge visual debt to the Kirby-Sinnott era (a good thing in my book). Eaglesham is also not too lazy to draw Ben as a pile of ambulatory rocks in a blue diaper, thankfully not subjecting readers to the sight of Ben in those goddamned biker pants and boots. The guy also embraces the scope of the FF's adventures, a scope unrivaled by any other Marvel series other than the Kirby run on THOR until the Kree-Skrull War. Eaglesham's "camera" emphasizes the bigness of it all, sparing no well-thought-out detail on the lost cities, monsters, alternate realities, super-scientific tech and signature slugfests that make the Fantastic Four one of the true cornerstones of the Marvel experience.

The last ingredient in this carefully-crafted souffle of anti-fail is colorist Paul Mounts, a vastly talented hue-jockey who has been kicking ass in his field for years, but on this run of FANTASTIC FOUR he is imbuing life to each panel with a skill and palpable vibrancy that I have not seen on the comics page in ages. His work here has been exemplary, but I have to single out the work he provides on the underwater sequences in #576 for special praise. I've done diving in several spectacular locations, and Mounts' tones look exactly right to the eye of someone who's witnessed the wonders of the deep firsthand, particularly in regard to how the heat put out by Johnny looks when reflected off of undersea surfaces. Sheer visual poetry.

So the bottom line is this: If you're gonna have "fantastic" in the comic's name, it had bloody well better live up to it, and in no uncertain terms the "fantastic" is back in FANTASTIC FOUR in full-effect, and it's about goddamned time! Welcome back, old friends. You're looking great!

THE MAGIC OF SUBWAY GRAFFITI

The regular format promo poster for the upcoming CLASH OF THE TITANS remake.

As the remake of CLASH OF THE TITANS looms, poster ads for it have been popping up all over buses and the walls of NYC subways station platforms, each featuring a dramatic illustration of Perseus astride Pegasus as the fly into direct confrontation with the monstrous Kraken. It's not bad as these things go, but no subway ad is safe from marker-bearing vandals for more than three minutes, and even then only at Jesus o'clock in the morning.

The horizontally-formatted CLASH OF THE TITANS promo poster found in the subway station around the corner from where I live could not have been up for more than a few hours before it was merrily and surprisingly non-pornographically defaced by some Sharpie-wielding prankster.

When I passed the poster seen above the other morning, I recognized the handwriting as that of the unknown vandal who regularly victimizes the posters at my station, only this time his word balloons didn't have anything to do with sucking cock or the mention of particularly noxious farts emitted by the characters depicted. (Come to think of it, one would think that the wide-open mouth of the Kraken was just begging for a hastily-scrawled, crudely-drawn penis descending toward it, but I guess there just wasn't enough space for a hairy, wart-festooned John Bligh-style choad.)

The first of the balloons was simple, but good for a giddy giggle from a not-quite-awake me (double click on the image to see it large):

And the commentary from the flying Harpies was also amusing:

The slamming of Madonna is one of this vandal's repeating motifs, although he sometimes substitutes Madonna for Cher.

COREY HAIM FOUND DEAD IN BURBANK AT AGE 38

The Two Coreys: Corey Feldman (L) and Corey Haim (R).

One half of "the Two Coreys" of 1980's THE LOST BOYS (1987) fame, namely Corey Haim, was found dead in Burbank at the age of 38 of what is being called an apparent overdose. The official cause of death is undetermined, pending autopsy results. More details as they emerge.

BOOK OF THE YEAR!!!

What is there left to say about the unmitigated excellence of comics storyteller Jaime Hernandez that has not already been covered at great length since the 1980's and the advent of LOVE & ROCKETS?

I think I first saw Jaime's art in the form of various spot illustrations he did for THE COMICS JOURNAL during my high school years, and then someone handed me a copy of LOVE & ROCKETS #2, stating that I would probably like the art of both of its creators. I very much enjoyed Gilbert's stuff and to this day think he's probably the stronger writer of the two brothers (which is in no way to say that Jaime's a slouch, because their scripting is of two distinctly different flavors), but it was Jaime's crisp lines that made me stick with the book (to say nothing of his coming from a punk rock-drenched background like I did, only him being from California while I'm from Connecticut), and over the years I watched those two siblings from Oxnard grow into two of the most formidable graphic stylists in the history of the American comics medium. The quarterly wait between issues of LOVE & ROCKETS was a near-physical agony, but one's strained patience was always rewarded with a feast of quality unrivaled at the time.

Next month, continuing a streak of comics-related books that blow me away, Abrams books is issuing a simply stunning coffee table book celebrating Jaime's career and work that made this longtime fan salivate like Pavlov's dog. THE ART OF JAIME HERNANDEZ: THE SECRETS OF LIFE AND DEATH is everything that both the seasoned Jaime-follower and the newcomer alike would possibly want in such a chronicle. Loaded near to bursting with family photos, riveting insights into the artist's sensibilities, reproductions of scores of his classic imagery, and mouth-watering pages shot straight from the original art boards, this book is an absolute must-have that needs no further hype or explanation from the likes of me. Let it suffice to say that even though 2010 is less than three months underway, I already name this as the Vault of Buncheness' pick for BOOK OF THE YEAR. No bullshit, if I were forced to give up all but five books in my rather voluminous collection, THE ART OF JAIME HERNANDEZ: THE SECRETS OF LIFE AND DEATH would absolutely make the cut. Order it. NOW. HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION.

TWO MORE FOR THE AUTOGRAPH COLLECTION

My pal Jill the Otter just got back from Gallifrey 1, the gloriously geeky DOCTOR WHO convention in California, and she snagged me autographed photos of two of my favorites among the Doctor's many companions. First is Frazier Hines, who played Jamie McCrimmon, a smart and adaptable Scots Highlander from 1746 and one of the longest-serving companions (1966-1969 and three return appearances in 1984, 1985, and in archival footage in 1984).

Jamie is hands-down my favorite male to travel in the TARDIS and I keep hoping the makers of the current series will bring him back as his older self, simply because I would love to see him again.

Next up is Katy Manning, who played Jo Grant from 1971-1973.

Jo was one of the series' first female characters who was not the standard damsel in distress and she was always right there in the thick of things with John Pertwee's Doctor (my favorite of the entire lot). Long described as fun and kind of kooky, Manning apparently lived up to her reputation when Jill met her, and Jill claims she was both sweet and very funny. When I asked Jill to snag me the autographs from Gallifrey 1, I specifically asked for the now-infamous tasteful-but-completely-absurd shots of a nude (save for boots) Katy Manning draping herself all over a Dalek, provided she had those for sale.

One of Manning's infamous nudie shots with a Dalek.

From the info I've managed to garner, Manning posed for a series of these for a British men's magazine right after she left the show and unfortunately none were to be had at the con, but when Jill asked her about it, the sixty-year-old Manning reportedly smiled a huge grin and said in her charming accent, "Ooh, that one was rather naughty!" My kind of gal!

WHEN PUBLIC RELATIONS GO HORRIBLY WRONG

This one's something of both a classic and an unsolved Marvel Bullpen mystery.

During my first year as a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Bullpenner — not long before my daily existence was defined by shitloads of booze and weed — what follows was among the first examples of bizarre letters to cross my path. Editorial received the letter seen below after, well, it speaks for itself:

And what, you may ask, set off this offended reader? Here's the letter in question:

That letter obviously would never have been sent by anyone on the Marvel staff and no one by the nae of "J.P. Cardo" ever worked there, so I'm guessing it fell into the hands of a certain intern whose time at Marvel ended fairly swiftly due to his Bronx-bred general assholism. I have no proof of that, just supposition. But whatever the case, whoever wrote it gains points for rendering an otherwise sophomoric prank letter into a work of genius by making the "O" in "FUCK YOU!!" a Spider-Man head. Well played, sir!

HOLY SHIT!!!/WELL, DUH PART 7

Holy fucking sheepshit and jumpin' Jesus in a basket of chicken!!! THE HURT LOCKER snagged the Oscar! Sanity at the Oscars...who'da thunk it???

WELL, DUH PART 6

And a well-deserved Best Director Oscar win goes to Kathryn Bigelow for THE HURT LOCKER. Way ta go, Bigelow!