Comic Boulevard

Hello internet! Welcome back to another episode of Deconstructing Comics. Let’s get to it!

When I made Narrative storytelling one of the three major “buckets” or “piles” of deconstruction I understood that it was a very broad term that contained a variety of different elements within it. It is an entire field to itself with its own tools and science all within the greater umbrella of creative production. My last couple of articles focused on the other two categories of deconstruction in their general terms, but for this one I am going to zoom in a little bit closer. I am going to focus on specific elements of the Narrative category and examine their function and position and action within comic book mechanics. I will separate and present each of those elements individually, looking for things like characterization, themes, tone, or stuff like gathering cohesive plot points, context, dialogue ripples etc. The focus for this month’s article is Character.

Characters are one of, if not the main draw to comic books. We read stories about Superman because he is awesome and we want to watch him perform super heroic acts. A lot of comics succeed and endure solely because of their characters, rather than their plots or thematic messages. If you were to read a comic book with the intent to distill the character parts what would you be looking for? How would you read that book? That is the thesis of this article. That is the cut of a comic that we are going to cook today.

Primarily, this episode applies to main characters, not the supporting cast, because a comic only has so many pages to express itself and it will budget more for a main character than a secondary one; therefore, there will be much more meat to chew on in a deconstruction. That is not to say you cannot distill a supporting character from a comic, only that if you do you will have less in your cup to drink than if you distilled the sweet nectar of a main character.

To demonstrate my argument I chose The Watchmen, specifically the character of Rorschach.

The Watchmen, Moore and Gibbons, DC Comics 1986-1987

Distilling Rorschach from The Watchmen

To distill a character from a comic you have to conduct multiple readings in order to penetrate the baked layers of a work. I don’t mean read the book multiple times in a row. What I mean is to read the book for different purposes. In your head you detect each element and interpret their meanings dynamically. Take every scene, every piece of dialogue, every movement and action and tediously scan it bit by bit looking to see if it relates to, or speaks to, the purposes you are reading the book for. Basically, we are asking a series of questions to define the character. You can do this all in one go. In our case, we are reading The Watchmen to see Rorschach.

In a first “reading” of The Watchmen (remember, I don’t mean reading as in cover to cover, I mean how you comprehend the work) we ask who is he and what does he do? We then sift through the plot and illustrations to find a broad sketch of Rorschach. These things are presented on the surface as a foundation for the character, his personality and his position as a hero in the comic book. We construct an impression of the character.

We find his two defining character features to be an uncompromising morality and a reputation for violence. If you were to define Rorschach, those are the first two things you would say: he does not compromise and he is violent. We learned these things by his words and his deeds. What does he say and what does he do. Ok, that is level one Rorschach, a distilled self-contained sketch of the character. But there is a greater meaning to him and a depth beneath the surface. How do we get at that?

In a second reading you would look closer at how he behaves; do his deeds match his words? How does he describe himself? How do his friends and allies and enemies regard him? How does society describe him? How does he react to opposing values? How does he handle success, defeat? This is different than a level one reading because at first you would only ask a couple of question and then be on your way. Here you look for greater meaning and greater context. We learn how he fits into the world and the group he acts with. We learn what the people think of him and how he feels about that. The purpose of the second reading is to create a three dimensional biography. The main point of the second reading is to ask “what if this character was real?” A real person is not solely their words and their actions. They are emotions and relationships and decisions and mistakes and energy levels and social statuses and etc.

These are the things a comic creator has to take into account for each of their main characters because these are the ways in which a character will bloom in a work. If they are solely level one then they are one dimensional (as in, here is what they look like and here is their actions in this scene). A character with multiple dimensions has a backstory, has relationships, has positive and negative memories both within their self and with others (an old friend could criticize them, or they could reflect on a past mistake in context of a current decision etc.) This is exactly what we find with Rorschach.

In The Watchmen, we read that Rorschach is a renegade vigilante disobeying the law of the land but adhering to a very strict moral principle. He is terrifying and confusing for the average person in that world (if we lived in the city this is what we would believe about Rorschach too.) We learn about Rorschach not just from watching him investigate the Comedian’s murder, but how other people speak about him. We hear from others about his response to the Keene Act. We gain insight into his personality and his past through the effort of his prison therapist, how the man becomes disturbed and emotionally soured by interacting with Rorschach. A character is not just who they are and what they do, they are how they interact with others, how they affect others, how others affect them and regard them. Rorschach’s determination affects Nite Owl and the Silk Spectre back into their old hobby of vigilantism. A character’s backstory falls into the second layer of reading as well because it offers reasons for being, purpose. Why is Rorschach a vigilante? Why is Rorschach non-compromising? Why is Rorschach violent? These questions are answered in the bulk of the second level of a character. We read further into the character to create them as a real person.

This brings us to the third reading of character deconstruction. In the third layer, you would ask what the authors use the character for. You would ask why does he exist? What does he mean? What does he symbolize, represent? We interpret the character.

The Watchmen is a great work for this kind of reading because it contains a wealth of ideas and questions and scenarios. We have a world on the brink of nuclear war, an emotionally detached demigod (maybe even deity?) and a swelling tide of criminal and gang activity. Of all this, we have a group of people who believe they are trying to save the world by reprising their profession as vigilantes. As far as characterization, it runs the spectrum of super-human to broken defeated human – from Dr. Manhattan to Nite Owl.

This would be a great opportunity to get into a discussion on the meaning of The Watchmen, to debate what the finale means (the grotesque alien monster that is Veidt’s answer to the Gordian knot of geopolitics) and what the creators intended. I would love to do that. However, that is not the focus of this article and so I am going to strictly argue about the meaning of the character of Rorschach.

We, the reading audience, learned before that Rorschach is uncompromising and violent, but does he still uphold that when he learns his teammates collude with their morally twisted-yet-convincing opponent? Yes he does. And so, at his core he is, really, the only true hero of the whole work (based on his response to the finale of the comic). The main characters of The Watchmen claim to be heroes but we find them flawed and flagging. The comic presents him as a psychotic murderer, hated by the police and population, socially distant from his own hero group – yet Rorschach is the only one who maintains his virtue. He is the only one who put his money where his mouth is to give his life for the cause.

Rorschach is an emotionally flawed and psychologically demented character who cares the most about humanity and proves to be the most heroic. That sounds like a contradiction. Maybe that’s the joke? I believe that Moore and Gibbons intended Rorschach to be a paladin-type character in a world of stupidity and apathy. It is his actions and deeds that will ultimately reveal the hoax perpetrated by Veidt and the Watchmen team. Rorschach, despite his traumatic youth, despite his ostracization and persecution at the hands of the police, despite the fact that most people are terrified of him, is the only one who truly does the right thing. He is the only one who opposes the villainy of his ex-teammate Ozymandias and who pays for it with his life. Rorschach, for all his paranoia and murder, proves to be the solitary, stalwart defender of humanity.

I argue that Moore means to say that a person can claim to be heroic (in the case of the vigilantes), a person can even have godlike powers (in the case of Dr. Manhattan) but ultimately it is the act of upholding and defending your principles – even at the point of ridicule or death – that makes the person a true hero. You could say, ‘duh, everyone knows the definition of a hero,’ but just look at the other characters and how they behaved. Look at Rorschach in comparison to those other characters. The other “heroes” felt embarrassed, guilty about their role, some abused their power (The Comedian), others could care less about the dangers or the conspiracy poised (Dr. Manhattan) but none possessed the purity of cause or the clarity of purpose that Rorschach had.

For a third level reading, then, we learn that the creators used the character of Rorschach to express a point about heroism, morality and making choices about your principles and values. The Watchmen is a super-hero comic book with only one hero: Rorschach. His drive to solve the murder of the Comedian, his actions and his sacrifice offer a greater meaning to the whole of the work than the visual elements or the craft.

If Rorschach was a slice of The Watchmen birthday cake here are the layers you would find: top layer) he is a noncompromising violent maniac, mid layer) he is regarded as a maniac and a criminal to society and the government, his friends semi-trust him but think he is an extremist, bottom layer) the creators intend him to mean that although being morally staunch is extremely difficult and often opposite to what society demands, doing so is the true virtue and the ultimate heroism.

Welcome back to our show. This month’s topic is “My favourite visual story ever!”

As I say frequently, the comic book medium has the ability to tell multiple stories simultaneously. In the way of visuals, majority of the time they serve as illustration to the main plot or to emphasis the dialogue/narration. The visuals tell a story complimentary to the plot. Not often, they tell a story independently. In the case of this month’s edition, I am going to showcase my favourite example of when the visuals told a story separate from the plot/dialogue occurring on the page.

So here’s my favourite visual storytelling scene ever: the second last page in All Star Superman #1:

All Star Superman #1, Morrison, Quitely & Grant – DC Comics 11-2005

There are two stories being told on this page. Story one carries the plot and expresses the dialogue. It is a follow-up to the arrest of Lex Luthor on the page before (this is what Lois is speaking about in panel one) and it is a moment for Superman (in Clark Kent disguise) to field his emotions about death – particularly his own death. Story two is the visual story. It establishes, develops and concludes in the background of panels one to four. This is the story the December Edition celebrates.

The visual story is, while Lois and Clark are strolling home from work a man’s life is rescued by Superman while in disguise as Clark Kent.

All Star Superman is filled with moments like this that occur simultaneously while other action goes on, but I enjoy this one the most because it is a really incredible scene and a masterful show of skill by the team behind the work.

Since this series is called “Deconstructing Comics,” let’s deconstruct this page!

Panel One establishes all of the pieces of the visual story. Here we see the integral character, the man walking his dog, and the root cause of the danger, the monorail. At this point, as far as the audience knows, this is a simple scene with Lois and Clark chatting and walking home.

Panel Two begins the action. Here Clark bumbles into the man walking his dog. First we assume that Clark is just being his regular old clumsy self, as this is the way Superman reinforces his disguise. However, this panel is unassuming until we see the next panel. We do not realize what happened (that Clark knocked over the man on purpose) because as far as we can tell it was just Superman performing Clark Kent. But then –

Doesn’t a huge piece of metal (at least what looks like an exhaust pipe and a catalytic converter?) fall out of the sky and crash right on the crosswalk. The man is upset, Lois is mouthing back and Clark shies his way out of confrontation. No one is the wiser. This panel causes the audience to ask the question, “where did that piece of metal come from?” Yet we still do not get the full effect until the final piece of the puzzle, the conclusion to the visual story.

Finally we see the monorail zip by overhead and some pieces hanging out, indicating that the debris from panel three detached from the train.

Though the page progresses forward in plot and dialogue the visual story progresses backwards. Panel four answers the question, “where did that debris come from?” which is asked in panel three. Panel three answers the question, “why did Clark knock that guy over?” which is asked in panel two. All of it derives from the scene set up in panel one.

This page an excellent way to show us that even while disguised as Clark Kent Superman is still an active hero. He just has to use more subtle and sly methods to accomplish his goals. Superman in his Kryptonian costume is the overt way of his heroism, but covertly as Clark Kent he can perform clumsy actions that result in saving a man’s life. Not unlike a skilled drunken master, who performs martial arts in a manner imitating inebriation but is actually a very fluid and powerful martial artist.

I love this scene most of all because of the fact that nothing about it embellishes or screams out that Clark just saved that man’s life. If we did not slow down to piece the visual story together we would have missed it entirely.

Not every artist and creator installs scenes like into their work. Whatever we are reading we have to be sure to slow down and “read the visuals” just as carefully as we follow the plot and hear the dialogue. It is the same for hunting for visual clues. So much can be revealed quietly in the background if you are paying attention and so much can be missed if you rush through it.

This page is part of the reason why I started to deconstruct comics in the first place. It taught me to carefully read the visuals to see if they reveal or add anything to the plot or, like in the case of All Star Superman, tell a story all their own.

Dr. Strange #1, Aaron & Bachalo, Marvel Comics 10-2015

There are two reasons why I feel that it is fitting to use Dr. Strange as the premiere comic for deconstruction. Reason one, Dr. Strange is one of my favourite characters and so doing a deconstructive read allowed me to spend a lot of time with this book. Reason two, just as this article is the launch of my new project, so is Dr. Strange #1 the launch of his new series! We march forth into the weird together.

Before we continue, I assume that you have read Dr. Strange #1. It is likely that through the deconstruction process much of the story will be spoiled.

If you read the article preceding this one (the Preface Edition) then you will be familiar with the categories of visual, narrative and craftwork that I will be sifting out of Dr. Strange #1.

I was going to move through the book in sequence with you but I think that that might be troublesome so I am going to instead do it categorically. Also, I will try to be brief rather than thorough (as I originally intended) because it would both ruin the experience of discovery for you and also turn this article into a novel. I haven’t decided one-hundred percent how far in depth I’ll go yet, though, so let’s start with this amount and see if we like it.

Let’s start with a reader’s first pull to comics, the visuals!

Visual

The best aspect of visuals to start with is exposition. This means the way in which the visuals tell a story. I will present two of the book’s best uses of visual exposition before moving on to the next aspect.

The first you will encounter is throughout the prologue. Dr. Strange is in the thick of combat against the Free Rovers and we note the heavy presence of teddy bears and sunflowers in the mix. At first glance these images are background, incidental and maybe even scenic clutter. It isn’t until we see the establishing shot of the boy’s room that we make the connection. Looking back at the action scenes we see how they detail that a) the teddy bears and sunflowers indicate the location of the astral battle, that of within the boy’s soul and b) that the teddy bears and sunflowers are fighting with Dr. Strange against the ghouls, indicating that the boy is as much a participant in the fight as Dr. Strange is. Without using a single piece of text, these visuals express a great deal of the action. They are a second story amidst the prologue’s narrative.

The second piece of visual exposition is after the prologue where Dr. Strange activates his third eye. The panels become black and white except for new characters only seen by him. Two stories are being told here. First, the change in colour reveals to us a glimpse of the other world. It is not a major change in environment, but it does not need to be because the combination of the third eye on his forehead and the black and white background tells us that we are no longer looking at our ordinary plane of life. The colour and third eye are visual signals that we’ve changed locations. Second, the manner of the new creatures also expresses this new world. Narratively they speak of microbes and bacteria while visually they resemble ocean life. Resembling fish and coral is a way to say that we do not notice the other world just in the same way that fish do not notice they live underwater. It is a visual analogy using comparable organisms – the spirits as fish.

Style can mean many things and stylistic choices can be used for different reasons. Without writing eight-hundred words on style alone, I’m going to quickly point to an easy example of this aspect and then get to further things. Although I used colour palette earlier as a visual exposition, it also counts for style. Additional to black and white as the means to express another world, the colours used in the Bar with No Doors evokes an eerie supernatural environment. It is a stylistic choice to use purple and green and tawny to describe this location. Colour is a language of style. It breeds atmosphere and mood (which are visual and narrative elements).

Narrative

The second major draw to comics (maybe third), next to art, is the characters. Characterization is a major form of comic storytelling, if not the central drive (depending on the publisher?). Visually we are told that this is a modern Dr. Strange by his fashion (soul patch moustache combo, Cloak of Levitation turns into a scarf) but more importantly we can learn who he is through his internal monologue and through dialogue.

Characteristically, we learn he has traits such as confidence, courage and sincerity (he saves the child from possession without accepting any payment or compensation, he accepts the challenge to help Zelma) but also undertones of self-doubt (trembling hands comment, his hard-boiled egg speech to Monako) and vulnerability (socializing with wizards “who will still talk to him”). There is also a tinge of sexuality to this version of Dr. Strange in the way he flirts with the Lady Soul Eater. As the first issue of this new launch we cannot know how the traits will inhibit or propel Dr. Strange forward, but we can begin to count their threads and follow along.

If we were to grab a spoon and stir this soup around, we would see some bits of tone spinning about. There are many exhibits of tone in Dr. Strange #1, primarily humour and pathos, with a bit of impending conflict. The character of Dr. Strange quips and plays with the other characters (his foes, his friends and Zelma). We are supposed to find emotional sympathy with the child in the prologue, the old man in Act One and Zelma in Act Three who are all innocent and defenseless characters (another reveal of Dr. Strange’s courageousness) and also with Dr. Strange himself, who is the sole stalwart against the forces of the other worlds. I say impending conflict because they dropped ever so subtle lines and hooks, but really gave nothing else until the final five pages. If it was not for the epilogue we would only have caught a whiff of the conflict to come in the series. But the hints of conflict shape the tone of the work. We know there is some kind of doom coming (repeat: “the coming slaughter”) and so we cannot take this book to be all laughs and tears.

Craftwork

Let’s split the book apart to find key craftwork examples. The plot is carried visually, narratively and mechanically. The mechanical aspect is craftwork. Each portion of the structure contains action and questions that lead to the next part until the book’s end. One way craft is operating is how the phrase “the coming slaughter” is used as a thread throughout the book. It is quoted in the prologue by Lady Soul Eater, it is teased in the activities of Dr. Strange and it is the final hook of the series opener in the epilogue called “The Coming Slaughter.” It is used like a crumb trail from the forest to the lodge. It sets up the next story in addition to being the initial lure for this one.

Two more aspects of craftwork we see employed are pace and layout. I put them together to save time and because they work together to service the story. Pace simply means the speed at which the story is told. Contrasting the pages of the prologue with the remainder of the book, the prologue moves fast and exciting with visual elements such as a spread and the full and half page panels, also using slanted frames (or no frames at all) to remark frantic movement. Visually, the action and the layout denote the pace. Having some images larger than others, some characters in certain positions and using the layout (frame and panels) to show pace are craftwork choices. The motion of the plot is felt by the use of craft.

My favourite craft piece in this book occurs in the first two pages. Page one triples as the origin story of Dr. Strange, a harkening back to the heritage of the character (the background), as well as a spring board to launch the character into a modern tale of his own (the following spread page). Being the first issue of a new series, this single moment lands a very strong concrete block for all issues to come. The craftwork here uses visuals (the background) and narrative (captions) to evoke the feeling of the new launch of Dr. Strange. The audience is clearly aware of it because of these pages. That’s some pure craftwork going on right there!

It is easier to find strong examples of each of these categories in a premiere issue because the book is responsible for initiating a series as well as captivating the audience for the contained story. We find both long term arcs operating interwoven with the small arcs. It is exciting to determine which are which and where the story can progress from here!

If you have any recommendations for a book to deconstruct by all means share it with me. I look forward to doing this again next month! Until then,

Coming to an internet near you, Brass Knuckle!

Brass Knuckle is one part sci-fi, one part parody, all parts awesome! Echoing the legend of Helen of Troy, MMA fighter Brass will have to exit Earth’s orbit to rescue the blonde bombshell Hotrod.

Brass Knuckle will be digitally published by the fine folks at Expired Comics AND will be promoted at the Ottawa Comic Convention this weekend! I will be attending the convention with smiles and high fives. If you are in the area, come by to say hello!

You can buy the comic on Google Play, iTunes and through PDF Direct. A Comixology version is coming soon.

Check out this link to the Brass Knuckle official website for more details! And be sure to follow us on Twitter and Facebook.

http://www.expiredcomics.com/brass-knuckle.html

Rocket Rights Movement

If you’ve seen Guardians of the Galaxy then you are no doubt joyfully endeared to Rocket. The film quickly established him as one of the central characters of the team and possibly the most sympathetic of them all. As a result of Rocket’s marvelous characterization, I went home from the theatre with a stinger in my paw.

In an intoxicated rant, Rocket revealed to us the emotional trauma he suffered because of his condition as a genetically modified being. We witnessed how upset he was by the way those around him treated him, mainly verbally. We learned that he was unaware that he resembled an Earth raccoon, and that he resented being compared to the species. It offended him greatly to be referred to as ‘rodent,’ ‘vermin,’ ‘hamster,’ and to the creatures Drax referenced as food. We empathize with him and understand his suffering at the hands of prejudice and ignorance.

The sting for me, then, is whether it is insensitive to call him Rocket Raccoon, rather than just Rocket? He does not know what a raccoon is, and even when he does learn I am certain he would feel even more insecure about his appearance. Calling him Rocket Raccoon is equivalent to other insensitive names such as ‘Fat Albert,’ or, ‘Gay Tony,’ etc. If attaching physical appearance or sexual orientation to a character’s identity is inappropriate, isn’t calling Rocket a raccoon just as wrong? We do not call Gamora the “Green Chick,” or Quill “The Dumb Human Guy,” because those terms taint their dignity as people.

If we are to accept the character of Rocket, to empathize with him and share in his struggle, we also have to accredit him his due dignity as a person. Going forward, I hope that we can see him as Rocket – just Rocket – instead of Rocket who happens to look like (or maybe even be made of) a raccoon.