The Last Headscratcher
Alan Moore is finished with comics. A scent of nostalgia in the air suggests that he may have announced something similar before, but this time it seems final. The British comics writer legend and his co-creator, illustrator Kevin O'Neill, are both ending their respective careers with the final six-issue instalment of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen saga which hit the stores last year and is about to be published as a graphic novel any time now.
In short, the series goes out with a headscrathing boom – a nice way to end anything, be it comics or careers.
It's incredibly hard to sum up the 20 years of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in any meaningful way for those who are not familiar with it. The crossover steampunk adventure comic with established Victorian characters and literary jokes quickly evolved into a tale incorporating scenes of harrowing sexual violence, wild experimentation and the most abysmally awful film adaptation of a comic in living memory. (Speaking of confusing ways to end careers, the movie was the last screen appearance of Sir Sean Connery who took the job after feeling bad for not agreeing to play Gandalf in Lord of the Rings.)
In 1999, the first miniseries Volume I laid the foundation for an intriguing storyworld: Bram Stoker's Dracula, Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, H. Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines, Robert Louis Stevenson's Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, H.G. Well's The Invisible Man, Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories and numerous other Victorian fictions are actually situated in the same alternate history. In this steampunk world, the British government assembles a team of operatives with extraordinary abilities to deal with exceptional threats to the empire. Wilhelmina Murray (or Harker), Captain Nemo, Allan Quatermain, the shapeshifting Dr. Jekyll and an invisible sex criminal form something of a Victorian-era Justice League to fight off Dr. Moriarty, an invasion or Martian tripods and what have you.
Along the way, the comic commented on Victorian attitudes, played with metafictionality and propagated Moore and O'Neill's distaste for authorities and superheroes. The first two miniseries published in 1999-2000 and 2002-2003 were mainstream successes – even if the metafictional play becomes quite complex sometimes, they are highly accessible stories. After all, reading Moore's episodic prose bonus features describing wonders from different corners of the storyworld and weaving together elements from hundreds if not thousands of myths, stories, novels and other sources from Moomins to House of Leaves were not necessary for enjoying the main storyline.
After Volumes I and II Moore and O'Neill could probably have kept milking the steampunk cow for a long time, but they chose to move the story in new directions instead. In the graphic novel Black Dossier (2007), they jumped to Britain in the fifties after the downfall of Orwell's Big Brother government, and in the album trilogy Century (2009-2012) they race through the 20th century, visiting Jack the Ripper years, the trippy sixties and ending up in the 2000s with computers, endless wars in the Middle East and Harry Potter who has become Antichrist.
In addition to the crazy plot points, Black Dossier and Century experimented with the comics storytelling. For the Black Dossier, Moore wrote a "disappeared" Shakespeare play in Shakespearean pentameter and recorded early faux rock and roll songs for a vinyl record to come with the album, whereas O'Neill's drawings representing the magical dimension of Margaret Cavendish's proto scifi novel The Blazing World have to be read with red-and-green 3D glasses. For the first Century album, they decided to go with a comics adaptation of Bertolt Brecht's socialist agit prop musical The Threepenny Opera – you may want to read Century: 1910 in case you're interested in why one of the characters is called Pirate Jenny in the new Watchmen TV series (but don't fall off you chair when the comics final apocalyptic fight scene turns into a burlesque cabaret show).
So, this sets the scene for Volume 4: The Tempest, the final volume in the series.
It starts where Century trilogy ended up: satanic Harry Potter is defeated, the misogynist MI5 agent and Black Dossier's antagonist James Bond is old and debilitated and the last remnants of the League – Mina Murray and genderbending Orlando from the Virginia Woolf novel of the same name – are adventuring together again. They are joined by MI5 leader Emma Night (from the British TV show Avengers) who chose to switch sides and team up with the good guys instead of government spooks.
To sum it up, all seemed to be more or less in order in the storyworld, all thinkable storytelling fireworks were shot in the previous volumes and the contents of most of the classics of imaginative fiction have already been crammed somewhere in the series. The obvious question was "is there anywhere left to go now?", but it seems that we didn't really have to worry about that.
After going through Victorian adventure fiction in Volumes I and II, a mishmash of earlier cultural history, Orwell and detective fiction in Black Dossier and occult stuff and children's fantasies in Century, Moore and O'Neill tackle the history of comics and superheroes, especially British ones.
It's an interesting choice for sure. Mostly The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has steered clear of the cultural history of its own medium, even if it has taken a deep dive in the cultural history of practically everything else. Of course much of Moore's bibliography has been thematizing comics history extremely hard – think of works like Watchmen, Miracleman (formerly Marvelman), Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?, Supreme and Tomorrow Stories – and a great chunk of Kevin O'Neill's body of work consists of brutal, polemic satires of superheroes and comics heroism like Nemesis the Warlock or Marshal Law (frequently created with writer Pat Mills). There is no shortage of comics going through the history of American superhero comics with some kind of a meta sensibility, but outside US there's still new ground to be covered, it seems.
Also, it turns out that discarding the super-misogynistic "Jimmy" Bond as a key threat was too quick a conclusion. Agent 007, even if he is barely alive and glued to a wheelchair and a breathing apparatus, is able to take back control of MI5 and raise some serious hell. He tracks the hero trio's journey to Africa where they take a dip in the magic pool of R. Rider Haggard's stories restoring their youth. With his henchmen (who are actually the Bond actors from different James Bond movies), Bond follows them, regains his young and able body and, being the murderous and sleazy character that the original Bond is, blows up the pool with a nuclear bomb, butchers Night's allies within the agency and gets ready to attack The Blazing World with weapons of mass destruction.
The plot is again a convoluted mess with Murray, Orlando and Night visiting different magical realities, meeting fictional characters like Prospero from Shakespeare's Tempest and teaming up with original Nemo's great-grandchild Jack Nemo. We see fairies performing the fictional Shakespeare play of Black Dossier, have to again tinker with 3D glasses and get to try to make sense of extremely obscure intertextual references. Which is what one would expect of the finale of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, I guess.
On the one hand, it's hard to not think that the comic goes a bit overboard with this stuff if you practically have to read it with a commentary website open, but the weird storytelling levels actually work out quite well and the series stays enjoyable if you're not allergic to scratching your head here and there.
The best parts of the narrative are not the plot twists – Prospero and the fairies might actually be out to wipe out humanity turning everything that came before in the series into a perplexing hoax scheme – but different comics pastiches. Some Bond sequences are presented as James Bond newspaper strips whereas other scenes are meticulous parodies of British girls' comics magazines and children's comics à la Beano. The last issue where we leave Earth takes the form of a 2000AD issue – it's the legendary British science fiction magazine which was instrumental in launching both Moore and O'Neill's careers, so it's a neat meta way to finish their time in comics business. In order to really get the meta levels up, the creators also enter the story in the last issue to attend a wedding ceremony with the art swiped from the Fantastic Four annual in which Stan Lee and Jack Kirby tried to get in to see Invisible Girl marry Mister Fantastic.
This time we don't get bonus prose features at the back of the comic books. Instead, there's a black-and-white comic-book-inside-a-comic-book thing which mimics a cheap British rip-off of early American superhero comic with characters who are actually real British rip-offs of early American superheroes. It's harder to explain than to read and enjoy, really, and I can't believe nobody had told me about the ice-cream powered superhero Tommy Walls who is actually a thing. Well, now I know!
I'm not sure if they will be included in the graphic novel but the comic books begin and end with editorials and letter columns by "Al and Kev" who shed light on forgotten British comics talents and answer letters (probably 99% of which are ghost-written by themselves). It's fun stuff in its own right and if it is dropped from the graphic novel I suggest you try to hunt the original floppies.
Twenty years from now when the present culture wars have been long forgotten, future readers will scratch their heads with letters like this but maybe it goes with the rest of the confusion:
"Dear Al and Kev: As a middle-aged conservative incel sitting wedged behind my keyboard, trolling Alexandra Ocasio Cortez with my Batman T-shirt covered with Pringles, can I just ask, with a straight face, why you're leaving the comics business? Yours,
Hiram J. Comicsgate III"
The Math
Baseline: 8/10
Bonuses: +5 for weird, weird, weird pastiches and other irresistibly crazy things from the dustbins of comics history.
Penalties: -5 for the fact that trying to spot references and obsessing about it takes a toll on the reading fun.
Nerd Coefficient: 8/10 – "well worth your time and attention"
POSTED BY: Spacefaring Kitten, an extradimensional enthusiast of speculative fiction, comics, and general weirdness. Contributor since 2018.
Reference: Moore, Alan & O'Neill, Kevin. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Volume 4: The Tempest #1-6 [Top Shelf & Knockabout Comics, 2018-19]
Showing posts with label alan moore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alan moore. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 29, 2020
Monday, June 11, 2018
Summer Reading List 2018: Spacefaring Kitten
Summer is horrible, horrible time. It's too hot, your fingers get sweaty, the pages of the books you read get sticky, sunlight makes it hard to read from a screen (and don't get me started on how sticky the screens get), plus reading with shades feels weird and sun cream makes everything even more sticky. However, good books have the power to alleviate summer discomfort slightly, and very good books can almost make a summer bearable, so reading is what I plan to do.
Here's some stuff I look forward to reading.
1. Harlan Ellison's The City on the Edge of Forever: The Original Teleplay That Became The Classic Star Trek Episode
Growing up, I was always more of a Star Wars than a Star Trek kitten, and I have watched ST only here and there rather unorthodoxically -- like only random episodes of Deep Space Nine and now Discovery. Lately I've began to think that if I can be a fan of hippiefied Jesus myths, it can't be too hard to get into an über-humanist space utopia as well. I also have an unhealthy affection for fannish melodrama and outrage, and therefore Harlan Ellison's original teleplay for the award-winning Star Trek episode The City on the Edge of Forever seems like a good entry point.
It's one of the most memorable episodes of the original 1960's series (or that's what I'm told), won a Hugo Award, and made Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and Ellison hate each other's guts for the rest of their lives. Ellison's script was rewritten several times by Roddenberry and others, and the angry writer reportedly even threw William Shatner out of his house when the lead actor was sent to appease him.
The edition I have in hand contains Ellison's bombastic introductory essay which is almost as long as the teleplay itself, plus shorter recollections of other people involved with the show. I hope it delivers some enjoyable roast as well as insights into what producing science fiction for TV was like 60 years ago.
2. The Battle of the Sexes in Science Fiction by Justine
Larbalestier
Even though science fiction is supposed to tell us about the future and be ahead of its time, historically it (and the surrounding community) have been only of their time -- if not outright change-averse and outdated -- when it comes to hard social questions. This is what I expect to learn from Justine Larbalestier's book-lenght study on femininity, masculinity, sex and sexuality in science fiction between the first issue of Amazing Stories in 1926 and James-Tiptree-Jr.-gate in 1970s.
3. The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin
I've heard N.K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy -- concluded last year with The Stone Sky -- is good. That's probably putting it mildly, because it has won all the awards there are (including two Hugos in a row), and whenever I happen to read something about it, it sounds like my favorite fantasy series: sociologically complex world, racial tensions, dark mysteries, and sort of superpowers. There's a good chance my pleasure buttons will be pushed, or else I'm in for a massive disappointment.
4. The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin
Do you know the feeling: an essential author dies and you feel bad for not having read a great and respected book of theirs that you should have in order to understand the magnitude of them not being around anymore? The Left Hand of Darkness is on a far too long list that includes works like J.G. Ballard's The Atrocity Exhibition, Iain M. Banks's Feersum Endjinn, Terry Pratchett's Small Gods, and dozens of others. Let's just hope Michael Moorcock and Gene Wolfe eat healthy and remember to exercise.
5. A Once Crowded Sky by Tom King
Tom King is one of the most interesting writers working in mainstream comics at the moment, and I still haven't managed to read his debut novel A Once Crowded Sky. The book is going to be six years old this July, and there's not much else superhero stuff on my TBR pile, so I guess it's a good time to finally take a look.
The Vision and The Sheriff of Babylon (not to mention The Batman/Elmer Fudd Special) are wonderful works but it will be interesting to see whether King can write a readable ungraphic novel. As far as I know, the book takes advantage of some self-referential superhero riffs (and which superhero novel doesn't?), so my expectations are somewhere between Watchmen and Astro City. Sounds good in theory, but the ground has been covered by so many others that pulling off something memorable is not easy.
6. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neill
The Tempest, the last six-issue installment of writer Alan Moore and illustrator Kevin O'Neill's saga The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen will start coming out in the summer. League is many things: the series started as a thoroughly enjoyable and thoughtful steampunk superhero romp with established literary characters (Volumes I-II) before diving into crazy experimentation ranging from faux Shakespeare plays and Orwellian porn comics (Black Dossier) to outré musical performances in comics form (Volume III: Century), and finally resurfacing as a mainstream-ish nazi-bashing adventure (Nemo trilogy) -- nazis being the followers of Adenoid Hynkel from Chaplin's The Great Dictator in this case.
There's a fuzzy line between becoming frustrated with Moore and O'Neill's obsessive meta-commentary and obscure references, and being blown away by the creators' weird ambitions and inventions. Often, it's hard to say which of these is one's primary state of mind when reading The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, but at least it's always interesting in some way. The work of so convoluted that a reread of the earlier comics is perhaps in order before tackling the final series. I happened to watch the extremely unfortunate movie adaptation with Sean Connery a while ago and I now have to get that out of my system.
POSTED BY: Spacefaring Kitten, an extradimensional fan of speculative fiction, comics, and general weirdness. Contributor since 2018.
Here's some stuff I look forward to reading.
1. Harlan Ellison's The City on the Edge of Forever: The Original Teleplay That Became The Classic Star Trek Episode
Growing up, I was always more of a Star Wars than a Star Trek kitten, and I have watched ST only here and there rather unorthodoxically -- like only random episodes of Deep Space Nine and now Discovery. Lately I've began to think that if I can be a fan of hippiefied Jesus myths, it can't be too hard to get into an über-humanist space utopia as well. I also have an unhealthy affection for fannish melodrama and outrage, and therefore Harlan Ellison's original teleplay for the award-winning Star Trek episode The City on the Edge of Forever seems like a good entry point.
It's one of the most memorable episodes of the original 1960's series (or that's what I'm told), won a Hugo Award, and made Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and Ellison hate each other's guts for the rest of their lives. Ellison's script was rewritten several times by Roddenberry and others, and the angry writer reportedly even threw William Shatner out of his house when the lead actor was sent to appease him.
The edition I have in hand contains Ellison's bombastic introductory essay which is almost as long as the teleplay itself, plus shorter recollections of other people involved with the show. I hope it delivers some enjoyable roast as well as insights into what producing science fiction for TV was like 60 years ago.
2. The Battle of the Sexes in Science Fiction by Justine
Larbalestier
Even though science fiction is supposed to tell us about the future and be ahead of its time, historically it (and the surrounding community) have been only of their time -- if not outright change-averse and outdated -- when it comes to hard social questions. This is what I expect to learn from Justine Larbalestier's book-lenght study on femininity, masculinity, sex and sexuality in science fiction between the first issue of Amazing Stories in 1926 and James-Tiptree-Jr.-gate in 1970s.
3. The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin
I've heard N.K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy -- concluded last year with The Stone Sky -- is good. That's probably putting it mildly, because it has won all the awards there are (including two Hugos in a row), and whenever I happen to read something about it, it sounds like my favorite fantasy series: sociologically complex world, racial tensions, dark mysteries, and sort of superpowers. There's a good chance my pleasure buttons will be pushed, or else I'm in for a massive disappointment.
4. The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin
Do you know the feeling: an essential author dies and you feel bad for not having read a great and respected book of theirs that you should have in order to understand the magnitude of them not being around anymore? The Left Hand of Darkness is on a far too long list that includes works like J.G. Ballard's The Atrocity Exhibition, Iain M. Banks's Feersum Endjinn, Terry Pratchett's Small Gods, and dozens of others. Let's just hope Michael Moorcock and Gene Wolfe eat healthy and remember to exercise.
5. A Once Crowded Sky by Tom King
Tom King is one of the most interesting writers working in mainstream comics at the moment, and I still haven't managed to read his debut novel A Once Crowded Sky. The book is going to be six years old this July, and there's not much else superhero stuff on my TBR pile, so I guess it's a good time to finally take a look.
The Vision and The Sheriff of Babylon (not to mention The Batman/Elmer Fudd Special) are wonderful works but it will be interesting to see whether King can write a readable ungraphic novel. As far as I know, the book takes advantage of some self-referential superhero riffs (and which superhero novel doesn't?), so my expectations are somewhere between Watchmen and Astro City. Sounds good in theory, but the ground has been covered by so many others that pulling off something memorable is not easy.
6. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neill
The Tempest, the last six-issue installment of writer Alan Moore and illustrator Kevin O'Neill's saga The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen will start coming out in the summer. League is many things: the series started as a thoroughly enjoyable and thoughtful steampunk superhero romp with established literary characters (Volumes I-II) before diving into crazy experimentation ranging from faux Shakespeare plays and Orwellian porn comics (Black Dossier) to outré musical performances in comics form (Volume III: Century), and finally resurfacing as a mainstream-ish nazi-bashing adventure (Nemo trilogy) -- nazis being the followers of Adenoid Hynkel from Chaplin's The Great Dictator in this case.
There's a fuzzy line between becoming frustrated with Moore and O'Neill's obsessive meta-commentary and obscure references, and being blown away by the creators' weird ambitions and inventions. Often, it's hard to say which of these is one's primary state of mind when reading The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, but at least it's always interesting in some way. The work of so convoluted that a reread of the earlier comics is perhaps in order before tackling the final series. I happened to watch the extremely unfortunate movie adaptation with Sean Connery a while ago and I now have to get that out of my system.
POSTED BY: Spacefaring Kitten, an extradimensional fan of speculative fiction, comics, and general weirdness. Contributor since 2018.
Monday, April 10, 2017
DYSTOPIAN VISIONS: V for Vendetta
Dossier: V for Vendetta
Filetype: Graphic Novel & Film
File Under: Statist Dystopia
Executive Summary: In the near future, Britain is a neo-fascist state. A shadowy freedom fighter called only V emerges and plots to overthrow the government, with the help of a young woman named Evey.
Dystopian Visions: V for Vendetta checks a lot of dystopian boxes- the government is 100% neo-fascist, replete with every -phobia you care to know, state monitoring, control via surveillance as well as deputized 'fingermen', ordinary thugs put in positions of state police.
Utopian Undercurrents: The main theme of V for Vendetta is the power which ideas have. V, as a person, in fact assumes the identity of an *idea* not just that of a person. His death becomes immaterial, as others have adopted his ideal and/or have the courage to stand up for it. For as much as Alan Moore has said he hates the film adaptation, the last few scenes (which I would love to spoil here and ramble about, even though you have probably seen it) are incredibly powerful and moving (as is the conclusion of the graphic novel).
Level of Hell: Seven. Things are bad, to be sure. Really bad, in point of fact. But if you keep your head down, you can be okay. But that's sort of the point.
Legacy: Personally, I hold both the printed and film versions in very high regard. Its legacy seems to have fallen by the wayside, in the shadow of everything else Moore has done and the fact the the Wachowski's haven't made a good movie since... this one. It is, however, quite relevant today and worthy of a re-read and/or watch.
In Retrospect: V for Vendetta ages very well, possibly being even better with age. The art is wonderfully bleak, matching the tone and environment, and the writing plays with the themes of the story in deep and inventive ways (V's initial monologue to Evey being the most well-known example, but far from the best). Moore has a fantastic introduction the graphic novel, which, while outside of the story proper, holds true today.
Analytics
For its time: 5/5
Read today: 5/5.
Oppressometer Readout: 10/10.
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