Archive for the ‘Ripped From the Headlines’ category

Comic Art Friday: RIP, Al Rio (1962-2012)

February 3, 2012

Superman and Supergirl, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Bob Almond

I was shocked and saddened on Tuesday morning — as were many of my fellow comics fans and comic art aficionados — to receive the news that artist and former Disney animator Al Rio had passed away in his native Brazil, the result of an apparent suicide.

Wonder Woman, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Geof Isherwood

Those of you who have followed Comic Art Fridays over the years know how greatly I appreciated Al Rio’s art. He is among the most well-represented artists in my collection; I own 15 of his original works — six of which I commissioned personally, plus several I’ve had inked by other artists. I’ve also enjoyed receiving the lovely postcards Al made available to his fans every holiday season. Al’s art representative, Terry Maltos, has always been one of my favorite vendors with whom to transact business. More than once, Terry has given me a price break on a purchase, or thrown in a little something extra in gratitude for my frequent custom.

Elektra, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Geof Isherwood

Al first came to prominence when he followed J. Scott Campbell as the regular artist on Wildstorm’s Gen13 and DV8. Although many people saw him as a Campbell clone, particularly in his early comics projects, his style continued to evolve. He worked on a variety of series for both of the major comics publishers and numerous second-tier labels — everything from Spider-Man and Captain America to Grimm Fairy Tales.

Mary Marvel, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Bob McLeod

As you can see from the pieces I’ve chosen for this memorial post, Al drew some of the most beautiful women in comics. Because of this, he was sometimes dismissed as “just a cheesecake artist.” That’s a bit like saying that Michelangelo, Titian, and Rubens weren’t great artists because they painted a lot of naked people. Without question, Al knew his way around the feminine form, but he could also draw heroes and backgrounds with the best in the business, and his sequential work shows that beyond his pinup talents, he was a brilliant storyteller. I was especially fond of his work on Marvel’s Heroes for Hire and White Tiger a couple of years back.

Batman and Catwoman, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Geof Isherwood

Since I didn’t know Al personally, I can’t really say much about him in that regard. I’ve always heard  him described as a nice man who extended extraordinary kindness to his fans and to other artists, and who frequently donated art in support of charitable causes. In fact, his Superman and Supergirl piece — seen at the top of this post — began as a preliminary sketch for a drawing Al created in support of victims of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami.

Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, pencils by comics artist Al Rio

You can see my entire gallery of Al Rio’s art by following this link. Please go take a look at the beauty and dynamic range of this talented creator’s gifts.

Spider-Man and Mary Jane, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Bob Almond

Al Rio was 49 years old. He leaves behind a wife, three children, countless friends, and a legion of fans who admired his unique abilities.

Supergirl, pencils by Al Rio, inks by Joe Rubinstein

And that, sadly, is your Comic Art Friday.

This one’s for the boobies

October 3, 2011

It hardly seems as though it’s been a year, but it’s October again. You know what that means: It’s National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Pink ribbon

Those of you who’ve visited here and at our previous location know that I’m not big on causes, but I champion this one for a powerful personal reason: KJ, my wife of 25 years — and life partner of 29 years total — lost her decade-long battle with breast cancer in July 2010. This disease cost KJ’s parents their only remaining child (KJ’s brother died from Ewing’s sarcoma 22 years ago), my daughter her mother, and me the woman I’d loved my entire adult life.

So yeah — breast cancer made itself a lifelong enemy here.

If you’re a woman, know your risk factors. Talk with your doctor about those risks. Learn to examine your own breasts, and conduct those exams religiously. Don’t think that breast cancer is just a disease for older women — KJ was 34 when she was first diagnosed. If you’re 40 or older, by all means get annual mammograms.

If you’re not a woman, pass the preceding paragraph along to every woman you know.

Regardless of your gender, if you have a few spare dollars in your pocket or purse this month, consider making a contribution to the breast cancer awareness/research nonprofit of your choice. (KJ’s favorite was Susan G. Komen for the Cure.) I know things are tough economically for a lot of you, but every little contribution helps.

Breast cancer will affect one woman in eight — too many precious lives. That’s your wife or partner, your daughter, your sister, your mother, your grandmother, your aunt, your neighbor… maybe you.

Let’s hunt this beast down, and kill it for good.

Comic Art Friday: In which Uncle Swan does you a patriotic solid

July 22, 2011

In case you were planning to see Captain America: The First Avenger, which premieres in theaters nationwide today…

Here’s how it ends.

Captain America smacks down the Red Skull, pencils by  Kevin Maguire, inks by Joe Rubinstein

I just saved you the price of a ticket.

You’re welcome.

And that’s your Comic Art Friday.

No Justice for the Maestro

February 22, 2011

I could hardly be more shocked and stunned than I was earlier today, when I read the news of the sudden death of Dwayne McDuffie.

Dwayne McDuffie leads an animation panel, WonderCon 2008

If the name is unfamiliar to you, then I’ll assume that you’re not a fan of either comic books or animation, or if you are, you don’t pay much attention to the names in the credits of either. McDuffie was a prolific writer and editor of comics who became an equally prolific writer, story editor, and producer of animation, primarily for television.

In the former realm, McDuffie created one of the most unique series in the history of comics: Damage Control, which spotlighted the exploits of a company that cleaned up cities after superhero fights. He also co-founded Milestone Media, an entire comics line that focused on bringing greater diversity to the medium, both on the page and behind the scenes. From Milestone’s publications came Static, the young electricity-wielding hero who later went on to star in the long-running and popular animated TV series, Static Shock.

McDuffie’s contributions to animation didn’t end with Static Shock. He served as story editor and producer on the Justice League franchise, as well as on the various iterations of Ben 10. He recently wrote the script for Warner/DC’s latest direct-to-DVD project, All-Star Superman, which debuted in stores — ironically enough — today.

As successful as he became in animation, McDuffie never completely abandoned printed comics. A few years ago, he wrote an outstanding miniseries for Marvel entitled Beyond!, and a well-regarded run on Fantastic Four. More recently, he breathed fresh life into DC’s tentpole series, Justice League of America.

Unlike many creators, McDuffie maintained a close connection to the readers and viewers who consumed his product. His personal website hosted a thriving online discussion forum, in which McDuffie himself (nicknamed by his fans “The Maestro”) actively participated. Never shy of expressing his opinions — and he had strong opinions about everything — McDuffie in correspondence was much like the characters whose adventures he wrote: witty, thoughtful, and more than a little tough. He gave no quarter, but he had a deft way of disagreeing vehemently with opponents without resorting to ad hominem attacks.

I had the privilege of meeting McDuffie briefly at WonderCon in 2008, following a panel featuring himself and several other top animation writers. (I took the above photo during that panel.) Although I didn’t muster the gumption to mention it to him in person, it was one of my career goals as a voice actor to snag a role in one of the series McDuffie wrote. As recently as a week ago, I’ve participated in workshops where McDuffie scripts served as the fodder for honing my acting chops. I deeply regret that I will never have the opportunity to work with him professionally.

McDuffie spoke and wrote much about the uphill struggle of being an African-American creator in a mainstream comics industry often frustratingly closed to diverse talents and storylines. His founding of Milestone Media represented his best effort at giving other people of color the opportunities that he, like few other creators of his background, had been afforded, and expanding the palette of characters about whom great comics tales could be spun. And yet, McDuffie would have been the first to correct anyone who referred to him as a “great black comics writer” — he was just a darned great writer, period.

A darned great writer, gone far too soon.

Dwayne McDuffie leaves behind his wife, his mother, a monumental legacy of work, and a numberless legion of colleagues and fans who appreciated his character as much as his creative genius. He was a singular talent in two discrete media, and successful in both.

He was just 49 years old — almost exactly two months younger than I. His birthday was yesterday.

Rest in peace, Maestro.

That’s no gorilla, that’s my wife!

January 31, 2011

Another January 31 has arrived, which signals yet another observance of my second-favorite holiday…

It's National Gorilla Suit Day!

It’s National Gorilla Suit Day.

For the non-cognoscenti among us, National Gorilla Suit Day was founded by the late, great Don Martin, longtime cartoonist extraordinaire for MAD Magazine. Martin’s bizarre genius made him a beloved figure among humor aficionados and comic art buffs alike, as well as a corrupting influence on two generations of MAD readers.

Martin was inducted into the Will Eisner Award Comic Artists Hall of Fame in 2004, and deservedly so.

Just be careful if you wander past a Wal-Mart, a biker bar, or a trailer park today. Some of the people you think are wearing gorilla suits… might not be.

Of course, I’ve always been more of an orangutan man, myself.

RIP, Donnie the K

January 18, 2011

This will only mean something to you if you were listening to pop-rock music in the 1960s and ’70s, or watched TV programs of similar vintage revolving around said music.

Don Kirshner is gone.

Kirshner — or Donnie the K, as I like to call him — started out as a Tin Pan Alley music publisher, whose stable included numerous legendary songwriting duos, from Goffin and King to Sedaka and Greenfield. But he became a household name in the ’60s as the impresario behind prefabricated-for-television pop groups such as The Monkees and The Archies.

In the ’70s, Kirshner’s eponymous record label signed the progressive-rock band Kansas, unleashing a string of hits including “Carry On Wayward Son” and “Dust in the Wind.”

That same decade, Kirshner began producing and hosting the late-night TV music series, Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert. Donnie the K’s eerily awkward on-camera presence made him the butt of numerous jokes — including an infamous Saturday Night Live sketch starring Paul Shaffer, who later starred in a sitcom produced by Kirshner called A Year at the Top — and proved the venerable maxim that record producers should be neither seen nor heard. Still, the show ran for a decade, and featured pretty much every big-name act in pop music at one time or another.

As a kid who loved the songs of The Monkees and The Archies (“Sugar Sugar” was one of the first mainstream pop records I ever owned), and later as a teenager who was a major-league Kansas fanatic (I celebrated my 19th birthday at a Kansas concert at San Francisco’s Cow Palace), Don Kirshner contributed mightily to the soundtrack of my youth — even though he never sang or played a note. (For which, if his musical talents matched his abilities as a master of ceremonies, the universe should be eternally grateful.)

They also entertain who only sit and write checks.

One Hall step forward, one step back

January 5, 2011

Congratulations to Roberto Alomar, one of the greatest second basemen in the history of the game, on his election to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. A 12-time All-Star and 10-time Gold Glove winner, Robbie is well deserving of enshrinement. The only reason he wasn’t chosen in his first year of eligibility was the incident in which Alomar spat in the face of umpire John Hirschbeck. One single moment of stupidity — and it was stupid, no question — in an otherwise exemplary career shouldn’t keep the guy out of the Hall. Now, it won’t.

As for Bert Blyleven, I’m glad he finally made the Hall on his 13th attempt for one reason, and one reason only: We won’t have to listen to him whine anymore about not being elected.

Here’s the bottom line on Blyleven. He played 22 seasons in Major League Baseball, during which time he racked up 287 wins and 3701 strikeouts. But we’re talking about the Hall of Fame, not the Hall of Hung Around Forever. If we’re going by longevity, Jim Kaat and Jamie Moyer should be in the Hall (at least, Moyer should be if he ever retires), and no one who knows anything about baseball is going to make either of those arguments.

The fact is that Blyleven was a good pitcher, but nowhere near a great one. He won 20 games only once in 22 seasons, even though he played in an era when 20 wins was the gold standard of excellence for top starting pitchers. Heck, Mike Krukow won 20 for the Giants once — should Kruk be in the Hall? Blyleven only won as many as 19 once. At the same time, he posted seven — count ’em, seven — sub-.500 seasons. That’s seven years in which he lost more games than he won. That’s nearly one-third of his career. Does that sound like a Hall of Famer to you?

No one who ever saw Blyleven pitch — aside from a handful of snow-blinded Minnesotans — thought he was the best pitcher of his time, or even one of the best. He never won a Cy Young Award. He never placed higher than third in the Cy Young voting. He was chosen as an All-Star twice. Twice — in 22 seasons. Again… does that sound like a Hall of Famer to you?

It’s no accident that the most statistically similar pitcher to Bert Blyleven was Don Sutton, another somewhat-better-than-average pitcher who rolled up deceptive numbers simply by virtue of avoiding career-ending injury for more than two decades. The Hall of Fame should not be rewarding players just for being lucky. Don Sutton — who, like Blyleven, won 20 or more games only once, and was never a Cy Young front-runner — doesn’t belong in the Hall, even though the baseball writers saw fit to enshrine him.

Bert Blyleven doesn’t belong in the Hall either.

Roberto Alomar does.

And don’t call me Shirley

November 29, 2010

When I heard last evening that Leslie Nielsen had died at the age of 84, I immediately thought — as I presume most people did — of the comedic roles he played during the last three decades of his acting career, beginning with Airplane! and continuing most notably with the TV series Police Squad! and the Naked Gun movies it spawned.

Often lost in that thought, however, is that Nielsen’s first comedy successes resulted from his not previously having been viewed as a comic actor. It’s a marvelous study in contrast — which is, after all, the very essence of comedy.

What made Airplane! funny was the absurdity of seeing actors whose screen images were stereotypically strait-laced — Nielsen, Lloyd Bridges, Robert Stack, Peter Graves, George Kennedy — doing and saying outlandish things. Think about the classic scene where Graves’s airline pilot makes homosexually suggestive remarks to a young boy: “Have you ever been in the cockpit of an airplane before? Have you ever seen a grown man naked? Have you ever been in a Turkish prison? Do you like movies about gladiators?” It’s shockingly funny, because at that point we mostly knew Peter Graves as the humorless secret agent Jim Phelps from Mission: Impossible. Did Graves ever utter a funny line in the entire run of that series? Did he ever even crack a smile? I don’t think so. Thus, when he makes these outrageous comments in Airplane!, it’s hilarious because, well, we didn’t know Peter Graves had that in him.

Now imagine, say, Will Ferrell in that same Peter Graves role. (Yes, I know Will Ferrell was in junior high school when Airplane! was made. Just go with me here.) It wouldn’t be as funny, because we expect outrageous comments from the mouth of Will Ferrell. The jokes would be the same, and Ferrell’s take on them might be more inherently humorous, but the impact of contrast would be lacking.

When Airplane! appeared, most people knew Leslie Nielsen — if indeed they knew him at all — as the sober-sided space captain in Forbidden Planet, or the equally somber ocean liner captain in The Poseidon Adventure, or the daring but dull Revolutionary War hero Francis Marion in the Disney miniseries The Swamp Fox. He was not an actor one expected to hear tossing off deadpan one-liners like the one in the headline of this post. Nielsen’s stiff-upper-lipped persona (as well as a previously untapped gift of timing) made him the perfect contrast for humor — a contrast he milked to great financial reward for the next 30 years.

Unfortunately — at least in my view — Nielsen didn’t know when to quit. In the aftermath of his first Naked Gun bonanza, he cranked out more than a dozen execrable films showcasing his newfound penchant for deadpan comedy, each of which proved more rancid than its predecessor. It’s one thing to find a fresh horse to ride; it’s entirely another to keep beating that horse long after it’s expired. Had Nielsen contented himself with the two movies that made his reputation, plus the TV series that inspired the second of those two movies, he’d be remembered as an unqualified comic genius. As it is, our fond memories of those noteworthy roles are muted by the likes of Repossessed, 2001: A Space Travesty, and Scary Movies 3 and 4.

If you like science fiction, and have never seen Forbidden Planet, you owe it to yourself to check it out on cable (it turns up periodically on the classic movie channels) or DVD. It’s one of the very few films from the bug-eyed monster era of sci-fi flicks that still holds up well today. (It’s more or less a retelling of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, in space opera dress.) Nielsen is effective in stolid action hero mode, Walter Pidgeon gnaws scenery as a brilliant but mad scientist, and Anne Francis — later the star of TV’s first female-lead detective series, Honey West — fills out a miniskirted space dress with aplomb.

Thanks for the good times, Mr. Nielsen. And remember… when you’re offered a choice between steak and fish for dinner, always choose the lasagna.

Descent into the Pitt

November 23, 2010

Sad news for genre film fans today: Ingrid Pitt, one of the leading ladies of horror movies during the 1970s, has died — this time, for real — at the age of 73.

Ingrid Pitt, horror superstar

Pitt became a cult star by way of her appearances in Hammer Films’ The Vampire Lovers and Countess Dracula, The House That Dripped Blood from Amicus Productions (generally thought of as “Hammer Lite”), and the seminal psychological thriller, The Wicker Man (the original 1973 classic, not the insipid Nicolas Cage remake).

What many aficionados didn’t realize at the time was that the Polish-born Pitt — née Ingoushka Petrov — was a World War II concentration camp survivor, the daughter of a Jewish mother and a German father. I’m thinking that after enduring the atrocities of Nazi barbarism, facing vampires and other fictional monsters must have been a piece of strudel.

Despite her horror pedigree, Pitt assayed numerous film and TV roles outside the genre, often to positive reviews. She frequently played villainous women who got their fatal comeuppances in the final act. Not content with her onscreen work, Pitt also became a successful writer, penning a dozen or so books, plus reams of magazine and online articles, columns, and stories.

I was a major Hammer horror geek back in my misspent youth. I retain many fond memories of Ingrid Pitt… although in my heart of hearts, I was always a Barbara Shelley man.

Rest in peace, Countess Dracula.

I have a power ring; I’m just wearing it as a belt

November 17, 2010

Once again, I get robbed.

This year, People Magazine passes me over for its annual Sexiest Man Alive honor in favor of Ryan Reynolds, whose chief claims to fame include (a) portraying comic book superhero Green Lantern (the Hal Jordan Green Lantern, for those of you sufficiently comics-savvy to know that the title of Green Lantern applies to literally dozens of characters in the DC Comics universe) in the upcoming motion picture; and (b) being Mr. Scarlett Johansson.

Okay, so I’m not an alien-tech-equipped superhero, and frankly, I don’t think Ms. Johansson is my type. (Nor, doubtless, I hers.) But just once, you’d think People Magazine could show a little love to those millions of portly middle-aged gentlemen whose sexiness derives, not from matinee-idol looks which, let’s be honest, will need to be propped up with surgery and Botox in a decade or so, but from that most potent of sexual engines: the brain.

Experience and cunning trump chiseled cheekbones and washboard abdominals any time, ladies. Just sayin’.

Can I get a witness?