Reviews of Stuff

Originally published July 21, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1392

“Reviews,” I am told. This is to be the “All Review” issue, which is to given out at the San Diego Con. Okay. I’ll review everything that I’ve read or seen in the past few days, excluding television.

Chicken Run. I first got turned on to the work of Nick Park by Joe Straczynski, who was singing the praises of Wallace and Gromit—a gently daffy inventor and his mute-but-much-smarter dog—before just about anyone else was. And now Park, the maestro of Claymation, unleashes his first full-length Claymation effort on a public that might still, for the most part, remain unsuspecting of his work and genius. But Chicken Run will certainly put an end to that.

Basically, it’s Stalag 17 in a chicken ranch (the main conspirators even assemble in Hut #17) as the chickens-in-residence conspire to escape their confines before they can be fed into the newly acquired chicken pot pie machine. Taking center stage is Ginger, voiced by Julia Sawalha, former Absolutely Fabulous actress whose voice puts across consistently wistful intelligence… to say nothing of a character with conscience. It’s clear that Ginger could bolt on her own at any time… but she refuses to leave behind her peers, a bunch of easily panicked—well—dumb clucks, really.

The film is chockablock with marvelous little in-jokes, ranging from Mel Gibson’s character of Rocky the Flying Rooster making his entrance shouting “Freeeeedom!” (if I have to explain it, forget it) to a Scottish technically-savvy chicken who, slowly but surely, morphs into Star Trek’s Scotty (right down to announcing the threat of a Klingon. If you see the movie, I won’t have to explain that one.)

There are several jobs in the entertainment industry that continue to astound me, and stop-motion animation artists are among those. “How was your day, dear?” “Oh, wonderful, honey. We got footage of Mr. Tweedy walking across the yard today. Looks really wonderful.” The patience these guys exhibit is nothing short of superhuman, in my view, and the result is definitely worth it.

For those who are relatively new to Nick Park, once you’ve seen Chicken Run, and then made the obvious move of snatching up the three Wallace and Gromit half-hour features (“A Grand Day Out,” “The Wrong Trousers,” “A Close Shave”) I’d then recommend you make the extra effort and hunt up a copy of “Creature Comforts.” A video of Park’s shorter work, it includes the absolutely hilarious title piece which consists of actual off-the-cuff interviews done in a man-in-the-street format, with the comments “interpreted” by Claymation animals. It must be seen to be believed.

* * *

For Better or For Worse. I was in sixth grade. I had a friend named John. He and his sister, Ann, lived on the street behind us in Verona, New Jersey, and we used to hang out together. One day we were going to meet after school over at the convenience store behind the school, across the street, to get a candy bar or something like that. I lagged behind in the playground, though, talking with some other kids.

And then some kids came running from the direction of the store, babbling almost incoherently. We managed to sort out what they were saying, and couldn’t believe it. “John got hit by a truck!” they were saying.

We bolted as fast as our young legs would carry us, crashing through the forest-like brush that lined the back of the school and separated it from the street. We emerged on the sidewalk, and the howl of the emergency vehicles could already be heard in the distance.

John was wedged under a parked car, the lower half of his body obscured by it, his arms splayed to either side, his eyes closed. I thought he was wearing a red shirt, and then realized that it, in its previous existence, been white, but was soaked through with blood. There was blood all over his face, blood everywhere. The truck that had hit him—a phone company repair truck—was skewed at an angle nearby. The guy who I took to be the driver was crouched nearby John, apparently talking to him. John didn’t seem to be replying. It might have been because he was already dead. It was my first first-hand experience with mortality, with the fragility of our existence. I have never forgotten John, nor Ann. Ann developed a little bit of a crush on me at the time—the first girl in my life to express those kind of feelings toward me—although I suspect in retrospect that it was as much a longing to find a brother substitute as anything else. Her family moved away a year or so after the accident, and I lost touch with them.

In any event, the genius of Lynn Johnston’s For Better or For Worse is that she is so easily able to pull up experiences that we all share, although the names and circumstances vary wildly. Her most successful endeavor to date was the heroic death of the Patterson’s family dog, Farley. But the current strip places a very close second. Jeremy Jones, the school bully, has targeted Young April (whose adventures I take particular interest in since she’s so close in age to my youngest, Ariel) for some months. That gives a high recognition factor right there. But in the current run, the relentless bully was pursuing April on bike, and when he swerved around a parked car to cut her off, an oncoming vehicle nailed him. While the elderly driver vegged out in shock, April had the presence of mind to call 91l, turning her from intended victim to de facto hero in the course of three button pushes.

Johnston continues to have the guts to live up to the “Or For Worse” part of the strip’s title. Accidents, death… these are part of life. Hers is the only strip out there that takes these kinds of risks. Even Doonesbury almost never loses sight of the gag-a-day format, no matter how dire the circumstances might be. If by some horrific circumstance your local newspaper doesn’t carry it, then I suggest you subscribe to Comic Relief, a monthly magazine which carries a run of the strip every month, as well as Doonesbury, Dilbert, and an assortment of political columns and editorials from throughout the country.

* * *

People hand me stuff at conventions all the time. But I can’t recall the last time I got something quite as weird as My Monkey’s Name is Jennifer, given to me at the recent Madison Square Garden convention by the strip’s writer/artist, Ken Knudsen. Intended for self-publishing, I have absolutely no idea what to make of it. It’s like Angel and the Ape filtered through Frank Miller, with a heavy dose of hallucinogens thrown in. Basically, for reasons surpassing understanding, a couple of parents have decided that it’s a good idea to allow a clearly deranged chimp to be a playmate/pet for their young daughter, Jennifer. While the child dresses the chimp in an apron and has tea parties, with him, the animal—neutered, and with claws clipped short—keeps up a meditative stream of homicidal rage while waiting for its claws to grow back so it can rip out the kid’s eyes. I give this work a rating of three and a half JC’s. That’s the number of times I said “Jesus Christ” while reading it (the half being one point where I just said, “Jeeeez.”) It helps if, when you’re reading the monkey’s captions, you hear the voice of Mojo Jojo in your head.

It’s utterly demented, I’ve no idea what to make of it, and I look forward to when it’s published so that you can read it and likewise have no idea what to make of it. And frankly, I sure hope that this time around my recommendation makes some difference, because a few months ago both Maggie and I highly recommended a delightful black and white comic called Zzz and retailers and fans in turn provided about as much support as a toilet paper jockstrap.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)