San Diego Comic Con 2000, Part 1

digresssmlOriginally published August 18, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1396

Assorted fun and games at the San Diego Comic Convention (or, if you prefer, Comic Con International, which is probably more accurate except I only hear it referred to as the San Diego Con. But, y’know, go argue with those pesky comic folks):

It was my first time at the convention in three years. The fine folks at both Dark Horse Comics and Krause Publishing teamed up to fly me out and put me up at the luxurious Westgate Hotel (once the premiere hotel of the convention, and still lovely, but now a bit of a schlep since the move to the convention center. But hey, they’re willing to foot the bill, so who am I to argue?)

Since two different companies were combining to bring me out, that naturally meant that I was going to be doing a ton of signing at tables. Which was fine; fans seem far more interested in getting me to deface their books with Sharpies than listening to me pontificate about assorted stuff on panels. If they have any questions, they can always ask me during the signings.

Thursday was a murderously long day. I worked until about 3 AM Eastern Standard Time, trying to catch up on work because I headed out. I slept for only three hours before I headed over to JFK to get my flight. I was in San Diego by noon, and signing at the Diamond Booth (by arrangement with Dark Horse) by one PM. After a second signing at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund table, I spent the rest of the day cruising the dealer’s room, aware that it was probably going to be the only time I had to do so for the entirety of the convention.

After all this time away, I had forgotten how daunting the dealer’s room is. Even more daunting was the construction going on outside the convention center, designed (by the looks of it) to increase the space by a third again. My understanding is that the convention is going to wind up using all of it next year. I have a feeling our reactions upon viewing that room in all its immensity are going to be similar to Madeline Kahn’s during that notorious Young Frankenstein scene wherein the monster prepares to have his way with her: A gasp of shocked horror-and-awe upon beholding its gargantuan nature, unsure even of where to start. If people wander around the dealer’s room in 2001 singing, “Sweet Mystery of Life,” you’ll know why.

I encountered Wendy and Richard Pini whom I hadn’t seen in ages. I think we stand on the eve of an Elfquest renaissance, considering the prototypes for the action figures they had on display (the Tyldak is to die for) and the animated feature. A truism of Hollywood, as told to me by my agent, Frank Balkin, is “Most things that will probably happen, don’t.” Nevertheless, I’m hoping that the feature beats the odds. There were also “life size” soft sculptures of Leetah and Cutter that were too cool for words.

Upon chatting, I learn that Richard hasn’t yet seen X-Men. We work up tentative plans to catch it on Friday night, when pretty much everyone else is going to be at the Eisners. Since I’m not up for any, somehow I’ll muster the will power to skip it.

The CBLDF had its board meeting that evening. Jet lagged, sleep deprived, I was still determined to go (what with being on the board and everything). The meeting started at 8 PM, and although discussion was animated and interesting, it was also lengthy. By 11 PM I was desperately fighting off exhaustion, and we were only halfway through our agenda. My head slumped forward for about half a second, but I brought myself out of it without anyone noticing, I thought. As the agenda progressed, I contributed more forcefully to the proceedings, and people were looking at me with—well—amusement. I wasn’t quite sure why. When the meeting finally adjourned (well after midnight) they said to me, “Nice to see that you were able to rejoin us.”

“What do you mean?” I asked… and then I winced. “Oh my God… don’t tell me I fell asleep.” Eager bobbing of heads. “You were snoring,” they told me. “You should have woken me up!” I told them. “We didn’t have the heart,” they said.

Wonderful. With my luck, they elected me treasurer while I was dozing and they just haven’t told me yet.

* * *

Frank Balkin and his wife, Arlene, met up with us at the theater the next night and we all took in X-Men together. Richard’s, Franks, and Arlene’s first time, Wendy’s second, and my fourth.

In answer to everyone who asked me: Yes, I liked it, as the repeat viewing should indicate. When I saw Hugh Jackman stalking the steel cage, looking feral and as if he’d just stepped off a Frank Miller cover, I thought, This guy was the SECOND choice? I wanna see Dougray Scott’s screen test. For all the changes that they made–The Toad with green hair, yellow face and attitude? That wasn’t the Toad. That was the Creeper with a ten foot tongue) and the occasional dialogue misfires (“Do you know what happens to a Toad when he’s struck by lightning? Same thing that happens to everyone else” could have been replaced by a succinct, “Never annoy a goddess” or even “Good-bye, little man”–this movie still had so much recommending it that any critiques are mere nitpicks. Patrick Stewart had the opportunity to stretch his acting muscles by playing a bald guy who sits around and gives orders; Ian McKellan provided serious menace as the world’s most deadly Polish Jew; Hugh Jackman walked off with the movie while proving that Logan could actually wear that hairstyle without looking like a pooftah; Rebecca John-Stamos’s wife had exactly one line and didn’t need to say more; Jubilee and Kitty Pryde’s stories were squished into Rogue’s and no one minded; story elements and characters were lifted from Chris Claremont, Roy Thomas, and Len Wein, and visuals from Neal Adams and Dave Cockrum, all without acknowledgment; snarky lines (“What would you prefer? Yellow spandex?”) were put in for fan amusement, as were cameos by Kitty, Bobby Drake, Jubilee (and Pyro?) for those in the know, and ultimately a good time was had by all. I would have liked to see more of the Scott/Jean relationship, particularly since they were using the Scott/Jean/Logan triangle from the early days of Claremont’s run, so that audiences could see for themselves just what Jean saw in Cyclops. But Wolverine flipping someone off with his claw is a sight gag artists must have wanted to do for years (and never could) and the brisk way they dispensed with the old “How-Do-We-Tell-the-Evil-Duplicate” bit was worth the price of admission alone.

However, the really fun part of the whole experience was watching Wendy Pini kick butt and take names. Do not, I repeat, do not even think about talking during a movie that Wendy’s attending. People unaware of the fact that they were not sitting in their living rooms began to yammer both in front and behind us. I usually put up with it because, well… I’m too chicken to risk offending someone who might be armed. Not Wendy. Without hesitation she snapped at the offending gabbers, telling them to shut up. And they did. For all the other reasons that Richard can consider himself a lucky guy, he can add to it that he gets to see movies in relative peace.

Finishing up the convention next issue.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. They had an auction for X-Men props on line. Magneto’s socks went for $75. Uncanny indeed.)

 

One comment on “San Diego Comic Con 2000, Part 1”

  1. Man, I remember that the vibe at that con was particularly positive, primarily because the X-Men movie didn’t suck.

    It was also fun having Ian McKellan stop in briefly before heading out to New Zealand to film Lord of The Rings.

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