Two! Two! Two Annuals In One!

 

The year 1979 saw the character of Spider-Man at the height of his popularity, featured in three titles (Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel Team-Up, and Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man (while also having racked up his share of the Giant-Size books) with, unbelievably, even more on the way. It was fair to wonder at times what depths were being dredged to come up with all the new story material that required taking into account Peter's double life and revolving cast of characters (anyone here remember Marcy Kane?), to say nothing of the artists tapped to churn out story after story of the web-slinger's adventures along with the travails of the stretched-to-the-limit Peter Parker, who somehow, somehow, managed to combine his activities as Spider-Man with his college, Daily Bugle, and family responsibilities while squeezing in something of a social and/or love life and hopefully some sleep, all in a 24-hour period. The coordination between the writing and art staff must have been nothing short of a trapeze act.

The one thing that Peter didn't have to worry about, of course, was a shortage of villains--with one of his deadliest pulling double duty in that year's Amazing/Spectacular annuals which shared the same plot, thanks to writers Marv Wolfman and Bill Mantlo teaming with artists John Byrne, Terry Austin, Rich Buckler and Jim Mooney. To help keep track of the events occurring in both and figure out where things are headed, the PPC ties these two annuals together in one post, as Spider-Man attempts to head off a scheme which could see Dr. Octopus launch his greatest and most ambitious plan--one that might well lead to a nuclear holocaust!

Earth's Mightiest Floating Heads!

 

"I like to goof off now and then, too, you know." - (Mrs.) Young-Ja Kim

Always one to take the sentiments of the redoubtable Mrs. Kim to heart (if I know what's good for me), I've finally gotten around to a little goofing off of my own by exploring a subject we readers of silver- and bronze-age comics are all too familiar with: Those aghast, worried, concerned, taken aback, consternated, and certainly conspicuous floating heads on issue covers which appeared out of nowhere to draw attention to whatever and whoever they were casting their piercing gaze(s) on.

It seemed a rare day when we saw such bodyless faces appear in titles featuring a solo character, since both hero and villain(s) were occupied in full-size poses slugging it out on a given issue's cover--but in group books, they were all the rage, carefully placed on valuable cover space to provoke a reaction in the comics browser that what awaited within was momentous enough to merit spending their hard-earned change on. It also goes without saying that they were also useful in a marketing sense when other characters in the group didn't make it on the cover but rated a head shot in order to let the prospective reader know that whoever they might have been most interested in still showed up in the story.

Both Fantastic Four and The Avengers featured a prodigious amount of floating heads in their first volumes, but it's the latter title which offered more variety when it came to its characters given the sheer amount of different Avengers to choose from. As for the approach we'll take with this, it became more interesting for me to present these "floaters" on their own and out of context rather than blending in with whatever else was on the cover. It turns out that, in just over 400 issues, there were only a mere twenty-five instances where these heads appeared before tapering off around 1990. Nevertheless, they made their mark, and are not to be confused with groupings of other, equally familiar floating heads:

And so let's get to it--though it seems that three of the Avengers have already taken a glance at this collection and are less than pleased with the direction we're headed in. You'll have to take up your grievances with Production, gentlemen!

Artwork by Gil Kane and John Romita (Prior framing art by John Buscema and George Klein)

The Mightiest Mortal! The Caped Crusader!

 

I believe it may have been John Byrne who once remarked that the difference between DC Comics and Marvel Comics was that DC had the better characters, but Marvel had the better stories, going on to add that Marvel's approach to a story was better suited to do more with DC characters. The fact that writers and artists have at times left one company and gone to work for the other (as well as indulging in do-si-dos in that respect) may muddy those waters a bit--but it occurred to me that you can put that assessment to the test when the companies agree to feature their characters in joint stories, either as foes or dealing with a shared threat or crisis. One such gem could be found as early as 1981, as two characters as dissimilar as they come face each other for the first time.

This story takes place in the final issue of the DC Special Series* books, written by Len Wein (who had long since moved on from his stint on Incredible Hulk) and with art by José Luis Garcia-López and Dick Giordano. Having worked my way backward with these kinds of inter-company team-up issues, it was interesting to see that in earlier years the DC and Marvel characters were of the same world and had simply never crossed paths with each other. In this case, Bruce Banner has come to Gotham City and found employment (under forged credentials) doing odd jobs in a Wayne Research lab where we find a team of scientists working on the Gamma Gun, a device which Banner feels could be the key to his salvation for obvious reasons. Enter the Joker, who arrives to steal it for none other than the Shaper of Worlds, whom the pasty-faced criminal has struck an agreement with; but an altercation with the Joker's men triggers a transformation that has them dealing instead with a very angry man-monster.

2001: A Jack Kirby Odyssey

 

   "Less than half the film has dialogue. It attempts to communicate more to the subconscious and to the feelings than it does to the intellect. I think clearly that there's a basic problem with people who are not paying attention with their eyes. They're listening. And they don't get much from listening to this film. Those who won't believe their eyes won't be able to appreciate this film.
   "I tried to work things out so that nothing important was said in the dialogue, and that anything important in the film be translated in terms of action."

    -- Stanley Kubrick

I was just ten years old when I went to see "2001: A Space Odyssey" in the movie theater. By the time it was over, it's probably no surprise to hear that I didn't really know what to make of it. (From what writer David Kraft conveys in an essay on the subject, the same held true for a number of film critics--I imagine their expressions by the end of the film resembled the stills of the stupefied Dave Bowman, shaken to his core, interspersed with the "photographic effects" of the alien monolith.) Containing elements of various short stories by author Arthur C. Clarke (among them "The Sentinel," née "The Sentinel of Eternity"), the 1968 film received its novelization by Clarke that same year, and, in 1976, its comic book adaptation by artist/writer Jack Kirby during his brief return to Marvel Comics.

Yet it took me until this year to sit down with that Marvel Treasury Special (an exclusive banner which Kirby's Captain America's Bicentennial Battles also carried) which, unlike Kubrick's vehicle, was obliged to use an ample amount of dialogue and narrative to tell its story. Without having read the novel, my guess is that Kirby might have turned to it for most of his characterizations for that very reason--for instance, the "dawn of man" character named Moon-Watcher, our man-ape which discerns how to wield a skeletal bone as a club, is not named as such in the film (nor is the actor, Daniel Richter, listed in the film's credits), yet Kirby attaches Clarke's name for the simian (sans hyphen), and it wouldn't surprise me if Clarke, like Kirby, provided Moon-Watcher with some of the backstory that Kirby used for the character (the presence of his dead father, for instance). In addition, the HAL-9000 A.I. computer which so calmly interacts with Bowman and his shipmate, Frank Poole, even when asking Bowman to reconsider deconstructing his memory at the end, becomes panic-stricken and reacts helplessly in Kirby's version when the moment arrives.

The Sound Of... GalactiTrek!

 

Judging by some of the comments made in a PPC post from a few weeks ago, there are a few Star Trek fans lurking in our rafters who enjoy a Marvel comic as well as the next Melkotian--and I found myself remembering an old file which was the result of a train of thought I was exploring a few years ago concerning two original shows that went on to greater things: Star Trek, which aired from 1966-69, and Battlestar Galactica, running from 1978-79, each of which had noteworthy composers on its payroll.

Here, we throw the spotlight on one such virtuoso--Stu Phillips, who came aboard Galactica in '78, and, following the pilot episode for the show, composed the fanfare which would accompany the prelude to each episode of the series (the segment which presents the episode title, additional cast members, and any guest stars). It's such a grand, sweeping piece that it was intriguing to consider: Could this introductory music be mixed to open a classic Trek episode, at the point where its opening credits are presented? And would this music be suitable with the visuals?

With the music already selected, it came down to the matter of which Trek opening to choose. I knew I wanted a decent amount of footage of the Enterprise, which meant an orbital sequence or something that indicated approach--hopefully a scene that would segue to the ship's bridge, all of which would convey a sense of the ship, its crew, and its bold, ongoing mission. What I ended up choosing would catch Capt. Kirk at the tail end of his log entry--but given the roughly forty seconds I had to work with, it all came together fairly well, with the score turning out to be an impressive episode opener for these explorers.

Unlike Galactica, I wouldn't see this sort of intro being suitable or even possible for every Trek episode, as Galactica's episode opener sticks with the same format and visuals and isn't required to blend with whatever circumstances are leading into the story; but every now and then, Galactica's score, combined with some stunning Trek visuals, would have been a treat--an impossibility, to be sure, since Star Trek's final episode was well before Galactica's time. For this particular clip, I would have preferred to have a vibrant planet featured, rather than the dead world where the consciousness of its three survivors wait to be discovered; on the other hand, the music as revised plays into the decision Kirk would later make to help Sargon and the others.

NEXT: (Come on, you saw this coming a mile away!)
Battlestar Galactica makes its way to Marvel Comics!

This Madman... This Power!

One of the more interesting crossover stories which occurred in early 1972 worked out either according to plan, or with a good deal of reshuffling behind the scenes--it's hard to say. My own guess is that it may have been the latter, though I'll gladly defer to the more learned among you who are better able to connect the dots.

The stories, each handled by writer Roy Thomas and artist Neal Adams, take place within these two titles:

...beginning in March, 1971, where Black Bolt of the Inhumans departs for San Francisco to investigate options for finding a place for his people among the human race. (Vague words taken from the beginning of the story--but rather than referring to an actual homestead of some sort, they're likely simply a metaphor for acceptance.) With his departure, we learn of the disposition of his mad brother, Maximus, presumably following his capture after an attempt to dethrone Black Bolt by instigating a war (the Jack Kirby story which launched the Amazing Adventures title)--yet the method of Maximus' incarceration raises concern with Karnak and Gorgon, who fear Black Bolt may have overstepped his bounds.

Granted, it's an odd shift in characterization for both men, since they've unquestioningly supported the will of Black Bolt in the past; there's also the fact that after all of Maximus' crimes, Black Bolt has never demonstrated undue harshness in how his brother was dealt with, much less thoughts of homicide.

Which makes their next decision all the more unexpected, and reckless.

To learn what this scene signifies, we must look in on Black Bolt, who arrives at his destination only to be drawn into a local conflict involving a boy named Joey, conscripted by his uncle into engaging in petty crime. But once Black Bolt handily deals with the situation, the power of Maximus strikes, effectively neutralizing whatever threat his brother might have posed to him; but while Maximus has cause to no longer fear the wrath of Black Bolt, he's still put the pieces in place to bring about the very war between human and Inhuman that had previously been averted.

And so while the power of Maximus has been unleashed in the past, this is the first instance that the royal family (including, possibly, Maximus himself) see it being harnessed--which now raises the threat of Maximus from that of being merely a dangerous, scheming madman. (Imagine such a man now having the power to affect the minds of others, an irony which Maximus himself will later note.) We can jokingly say that, due to their rash actions ("Surely, it cannot hurt to pry open this prison"--good grief, talk about telegraphing a scene), Gorgon and Karnak perhaps deserve what's coming to them--but can we say the same for the human race?

Born in Blood!

Can YOU

Name This Marvel Villain??

Try Your Hand!

If you had aspirations toward working at Marvel Comics as a writer or artist, you probably took more than a second glance at The Official Marvel Comics Try-out Book published in 1983, which offered you a chance to submit your work samples directly to the source--and, best of all, since by all appearances Marvel was "hiring," you didn't have any concerns of how to get your foot in the door or having your work rejected outright. You were also on a level playing field with other applicants, since each person was applying their talent to the same pages of the sample story in the book which was in various stages of completion. Depending on what area you wanted to concentrate on, you could add your own touches and flair and submit work that would be distinct from anyone else who was hoping to be the next Chris Claremont or John Romita.

Taking a leaf from How To Draw Comics The Marvel Way, a much larger and more detailed instructional aid published in 1978, the Try-Out book clocks in at only 32 pages, but naturally has a format geared for work submission, its weighted pages oversized at 11" x 17" and designed for removal from the book's spine--though many would also have picked up the book just to hone their developing skills. Given its title, it has a only a minimum of introductory and explanatory segments and doesn't go into nearly the detail of its 1978 predecessor; its strength, rather, lies in the fact that it's a hands-on book in the truest sense, and no doubt appealed to those who wished to have a "starting point" in front of them.

Starting with the actual (but unfinished) comic story which gives you a few completed pages by Jim Shooter, John Romita Jr., Al Milgrom, Christine Scheele and Jim Novak, you'll then find sections that break down the work into try-out areas where you can add inking and/or coloring to pencilled and/or inked pages, add lettering to pages which have been scripted, pencil pages that have been plotted, write your own plot, or script pages that have been plotted and pencilled. No doubt there were those who rolled up their sleeves and tried their hand in more than one area, taking advantage of the enthusiasm which a publication that had "Official Marvel Try-Out Book" as its title was bound to generate.

The house ad for the book doesn't appear until April of the following year:

Nearly a year later, perhaps to get a little more mileage from the book's jaw-dropping $12.95 price tag, Shooter decided to capitalize on the book's title and grandfather the concept into a formal contest which in essence "put the word out" that Marvel was actively looking for new talent--and to sweeten the pitch, there was now a bona fide work assignment waiting for the winners, as a new full-page ad appearing in the company's January 1985 books details:

The revised ad was supplemented by a mention in the Bullpen Bulletins section (or what was left of it by 1985). Given its wording, there was apparently a production slip-up that delayed the Bulletins blurb until the following month instead of coinciding with the January ad; yet an explanation has now been added which clarifies that the contest was a way of satisfying rabid fans who were clamoring for the full comics story that remained incomplete in the Try-Out book. To cover his bases, Shooter adds that purchasing the book wasn't required to enter the contest.

Reportedly, over 19,000 submissions were received by Marvel--which, not even tabulating purchases of the book which were made before the contest was conceived and added to the mix, amounts to over a quarter of a million bucks in sales.

It wasn't until February of '86 before the winners were announced, one of whom you'll likely recognize immediately:

Only the Bulletins winners' annoucement includes the wording regarding the winners' "first regular professional assignment," while the ad is careful not to imply that additional work will be forthcoming.

To follow up on the annoucement, the ASM story which would have finished the "Personals" story begun in the Try-Out book never materialized, though Bagley of course went on to pencil a full run of Ultimate Spider-Man and other assignments. Hazlewood, the inking contestant, would mainly make his stamp at DC Comics--while Riggs, formerly a graphic artist, would shift to inking work in Marvel's UK line as well as finding later work at DC. Neither Pasda nor Duffie have been credited in published work (to my knowledge).

A less hyped try-out book was the 1996 X-Men-themed effort (with an intro by Bagley) that makes a point of mentioning the use of computer technology in comic book production, while being less accommodating as far as available pages to work off of directly.

A lot of water has gone under the bridge since the mid-'80s, of course, so Shooter's message in the final announcement welcoming further submissions post-contest has accumulated a lot of dust. And boy, has Marvel changed its tune and retracted the welcome mat:

"Marvel does not accept or consider any ideas, creative suggestions, artwork, designs, game proposals, scripts, manuscripts, or similar material unless we have specifically requested it from you. Marvel is continuously developing and creating its own ideas and materials, and we don’t have the resources to review or respond to unsolicited material. Unfortunately, any unsolicited material you send will not be read or shared. It will be destroyed, and it will not be returned.

"While we can’t accept your unsolicited submissions, please know that Marvel is always looking for new comic book artists and writers. We constantly read and review indie, self-published, creator-owned, and web-comics, review popular online art communities, ask other artists for opinions and recommendations, and host portfolio reviews at conventions from time to time. If you are an aspiring comic book artist or writer, we suggest you publish or publicly post your material, continue to create, and if you have the right stuff...we’ll find you."

Or, as Mark Alford bottom-lines it in his commentary on the subject: "Don't call us, we'll call you."

BONUS!

Mark Bagley talks about his try-out experience and subsequent career.

Beware My Deadly '62 Plymouth!

Can YOU

Name This Marvel Villain??

One Wins... One Dies!

For those of you who would like to experience an interesting contemporary interpretation of Frank Miller's classic Daredevil stories from the early 1980s which featured the riveting character of Elektra, do treat yourselves to the second "season" of the Netflix production of "Daredevil," which introduces her on the small screen and brings her to stunning life (as played by French actress Élodie Yung). From there, her story continues in a follow-up Netflix series, "The Defenders," where both she and Daredevil fight to the end (and we're not talking about simply concluding the season). In the television series, as was the case in the comic, Elektra is very much her own woman--but the character in each medium stands in contrast to the other, to enough of a degree that her television persona will feel like you're watching a familiar yet fresh new version of her, which indeed you are.

It's the embrace of Miller's darker take on the character, and on Daredevil, which allows their transition to television to meet with the success that eluded them in cinema--for while the film stays more true to Miller's story, the TV series instead incorporates elements of it to build an entirely new sequence of story installments for both characters, a model that has served Marvel (and by extension, Disney) well in its film ventures. Yet like my experience with "Jessica Jones" and the character's handling in her comic series, Alias, I was curious to return to the comics and read the powerful story where Elektra met her death at the hands of Bullseye--a development that, like Elektra herself, was handled very differently in the two Netflix series.

The double-sized issue from 1982 stands nicely apart from its big-budget counterpart, as well as being an excellent example of comics storytelling that any Daredevil reader likely drank in from cover to cover. It also has the distinction of being almost entirely told from the perspective of Bullseye, former chief assassin of the Kingpin--an approach which, to my total surprise, worked, and for a whopping thirty-eight pages. You'd think that this kind of story would at some point need to include Matt Murdock's feelings and thoughts on the matter, since buyers were presumably plunking down $1.00 and some change to touch base with the hero, whose reaction to this murder would likely be at least as dramatic as the killing stroke itself.

But this is all Bullseye's show, beginning with his current incarceration at Daredevil's hands. But the root of the grudge Bullseye carries for DD isn't at all what you might have expected.

Hydra Is For Swingers!

Spectre, or Hydra? The choice seems clear for a prospective evildoer with an eye out for advancement. You could be restricted to formal wear and look forward to stuffy meetings where you and your fellow operatives report to a humorless superior stroking a pussycat on his lap--or you can throw on a green robe, cowl, and goggles, pick up a torch, and wear your "H" emblem proudly while your superior trots out a snarling leopard and issues his orders to the troops.

And then there are also those cool infraction ceremonies, where everybody gets to raise a little hell--that is, everybody but the guest of dishonor. When it came to dispensing punishment for failure, I used to think that no one could equal the cold efficiency of Spectre, the evil organization which often targeted its nemesis, James Bond, but at times had to make an example of underlings who didn't meet expectations. With the push of a button, a Spectre operative suspected of betrayal (or worse, incompetence) would suddenly find themself a victim of summary execution, with their corpse disposed of as tidily as you or I might use a dustpan.

But no one ever accused Hydra of handling its own internal problems any less lethally. You have to think that any organization that has as part of its motto "cut off a limb, and two more shall take its place" isn't going to hesitate when the tree needs pruning. Yet why resort to a mere button, when you can have a little spectacle with your death sentences?

And an "H"-shaped death pendulum, too! What are you waiting for??

Mission: Stop The Hulk!

During March of 1963, the first Incredible Hulk series was ending its run of just six issues--though judging by the Fantastic Four issue of the same month, where the character was making a guest appearance, you'd find it hard to believe that the Hulk's days on the comics rack were numbered.

As it turned out, not even this "hail Mary" pass for the Hulk could save his title from folding--but his inclusion here helps to make this issue of Fantastic Four a true classic. Not to mention helping it fetch a pretty penny on ebay.

So why is the FF going after the Hulk? And why is the Hulk out to destroy them? For now, we'll just have to be tempted by one of the story's chapter titles which heralds the drama to come, as we begin to flip through pages that were created 55 years ago to the month.

And You Think Your Relationship Is Complicated

With all the A.I. devices in comics that have run amok in one way or another, you'd think that Marvel characters would take a few precautions in their blueprints, especially when they're designing breakthrough technology. Take Bruce Banner, for example. Many scientists who want to keep a record of their studies or research progress keep a journal, or make recordings, or have an assistant taking notes--but while the solitary Banner prefers his research to be documented by a recording device, he also feels it should have a mind of its own.

There would probably be any number of assistants lining up with notebooks in hand who would jump at the chance to work alongside Bruce Banner if only to document his research--but clearly Banner prefers to dictate to a hovering, interactive recording assistant that conforms to his specifications. And if loneliness was his primary motivation for giving it artificial intelligence, I don't think I want to know what other specifications he's programmed into this thing, if you catch my drift.

And so the "recordasphere" remains content in its interaction with and service to Banner--that is, until the arrival of Katherine Waynesboro, a research assistant recommended by S.H.I.E.L.D. If you hear the acronym "S.H.I.E.L.D." mentioned in any context, it often doesn't bode well; indeed, where the recordasphere is concerned, Dr. Waynesboro's addition to the team isn't exactly a welcome one. Especially considering that we now discover the recordasphere has had a certain pronoun attached to it.

Further tremors of discontent are to come, and soon, as Dr. Waynesboro becomes a sympathetic figure in the book who certainly isn't the first woman to become attracted to a man like Banner, a tragic scientist who practically cries out for sympathy and support at the circumstances of his life. Unfortunately, Dr. Waynesboro isn't the only figure at the observatory that wishes to provide those services to Banner.

We see that the recordasphere has not only dropped the formalities with her--eh, its--creator, but also is obviously now obsessed with perceiving their relationship association as exclusive. Racing off undetected and breaking in to Waynesboro's quarters in search of anything suspicious, the recordasphere uncovers a holographic log that appears to implicate her in being planted at the observatory by SHIELD as a spy. Yet the recordasphere decides to withhold what it's uncovered, believing that Banner distrusts Waynesboro (because of how negatively she feels about the Hulk) and that Banner might come to the point of dismissing her on his own.

But when Waynesboro displays obvious intentions of growing closer to Banner--perhaps, to the recordasphere's way of thinking, in an effort to fulfill her "mission"--all bets are off for the recordasphere as far as its decision to remain a passive observer and bide its time. And Waynesboro becomes upgraded from merely a "rival" to a fatality.

Luckily, Waynesboro has only been badly shaken up by the experience but otherwise unharmed--with the end result being that Banner has come to realize how strongly he feels about her, and now returns her feelings for him more demonstrably.

From there, we can make a reasonable guess as to how things are going to go from here. In any soap opera, there is the inevitable confrontation between two rivals for a man's affections, with usually both women knowing it's time to put their cards on the table. The difference here is that, for one thing, only one of these rivals is a woman (not to mention a human)--but also, there's one of them who doesn't realize that she even has a rival.

Unfortunately, Waynesboro has just confirmed exactly what the recordasphere had accused her of, even though the phrasing of her reply was intended as a denial. She's definitely "spying" on Banner for SHIELD--and it's due to SHIELD's concern that Banner might revert to the monster he was before he gained control of the Hulk. Only the recordasphere appears to realize her slip-up--but chances are that this conversation would have escalated regardless, given the admission that the recordasphere now blurts out.

Fortunately for Waynesboro, the recordasphere's moments are numbered--thanks to M.O.D.O.K. (another acronym that usually implies trouble), who has unleashed the Abomination on the Hulk. Banner would normally make for an easy target for this creature who would prefer not to get another pounding from the Hulk--but the recordasphere defends its creator (Banner even armed this thing?) and pays the price.

Uh, Dr. Banner? Why the forlorn look over a device you can easily rebuild?

For what it's worth to the recordasphere, Waynesboro would soon be out of the picture when SHIELD's fears over Banner would turn out to be well-founded, and Bruce Banner would be lost to her--seemingly forever. Perhaps it's best that the recordasphere is no longer with us, since a grieving, sobbing recording device is something I'm sure we can all do without. In the meantime, perhaps we can take a lesson from the recordasphere and refrain from investing our tools with artificial intelligence, given the inherent problems that could result if...

Well, some kazillionaires are just going to blunder ahead anyway, aren't they.