Westerns & Related Milieus... (Page 3)
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The
Lone Ranger, vol. 2: Lines Not Crossed 2008 (HC
& SC TPB) 128 pages
Written by Brett Matthews. Illustrated
by Sergio Cariello, with Paul Pope.
Colours: Marcello Pinto. Letters:
Simon Bowland.
Reprinting: The Lone Ranger #7-11 (2007)
Rating: * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Dynamite Comics
Originally a radio series in the 1930s, the masked hero of the Wild West (with his faithful Indian companion) has appeared in every medium including comic books from a variety of publishers. And though Dynamite Comics has devoted most of its time to resurrecting pre-existing properties, reviving the Lone Ranger might seem a curious choice in among all its glitzy and "hipper" properties.
Dynamite's approach (in the hands of writer Matthews and artist Cariello -- and "art director" John Cassaday) is to re-invent it as a grittier, "adult" drama. The mix seems to be garnering critical accolades -- even as it has probably alienated some older fans hoping for a counterpoint to the dark 'n gritty style that permeates so much of pop culture. But, surprisingly, the creators retain the idea that the Lone Ranger refuses to kill, even making it an integral part of the character's philosophy. Yet violence, murder and brutality exists around him, and even the Lone Ranger, who I think used to shoot guns out of villains' hands, now tends to shoot the villains' hands! (I don't think the creators have really asked what would happen to a hand if it was shot by a bullet).
And they do a decent job of redefining and up-dating the Lone Ranger/Tonto relationship -- with Tonto being the pragmatist and the Ranger the idealist.
The pacing is deliberate, the colour choices melancholy so that the vast "Big Sky Country" horizon is often reddish or purple, as though the characters live in a perpetual twilight, and the dusty landscape is a character in its own right. The whole thing takes on an aspect of a brooding, vaguely artsy movie as the creators clearly want to establish their take as one that's more than just a Saturday afternoon adventure show -- kind of as if Kevin Costner were to make a Lone Ranger movie.
Cariello's sketchy art is reminiscent of the Kubert clan, as well as Eduardo Barreto, ideally suited to this period saga of frontier life, and to the more "sophisticated" pretensions of the material. And though the telling is very much of the "decompression" movement, where little moments are stretched out over multiple panels, some of the scenes do seem as though they really are detailing nuance, not just padding a page count -- such as when the Lone Ranger removes his mask in private, then puts it back on, as if implying he feels more comfortable as his alter ego than as himself.
But...
Initially the leisure pacing, the tersely scripted panels, the beautiful colouring, create a mood. But as so often happens with modern comics and the whole stretching out of plots over multiple issues...the longer page count doesn't translate into a better, more complex tale.
The basic plot (the 4-part "Lines Not Crossed", plus an epilogue-type issue) is that the Lone Ranger and Tonto rescue a guy from a lynch mob. But the point isn't that they think he's innocent, merely that they want to insure he gets a fair trial.
That's the plot. But it isn't dressed up with twists and turns. And it's presented quite airily, as if writer Matthews was so caught up in his themes he hadn't put any thought into the reality. The Lone Ranger is told the young man is wanted in Mexico -- but never asks for what; it's never really clear what was the altercation that led to the shoot out that led to the mob wanting to kill the man...nor why they are determined to seek vigilante justice over the law. And the accused can't really surprise us with his actions...because we never really formed an opinion of him (he has few lines until toward the climax).
Matthews might argue the details are unimportant, as they are just the catalyst for exploring moral responsibility and the nature of justice. But if the story is to be a character study, we need to believe in the characters' actions, and therefore, believe in their reality.
As well, even the themes seem kind of ill defined or expressed. They touch on the idea that even legitimate justice might result in the accused being executed, putting the Ranger in a moral quandary...but surely that's true of any criminal the Lone Ranger brings to justice. The paradox of a hero who doesn't believe in killing working within a justice system that does either needs to be explored more intensively...or is best ignored because it would get repetitive if he had to "grapple" with it every story arc.
(In fact, in the annual Lone Ranger and Tonto #1, sure enough, the same issue is trotted out again).
Cynically I've thought that the whole move towards decompressed stories is a sign of laziness on the part of modern writers. I mean, think of it. Matthews got all these issues (collecting a pay check for each script) for this awfully slight plot. I've also commented that if trade paperback collections really do sell better than monthly comics (as some have claimed) it's perhaps an indication that many monthly comics offer too little bang for your buck.
As well, because this is part of an on going series, there are frequent cutaways to a villainous character, Cavendish...scenes that have no relationship to this plot (nor is he, or even the Ranger himself, that well explained for a novice reader).
I'm left with mixed feelings toward this Ranger revival. Striking, atmospheric art and colour, and a genuine attempt to create an undercurrent of a thoughtful, adult drama. The slow, deliberate pacing, at first, worked for me, as I was content to let the story mosey along at its own pace. But by the end, you're just left with a rather simple, vague story that, thirty years ago, would've been told in one issue...and been more powerful and provocative for the brevity. A story that doesn't really succeed in making you "think"...yet doesn't have enough plot turns, character development, or action, to succeed as just an exciting story.
The bottom line is I liked, or admired aspects of this...but it doesn't exactly make me eager to round up a posse and pursue other issues.
This is a review of the story as it was originally serialized in the comics.
Cover price: ____
***
The
Lone Ranger: Vindicated (2015) 120 pages
Written by Justin Gray. Illustrated by Rey Villegas.
Colours: Morgan Hickman. Letters: Bowland.
Reprinting: the four issue mini-series
Additional notes: original script pages; covers; black and white art
Rating: * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Review posted: Oct. 2024
Published by Dynamite Comics
It's been a while since I dived into Dynamite's revival of the classic character (first created for radio, if I recall, and over the years featured in movies and movie serials, TV, prose, and comic book versions -- the latter usually of limited success.)
The Lone Ranger is, of course, a kind of proto-superhero, a masked cowboy in the 1880s who roams the west righting wrongs with his Indigenous partner/sidekick, Tonto.
In this self-contained story the Lone Ranger and Tonto answer a summons to a small town plagued by bandits. The townsfolk are expecting some insurance money (to cover all the money stolen already) but worry even that will be waylaid by the bandits before it can arrive. But when they get here they find a few distractions -- like a Sheriff who bristles at their involvement and a pretty local gal who catches the ranger's eye.
And I'll be up-front and say Vindicated is kind of hard to review -- because it's neither especially good nor especially bad.
Dynamite's approach to the Lone Ranger and Tonto is both interesting and problematic. The idea was clearly to try and up-date the property for a modern readership that embraces gritty and quasi-adult themes...yet, surprisingly, they genuinely want to retain the Old School "naiveness" of the hero. So the Lone Ranger still shoots guns from people's hands and refuses to kill (you could imagine another reboot re-conceptualising the Lone Ranger as, I dunno, having a gatling gun grafted to his arm!) Indeed, in a note (in the reprinted script pages) writer Justin Gray even remarks that after writing dirty, gritty westerns (he co-wrote a lot of the modern Jonah Hex comics with Jimmy Palmiotti) he deliberately wants the Lone Ranger to be a more idealized, Hollywood-style version of the old west.
But there still feels a clash, like they (the Dynamite line in general) still wants the series to have a modern, gritty feel (profanity, violent shoot outs) just with this squeaky clean hero dropped in the middle. And I'm not sure they've landed on a strong modern take on the Lone ranger, or Tonto, or their friendship. I've read a few (but not too many) of this era of stories and never really found either character emerged as that compelling or dynamic, nor that I really believed in their friendship. They are trying to figure out how to reposition the characters for a modern readership (especially the problematic "faithful Indian companion" sidekick bit). So I admire that they've put some thought into it (and, honestly, it's not like I have an obvious take myself). Dynamite's stories can feel a bit like a Lone Ranger: Year One take, with the Lone Ranger often portrayed as a bit more naive (compared to Tonto). In the romantic sub-pot here the Lone Ranger is supposed to be awkward around a woman and, it's implied, literally a virgin.
And part of any take should be making the LR and Tonto seem, well, cool, or at least effective. But despite occasionally being a fast draw, they don't inherently seem like anything more than a couple of well-meaning cowboys -- rather than a legendary crime-busting duo.
Obviously, these comments are more aimed at casual readers (like me). If you're a fan of the LR, and especially Dynamite's version of them, you've already decided if it works for you or not.
Part my ambivalence may also come down to the art. It's quite good in a straightforward way. There's a realism, a texture to it that I appreciate (rather than a more cartoony or stylized approach). At first blush it reminds me a bit of, say, Nestor Redondo or something. But both a slightly poor man's Redondo (the faces not as detailed, the environments not as textured) but also with a similar flaw of a certain elegance in lieu of dynamic storytelling. People tend to just stand stiffly about, the facial expressions not that nuanced. When I suggest the LR and Tonto lack a certain gravitas, part of that could be attributed to the art never really imbuing them with much personality. Some artists can suggest personality by how the character stands or sits, or in facial ticks. There's little of that here. And indeed, little sense of a strong character design for the LR and Tonto and the supporting characters (the latter whom I often had trouble identifying from scene to scene).
Things aren't helped, visually, by the colour choices which tend to swathe everything in various hues of brown which makes the visuals a bit drab, the scenes a bit cluttered (the foreground characters not really standing out from the backgrounds). At times it can almost feel like the point is to evoke a black & white movie (or brown and tan). Which is ironic given that in the reproduced script pages, Gray describes wanting a scene coloured "bright, warm, and exciting"; clearly the colourist saw that note, snorted, and said, "Nope." (Or it's a reproduction issue. Because, honestly, I've found myself complaining about a lot of modern comics' colouring).
And just to circle back to the plot: as I say, it's neither particularly good or particularly bad. There are some twists, where not everything is quite as it first seems. Yet neither are the twists especially surprising or push the story in a surprising direction. (Even the title -- "Vindicated" -- seems a bit arbitrary).
There's no real effort to do much with the supporting characters, to give them life beyond how they relate to the plot. Even the love interest has the problem that she never really becomes more defined than just a character to woo or be wooed by, the LR. Maybe by focusing too much on the LR being shy and awkward around a woman we don't get enough of any deeper connection.
It's a four issue storyline that feels not unlike just a single episode of an old TV series. Which gets back to my point that it's not especially bad.
It just is what it is.
***
The Long Haul 2005 (SC GN) 176 pages
Written
by Antony Johnston. Illustrated by Eduardo Barreto.
Black & White. Letters: Marshall
Dillon (?)
Number of readings: 1
Rating: * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Mildly for mature readers
Published by Oni Press
(This review was originally posted at the webzine Pulp & Dagger Fiction)
Though the Western was once a dominant genre in American pop culture, accounting for hundreds of movies, TV shows, novels, radio series and comics, it's become just a novelty in the last few decades. While comics themselves are dominated by super heroes (from the mainstream publishers) or slice-of-life and horror (from the smaller publishers). So the arrival of the black and white Western graphic novel, The Long Haul, was heralded by many as a breath of fresh air.
Hyped as a kind of Wild West version of caper movies like Ocean's Eleven, the story has semi-reformed bank robber, Cody Plummer, gathering together his old gang for one final caper -- robbing a supposedly unrobbable train hauling a couple of million dollars across country.
Though I'm not a Western fanatic, per se, I have a certain affection for the milieu. And I have a certain fond memory of old Western comics, particularly DC's deliberately gritty and nihilistic Jonah Hex (who is currently enjoying a revival). And the Long Haul has enjoyed great reviews. And artist Eduardo Barreto is an artist I've long appreciated, with a spartan but semi-realist style of well proportioned figures where people move like real people move. So I was looking forward to reading this for some time.
Unfortunately, the result is somewhat disappointing. Putting some biases up front, although I enjoy a good caper movie, I wasn't a big fan of the remake of Ocean's Eleven -- and a lot of reviewers compared this graphic novel favourably to Ocean's Eleven. Johnston sets out to write a light adventure...and maybe succeeds too well. Light? It's positively insubstantial.
There's no overriding motivation for Cody -- other than greed. That is, there's no moral justification that might allow us to empathize with him. His main impetous is a chance at revenge when he learns a Pinkerton detective who once arrested him will be in charge of security. But since the detective only arrested him previously because he was, in fact, commiting a crime, Cody is hardly a wronged party seeking redress.
Then Cody sets about recruiting his
gang...in a series of sequences that take up half the book. But like Cody,
the characters aren't sufficiently defined or interesting, and the scenes
where he hooks up with them are, by and large, dull and prosaic. There's
a sequence where he finds one in a poker game (it's a Western, so I guess
there has to be a poker game at one point), but it's a kind of dull and
pointless scene. I half thought Johnston might throw in a twist by having
the character Cody's there to recruit turn out not to be who we assume
it will be...but it is. And I'm not really sure of the point of the scene,
and since the
character is nicknamed "the genius"
I wasn't sure how this sequence showed us he was a genius (other than being
good at cards, I wasn't aware of him doing anything clever, per se). Worse...it
drags on for more than twenty pages!
The most engaging of Cody's gang is a good natured Spaniard...but even he isn't developed much.
At times, the title The Long Haul proves unfortunately apropos.
In fact, the book suffers a bit from
what in comics circles has come to be called, I believe,
"decompression", where modern stories
are stretched out more than they need to be by writers and artists more
interested in padding out a page quota than the needs of the plot. In the
Long Haul, scenes that could easily have been told in a couple of panels
are spread over a page.
Still, just when things begin to drag,
there's a scene where Cody goes to recruit a Shosone Indian confederate
and though the sequence itself isn't particulary exciting, it suddenly
adds a slightly gritty edge to the previously breezy story, touching on
the persecution Indians suffered, and by extension, it puts some meat on
Cody's character, making him a human being, not just a comic book cipher.
It might have been better to have shifted that scene to earlier in the
book. Though even it is problematic, as it ends with the Indian refusing
to join the group...yet later he shows up, with no explanation for how
or when he
changed his mind!
But before I wallow too much in negativity, the story eventually gets to the main plot -- the caper. And finally, it picks up -- a lot.
Reading the back cover, about the characters planning a train robbery, doesn't sound like much of a nifty premise -- I mean, train robberies are as old as the genre. But here, it is treated as a true caper, more about the con and subterfuge and misdirection than it is about hold ups. As the case is laid out for the characters, the obstacles out-lined, you do find yourself getting interested, eager to see how our merry band intend to pull this off.
Even here, though enjoyable, there's a certain lack of dramatic tension. In fact, when I flipped to the final page...I was surprised, not really having realized the climax had been reached! I knew the job had been pulled...but I was still waiting for the emotional climax...but there is none. And that remains the problem. For all that Johnston spends half the book just introducing the characters before we are fully plunged into the caper, the characters never really become characters we care about, or with whom we empathize. Nor do their relationships gel into true relationships, despite a nominal stab at a romance.
In a movie, where choice character actors can be hired to fill out undeveloped rolls, or in a novel, where space can be given to providing insight into the personalities, maybe these characters would be fine. But in a comic, the writer and artist need to work a little harder to make the characters come alive.
The end result seems a bit like a long ride for a short trip.
Original cover price: $14.95 USA
***
Written and illustrated by Chester Brown. Originally serialized in periodical format between 1999-2003
Rating: * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1 Published by Drawn & Quarterly Publications
Chester Brown has made a rather respectable name for himself in the independent comics field, often with low-key slice of life comics. So, in that, sense, his mammoth, black and white Louis Riel saga -- a dramatized historical biography -- is a bit of a departure for him. The comic begins in 1869, skipping over Riel's early life.
What's interesting is that Brown is Canadian, and Riel one of the most famous -- and arguably more controversial -- figures in Canadian history (his life already examined in books and plays, and at least one movie, the fine TV epic, Riel). What makes that interesting is that all too often, Canadians in the entertainment field are reluctant to acknowledge their Canadianess in a public way, so Brown gets top marks for even tackling the topic...and for doing something as off beat (though not unprecedented) as a historical biography in comics form. Who knows? It might even have inspired fellow Canadian Scott Chantler to undertake his recent critically well-regarded (and arguably more commercial) Canadian historical adventure series, Northwest Passage from American Oni Press.
Anyway, Louis Riel was so many things to so many people -- prophet, madman, hero, villain, rebel, revolutionary, founding father of Canada, and, ultimately, martyr. Western Canada in the mid-1800s was not technically part of Canada as a political entity, still mainly a territory of business interests. The population was a mix of English and French settlers, Native Indians, and the metis (part white, part Indian, mostly French-speaking). Riel, an idealistic metis with an eastern education, became a leader for the metis, French, and Indians, who felt disenfranchised by the controlling English-speaking population. Eventually, he led a rebellion, which was squashed, but nonetheless led to some token reforms and Manitoba becoming a full fledge province, even as Riel himself fled to the United States. A few years later, he returned, to lead another rebellion, this time in Saskatchewan, one that was more violent, but also more ill-fated, and Riel himself was captured, tried, and executed.
It's stuff of grand historical drama, made moreso by Riel himself who may well have been a little bit insane, full of big ideas-- and ideals -- and seeming to believe he was in touch with God himself.
Canadians often bemoan their "boring" history when compared with the "exciting" American history, but I think what most fail to realize is that history often becomes exciting more in the telling, than the happening. Americans have populaized their history -- in books , movies and comics -- more than Canadians have, but I don't know if read in a dry text book whether American history is really anymore exciting (well, events tended to be more protracted in the U.S., the civil war lasting a number of years, for instance, allowing greater scope for fictional embellishment than either of the Riel rebellions which are measured more in terms of months). But, the point is, and speaking facetiously, Americans can only dream about having a figure as colourful and dynamic as Louis Riel.
Riel remains a bit of a controversial figure -- was he a hooligan and rebel and murderer...or a passionate defender of the defenceless...or was he simply a well-intentioned madman? But the "controversy" around Riel is as much a part of the myth as anything, with some claiming he still divides French and English in Canada -- but that's not really true. I think history has generally come down in favour of Riel, with most people in Canada -- French, English and Native Indian -- seeing him at least as a nominal hero.
Ironically, Chester Brown claimed some Americans he spoke to were surprised that he had received a government grant to do the comic, given that it is highly critical of the Canadian government. I don't know if the fact that they are a surprised -- that in a democracy like Canada, Brown could receive government support for a project that might be deemed critical of the government (an administration more than a century in the past) -- is a reflection of their view of the Canadian government...or of their own. Anyhoo...
All this is giving background on Riel -- so what of the book itself?
Coming from the independent comics field, Brown's style is somewhat cartoony and simplistic at the best of times, and by his own admission, he was attempting here to ape the styles of early cartoonists like Herbert Gray (Little Orphan Annie). In fact, his style apparently evolved so much as the comic was first serialized that, when collected in hardcover, he actually redrew some of the early pages to make the style more uniform. There's a deliberate cartooniness to the art -- big hands, stiff shoulders, pupil-less eyes -- and a lack of dynanism to the panels, as conversations are carried out between poker faced characters depicted in medium long shots.
The appeal is that it does reduce the events to a digestible cartoonines, almost "legitimizing" presenting the story in this format by making it evocative of newspaper comic strips. And I read it as I might a collection of daily strips, by reading a few pages at a time, rather than sitting down and consuming huge sections in one sitting. Brown also creates (presumably intentional) humour, in scenes where dramatic things might be ensuing, or a character says something outrageous, and we cut to a mute panel of a character's deadpan reaction. Particularly for younger readers, Brown's approach might make the story a little more accessible. As well, the length and scope of the thing allows him to dramatize a lot of small incidents, to really let the saga unfold in all its minutia. And he plays around with the comic book medium itself -- having text captions identifying people without stopping the story, for instance.
At the same time, one can kind of long for a more mainstream treatment of the story, with a more dynamic, realist artist on pencils, and a narrative more conventionally presented as a narrative. After all, one doesn't go to see a movie biopic and expect it to be done in an arty, self-conscious way. Brown's approach, though making it accessible on one hand, also makes it less mainstream. Granted, Brown was working with what he could. He's not, say, Stuart Immonen, or George Freeman, or David Ross (just to name some mainstream Canadian comic artists), and had to work with what his talents allowed.
Brown also takes liberties with the story. He freely admits that there are spots where he has fictionalized a scene, or re-arranged events, or merged multiple characters into one. Sadly, there's nothing unusual about a dramatization fictionalizing history to make the story "better", the drama more exciting. But in this case, as noted, the style and technique Brown employs works against this just being a good ol' comic book drama. As such, you forgive the occasional staticness of the story, the lack of passion to the proceedings, because you assume it's more documentary than drama. So it's a shock to realize Brown has taken license with the truth for "dramatic effect". In fact, at one point, he admits even he doesn't believe in a motive he attributes to a character, but he did it anyway, just to make the story more interesting!
At the same time, Brown does something unusual. As noted, many dramatized biographies make things up, and, well...lie. But then pass it off as the truth. Brown, though, to his credit, provides extensive footnotes at the back, detailing what he changed, and what the history really is. In other words, I can't fully criticize Brown because, assuming the reader reads the footnotes, he does provide the unembellished history -- something no movie's ever done. Even more, Brown cites his various sources (most popular history books) and points out the discrepancies between them. We all like to think that history is history and facts are facts, but as anyone who has read more than one book on a topic knows, even in straight non-fiction, there's a lot of room for distortion and embellishment. So, in that sense, Brown also reminds us that the "truth" is often vague. And good for him!
The bottom line is that Brown's Louis Riel is an interesting, audacious undertaking, and it's decidedly cool to see Canadian history tackled in a comic book format. And, as it is a comic, the information is perhaps easier to digest, and more entertaining, than it might be if read just in a book. But it's still not quite a great drama, as the very cartoony techniques that make it quite readable, prevent it from being entirely involving.
Louis Riel: A Comic Strip Biography 2003 (HC) 272 pages
Black & white.
***
Marvel Masterworks: The Rawhide Kid, vol.1
is reviewed on next page (under "R")
***
Northwest Passage: The Annotated Collection 2007 (HC) 268 pages
Written
and illustrated by Scott Chantler.
black and white: Editors: Randall
C. Jarrell, James Lucas Jones, Jill Beaton.
Collecting: Northwest Passage #1-3 (2005-2006)
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Additional notes: extensive commentary and annotations by Chantler.
Published by Oni Press.
Northwest Passage is an old fashioned historical adventure in the vein of someone like James Fenimore Cooper. Though what makes this slightly atypical is that Canadian writer/artist Scott Chantler sets his story in Canadian history, when fur trading forts were the beacons of European civilization and traders were as much explorers as merchants. The reason that's unusual is because it's actually not that common for Canadian storytellers to set their stuff in Canada -- particularly if meant to have a pulpy, entertainment vibe (consider a previous work by Chantler, in collaboration with fellow Canadian J. Torres, was Scandalous -- a very good, but very American-centric, drama set in Hollywood during the 1950s). And the fact that this was published by an American publisher, and received positive reviews in the American press, would seem a vindication for Chantler...and Canadiana!
(The Canadian fur trade has been used as a backdrop for pulpy adventure before and since on TV, such as the 1987 mini-series "Frontier" and more recently in a gritty cable series also called "Frontier"!)
The story focuses on Charles Lord, a one time fur trader and legendary explorer, who has spent the last few years behind a desk as the governor of a Hudson Bay Company trading fort. Lord is on the verge of returning to England after decades in the Canadian wilderness, but adventure rears its head when an old Indian friend of Lord's, Eagle Eye, shows up at the fort, near death and with a warning. Before Lord fully knows what's happening, an enemy from his past has taken the fort, killed most of its inhabitants, and Lord and the few survivors are on the run in the woods -- outnumbered but determined to take back their fort, not the least because Lord's own estranged son, the half-Indian Simon, as well as Lord's nephew are still there.
Northwest Passage (the title being more symbolic than literal, in much the same way the movie "Chinatown" wasn't actually set in any Chinatown) was initially published as three vaguely digest-sized volumes of 70 odd pages each. And it's perhaps an interesting reflection on the nature of comic book formats. Because I had bought the first issue, found it moderately interesting, but -- despite my patriotic leanings -- hadn't really found myself too eagerly seeking out the next instalments.
Yet read in its collected form, and not as a serialized adventure, I found it much more effective and compelling as a graphic "novel".
This is more like an adventure novel than simply super heroes without costumes. There is action and swashbuckling daring do, but it's also more subdued, with plenty of talking head scenes and as much concerned about the characters, their emotions, and their machinations and strategies as any knockdown drag out fight scene. Which is maybe why it reads a bit better collected -- there isn't quite enough occuring in the individual issues (particularly at 70 pages!) as they are meant to be nothing more than parts of the whole.
This may well be artist Chantler's first stab at scripting -- and he delivers an impressive debut. There's a sure footedness to the writing, and a genuine ambition to some of the scenes and the handling of the characters, the slowly unfolding of back stories and hidden agendas. This is a graphic "novel", with a large cast of generally interesting characters to be juggled, alliances to be formed and shattered, and even some allusions to legend (in his accompanying annotations, Chantler says he was paying homage to the legends of Charlemagne with his hero Charles Lord). The heroes are heroic, but given shading and humanizing flaws. (Perhaps my biggest qualm would be that the villains are French vs. the good guy English...putting the conflict on an ethnic level, though Chantler goes some way toward emphasizing it's a renegade group).
Chantler's black and white art style
is of a cartoony style that might seem a bit at odds with the essentially
serious grown up material ("grown up" in the sense that it's not childish,
not in that there's anything of a particularly "mature readers" variety
-- there's no cussing, and the violence and deaths are not especially gratuitous
or gory). I find myself waffling back and forth towards that as an art
style. On one hand, instinctively I'd say I prefer realist art, but I've
come to appreciate that there is an effectiveness to a cartoony style,
even when depicting non-cartoony material. There's a stripped to the bone
elegance, where
characters reduced to simpler caricatures
can taken on an added reality. Certainly Will Eisner (a personal idol of
Chantler's) and Chester Gould have proven that. So although the visuals
may've been another reason I was less than excited when I read the first
instalment, by the end of this collected edition...it's hard to imagine
another art style bringing to life the scenes and characters quite as efficaciously.
Chantler has a sharp eye for composition, so even the "talking head" scenes
are well staged, and his character designs are well considered.
The basic story is introduced, developed and resolved in these pages -- but as with so many comics, Chantler isn't quite prepared to deliver full closure. So though the book does form a story, there's a certain unsatisfying openness to the end. And the reason that's doubly frustrating is because Chantler does what so many comics writers do -- he leaves it open for future stories...but seems in no hurry (if at all) to tell them. At the time of posting this review it's been a couple of years since the collected volume was published...with still no sign of any sequel.
Now as I say, unlike some such works, if Chantler never returns to it, this still works on its own...but I just find myself increasingly impatient with comics writers who, presumably enamoured of the prestige inherent in crafting a "magnum opus", kind of seem to be setting up some epic arc...then lose interest and drift on to other things. (To be fair, just because Chantler is focusing on other projects now doesn't mean he doesn't sincerely intend to return to Lord and his crew).
I mentioned at the start of this that it's not all that common for Canadian writers to see in their country and history the stuff of rousing adventure -- too enamoured of "exciting" American history (and unaware much of American history has been filtered and embellished by the imagination of American storytellers). Historians might debate how realistic the story here is, but it's still fun to see an old fashioned adventure story set unapologetically against a backdrop of the Canadian woods and fur trade forts.
In his notes, Chantler remarks that
a number of American commentators questioned the friendly relationship
between Lord and Eagle Eye, and he points out that the European-Indian
relationship was slightly different in Canada than it was in the U.S. In
the U.S. the Indians were largely seen as enemies, an impediment to colonization,
whereas in Canada, where business more than colonizing was the initial
goal, the Indians were seen as useful allies. That isn't to say there weren't
conflicts, nor that the Indians weren't badly treated -- but the underpinnings
of the relationships were not quite the same. Heck, the fact that the U.S.
Cavalry was essentially an army intended to fight Indians can be contrasted
with the Northwest Mounted Police (later the RCMP) which were ostensibly
intended to simply be a law enforcement organization (I reiterate: that
doesn't mean the Indians were treated equitably in actuality). But, of
course, Cavalry's and Mounted Police were many years after the time of
this story. But since Chantler himself brought it up, I thought it was
interesting to note a way where the "Canadian" aspect of the story might
have made it different than an "American" version of the tale might have
been. (Heck, the fact that a
whole race -- the Métis --
arose in Canada defined as being of mixed European and Indian ancestry
certainly indicates a lot of commingling).
Ultimately, Chantler has succeeded at crafting a genuine graphic "novel" -- evocative of the kind of "boy's own" adventure of a Cooper or a Robert Louis Stevenson. There are ways I can quibble with it (the climax seems a bit anti-climactic, the overall story fairly straightforward -- I had thought the taking of the fort was the first step in some greater scheme but, no, that is simply the villain's goal). But with its large cast and story twists and turns (the sub-plots are more twisty than the main plot) it's a work that kind of lingers with you and you can see wanting to have on the shelf, to dig out again somewhere down the line to re-experience.
Original cover price: $__ CDN./ $19.95 USA.
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