Westerns & Related Milieus... (Page 4)
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***
Marvel Masterworks: The Rawhide Kid, vol.1 (2006) 244 pages
Written
by Stan Lee. Drawn by Jack Kirby, with Don Heck, Ross Andru, Paul Reinman,
Dick Ayers. Inked by Dick Ayers, others.
Colours/letters: various
Reprinting: The Rawhide Kid #17-25 (1960-1961)
Additional notes: intro by Stan Lee; creator bios; covers (including from the later reprint series Mighty Marvel Westerns)
Rating: * * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Published by Marvel Comics
Reviewed: Dec. 2023
Reviewing comics -- especially older comics -- can be tricky as an adult. After all, comics from this era (the early 1960s) were clearly aimed at a younger audience, even as collections like this are presumably targeted at aging nostalgists. So do you review it as being for kids? Adults? Or as adult-friendly kids comics?
These early western comics are clearly a product of their era -- lacking even the seminal import of contemporaneous super hero comics like Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four in which you can see the early growth and development of the super hero genre as it starts to re-make itself for a (slightly) older readership.
With all that said, these early Rawhide Kid comics can still be enjoyable for an adult -- but filtered through a kid's eyes. And since these pre-date the Spidey/FF comics that begat the "Marvel Age" they are seminal in that you can see Lee & Kirby test driving a few ideas and themes.
The Rawhide Kid actually began in the 1950s, but this volume starts with the early 1960s revival (#17 essentially the "first" issue) by two of the most influential creators in comics, Stan Lee & Jack Kirby. You can see this revival of the Kid having echoes of the early Spider-Man in that it's about a misunderstood hero (mistrusted and hounded as an outlaw despite being a good guy), with an emphasis on his youth (the "kid" even drawn shorter and slighter than the outlaws he fights) and whose origin is triggered by the murder of his parent figure, an uncle named -- wait for it -- Ben! (Spidey's uncle was Ben, too, in case you didn't know). His red hair maybe even anticipating Daredevil's ginger locks.
Because these are early comics during the early days of the Comics Code they are clean cut. There are occasional deaths and murders, but mostly guns are just shot out of bad guys' hands (I was reading this at a time when I was reading some gritty Jonah Hex comics from a later era and, uh, yeah -- quite a contrast). Even Rawhide's outlaw status seems more honourary rather than because he does anything criminal. Presumably having a criminal protagonist would've been a no-no in those days (though as I suggest, it can be seen as test driving the Spider-Man as misunderstood hero thing).
The comics also reflect the anthology era comics were starting to emerge out of. In addition to the Rawhide Kid stories in each issue (usually three Rawhide chapters each issue -- which might be three individual short stories, or one short story and another longer one broken up over the two chapters) there's another generic Western anthology-type tale plus a short prose tale (roughly 1200-1300 words, I guess) neither of them about Rawhide. Old comics would include prose pieces so they could then qualify as literature (or something) and get a reduced shipping rate.
Lee is credited with the writing (of comics and prose) and with Kirby drawing all the Rawhide Kid stories (mostly inked by Dick Ayers) and with other artists drawing the non-Rawhide stories. I'm not sure if Lee had started using the "Marvel method" at this point but Kirby might have been contributing to the plotting, as well.
Art-wise, Kirby is in top form. Funnily -- his art here seems even better than his early work on the Fantastic Four and the like. But maybe the more grounded stories were easier to visualize. But the art is quite good, the story telling clear, and the western environs nicely evoked (from dessert canyons to stage coaches and saloons). Kirby seems very comfortable in the milieu. And his pencils are presumably well served by Dick Ayers inks (Ayers who also pencils some of the non-Rawhide shorts and you can see a similar eye for details, so perhaps it was his embellishments that helped Kirby's pencils).
One of the most intriguing things here is the use of colour. Some panels use colours quite simply -- colouring background figures in primary colours, leaving only Rawhide in full colour. But it's quite artful and effective. Using the colour to not only keep the eye on the important details (ie: Rawhide) but to create a sense of dimension almost like a 3-D movie by applying different colours to different depths. That is, foreground characters might be blue, background characters different shades of orange (yellow, red, etc.) and Rawhide in full colour in the mid-ground. It's a simple (presumably cheap) use of colour that makes the images pop out at you! (Honestly? Modern comic colourists, for all their multi-tone hues, could learn something from these issues on how to focus the reader's eye on the key elements of a panel).
***
Red Prophet: Tales of Alvin Maker, vol. 1 2007 (HC & SC TPB) 160 pages
Red Prophet: Tales of Alvin Maker, vol. 2 2008 (HC & SC TPB) 160 pages
Written by Roland Bernard Brown. Illustrated
by Renato Arlem, Rodney Buchemi,
Miguel Montenegro.
colours/letters: various. Editor:
Matt Hansen, Mark Paniccia.
Based on the books by Orson Scott Card.
Reprinting: Red Prophet: The Tales of Alvin Maker #1-12 (over two volumes)
Rating: (vol. 1) * * * (out of 5)
Rating: (vol. 2) * * (out of 5)
Published by Marvel Comics
I'm reviewing both volumes together, since the 12 issues form one arc, and each volume isn't meant to stand on its own.
Although Hollywood relies heavily on adaptations, American comics tend not to go for literary adaptations as much (comics based on movies and TV -- that's another issue). Whether it's because a literary provenance is just not seen as that marketable to their target audience, or whether it's hard to option the rights, or simply a desire to be original, I don't know. Maybe it's simply that success has been limited -- arguably the only bona fide literature-to-comics success was Conan the Barbarian. With most other attempts being problematic (think of all the Tarzan comics started, and cancelled, over the years) or carefully partitioned off in their own little ghetto of "Classics Illustrated".
Still, it's not unheard of.
Science fiction novelist Orson Scott Card has had a few of his works translated into four colour life, including this series set in an alternate reality post-Revolutionary America. Set on the frontier, and dealing with tensions between Native Indians and white settlers, the story is both a familiar "boy's own" adventure of frontier life...and, as mentioned, an alternate reality, where real historical figures crop up (including lead figures Ta-kumsaw and The Prophet)...but not always as history depicted them. And where magic and mysticism is an accepted fact of life.
The trick to doing adaptations -- as Hollywood has often discovered -- is that sometimes what works in one medium, doesn't work in another. Hence why the story must be "adapted" to the new presentation. Yet if you play too fast and lose with the source, you can both alienate the fans...and lose the essence of what made the source material so compelling. Hollywood is full of lame-brained movies where the filmmakers thought -- wrongly -- that they were smarter, more talented, than the authors they were adapting.
Because comics utilize text as well as a visuals, it's easier to stay true to the source material, by literally reproducing the same text. Roy Thomas' old Conan comics were often much more verbose than his super hero writings, because he was trying to preserve as much of the source prose as he could.
All of that is both the strength, and the weakness, of Red Prophet.
I'm not familiar with the source novels, but my guess is adapter Roland Bernard Brown is trying to stay faithful to the original writings, so fans will have little to grumble about. Yet he maybe stays too true. The comic is rather densely written, with reams and reams of text captions, and dialogue balloons that fill up the panels -- much, I'm guessing, lifted directly from Card's original. And, to be fair, there's a lot that has to be crammed in, establishing the reality, the surrounding social politics and history.
But the problem with such a text heavy presentation, is it can kind of push you out of the immediacy of the scene. We're so busy reading about what's happening...we're not necessarily just experiencing it viscerally. Sometimes less can be more, and Brown might've been better to prune some of that, to settle on what is the key info we need, and give that to us in a few tight scenes.
The things is, though I found the characters and what was happening moderately interesting at first...I didn't necessarily find it involving or find myself caring about the characters.
The narrative is, itself, kind of idiosyncratically structured, initially following different characters in different chapters, so that you have trouble even deciding who the main character is supposed to be. The Red Prophet -- a Native Indian shaman -- of the title is introduced in the first chapter (though, cleverly, we don't realize who he will evolve into) is featured in the next two...then doesn't reappear until the final chapter of the first volume. While Alvin Maker -- the other title character -- is a white boy who doesn't appear until the second chapter...and doesn't really take centre stage until the fifth!
And, as I say, despite the heavy use of text, of reams of paragraph describing these characters, and explaining their thinking...it felt a bit stand offish.
Obviously, some of this is purely subjective. Another reader might tell you how they wept and cried and laughed with the characters' every changing mood. But for me, it just felt like I was looking in on the scenes through a window.
Yet, with that being said, even looking in can have its appeal. The setting and milieu is a little bit off beat for a comic book series.
But, frankly, as the series went along, and continued into the second collected volume, I just felt these problems increased. The density of the text became less something I was reading...and more something I was wading through, struggling to get to the other side. And despite the fidelity to the source material, shoe horned as it is into a comic stuff gets lost. I'm assuming in a novel, there'd be a greater ability to involve us in the characters emotionally, to really delve into who they are. The problem here is that we have too much text to make it flow as a comic book...but not enough to actually satisfy as a novel. As well, stuff feels truncated, abrupt, and even disjointed. Admittedly, maybe these were problems with the novels, but characters and plot turns seem to come out of nowhere, as opposed to arising naturally out of the narrative, and I'm guessing it's because Brown had to cut scenes that might have foreshadowed them better. In the second volume a character named Taleswapper plays a prominent part -- but I had no idea who he was! Flipping back through volume one, I realize he did make a -- brief -- appearance, but even in that earlier scene his presence seemed ill-explained!
As well, a lot of the story -- a lot! -- is concerned with a lot of mystical mumbo jumbo that means the story, in a way, takes on aspects of being a religious parable...and as about as exciting as an atheist sitting in at a Sunday sermon (even a back cover description refers to the story as a "meditation" on certain themes). That relates to my point about characters. Maybe if I was more involved in the characters, these scenes would be more interesting. But instead they took on aspects of rather dry, abstract dissertation as characters I didn't care that much about held multi-page debates about existential concepts that, frankly, kind of blurred the line between philosophy and just make-believe mysticism. A lot of these conversations just ramble on and then, after we cut away to some other scene...we cut back and just get a repeat of the previous conversation! Ironically, given that I suggest Brown may have been cutting stuff for space reasons...there are plenty of other scenes that could've been trimmed or even cut for repetition.
And because of this -- scenes where Brown is trying to cram so much in half the page is taken up with text captions, and other scenes concerned with mystical and surreal aspects -- there's often a feeling the artists are struggling to depict the scenes, sometimes with the pictures not really gelling with the captions.
Throughout these dozen issues, the art is supplied by three artists. It's decent enough (particularly given, as I say, the problematic nature of the text) without being great, though all affect a fairly straightforward, realist style so there is no jarring switch in tones between issues. Inaugural artist Renato Arlem is my favourite, evoking a little someone like Brent Anderson. Miguel Montenegro has a simpler, stiffer style that I find less effective, the figures a bit awkward in poses, the faces less defined. Rodney Buchemi is in the middle, still with a bit of stiffness to the figures, but generally good, particularly with his detailed and well drawn faces. Though none maybe find any particularly good way of conveying the mystical aspects.
But given the nature of the scripting, the artists don't do much more than support the script, as opposed to enhancing it.
Another issue about adapting and reinterpreting material for another medium, is to ask: does the comic really bring anything to the story? I mean, since this is, I believe, based on the published novels (as opposed to telling new, untold stories about the same characters) is there anything here that you can get that you couldn't get reading the novels -- either making it better than the novels, or simply different enough that both versions can sit comfortably on your shelf, side-by-side?
Now, I realize that's the question with any adaptation...and, indeed, goes to the very bases of doing an adaptation. Why is it being done? One argument is, there are readers who might pick up the comic, who wouldn't read the novel (much as one might go to a movie rather than read the source novel). Fair enough. And the argument is, that then can lead fans to the source material -- much as it has been suggested a lot of Conan readers discovered him in the comics, or the 1982 movie, then went to the original prose stories.
But in the end, Red Prophet is maybe
a victim of its own good intentions. In trying to stay too true to the
novels, it never fully makes the leap to being a comic book. The story
itself seems to ramble along, the characters too often being reduced to
ciphers, mouthpieces to express philosophical ideas, and even as a narrative
it builds to a kind of anti-climactic ending (despite having a big battle).
It doesn't end "to be continued", but does feel as though the story isn't
over yet -- I'm assuming the novels kept going. But whether the intention
was to do follow up comics, or whether these 12 was all that was ever intended,
I
don't know.
***
Tex: The Lonesome Rider (2015) 234 pages
Written
by Claudio Nizzi. Illustrated by Joe Kubert.
Colours: unbilled (possibly Kubert?).
Letters: Pete Carlsson.
English adaptation: Pete Carlsson,
Philip R. Simon.
Additional notes: intro by Pete Carlsson.
Number of readings: 1
Rating: * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Reviewed: May 2020
Original published in Italy in 2001
Published by Dark Horse (original Italian version published in 2001 by Sergio Bonelli).
This Dark Horse edition is the first colour English-language publication of the graphic novel -- but there was an earlier, 2005 black & white English-translation published by SAF, a European publisher.
Tex: The Lonesome Rider is part of a long running Italian comic book series set in the American Wild West about a Texas Ranger named -- apparently without irony -- Tex (Tex Willer to be precise). But I think it's the only episode (to date) that's been translated into English -- largely based on the fact that this story was drawn by legendary American comic book artist, Joe Kubert.
Although European comics tend to eschew the American superhero genre, many still reflect a passion for American pop culture with long running European comics (or graphic novel series) set in a mythologized America: Westerns, gangsters, even the sci-fi of the British comic Judge Dredd.
I'm of an age that I can remember when Western movies/TV shows were a dominant genre in Hollywood. And so it can be fun to revisit that field, if only as a bit of nostalgia. But equally: I'm not a devotee of all things Wild West. Part of the reason I was curious about this graphic novel was because though Italian in origin, it was drawn by the legendary American artist, Joe Kubert, with his signature rough, scratchy, but vibrant style. As well, at over 200 pages, I assumed it would live up to its name of being a "graphic novel" -- a literal novel-like saga told in comic book form.
Kubert is certainly on board and in fine form if you enjoy his distinctive and familiar style. I mean, this is a guy who sufficiently mastered the art of comic books that he founded his own school devoted to teaching comic book art. Although if I were to quibble, the visuals weren't quite as atmospheric as I might have expected from Kubert. But that may come down to the material itself. Kubert tell's the scenes well enough, but there's not a lot of in the way of emotional or philosophical undercurrents that allow Kubert to imbue the scenes with gravitas or an inherent melancholy the way, say, some of his signature efforts on war comics like Sgt. Rock and Enemy Ace could be so infused.
The story itself is where Tex: The Lonesome Rider proves a disappointment.
The premise is that just prior to Tex's visit with some old friends (whom he hasn't seen in well over a decade) the family is massacred by four outlaws. When Tex catches up to the villains, they waylay him and leave him for dead -- then they go their separate ways. So Tex sets out to bring them to justice, one by one.
My initial assumption this would be some epic "novel" proves unfulfilled as structurally it's really just a series of shorter adventures, largely unconnected to each other, as Tex tracks each outlaw down. There isn't even a particular structure or arc to the thing. That is, you could imagine establishing one of the outlaws as tougher, or meaner, or otherwise more important than the others at the beginning, and leaving the showdown with him for the climactic end. Instead you could shuffle the order of the episodes without much sense it would impact the momentum of the storyline.
The various adventures are fairly simple and straightforward, despite each Act still getting 50 or so pages to tell its part of the tale. Nor is there a lot of plot diversity. Heck, three of the outlaws even seek sanctuary with relatives. One holes up with his brother, a corrupt land baron who owns the local sheriff. Another has a brother who actually is the corrupt local sheriff. Another -- the Native Indian member of the gang -- returns to his tribe (although they are less inclined to protect him). There is some effort made to alter the milieu a little bit: in one story there's a showdown in a deserted mining town, in another Tex tracks his quarry to an Indian village. But in general there isn't a lot of variety in the various tales or how they play out.
Nor does characterization do much to pick up the slack. The characters for the most part are simplistic and one note. The outlaws Tex is chasing are just bad guys, so there's no effort made to flesh them out or give them nuanced motives or perspectives. Likewise the other characters that pop into the story also tend to just fall into convenient slots of good guys or bad guys. In one story a girl is kidnapped by an outlaw and Tex ends up teaming with her milktoast boyfriend who feels a need to prove his courage by helping to rescue her -- but even he's less like a character than a vague impression of a character. Honestly, it can feel a lot like the plotting was inspired by old 1950s/1960s American western comics -- comics where the adventures were often just 6 or 12 page stories. Except they're using those plots and characterization for 50-some page instalments in a 230 page graphic novel!
And the storytelling throughout is very much strrrrettched out; what is often referred to as decompression in comics. As every move, every gesture gets broken down across panels. That can work in a story where there's a lot of nuance or atmosphere that is being conveyed with the visuals. But as I say: there isn't a lot of subtlety or undercurrent. In fact it's an interesting testament to Kubert's skill as an artist, and his knack for storytelling, that I'm not exaggerating when I say in many sequences you could literally remove every other panel and the storytelling would remain just as coherent and clear. Only it would make the scenes a little more tight and exciting. As it is it can feel like you're watching the first three hour edit of a movie that you know will be edited down to two hours before the actual release.
The weird thing is you could almost picture this as the creators wanting to do a one-off homage to the westerns they grew up with. Hence the genericness of it, the reliance on simplistic cliches, the familiar tropes of land baron terrorizing his neighbours and shoot-outs in saloons . But as I say: apparently this is part of a long running series of graphic novels. But even Tex himself, for all that he's apparently a long running character, barely makes an impression or evinces much personality beyond blandly generic hero. Despite Tex being motivated by the murder of his friends (and the attempted murder of himself) he doesn't really demonstrate any particular strong emotions or passions throughout. You can kind of forget what started him on his mission after a while.
I also quibble about the way Tex rescues a few damsels here and there -- without any female characters really given much agency. Or another section where he befriends a black man, and stands up for him against discrimination, even as the black man himself has little personality. It's a familiar thing I've seen in stories over the years, where they want to establish the white hero as a liberal protagonist standing up to racism and misogyny...without giving the female and minority characters notable roles. (Although, to be fair, part of my criticism is that none of the characters really stand out much).
Of course this maybe relates to what you want from a Western, and the divide between a hardcore fan and someone like me. After all, I've often heard Western fans claim the appeal of the genre is its simplistic morality, its white hat/black hat dynamics. I read this and say it was pretty trite and cliched, without much in the way of interesting characters or emotional undercurrents. But maybe to some Western fans they would respond: precisely!
But another problem with that, with the one-note villains, and the lack of much in the way of clever plots or the fleshing out of other characters, is that you have this kind of weird, uncomfortable aspect where we seem to spend much of the story with the bad guys (who lack humanizing nuances) doing bad things (like killing and abusing and terrorizing people and their pets!) while Tex slowly plays catch up. The initial scene where they kill the family is stretched over about 12 pages (although that relates to my earlier point about decompression). It can feel like the storytellers are paying lip service to the bad guys being the villains -- even as the storytellers and the reader seem to revel nihilistically in their antics. I could lay a similar complaint against other novels I've read and movies I've seen: if your villains get more page/screen time than your hero, you maybe need to ask yourself why you find that entertaining?
Sure, I suspect the argument would be: we need to see the bad guys be bad in order to enjoy the cathartic thrill when the hero kills them. But there's a difference between establishing the bad guys are bad -- and kind of revelling in watching them do bad things, especially when the scenes unfold with a dogged predictability, and the villains don't have any dimensions.
Ultimately, despite solid art from Kubert, this 230 page saga just ends up being rather ploddingly paced at times, and a collection of fairly generic ideas and scenes, bereft of much in the way of emotionally involving characterization.
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