13* Less Obvious Horror Films for Halloween

It’s always difficult to put together lists of the best horror films. Truth be told, there’s a finite amount of really excellent horror movies, and the same films tend to make everybody’s list–so much so that writers will intentionally omit obvious classics in favor of lesser, more obscure films.

Films from the 1920s and 30s are taken for granted, so Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, Dracula, and certain silent greats like Nosferatu, The Phantom of the Opera, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari are already assumed to have been seen, so historians might fill out a top ten exclusively with Val Lewton productions of the 1940s (particularly, but not limited to, those directed by Jacques Tourneur): I Walked With a Zombie, Cat People, The Body Snatcher, and Isle of the Dead.

It’s been said that modern music magazines almost never reference anybody before The Beatles except for maybe Elvis, and modern film clickbait would have you believe that horror films didn’t really get scary until the 1960s and hit their peak in the 80s. Which is why Peeping Tom (1959) is routinely left off these lists in favor of the film it inspired Alfred Hitchcock to make a year later. It all but goes without saying that no dirty dozen list of modern horror films is complete without the oft-cited Psycho, Rosemary’s Baby, Night of the Living Dead, The Exorcist, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Omen, Suspiria, Halloween, Alien, The Shining, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and The Silence of the Lambs.

And so it is likely that anyone who would seek out a list like this has already seen these movies.


Then there was the boom of horror films in the 90s by filmmakers who grew up watching a new slasher film almost every week in the 80s. Some of their films followed the Friday the 13^th formula as an ironic, post-modern cliché (as best utilized in Scream), and like their predecessors were built around gory prosthetics instead of actual scares. The obvious hilarity of witnessing multiple, creative, teen homicides at the hands (and hooks) of deformed maniacs in the 80s bred the comedy-horror hybrid, which yielded some real gems (like Fright Night, Return of the Living Dead, Evil Dead 2, Re-animator, and Night of the Creeps). But the lack of genuine scares makes it hard for the purist in me to really consider them true horror movies.



While the genre had clearly been revitalized, the formula that gave us cerebral procedural thrillers like Se7en and Saw had turned to the “torture porn” extremism of Hostel and Martyrs by the mid-to-late-oughts. The success of The Blair Witch Project (which functioned so much better as a clandestine videotape traded by bootleggers prior to its theatrical release) would eventually launch the “found footage” horrors of Paranormal Activity, which became a veritable cottage industry. As a subgenre, the ghost hunting POV films have had a better track record than most in terms of delivering real scares, with the Spanish film [Rec] being a particular and spectacular highlight, but none would have the success of the PG-13 rated The Sixth Sense, which had become one of the top ten all-time box-office champs by the end of its release.



So in an effort to expose people who love movies as much as I do to some overlooked gems, I’ve put together this list of horror films that I think deserve to be held in as high esteem as any of the aforementioned classics. I like atmosphere, and all of these have that in spades. Most unjaded viewers will find something frightening about my selections because they tend to have a pervasive sense of dread. I’ll also go out on a limb and say that these all feature award-worthy performances.  I’m not going to rank them because each is in many ways the best film of its particular sub-genre. If you are a die-hard horror fan, you likely already have seen most (if not all) of these. This is not a list of the most disturbing films, and I’ve not given any consideration to gore. If you’re looking for that, you can refer to a different list. This is a list of titles that I consider to be well-made horror films according to the following criteria: each is well shot, well written, well acted, and either delivers a good scare or completely creeps me out. Here’s a list of thirteen films in chronological order (and one bonus selection):


BLACK SABBATH (1963) – As much as I love the popcorn fangs of The Lost Boys and the southern-fried blood suckers of Near Dark, those movies just aren’t scary. But the Russian vampires of the Wurdalak episode in this Mario Bava anthology are fully, fucking frightening. How influential is this movie? Bava’s use of color reflection inspired Dario Argento’s Suspira and Nobuhiko Obayashi’s Hausu. Tobe Hooper’s Salem’s Lot and Roman Polanski’s The Tenant both borrow scenes from it. Babadook features a character actually watching it on television, and the three-story plot structure in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction was a direct tribute to Black Sabbath. AIP made a lot of fun and campy, gothic horror movies, but Bava’s films are genuinely nightmarish. Many critics prefer the director’s previous film, Black Sunday, and that film is also stunning (due in large part to Barbara Steele), but this film is much more likely to scare the bejesus out of you.


THE NORLISS TAPES (1973) – This made-for-TV movie from Dan Curtis, (the man behind Dark Shadows) is basically The X Files, but twenty years earlier. A skeptical occult investigator (Roy Thinnes, the titular David Norliss) embarks on a case for Angie Dickinson that reveals reanimated corpses, vampires, and demon worship. This pilot never went to series, but the set-up allowed for each episode to explore a new subject as one of the missing Norliss’ investigation tapes is played back, revealing clues to his ultimate whereabouts. It may have been deemed too similar to Curtis’ earlier The Night Stalker, but this lacked all of the goofy humor and schlocky acting of its predecessor–resulting in one of the scariest things ever broadcast on network television, which includes Bad Ronald, Trilogy of Terror, and Salem’s Lot. Like those other 70s programs, this is intense. The muted color palette predates (by 35 years) the gloomy look of the American Ring remake, and the whole production seems high-value for the time. I have an indelible memory of the vampire/animated corpse mixing blood into clay to sculpt a statue of the demon Sargoth, which comes to life. It froze me in fear as a child, and having seen it a few years ago, I was happy to see that this wasn’t a case of nostalgic recollection. Dickinson and Thinnes are excellent, the William F. Nolan script is damned good, and the film holds up 40 years later.


THE LEGEND OF HELL HOUSE (1973) – Richard Matheson’s take on the similarly titled Shirley Jackson novel must have laid a lot of the groundwork for Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining. The music isn’t quite Bartok or Penderecki, but there are shrill violins and short staccato riffs that perfectly complement the scariest mansion I’ve set eyes upon. Roddy McDowall plays the sole survivor of a previous expedition called back to assist Clive Revell, Gayle Hunnicutt and young psychic Pamela Franklin. The results are (of course) disastrous, and the same creeping sense of dread that infects Black Sabbath permeates every square inch of Hell House. This is the haunted house movie against which all others must be compared: the ghost gold standard, if you will. It’s the bridge between the gothic horror of Hammer and AIP and the modern scares of the Carpenter and Cronenberg films that were to come. It was completely overshadowed by the also excellent Don’t Look Now, released earlier that year, probably due to Nicholas Roeg’s virtuoso direction. Hell House director John Hough chose a more straightforward approach to better service the mood of his film, and while there’s no need to pick one over the other, I confess that I find The Legend of Hell House better suited to repeat viewings.


THE FUNHOUSE (1981) – Tobe Hooper is best known as the director of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and slightly lesser known for directing the Steven Spielberg produced Poltergeist, which is a probably the best PG rated horror film of all time. In between the two, he directed The Funhouse. Hooper opens with a shot-for-shot tribute to his friend John Carpenter’s Halloween (complete with Carpenteresque theme music) which is quickly revealed as a bratty brother-on-sister prank. Though clearly presented as a high school student (and the singular character of virtue by slasher film standards), Tobe chooses to show her completely nude in the shower, setting the tone that nothing is likely to cater to expectation. At its core, Funhouse has a standard high-concept premise: teens hide inside the funhouse and inadvertently witness a murder then try to escape, but most don’t. Masterful performances by Kevin Conaway as (literally) all of the carnival barkers, and two-time Oscar nominee Sylvia Miles as Madame Zena, the fortune teller, elevate this from the usual murder mill, and there are enough red herrings for an Italian Gialli. It is the uneasy innocence that Elizabeth Berridge (from Amadeus) brings to the lead role of Amy that excels even that of Jaime Lee Curtis in the aforementioned Halloween. She is the only actual teen in the film, and while the other actors capture the essence of rebellious youth, she maintains an awkwardness that surely clicked with girls her age in the audience, who likely went to the movie with the same curious intent that drew Amy and her friends to the funhouse. And while some are less innocent then others, you don’t really want any of these kids to come to any harm. Even the movie’s central monster is deserving of our pity. We see the young man in the Frankenstein mask twice mistreated before he is revealed as severely deformed (via iconic Rick Baker creature fx). The parallels between he and the original movie monster whose face he wears are not accidental, and the carnival is itself a character in the film. John Beal’s score is on par with the best of Jerry Goldsmith and suits the travelling amusement show well. While it’s easy to recognize The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as Tobe’s masterpiece, The Funhouse has long been my favorite of his films. It is a dichotomous success of slick and dirty that owes just a bit more to Edgar G. Ulmer than to Sean Cunningham. It was the last of the director’s films to retain the sleazy, impolite underbelly of his early independent films–albeit with a shiny, Hollywood polish. That he managed to walk that division without falling on either side is an achievement unto itself.


THE THING (1982) – John Carpenter’s remake of Howard Hawke’s The Thing From Another World is not only scarier than the original, it may be an even better allegory for the Cold War that was still in effect between the USA and USSR in the span of time between the two films. Rob Bottin’s FX work was groundbreaking for 1982, and it’s still terrifying. Carpenter’s minimalist, electronic score achieves a coldness that reflects both the mood and the Antarctic setting. Performances are strong and the premise believable–so much so that it’s been recycled about a dozen times since then. When spider legs sprout out of a severed head that then scuttles off screen, the characters in the foreground react exactly as you would: with stunned disbelief followed by frantic, defensive aggression. If you want to have a double feature of great fright flics that take place in the snow, you can follow The Thing with the somewhat cheerier 30 Days of Night.


HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER (1986) – Audiences now probably know Michael Rooker for his frequent collaborations with director James Gunn, but before Guardians of the Galaxy and Slither, and even before his scene-stealing performance in Mississippi Burning, Rooker was Henry Lee Lucas in the absolute best serial killer movie ever made. The opening montage features a succession of post-crime-scene visuals accompanied by the audio footage of those crimes being committed earlier. These are in turn intercut with mundane, almost innocuous scenes of the killer using his day job to gain access to his victims’ houses. The lingering and panning camera angles that show the results of his rampage are primal and chilling–as is the lead performance. Rooker should have been Oscar nominated.


ANGEL HEART (1987) – Mostly remembered as the film that got Lisa Bonet fired from The Cosby Show (for what was at the time considered a graphic sex scene), this noir-horror hybrid from Alan Parker based on a Stoker Award Winning novel is moody like Se7en but more abstractly scary with the ominous presence of Vodou. The cinematography by Michael Seresin and score by Trevor Jones and Courtney Pine (channeling Robert Johnson and Al Bowlly) combine with Brian Morris’ production design to make the darkest corners of 1950s New Orleans ring true. Mickey Rourke was at the top of his game, and the support cast all overshadow Robert Deniro–which was not easy to do back in 1987. Most importantly, the supernatural dressing in this movie feels real. Vodou was big in ‘87 & ’88: The Believers certainly had bigger box office, but never felt as intimate or genuine; The Serpent and the Rainbow had authenticity, but the visceral moments of all-out terror were cheapened by spotty performances and poor FX in the final reel. Initial criticism has (over time) yielded to latter day praise, and now Angel Heart is widely considered to be the best Vodou movie since I Walked With a Zombie.


WHITE OF THE EYE (1987) – Donald Cammell was an experimental, filmmaking mystic who only got to complete four movies in a career that spanned thirty years. His first film, Performance (shot in 1968, released in 1970), was made in collaboration with Nicholas Roeg, and it’s a masterpiece in its own right. The only other film on the director’s resume that replicates that standard is 1987’s White of the Eye. Cathy Moriarty gives an Oscar caliber performance as the wife of a carpenter (David Keith) suspected in a murder investigation amid accusations by her former lover–who might have an axe of his own to grind. Rare for a horror film, it’s shot almost entirely in daylight with a sumptuous Mario Testino meets David Lynch look. Rarer still, Native American animism is central to the plot. Marlon Brando, who dropped out of a Cammell project (causing it to languish for years unmade), took out a two-page apology ad in Variety, praising White of the Eye as an American classic.


EXORCIST III: LEGION (1990) – It is impossible to compare any film to the original Exorcist, including and maybe especially a sequel. But this film, both written and directed by the original film’s author, William Peter Blatty, was conceived independently from the previous films’ mythos. The reaction to the Legion script was so positive that Blatty was asked to add elements that would tie it to the franchise. Instead, he completely incorporated both Father Karras and Det. Kinderman and made one of the scariest films of the 90s. Legion was dropped from the title, and it was released as Exorcist III. With actor Lee J. Cobb dead, Oscar winner George C. Scott took on the role of Kinderman, and Emmy winner Ed Flanders assumed the priestly robes of Father Dyer. Jason Miller reprised the role he made famous. I had the pleasure of meeting Scott on the set of 12 Angry Men and I recited a pivotal speech from the coda of the film, which prompted him to shake my hand with a grip that could have crippled me (as he expressed surprise that I didn’t hit him with a line from Dr. Strangelove or Patton). Pause here and think about how powerful a speech would have to be to inspire you to memorize it. The imagery that accompanies it is hellacious on par with a Bruegel painting, and that’s not even the biggest scare! Melting ice in a glass tumbler is brought to uncharted zeniths of terror in the hands of the very capable Blatty, who populates this film with some of the most macabre imagery this side of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which in the context of religion is somehow more spiritually disheartening.


JACOB’S LADDER (1990) – Adrian Lynne’s psychedelic mind-fuck of an anti-war movie utilized some of the most ground-breaking, nightmarish imagery in the modern, collective consciousness while establishing Tim Robbins as a serious leading man. A soldier returns home after the Vietnam War with more than the usual readjustment problems: he sees demons everywhere, giving him the impression that he is either losing his mind or fighting for his soul. The key to unraveling this mystery lies in his connections with the people around him: his fellow vets, his girlfriend, his ex-wife and son, and his chiropractor. Sounds fairly innocuous, right? It’s anything but. Like Angel Heart, this is a modern, period film from an award-winning director, featuring Oscar caliber performances from the entire cast and shot as perfectly as a coffee table book. Jacob’s Ladder is the more metaphysical of the two, and is in many ways the polar opposite. This is yang to Angel Heart’s yin. It is a terrifying journey that also manages to be uplifting, which is incredibly rare in a horror film. This film made the year’s best lists of almost every critic, but earned not a single nomination among the major competitive awards. That just goes to show what an amazing year 1990 was for horror films. This is everything that Tarsem Singh wished The Cell was: a masterpiece of substance, style and technique that remained coherent, consistent and gripping. In the case of Jacob’s Ladder, casting (and Bruce Joel Rubin’s incredible script) made the difference.


MISERY (1990) – I didn’t know when I started compiling this list that Rob Reiner’s adaptation of Stephen King’s novel would be on it. And then I realized that not only is Misery the ultimate writer/stalker movie, it is exponentially more frightening in the age of anonymous, internet fandom. It easily excels on the criteria that I’ve laid out. It’s a classic high-concept pitch: writer who gets in accident is saved by his biggest fan, but nobody knows he’s alive and she imprisons and tries to kill him. Kathy Bates won an Oscar for her portrayal of deranged fan, Annie Wilkes, and James Caan staged a late-career comeback on the back of his performance as author Paul Sheldon. The script adapted by screenwriting legend William Goldman boils the novel down to its essence, and nobody who’s seen this film can hear the word “hobbling” without wincing. Most of this film takes place in a single bedroom, but Reiner keeps the tension as high as if it were shot in a car teetering off the side of a mountain. It’s not often that one can describe a viewing experience as both stressful and rewarding. And in the cannon of Stephen King adaptations, this is right up there with Shawshank Redemption, and miles above almost everything else (though I have a soft spot for Cujo, which really does take place almost entirely in a car). I love The Shining, but it is among the least faithful King adaptations.


THE DESCENT (2005) – A spelunking adventure goes horribly awry in one of the very few post-feminist horror films. In the most basic sense, director Neil Marshall has laid out the Archetypes of the Hero’s Journey and steered them through elements of Jeepers Creepers, The Hills Have Eyes, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Picnic At Hanging Rock without resorting to clichés. The essentially all-female-cast is not a sample set of stereotypes nor are they mere stand-ins for male scripted characters. The story is informed and enriched by multi-faceted performances that never ring false. The scope shifts from epic to claustrophobic but leaves room for interpretation. This film died at the box office but gained such a following on home media that a (lackluster) sequel was produced. Stick with the original. It’s fresh and it’s hardcore.

KILL LIST (2011) – This gem of an independent UK thriller completely changes genre half-way through the film. It starts out like a British Goodfellas, and then becomes Race With the Devil with a little bit of The Krays, Hostel and Wicker Man thrown in. The working class setting is immediately reminiscent of Alan Clarke or Ken Loach, and the actors seem like gifted unprofessionals to the point that you forget you’re watching a movie. Ben Wheatley directed the excellent and allegorical A Field In England, and Kill List is somehow less tethered to the norm. While a mash-up of gangster vérité and horror, it suffers no dilution on either side and delivers quite a wallop when motives are finally revealed.



*PVC-1 (2007) – Speaking of Cinema Vérité, PVC-1 is not a horror film, per sé (the same way that Jaws is not a horror film). It’s a thriller, but probably more easily classified as an 85-minute act of terrorism. Here’s the premise: During a home invasion, instead of killing the residents, the invaders strap a plastic pipe bomb to a woman’s head as a form of ransom. Did I mention that the entire film was shot in real time in a single take? When I screened this film as part of my Disturbing Movie Night series, this more than any other film caused panic. That series included Cannibal Holocaust, In My Skin, Irreversible, Martyrs, Men Behind the Sun, Mermaid in a Manhole, A Serbian Film, Singapore Sling, and many other very unpleasant films. The level of tension is high as you watch this poor woman seeking help, wondering if the bomb is going to go off or not. Not recommended for anyone suffering from any form of PTSD. Every louder-than-normal noise will cause you to flinch–and there are lots of them. I’ve heard films described as emotional rollercoasters, but this is like an emotional DMT trip.

Taboo Talk with Stephen R. Bissette

Stephen R. Bissette's Taboo

As promised, I'm back to regular postings!The second episode of Pod Sequentialism is posted and now you can subscribe on iTunes!

My guest this time is comic book artist, publisher and educator Stephen R. Bissette, perhaps best known for his work on Saga of the Swamp Thing, as well as his other collaborations with Alan Moore and John Totleben. I first met Steve as a teenager, and the very first piece of published comic book art I ever bought was one of his Swamp Thing pages.

A fellow New Englander, and an early advocate for self-publishing, Steve was one of the first comics industry professional I had ever met, and freely willing to demistify the business. His Spiderbaby Grafix imprint debuted Alan Moore's From Hell and Lost Girls as well as new works by Neil Gaiman, Charles Burns, Chester Brown, Eddie Campbell, Moebius, S. Clay Wilson, and Michael Zulli, while helping to launch the careers of Thomas Sniegoski and Mike Hoffman.

http://www.meltcomics.com/blog/category/pod-sequentialism/

Pod Sequentialism Espisode #02 is the deepest look behind the curtain that most comic fans will ever get. Bissette is an industry legend with over 40 years of experience in the business, and he speaks openly about the things that most pros are loathe to discuss. Steve gives up page rates and royalty agreements, reveals which publishers were the worst to work for, and gives an informal history of the direct distribution model.

We talk about the history of ‘zine culture, the risks and rewards of self-publishing, and how Frederic Wertham inspired pop surrealism.   

Pop Sequentialism is now podcasting as Pod Sequentialism!

http://www.meltcomics.com/blog/category/pod-sequentialism/

It's been a long time since the last update, but that's because this return post has been nearly a year in the making: The blog has become a weekly podcast with new episodes every Sunday! I welcome you to Pod Sequentialism!

Part of my blog silence has been due to a long-overdue overhaul of the Pop Sequentialism website–which is still in process, but should be done before the New Year. We'll also be moving the blog over to tumblr which will be a seamless transfer, resulting in no loss of past posts and much easier share and subscriber capability.

The podcast started as a suggestion from my old friend Gaston Dominguez, proprietor of Meltdown Comics, whose prior partnership with Nerdist helped yield the weekly comedy show Nerdmelt. Our friendship goes back to 1991, when we were co-workers at Fantastic Store Comics (RIP) on Highland, which was a filming location for the Quentin Tarantino scripted True Romance.

The Art of Brendan McCarthy

It was back then that we started buying and reselling original comic book art directly from artists, and in partnership with other prominent collectors turned professionals, like Glenn Danzig, Scott Dunbier, and Scott Eder. The first comic book from which we bought all the interior pages was Shade the Changing Man #22, which was the only issue completely penciled by regular cover artist (and two-time Eisner nominee) Brendan McCarthy. I held onto the last page of the issue, which was featured in the Pop Sequentialism book and exhibited in the first Pop Sequentialism show. I knew that Brendan was going to be one of the first people I'd ask to be on the podcast, and as it happens he was the very first guest.

The timing couldn't have been better. Mad Max: Fury Road, based on Brendan's screenplay had just opened in theaters, and continues to get rave reviews from critics, fans and industry professionals alike. From Freakwave to Fury Road, Brendan McCarthy has been on the cutting edge of comics, art, and entertainment since punk rock was in diapers. On Episode #01 of Pod Sequentialism, we talk about Mad Max, Vertigo, and Thatcher's England–and how thalidomide babies influenced the zeitgeist.

In Remembrance: H.R. Giger

It was my great honor to be requested by the late H.R. Giger's manager, Les Barany, to write the great man's epitaph for Hi Fructose magazine. It hits newsstands today, and also features a remembrance by Clive Barker.

The first art book I bought with my own money was Giger's Necronomicon II, and I was lucky enough to have met him several times over the years. The impact of his absence to the worlds of art and entertainment can't easily be measured, and writing a feature article about one of my heroes was daunting, but I was very happy with the results.


Here's a link to purchase the issue online: http://www.meltcomics.com/blog/category/pod-sequentialism/

What effect do movies have on the comics they adapt–and vice versa?

Poor Steve Gerber...

 If somebody had told teenage me that Marvel Comics would be entering a renaissance of quality entertainment production within my lifetime, I would have scoffed and I would have been justified.

The film and TV adaptations up to that point were unremarkable. The Spider-Man television show was pretty bad, and the bizarre version of Spidey on The Electric Company was befuddling. The rarely screened Dr. Strange is so for a very good reason, and while The Incredible Hulk television show was actually quite good for a season, it rapidly devolved to pure schlock. The mask-less Captain America made-for-TV movies make the 1990 straight-to-video film seem like a masterpiece and while I have a certain affection for both Howard the Duck and the so-bad-it's-almost-good Dolph Lundgren version of The Punisher, I am not so much a fanboy that I don't recognize them as, well, awful.

Almost ten years later, it seemed like they were getting the hang of things, and starting in 1998, the track record was much better. Blade was a lot of fun (as was Blade II). Bryan Singer's X-Men seemed to draw from the best of the Chris Claremont scripts and perfectly set up the characters for the Grant Morrison comic run that would follow. Sam Raimi's Spider-Man remains one of the best comic book adaptations to date.

But there were also incredibly misguided versions of Daredevil and Hulk, a piss-poor reboot of The Punisher, a superfluous spin-off for Elektra, a Man-Thing dud, fairly worthless Fantastic Four films, Ghost Rider and three part-threes that mangled the formula by way of Blade, X-Men, and Spider-Man, which is a shame considering how great the second films in each of those series were.

The First Marvel Studios release

And along came Iron Man.

The first Marvel Studios production was a perfect coup of brilliant casting and smart writing, and set the stage for an emerging Marvel Universe that could bring future intellectual properties together in a thoughtfully planned continuity. Instead of producing comic book movies, they produced great movies based on comic books and the effect on the medium that inspired them was astounding. The Iron Man comic book written by Matt Fraction and illustrated by Salvador Larocca shot straight to number one on newsstands and comic shop racks. Marvel Comics finally got to experience legitimate buzz as the zeitgeist embraced their product–primarily because it was a good one. As succesful as the Spider-Man movies had been, the carryover was more pronounced via licensed product than the comics themselves, which saw only a slight boost. It's been said that miscommunication between the Sony studio and Marvel Comics left a chasm that the marketing departments in the publishing wing couldn't fill. This wasn't much of an issue with the X-men titles because they had long been the most successful monthly books, and there were so damn many of them that overall sales remained high across multiple sku's. With Iron Man, it was Marvel calling the shots in-house and rather than alienate comic creators, the folks working on the monthly title were brought into the creative process with the entertainment company execs and a long term plan was hatched based around multiple flagpole titles in a series of platform releases.

The rest, as they say, is history. Avengers is one of the most successful films in history, and even a lackluster Hulk reboot didn't hurt the brand. Thor captured a huge female audience, and Captain America followed suit. The formula works, and it pays dividends back into the source. Avengers comic books and the many spin-offs have usurped the mutant throne, and the writing on the monthly titles that have been adapted as films have won awards for the writers and artists. The heightened profile of the story lines adapted have led to repackaged releases of those stories, and a sharp increase not only in the value of the comic books, but also the original comic art from the series that were adapted. Added desirability is reserved for original art pages that are panel-literal in their translation from comic book board to movie screen. 

Here are a few examples of those literal examples.

First up: Thor.

THOR (2009)
by J. Michael Straczynski & Olivier Coipel
Issue #10, Page 9: Splash Page
Balder Confronts Thor in the Throne Room
Graphite and ink on board
Signed by Olivier Coipel
17" x 11" $1,500.00

The Olivier Coipel page on the left shows Balder entering the Asguardian Throne Room, with Thor seated as the ruler of the Norse gods. The right image shows the movie version of Thor (as portrayed by Chris Hemsworth) entering the same room, but with Odin (Anthony Hopkins) atop the great steps. This shows how the art direction of the comic has been adapted for a new medium, and while elements of J. Michael Straczynski's story arc were preserved in the two Thor films thus far, they haven't quite caught up to where the comic book is now. Dr. Doom was an important character in JMS' run on the title following his prior scripting duties on Fantastic Four, but FF and all supporting characters are currently licensed to 20th Century Fox, who also currently control the X-Men franchise. With character rights tied up at several other studios, Marvel has to accommodate the best they can. Notice I didn't say "improvise," as it seems everything has been painstakingly thought out.

THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN (2008)
by Matt Fraction & Salvador Larroca
Issue #18, Page 22: Splash
First Appearance of The Iron Patriot
Graphite and ink on board
Signed by Salvador Larroca
11" x 17" $1,200.00

In this Iron Man panel comparison, you've got the first printed appearance of The Iron Patriot below a screen grab from Iron Man 3. In the comic series, Spider-Man villain Norman Osbourne dons the Iron patriot suit in a plot that crossed from Brian Michael Bendis back over to Matt Fraction. Since the Spider-Man universe is currently licensed to Sony, an alternate backstory had to be written for the Iron Patriot of the 3rd Iron Man film. Since Bendis is the architect of the Marvel continuity, he was central to the conversations at Marvel Studios and an excellent replacement story entered the script for the film. The armor design is identical, and both the comic and the film are top notch.

CAPTAIN AMERICA (2008)
by Ed Brubaker, Steve Epting & Jackson "Butch" Guice
Issue #33, page 23: Origin of Bucky as New Cap
(Featuring Tony Stark & Black Widow)
Graphite and ink on board
Signed by Steve Epting
11" x 17" $1,000.00

 Very recently, Captain America: The Winter Soldier hit theaters, and so far it is perhaps my favorite of the Marvel films. Much more so than the first film (Captain America: The First Avenger) the sequel captured the intrigue that epitomizes Ed Brubaker's take on the character. America's Cold War secrets come home to roost in spectacular fashion, and The Winter Soldier is brought in to the Marvel movie universe. As anyone who reads this column should be aware (spoiler alert) Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier and following the death of Steve Rogers assumes the identity of Captain America. In the panel comparison, I found it interesting that the origin given in the film for The Winter Soldier borrows visually from that same character's origin as Captain America in the comics. The Death of Captain America series by Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting is as intelligent as it is heartbreaking, and it seems that Brubaker is well versed in the literature of alternative historians like Peter Levenda and Joseph P. Farrell, as his Hydra organization seems heavily based on the Odessa file post-war Nazi conspiracy and the ratlines that pop-up on History Channel programming from time to time.

NEW X MEN (2001)
by Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely & Tim Townsend
Issue #114, Page 23: E is for Extinction
Sentinel Reveal Splash Page
Graphite and ink on board
Signed by Grant Morrison
11" x 17" $2,400.00

While X-Men: Days of Future Past is not yet released, the key art depicting Sentinels is everywhere already. This side-by-side comparison shows how much has been kept the same and how much has been changed from the Frank Quitely version of Sentinels from the Grant Morrison run on New X-Men. The panel on the right is the last page of their first issue together, and is the first appearance of a sentinel in that continuity.  The new movie is based primarily on the two issue story of the same name penned by Chris Claremont and drawn by John Byrne and Terry Austin as published in Uncanny X-Men #141 & 142 back in 1981. This has been a perennial favorite among comic fans since it was brand new, and has both set and disrupted multiple marvel universe continuities over the years. But just as the first Bryan Singer foray into mutant movies set the stage for the work  of Grant Morrison, this latest film seems to borrow a bit from the latter's X for Extinction storyline as well.

POWERS (2010)
by Brian Michael Bendis & Michael Avon Oeming
Issue #3, Page 32-33: Double Page Splash
Detective Walker Car Crash
Graphite and ink on board
11" x 17" (x 2) $1,200.00

The best part of all of this is that each of the original art pages referenced in this article are still available for sale, and have the added provenance of being reprinted in omnibus format, as well as in the Pop Sequentialism Exhibition catalog (also still available–signed, even!). Each page represents pivotal moments not just in print but immortalized in film. I've kept the pricing consistent with each artist's current page rates, which allows new collectors and investors to get into the hobby affordably–and with important pieces. Another page to keep in mind is this great Powers splash page (right), which has been revived as a live-action television series after a false start a few years ago. On March 19, 2014, it was announced that Powers would become the first original television series on the PlayStation Network, to stream exclusively on PlayStation consoles. The Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Avon Oeming series could very well be the next Walking Dead.

For more info and more original comic book art, go to: www.popsequentialism.com

What Do Artists Do All Day - Frank Quitely

The BBC Four recently profiled Frank Quitely as part of the their What Do Artists Do All Day? series. Fans who enjoy Quitely's art on Jupiter's Legacy and All Star Superman are in for a real treat as he runs down his creative process in a programme that runs nearly half an hour and focuses heavily on those two books, WE3 and a Walking Dead cover. Critical fans nonplussed by the artist's frequently late delivery may be in for a change of heart as Frank is revealed to be a very thoughtful plotter who spends far more time on the page design than on the actual drawing. More often than not it's what doesn't end up on a Frank Quitely page that makes the difference.



Integration of digital and analog sketching is becoming far more common now in the printed medium, but the degree to which individual artists incorporate the two is fascinating. Quitely starts with dozens of thumbnail sketches in notebooks before moving to digital page layout and digital blue-line sketching. When no higher degree of digital detail is possible, he prints out his blue-line and details in pencil on paper. This is comparable to the penciler/inker relationship of days gone by, which means that Frank is generally spending twice as much time on his illustrating process as his peers.

But before Quitely presses pencil to paper, he frequently reads and re-rereads a script before making notes about how to illustrate it. This elongated think time is probably the single thing that most sets him apart from the competition. Quitely really digests the story and make sure he's completely understanding the plot, actions and subtleties of character to the point that he can see it all clearly. This dedication to the writing on the part of the artist is what makes him one of the highest demand pencilers in the business.

It's also nice to learn that Katsuhiro Otomo has had such a big impact on Frank's work. While less obvious than the influence of Moebius upon Geoff Darrow, it is never-the-less surprising that I didn't pick up on it until now.

All Star Superman #9, page 3

Batman and Robin #3, page 20

Batman and Robin #3, page 1

New X-Men #114, page 23

Frank Quitely is the artist most represented in the published Pop Sequententialism catalog, with one page from All Star Superman, two pages from Batman and Robin, and a New X-Men splash–all printed as they appear pre-production. It's no secret that he's one of my favorite artists, and it's good to know that while video game and storyboard assignments frequently beckon with better pay, Quitely genuinely prefers doing comics which allow him a far greater creative freedom.

Besides, pensive pacing doesn't lend itself to the rapid-demand turnaround of continuity design.

The Coming Comic Book Strike

Earlier this week, Multiversity Comics' David Harper wrote an excellent column about Comics and the Diminishing Role of Artists in a Visual Medium. It's been making the rounds on social media as many artists have been sharing it in a rare example of solidarity. I immediately wrote to David to praise him, and put forth a little theory of my own about exactly when this power shift (form artist to writer) took place. I've been criticizing it vocally for years, and it's in-house continuity.

Publishers like Marvel and DC have been relying on company-wide story lines which are heavily dependent on continuity. That places the greatest responsibility in the hands of the story architects. People like Brian Michael Bendis and Geoff Johns have been given the reigns of not just one or two characters but entire universes. This blocks the use of any character involved in even a limited capacity, which disallows their use for the type of incredible reboots that marked the Vertigo boom of the late 80s and early 90s. Imagine a comic book world without Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, or Peter Milligan if Marv Wolfman had the power back then at DC that Bendis now has at Marvel. What if he chose to veto new writers from using throwaway characters like Sandman, Animal Man, Doom Patrol and Shade the Changing Man because he might have had plans to include them in company-wide crossover. Marv isn't the type of guy who would have blocked new creators, but his Crisis on Infinite Earths did force a curmudgeonly Alan Moore to begrudgingly include Martian Manhunter and Batman into a Swamp Thing story to fit the company-wide continuity. 

The power of the few crossover architects prevents new writers from breaking into the business. It also either alienates casual fans or requires them to bulk up on their monthly purchases (even though they may only be interested in one or two titles) because the massive-multi-book tie-ins place favorite characters in other books in which important events may (but usually don't) take place. This eventually leads to fan drop-off.

Company-wide crossovers were the beginning of the end of artist power. The double shipping that David Harper mentions in his article was the nail in the coffin.

Of course, many artists were their own worst enemies. The Multiversity blog mentioned the notoriously late Frank Quitely and John Cassaday, who really are the last two superstar artists in the comic book biz. Before fans cry Adam Hughes, it's important to remember that he is much better known for his covers than interior work, and therefore less likely to be in a position to hold up the publishing schedule. The business requires consistent ship dates, and artists who can't deliver on time will become marginalized. Remember that it took the better part of five years for three issues of Neal Adams' Ms. Mystic to see the light of day, and he had a whole stable of artists at his Continuity Graphics. In the end, this is an editorial problem. Editors are on the front lines with artists and know how many pages these guys can do in a month. If the artists got a head-start of half-a-year before street date on the first issue, Astonishing X-Men and All Star Superman probably still would've been late. OK. Bad example. Nothing can get those two to deliver on time, the knowing of which should instill a healthier respect for the great artists of the 70s like John Byrne, George Perez and Gene Colan who routinely worked on multiple titles that were 32 pages or more each month. And these were no mere journeymen. They produced top notch work on a regular basis. If they'd had the luxury of time that today's artists have, I can't even imagine how beautiful the finished art would've been–as long as Vince Colletta didn't ink it.

Harper referenced the work of Charlie Adlard and Ryan Ottley (ironically on titles both written by Robert Kirkman) as examples of consistent and long running series that have relied on just one artist. These guys have the luxury of working on one title because they are co-creators and are getting royalties based on that. Most "house" and freelance artists (not co-creators or superstars) aren't getting any royalties regardless of how many issues of a particular issue sell. The numbers may be up from where they were last year, but compared to the early Image launch numbers, most books are at 10% of where they were in the pre-videogame, early 90s. The long runs of Salvador Larocca on Iron Man and Mark Bagley's record-breaking, uninterrupted run on Ultimate Spiderman are flukes that have a lot to do with their relationships with the superstar writers they teamed with. Bendis clearly had Bagley's back. I don't know if it was out of superstition or camaraderie, but I don't think Bagley was making a lot of money, and therefore wasn't a liability to the company. I confess total ignorance on this matter of pay, and mean no disrespect one way or the other. Even if Bagley was getting $500 per page, considering the sales on that title, he was grossly underpaid–and such rates would put him in the top 1% of comic artist salaries.

A good friend of mine whose covers were recycled by Marvel for bound collections of the series they worked on didn't even get paid for the reuse of their art on these additional editions, each of which had high circulation. The art was also recycled for in-house ads for which no payment was made. I think they got $600 per cover. When DC launched a new indie line they offered this same artist even less for covers, even though the approach started on DC's end. This was at the same time that our mutual friend Dave Johnson was getting a couple thousand dollars for his covers to 100 Bullets and then selling the original art for between seven and ten thousand dollars each. But digital artists have no original art to sell, which is how comic artists in the past had been able to subsidize their shitty income. It's disgraceful, but it's nothing new. I haven't seen many Dave Johnson covers since 100 Bullets came to an end, and it wouldn't surprise me to find out that current cover rates preclude that possibility now.

Bob Layton, who should be getting some serious Iron Man movie money right now, probably isn't. He's completely left comics for Hollywood, choosing project development over slave wages. Who could blame him? The aforementioned Gene Colan died in poverty and it was the Hero Initiative that paid the medical bills that kept him alive for his last couple of years, not residuals from Marvel for the many titles he created or contributed to. Marv Wolfman and George Perez are a couple of the very few creators from the 70s who've managed to do really well for properties that they created, and probably only because timing was on their side. New Teen Titans was the first Baxter edition book and the circulation numbers in the 80s were huge. DC cut them a reasonable deal and when the animated series took off years later, they were sitting pretty. Marv makes his living writing animated series instead of comic books these days, which means he gets Screen Writers Guild money instead of the non-union, funny-book shaft. George still gets his royalty checks but the only new income he's generating comes from working on comics from the big two. I don't know how much he gets paid but I really hope it's more than the flat rate.



The only viable future in the comics business for artists is in creating and self-publishing, unless they all wise up and unionize. The problem with organizing a union, is that it would require cooperation from the writers and most of them are already signed to lucrative (sometimes lifetime) contracts. I doubt very much they'll rock the boat. Since most artists live below the poverty line, they're already living hand-to-mouth and it's difficult to ask someone to risk losing that for a greater good. This isn't the 1940s or 50s and union busting is business as usual now.

Of course, on the flip side, when you're standing on the bottom rung, the fall won't kill you. It's the rush of new legs that trample you on their way up to the bottom rung that does the damage. As long as new artists are willing to be mistreated it will never get better. There is virtually no solidarity among artists who often refuse to talk rates out of pride or embarrassment or both.

Writers have more power because they can be working on far more projects at the same time and capitalize on a success almost immediately, whereas an artist has to labor over work that a writer may have finished a year ago or more. It's much more likely that a writer will have multiple titles on the stands at the same time, which raises their stock among fans and accountants. In instances where writers really are writing more than one series at a time (rather than benefiting from the prolonged publishing schedule), the quality of the writing is often diluted over all titles. Few writers have been able to do their best work on multiple titles at the same time, because their attention is shifted. I can see how this would make crossovers very attractive to the industrious writer, though, as they can remain focused on the big picture while drifting focus across multiple characters and reassigning the writing chores for characters they don't have a head for. Some writers have had greater success than others in this endeavor, but with pay as it is, you can't blame them for picking up as many titles as possible. Fans are very forgiving, and opportunity is rare.


At least the powers-that-be are recognizing that new ideas and creativity have a currency that can't be reduced to formula if success is the goal. That has lifted writers from the canyon, but that doesn't mean that artists have to dive into the canyon in their place. If they stand their ground, they'll eventually rise, too. An industry-wide strike would cripple DC and Marvel. There is no way they're going to turn to their entertainment divisions to bail them out, ether, because those employees make real money. Perhaps the solution isn't for comic artists to start their own union, but to join an existing one. That would be a much more feasible scenario and the benefits (literal and figurative) would be incredible. Under current Writer's Guild definitions, most comic book artists as 50% contributors to the story would qualify for membership. And getting those definitions altered and more inclusive is a fight worth launching, as long as there exists a clear and certain path for new writers and artists to enter the business.

The irony of course, is that after a strike ended, the press and excitement wouldn't just reclaim the drop-off in casual readership, it would probably expand it exponentially because the reputation of the unions behind the workers would send a message that the quality is now somehow higher.

Now you know what to do, comic creators. Go forth in rage and return in prosperity.

STRIKE!

*I want to be clear that I am in no way criticizing Brian Michael Bendis or Geoff Johns who have worked incredibly hard and written thousands of pages of the best work in the medium to get to their current positions of power. More power to them. It's the system and the power structure with which I take issue.