The Eternal Life of Scrooge McDuck

Sure, sometimes corporate ownership of a character ends up diluting it into an endless, lifeless stream of licensing tie-ins and reproductions by half-hearted hacks. But sometimes it's fun! Take Don Rosa 's Eisner award-winning series The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck. Through the magic of Disney's corporate immortality, a character made great by a great writer and artist can be passed on to another great writer and artist. Rosa's biography of Uncle Scrooge takes an appropriately worshipful attitude toward Carl Barks 's signature character. It is, in effect, the ultimate retcon (i.e., retroactive continuity), fleshing out a whole life story for Scrooge McDuck out of hints dropped throughout Barks's original tales. In the Gladstone collection of all twelve episodes of The Life and Times, half the fun is in Rosa's "The Making of..." essays at the end of each chapter. Here he reveals himself as a true obsessive fanboy, detailing his struggles to make consistent the sketchy Scrooge timeline he inherited from Barks. The end result of this obsession is greater than sum of its two creators: a character that takes on a life of his own. And of course nothing could be more in keeping with that character's spirit than the project of squeezing every last penny out of his life story.

Planetary

If the great achievement of Watchmen was to bring psychological realism to the improbable notion of costumed super-heroes, the achievement of Warren Ellis' Planetary is to dissolve the barrier between our reality and the sphere of the super-powered without compromising the weirdness of the uber. Drawing on the high paranoia of postmodern classics like The Crying of Lot 49 and the reality-meddling of Dick, Ellis creates a secret history in which versions of Doc Savage, the Shadow, Fu Manchu, Sherlock Holmes, Godzilla, and various other famous characters coexist and interact. In one of the title's most brilliant maneuvers, the Fantastic Four have their echo in an inscrutably villainous group known only as The Four, who apparently became the "secret chiefs" of the planet a long time ago. The four-member Planetary team (our heroes) in turn echo The Four. The distinction between the ideologies of the two groups is subtle: while the Planetary team act as historians and conservationists of the bizarre (their motto is "It's a strange world...Let's keep it that way"), the Four horde and exploit wonders. "We're adventurers, my crewmates and I," one of the Four tells us, "on the human adventure. And you can't all come along." Ellis himself walks the fuzzy line between these positions, dropping just enough hints about the big picture to make you believe there is one, but not enough to let you see it.

The first 18 issues have been collected in three paperback volumes.

Tezuka Explores Ethics of Cute Engineering

Imagine that you're reading a comic from the late 40's featuring a boy genius named Doctor Shikishima and a cute talking rabbit who looks Disney's Oswalt. The story promises to be an adventure in the Carl Barks vein, until on p17 the bunny explains, "You see in the Doctor's laboratory he takes the brains of animals and surgically changes them into the brains of humans!" Welcome to The Lost World, an early work by Osamu Tezuka, the creator of Astro Boy. There's no irony here: the cuteness is always sincere, and unrelenting. But there is self-consciousness. One character remarks to the bunny: "you're like something straight out of a comic book!" The Betty Boop lookalikes made out of seaweed take the notion of engineering cuteness to even stranger places.

With this dark utopian fantasy about the technological realization of fantasy, Tezuka reveals himself as a descendent not only of Disney but also of Wells and Verne, and as a progenitor of cyberpunk anime.

The Lost World is available from Amazon.

Wachowskis Do Frankenstein Comic

The Wachowski brothers do love their utopias. The world of the Matrix has Zion, complete with Cornell West and raves, while Doc Frankenstein has a fortress in the desert founded by the Frankenstein monster. In the Wachowskis' recent venture into comic writing we discover that the monster from Mary Shelley's novel has survived to the present of Bush's America, where he has established his desert stronghold as a rationalist haven for freaks and free-thinkers. The existential anti-hero of Shelley's novel has become a superhero in the Wachowski book: instead of confronting a silent God in lonely angst, he confronts a Catholic military organization, guns ablazing. As in the Matrix movies, the utopian prospect is ultimately just a dramatic backdrop for the action. Nevertheless, the backdrop makes the action particularly satisfying for the like-minded. Here's an excerpt from issue 2: [Note that the monster has capitulated to common practice and now simply answers to the name of his creator, Frankenstein]:

Soldier of God: Do you have any sins to confess?
Frankenstein's girlfriend: Only that I didn't kick you harder.
Soldier of God: Then may God have mercy on your soul.
Frankenstein's girlfriend: May Frankenstein have mercy on yours.
Frankenstein (crashing through ceiling): Okay, we can do this the easy way, where you drop your guns, or we can do this the hard way, where I rip your arms out of their sockets.
Soldier of God: I don't need a gun, monster.
Frankenstein: That's Doctor Monster to you, God-boy.

Good clean fun.