The late 1990s brought us a number of imprints from comic book companies that focused on the creators instead of the working of corporate IP. Dark Horse had Legend with Art Adams (Monkeyman & O'Brien), Frank Miller (Sin City), John Byrne (Next Men), Mike Mignola (Hellboy), Mike Allred (Madman), Geoff Darrow (Big Guy & Rusty the Boy Robot), and Paul Chadwick (Concrete.) Malibu had the Bravura line, with Jim Starlin (Breed), Steven Grant & Gil Kane (Edge), Marv Wolfman (Man Called A*X), Dan Brereton (Nocturnals), Howard Chaykin (Power & Glory), and Walt Simonson (Star Slammers). I will recommend all of the above. It's always good and entertaining to watch creators work at the top of the skills,
But my favorite imprint, was Gorilla Comics, through Image. Karl Kesel gave us Section Zero. George Perez did his magnum opus, Crimson Plague. Mark Waid's book was Empire and he would later utilize the same themes in Irredeemable and Incorruptible. Mike Wieringo brought his fantasy Tellos over. Kurt Busiek gave us a post-apocalyptic (or maybe a world on the edge of apocalypse) coming-of-age science fiction story called Shockrockets.
Shockrockets is the story of Alejandro Cruz, who is growing up in a world attempting to recover from an alien invasion. Cruz has amazing ability working with odd leftover alien tech and machinery, but the world and most people are barely surviving, living at subsistence level. Cruz isn't expected to be able to make a living with these skills, but maybe his children will have a better life. He finds himself near an attack by a General Korda, a hero from the war who believes he deserves more from his victories than medals and the survival of the Earth. A team of flyers, Shockrockets, who use alien tech from the war for combat and rescue missions show up to stop the general. One of their number is shot down as he was attempting a run to take down Korda's war machine. The fighter was operational while the pilot was shot. Cruz, having gone to help the pilot, hears that everything is riding on that one attack, and as he sees the pilot is too injured to fly, climbs in and finishes the run. This is only the beginning of Cruz's association with the Shockrockets, later going on to train and officially fight beside them.
As with all of Busiek's work, Shockrockets is fun, and Immonen did some of his best work here. Busiek said he wanted Shockrockets to do the same for its audience that Heinlein's juveniles did for him. He handles the coming of age theme well, and delivers on his intentions.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Wind Rises: Thoughts on, rather than a more traditional movie review
It begins, as most things do, with a dream.
A young man dreams of building a career, a life, in a young, growing profession. The field isn't taken seriously by many at the time, but the young man works at at, imitating his idols for a time, before deciding to scrap things and go his own way. He travels the path from salaryman to head visionary, respected by his employers and those who work for him, His work takes him across the world, permitting him to develop a stronger understanding of what will help him improve his work. Shadows cross his dream, yet he comes back, supported by love. And through it all, a dream grows, is built, until all can see the dream given form.
I might be talking about Hayao Miyazaki. I might be talking about Jiro Horikoshi, as presented in Miyazaki's film The Wind Rises, a fictionalized biopic on the early career of the designer of the Japanese Zero. I wonder how much of the film is autobiographical. Miyazaki's father was the director of Miyazaki Airplane, which made parts for Japanese fighters during World War Two. This permitted young Hayao a more comfortable lifestyle than many in Japan at that time.
While overt magic and fantasy elements are absent this time, The Wind Rises has familiar Miyazaki themes and signatures. Lush, beautiful landscapes liberally pepper the film. The presence of war, both in understanding of what the aircraft will do, to what Japan is building towards, and even echoes of the end of the war shown through a natural disaster in Tokyo, the earthquake of 1923, that resembles, not accidentally, I suspect, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Perhaps I am wrong to say there is no magic in The Wind Rises. There is always magic in a tale well told.
It ends, as it begins, and shows that the dream continues, even when the animators, or engineers, put away their tools.
A young man dreams of building a career, a life, in a young, growing profession. The field isn't taken seriously by many at the time, but the young man works at at, imitating his idols for a time, before deciding to scrap things and go his own way. He travels the path from salaryman to head visionary, respected by his employers and those who work for him, His work takes him across the world, permitting him to develop a stronger understanding of what will help him improve his work. Shadows cross his dream, yet he comes back, supported by love. And through it all, a dream grows, is built, until all can see the dream given form.
I might be talking about Hayao Miyazaki. I might be talking about Jiro Horikoshi, as presented in Miyazaki's film The Wind Rises, a fictionalized biopic on the early career of the designer of the Japanese Zero. I wonder how much of the film is autobiographical. Miyazaki's father was the director of Miyazaki Airplane, which made parts for Japanese fighters during World War Two. This permitted young Hayao a more comfortable lifestyle than many in Japan at that time.
While overt magic and fantasy elements are absent this time, The Wind Rises has familiar Miyazaki themes and signatures. Lush, beautiful landscapes liberally pepper the film. The presence of war, both in understanding of what the aircraft will do, to what Japan is building towards, and even echoes of the end of the war shown through a natural disaster in Tokyo, the earthquake of 1923, that resembles, not accidentally, I suspect, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Perhaps I am wrong to say there is no magic in The Wind Rises. There is always magic in a tale well told.
It ends, as it begins, and shows that the dream continues, even when the animators, or engineers, put away their tools.
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