Comics

An Evening With Kevin Smith

~ Donald J. Lund

We sort of got to hang out with Kevin Smith last night.  Not in the he came over to the house and had a couple beers with the family kind of way.  My wife, youngest son and me walked around the frigid Colorado December air and found Mr. Smith at the Boulder Theater.  Twenty rows back, in an uncomfortable chair and in the noisy bar area, was about as close as we could get in the 850-chair venue.

He passed along some humorous anecdotes, dropped some big time Hollywood names, a substantial pile of f-bombs and some bits I was not expecting.  Dude was throwing down serious wisdom.  Yes, the guy who happily generates genital jokes, rolls around in nerdy comic book references, and rocks the hockey jersey wardrobe worked in some sagely candor to all who would listen in that small theater.

Boiling it all away, it could have been dismissed as a ‘follow your dreams kids’ mantra passed down from high upon a stage to the wannabes below.  But there was more to it than that.  It was a big hearted man, with great empathy for all creative souls to do far more than follow dreams.  He insisted we go and  make those things happen.  Will, perseverance, whimsy, whatever it takes — but go for it without sweating the critics who surround us all in this life.

Some readers who know me may jump in at this point and remind me I can’t write about Kevin Smith objectively. It’s true.  I’m a fan. More than a fan, ever since I watched the movie Clerks in complete awe, I see him more as a brother who I haven’t got to hug yet.

In awe of Clerks?

Yes.

Because he truly made something from nothing.  And he did it by begging, borrowing, selling off personal items, applying for way too many credit cards, all to make a film he knew only he could make.

That was the perspective I learned last night.  The motivation I’d not heard before, despite years of lingering about as a fan of most of his work, and now as a fan of his endless perseverance.

He didn’t make Clerks for me.  Initially, I thought he did.  If you haven’t seen it, in essence it is a long day with two wacky dudes inside convenience stores talking about Star Wars and lame customers, and two crazy dudes outside the store, dealing and dancing. Throw in a little romance, some lasagna and dead guy in the bathroom and you have a fascinating day in the life in Jersey that stays with you.

Easy, right?  Go deep into debt, roll the dice on a little film and live a life of magic and wonder.  I think too many Kevin Smith fans look at it that way and maybe this tour in particular has him trying to explain, it ain’t that easy, but it is worth the hard work and effort.  The stuff people forget is Mr. Smith has had to constantly reload, regroup, and try again.  Create more, do more, sell more, work harder, and as he put it, ‘fail a bunch of times’ before finding more success.

I did laugh at some of the anecdotes.  I love Ben Affleck stories.  And it bums me out Bruce Willis is a complete ass.  But that information was strictly entertainment bits based on personal experience.  The message I heard was loud and clear.  If you have a creative soul, or big story to tell, don’t dream it, do it.

I was going to get in the question line at the theater last night, despite knowing so few questions get answered.  And the fan in me kind wanted the bonding moment to point out all of the places our lives intersect — if presented in those Venn Diagram circles — both of us love to write, love movies, love comics, love Tarantino, worked retail, owned comic shops, love Batman, lost our dads, he’s a Kevin with a brother named Donald, I’m a Donald with a younger brother named Kevin, roller coaster with weight issues, I’ve done radio and he does podcasts.

I keep thinking if I shake the family tree hard enough, a Smith has to drop out of there.  We have to be related.

At least I know we’re kindred spirits.  And the funny part was I started this writing trek this year, to make something from nothing.  It has been equally joyous and frustrating.  I keep looking at my words and thinking, “Yeah, this ain’t Mice and Men.  Or Plato would never waste his time with genre fiction.  Or damn this stuff sucks.”

Sagely Kevin Smith served some wisdom.  It doesn’t matter if my work isn’t meeting a social standard, or an entertainment norm.  I need to finish these stories for me.  I need to tell stories only I am capable of telling.  Send my perspective out into the world and someone may love it, or not.  But the process is worth it.  Fail a bunch, maybe succeed a little, or not at all.

I always feel better writing, so I’m going with that.  Some of the stories I worry about being rejected will now get sent out.  I have a kind, generous loving support from my wife and a pen, which is far more than a lot of folks have.

Just like that. Back on track. Wisdom from my man teaching me to go for it and how not to send inappropriate text messages.  It also does not hurt to know Johnny Depp.  See, I’m smarter already.

A little kick in the butt from hanging out with Kevin Smith.

Nice.

The Genius of Charles M. Schulz

~ Donald J. Lund

I love art.

And I really love art that makes us think.   After watching the new Peanuts movie over the weekend, I was reminded of all the little things I enjoyed during my life of reading the five decades of comic strips created by Charles Schulz.

Really good art reflects something of ourselves when we see it.  In the adventures of children and their dog, a number of complex ideas were thrown at the audience on a daily basis in a very innocent and simple looking format.  The kids hated homework, Mondays and being told what to do, but they also dealt with failure, depression and overcoming adversity.

The genius of Mr. Schulz is, the topics were realistic enough and at times escapist enough that people could take from Peanuts whatever they needed.  If you were having a bad day, and Charlie Brown just had the literal football pulled away from him again, you could relate to that.  Conversely, on a good day and you saw Snoopy doing his happy dance, it certainly added a smile to your face.

What I found fascinating when I went to read reviews about the new movie with all the classic characters jumping around in 3D computer animation, is not everyone likes the Snoopy happy dance, or Snoopy in general?

That’s a tough planet.  Who could possibly have a problem with Snoopy?

Apparently, for some hardcore Peanuts fans, the dog with the imagination ruins the chemistry of the ensemble cast of kids dealing with more realistic human drama.  So even a comic strip runs into the difficulty of being just one flavor to entertain a specific group of readers.

The beauty of the comic strip is it could be all things to all readers.  If you’re a glass half empty pessimist, and I’ve been there too — then the kite eating tree is a key element to that world.  A tree that destroys the potential happy kites of Charlie Brown.  However, if you’re a bright eyed optimist, you cheer for Chuck each and every time he is determined to try and fly that kite again, no matter how many times the tree wins.

When I was younger, the blahs an blue sad days for the kids, or a good Schroeder eye roll when Lucy was leaning in on his toy piano was my favorite stuff.  The bad advice from Lucy for a nickel when you wanted a solution.  The general apathy that can be found in the mundane cycles of working and living was found in those nooks and crannies in between panels of Peanuts adventures.

However, some level of wisdom kicked in during my aging process and the joy of following Snoopy guide Woodstock and friends on a scouting adventure, the happy dance, the next great “Dark and stormy night” story or a duel with the undefeated Red Baron reflected my growing optimism for each and every day.

Beyond the excellent comic strip, the animated features and the newest film, I find the balance of struggle and overcoming adversity more fun than ever.  And to ‘hear’ Snoopy laugh on the big screen, well, it makes my day.

I absolutely considered Charlie Brown a loser at one point.  I didn’t mock the poor kid, I just felt bad for him because he was a loser.  And the new film beautifully destroys that ancient sentiment I had for a long time.  Charlie Brown is us.  More stuff goes wrong than goes right, but he still reaches for the baseball, the kite, and tries one more time to kick that damn football.  A lesser being, real or imagined, would likely give up at some point.  Not our guy.  Chuck Brown never surrenders, never stops trying and holds on to hope in the most amazing and defiant ways.

And if Snoopy gets to have most of the fun, don’t forget, it doesn’t always work for Snoopy either.  The Red Baron generally gets the best of the beagle.  The thoughtful dog helps the kids and his best pal Woodstock every chance he gets, imagines great adventures and again, gets to be the happiest one in the strip.  I’ve met dogs almost as smart as Snoopy, I don’t thing the Flying Ace destroys the realism of the disappointments the other characters face – he is the escapist option we all have on a tough day.  We can daydream, dance with birds or run at full speed and try to pull the blanket away from Linus.  Joe Cool is on the case. Better yet, let’s fire up the Sopwith Camel and take to the skies.

There is genius in the simple line work of the artist, Charles M. Schulz.  From his pencil and pen to our hearts, we can see it in those kids experiencing unpleasant setbacks adults understand all too well.  The genius is how it reaches so many humans in so many different ways.

Ultimately, if you’re having a bit of a blue Monday, perhaps the the pragmatic Lucy van Pelt may assist you from her Psychiatric Advice booth, “Snap out of it!”

Good grief, she may be on to something.

Or not.

But at least it only cost us a nickel.

I’m not Batman, but I could be Eggman…

~ Donald J. Lund

The first comic books I flipped through were around the age of five.

Richie Rich, Archie, Sad Sack, Uncle Scrooge were among some of those first four color titles that added to the world of being a kid and showing off some early reading skills.  The stories were colorful, the art was fun and who wouldn’t want to dive into huge piles of gold coins in Uncle Scrooge’s money vault?

At that point I understood the nickname funny-books and why some folks referenced comic books that way.  When I was eight, my family was a world away in South Korea, and comic books were very much a slice of Americana.  No television set in that house, and so I read some superhero comics to my little brother.  Superman, Action Comics, the Amazing Spider-Man and an occasional Batman, Detective Comics or Marvel Team-Up among the reading choices during my six months there.  My little brother, who couldn’t quite read yet, demanded these adventures be read aloud.

It was no bother, I really enjoyed reading comics to my brother.  It added to the few children’s books we brought with us and whatever stories I could make up to entertain when the lights were out.  Which was quite often in Korea in the early 1970’s.

His favorite was Spider-Man and I understood why.  The stories were truly written for all ages then, so adults could enjoy the subtle complexity as much as younger readers. Some of the stories were actually quite dark.  As with Amazing Spider-Man #121 when Spider-Man’s girlfriend dies in the arms of the hero trying to save her.  Too much drama is what many modern parents would contend, but real life is always harsher than our fiction.

They were powerful stories.  And they really stayed with us, as there were consequences for decisions characters would make, unlike the dumbed down all ages material kids are exposed to these days.  But as writer Peter David might say, but I digress.

Batman comics of the 70’s returned the character to the darker, back alley tales of his Golden Age origins, pushing away from the campy POW, BANG, BOOM days of the wacky, but fun television version of the Dark Knight.  Some of those Denny O’Neil and Neal Adams classics continue to haunt the edges of my consciousness.  Good stories, great art and a healthy reminder, even the superheroes can’t fix everything.  We all have to make good choices to make life better.

An evil step-dad of the day threw all of those adventures away into the trash, just as we were set to return home to states.  The books were gone, yet, the imagination continued to thrive.  I wrote and drew my own comics for a time.  And then that one neighbor kid moved in behind my grandmother.  The kind of kid who likes a lot of stuff you like, the one you could talk sports, or bad teachers or even comic books all day long.  It was like winning the neighbor kid lottery.

Our families were fairly strict, so not a lot of goof off time, other than being allowed to hang by the fence and talk, once our homework and chores were done.  I knew he liked comics, I didn’t know he had a room full of them.  One day he handed me a comic sans the cover in between the chain links. Because the book lost the cover, he had no need of it.  It was a copy of Thor #258.

A life changer.

I’ll grant the story was not exactly Shakespeare, but no one need apologize for it.  In essence, the protagonist was on a mission to find his lost father.  Along the way, he is attacked by a base villain who threatens to kill his beloved if he does not comply.  We’re not talking about a regular comic or standard back alley brawl.  It is on a ship, in deep space, and the caption of the Viking boat is the Norse god of thunder.  Of course, Thor could make short work of the bad guy, in this case, the Grey Gargoyle, who turns his foes to stone — but no harm to his gal or his crew and he would surrender. That was a book displaying absolutely anything can happen in the space of 22-pages.

That was it.  A standard cliffhanger comic book ending, that would leave the audience begging for answers in a mere 30-days.  Of course, my next door comic guru did not have the follow-up issue or any of those life or death answers.  Luckily, my aunt and my mom took me birthday shopping a few days later and we discovered a specialty comic book shop in Boulder, Colorado.  Mile High Comics.

Crammed into that tiny retail space were thousands of comics, books, graphic novels, posters and well, let us just call it what it was, a slice of heaven on earth.

Oh, I found my answers, and a pile of Thor adventures, and the Avengers, the Justice League of America, Green Lantern and X-Men, oh my.  I was 12 at the time and life was instantly made better.

I returned to making comics, but my neighbor pal wanted in on the deal, so the partnership was called R&D Comics.  The letters simply representing Rob and Don.  But we made a cool logo and went to town telling stories and drawing them out on paper.  Our little brothers jumped on the creative bandwagon.  However, we are talking ‘little’ brothers here, so clearly their inventions could  not be as ‘cool’.

I returned my first ever character I made, Eggman, and I brought him back to life for R&D Comics. My invention was inspired by a number of existing heroes.  An alien, in a giant egg shell – which acted a lot like a turtle shell for protection, who had to travel to earth with no place to go.  Top that with a utility belt of specialized eggs, like force field eggs, explosive eggs, net trap eggs, etc., and you have hero who could hold off both Batman and Superman at the same time.

Yes, I understand other people have created their own versions of Eggman over the years, but mine was first drawn in 1972, my brother may still have the poster as proof of my very cool.  He used a science fiction like projector technology to make himself look human, so he could work and walk among us.  If the projection system was bumped too hard, it would scramble (get it, scramble) his appearance and give away his secret identity.  He had several close calls.

I had a society of superheroes he hung out with, Birdman (not the Michael Keaton one), Lightning Bolt, and Solarr (two r’s for the cool) among others, teaming up to save the world as needed.  Eggman’s arch enemy you ask?  Humpty Dumpty.  He did get put back together again, but when he was reassembled, he wasn’t right in the head.  He was kind of scary.  Humpty creeped me out.

All this imagination and creativity from reading a few funny books.

I collected for many years, loved the adventures, the incredible art and then started to look at the amazing talent creating all of those stories.  I wrote for a couple fanzines, interviewed some of those writers, artists and editors.  I went so far as to generate an online revival for The Comic Reader magazine for a year or so.  The hardcopy magazine was supposed to follow along with the online work, but it blew up on the launchpad with three issues in the can.  It was around the time of all the dot.com bubble bursting, including Stan Lee media, and the investors my business partner found had run away.  Not quite as sad as the death of Gwen Stacy, but it hurt a bunch to not be a part of celebrating the comic book art form.

So, I did what a lot of folks do who love comics; I hung around a comic store so much, they hired me to work there.  Then I bought in as a partner a few years later.  There was no money in it then, actually quite the opposite, but love of the game goes a very long way.  The store lives on, and even makes money for my former partners in crime, in Northglenn, Colorado, aptly called I Want More Comics!  The relaunch of that store also inspired by another heroic store, Time Warp Comics in Boulder.  Sometimes there are happy endings.

A few humans still miss the boat on comics, but it is a fantastic way to enjoy a story.  Incredible art, great writers and some fascinating characters.  As with books, plays, music and movies, there is plenty of art that misses the mark, yet a great number of memorable creations as well.

Appreciators of the art form quickly point to quality works like Alan Moore and David Gibbons’ The Watchmen.  And it is worth the dozens of literary references and allusions in a complex epic of what people of power might choose to do or not to do living among humanity.  However, some gentle readers here may not know non-hero works have inspired some quality film as well, such as The Road to Perdition, A History of Violence, 300 (the greeks with the great abs), Sin City, The Crow, and one of my personal favorites, the less known and very funny Scott Pilgrim.

Comics are cool.  If you’re cool, you already know that, but if you’re not, there is still hope for you.  Run, don’t walk to your nearest comic book store, operators are standing by.

Tell them Batman, no wait — tell them EGGMAN, sent you!