Welcome back to the second episode of Critically Comics! This month Tara & Steve discuss the 1992 Pulitzer Prize wining graphic novel, Maus by Art Spiegelman. We discuss the legacy of Maus and how it manages to be more than just a depiction of the Holocaust with cats and mice. Download and listen now! Let us know your thoughts as to whether or not Maus goes into the comics canon!
When Critically Comics was still in its incubation stages, we debated if we should have addressed Bill Maher’s previous comments regarding comic books and the associated fandom. Ultimately, we decided to pass on doing anything about the comments, thinking that by the time the site went live almost everyone would’ve forgotten about Maher’s comments. However, on this week’s episode of HBO’s Real Time with Bill Maher, the host decided to up the ante on his anti-comic sentiments by stating that those who believe comic books are any form of literature need to “grow up.” To add insult to injury, he proudly proclaimed he was sad that “[comic book fans] are still alive.” With the broadcast of these new inflammatory comments, we’ve decided to address Maher’s tirade.
The most important thing to remember about Maher is that he is, first and foremost, a comedian. Maher got his start doing stand-up in New York during the early 1980’s and rose quickly due to his naturally smug persona, quick wit, and fearlessness. Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher was the show that granted him the ability to speak on air to comedians, politicians and other influencers about current day issues. ABC decided to cancel Politically Incorrect in 2001 due to controversial comments Maher made on air. However, due to the fan base that Maher had amassed over the years, HBO hired him to develop Real Time with Bill Maher, which premiered in 2003 and is currently in its seventeenth season. Maher has used both of his television programs to tackle social issues with his trademark wit and aggressive onstage persona. Describing himself as a “rational” person with progressive liberal views, Maher never attempted to hide his disdain for those he disagrees with. Despite identifying as liberal, Maher has often taken an authoritarian-type persona where forces his beliefs on others. A prime example of Maher’s self righteousness is the title of his 2011 book —The New New Rules: A Funny Look At How Everybody But Me Has Their Head Up Their Asses. While we agree with some of his politics (Maher has been on the board PETA board since 1997), it is undeniable that Maher has a serious issue with demeaning those he disagrees with.
With his January 25, 2019 tirade, Maher focuses on a towards a long-standing stereotype that has plagued the comic book community. Maher made it clear that he believes the average comic book fan to “play with dolls”, “[have] X-Men bedsheets” and be a virgin (“there’s a reason why comic books are sold next to Pokemon cards and not on the aisle with the condoms and the lubes”). Essentially, Maher believes every book fan to be a mirror image of The Simpsons’ s Jeff Albertson – a.k.a. Comic Book Guy.
To pretend that some comic book fans don’t match that description is asinine. Yes, there are some individuals out there are who live up to the stereotype of the fabled and basement dwelling “neckbeard”. However, out of the millions of individuals who enjoy comic books and superheroes, not everyone fits that mold. Painting groups of people in such broad strokes is par the course for Maher, who has spent decades reducing entire political ideologies to a small and outlandish core that Maher has targeted for comedic effect. One individual that Maher calls out as belonging to his perception of the comic book community is Kevin Smith. Smith is an easy target due to the image he has created over the years; Smith leans into the stereotype of a comic book fan by making it a part of his core identity and openly talking about his love of the industry. Smith has cultivated an image of being an easy going and approachable celebrity — similar to the way Maher has cultivated his own image of being a lighting rod of controversy. We will eventually get around to discussing Smith’s comics work (primarily his Green Arrow and Daredevil arcs), and the issues we have with how Smith presents himself to the world as a comic book fan. While we may not agree with Smith’s viewpoints (or how he expresses them), we can still recognize the great work he has done for the comic book community without wanting to be represented by him. Similarly, as a self-identifying liberals, we surely do not want individuals to think that Maher represents all components of our political beliefs.
Maher openly mocks the idea of graphic novels being put on the shelf as other recognized literary greats, putting him in direct opposition to a belief we strongly hold at Critically Comics. Maher suggests that Americans are wasting their time by reading “childish” comic books when they should be reading the works of James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Michael Eric Dyson. He rebuffs the idea that Steinbeck, Melville or Shakespeare were ever met with criticism for their works. Balwin, Morrison, and Dyson are amazing, and you will never hear us say that you shouldn’t read them. But to assume that any author is never met with any criticism is ignorant at best. Let’s break that argument down.
Maher stated that “no one has ever said King Lear and Moby Dick was childish and unsophisticated.” Technically, he is right. Critics did not use those exact words to describe the works being referenced. Instead, they said that Moby Dick: “repels the reader instead of attracting him”, that “its catastrophe is hastily, weakly, and obscurely managed”, and “Bad stuffing it makes, serving only to try the patience of his readers, and to tempt them to wish both him and his whales at the bottom of an unfathomable sea….”
Another writer that Maher claims no one has ever called unsophisticated — Charles Dickens — has been described as “not an imaginative writer, he is not a philosophical writer; he pleases the sensation, but he does not satisfy the reason… therefore, though he is probably the most widely-popular writer, he is not a great writer.”
East of Eden by John Steinbeck was described as “a huge grab bag in which pointlessness and preposterous melodrama pop up frequently as good storytelling and plausible conduct.” But perhaps more interestingly, Steinbeck intended for East of Eden to be “so simple in its difficulty that a child can understand it.” For him, childishness is desirable trait in good writing. Which makes sense; after all, when experts teach writing, one of the key skills they focus on is clarity. Writing, reading, and manipulating language are all ways of communicating, as are speech, body language, and pictures.
Maher fails to realize that the multimodal nature of comic books invite readers to analyze the content that is on the page. In November 2018, Maher posted on his blog that “Dumb people got to be professors by writing theses with titles like Otherness and Heterodoxy in the Silver Surfer”. ( That article can be found here). Comics, like all art forms, cause individuals to critique and analyze what creators put out into world. What separates comics from other forms of art is that it actually combines the fields of literature and art, and allows for a much clearer artistic vision. For decades people have debated the animalistic nature of Heathcliff in Emily Bronte’s Wuethering Heights and fantasized about J.R.R. Tolkien’s descriptions of the Shire. Similarly, artists have debated the true meaning behind the Mona Lisa’s smile or the logic behind DuChamp’s The Fountain. While art is meant to be subjective, sometimes artist’s message can unintentionally be lost. Comics allow for creators to precisely convey their vision to the readers. Writing and art when separated are highly upheld in their own respective disciplines — so why is it so hard to appreciate the two the moment they are paired together? If it is acceptable to dedicate your life to studying the plays of Tennessee Williams or the art of Pablo Picasso, then it should be acceptable to dedicate your life to the art of Jack Kirby or the words of Grant Morrison.
If Maher’s own argumentative style were used against him, his entire argument would be reduced to the soundbite of: “Comic books are not great literature…superhero films are not great pieces of cinema.” When determining what novels have literary merit, it is clear what criteria must be met; in order for a novel to be considered “literature”, typically the work has a timeless story, is written in a distinctive writing style, and has had some type of historical significance. Superhero comics provide timeless stories with their easily recognized characters who mostly share the same universe. The shared universe aspect of comic books are unique only to the comic book industry. The most ambitious examples of shared universe in literature are J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth series and the underlying weave of the Dark Tower series that loosely connects almost all of Stephen King’s fictional works. By writing stories in a a shared universe as big as the DC or Marvel Universe , most creators don’t have to spend time focusing on world building since it has already been done by previous writers. This frees creators up to focus on telling stores and exploring themes that interest them. The same way that Faulkner, Dostoyevsky, and Hemingway had themes and writing styles personal to them, certain comic creators can be identified in a single panel due to their signature style leaping off the page. For example, if you have a panel in which characters are contemplating their existence in the multiverse while flying through a submarine powered by sound — you are most likely reading a book by Grant Morrison. Similarly, the use of shadows and earth tones in Mike Mignola’s work make his work instantly recognizable.
Some works have achieved social significant and received some of the highest awards in the literary field. Significant achievements achieved by comic book creators included Alan Moore & David Gbbons’s Watchmen winning the Hugo Award 1988, Neil Gaiman’s Sandman winning the World Fantasy Award in 1991, Art Spiegelman’s Maus winning the Pulitzer Prize in 1992, and Ron Lewis’s March winning the Robert F. Kennedy Award in 2014. Even if superheroes are unappealing to you, there are still plenty of other comic books that focus on a variety of other topics. We would personally recommend, Warren Ellis’s Transmetropolitan and Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta to Maher due to the graphic novels’ underlying themes of journalism, anti-authoritarian and the importance of free will.
In addition to exploring timeless themes, comics also allow the reader a form of escapism. In his November broadcast, Maher used comics as a partial scape goat for the election of Donald Trump; Maher stated “Donald Trump could only get elected in a country that thinks comic books are important.” Maher has it wrong — in a country where Donald Trump is president, it is impossible to not see comics as important. Comics provide readers with worlds in which tyranny is battled and people can openly stand up to bullies. Due to the visual component of the medium, comics also allow for the representation of minority groups that are often underserved by other mediums. While comics face scrutiny from fans who do not wish to see inclusivity in the medium, such as the “Comicsgate” scandal from 2018, the comics community is able to rise above that level of hate. The characters that found themselves in the center of the Comicsgate scandal, (Kamala Khan/ Ms. Marvel, Miles Morales/ Spider-Man and Riri Williams / Ironheart) have continued to find success with both fans and critics. Even though it is easy to dismiss comics as escapism, at least they are a form of escapism that allow for powerful social messages to be conveyed.
Finally, the last comment we want to address is Maher’s most hurtful statement: “I’m not glad that Stan Lee is dead, I’m sad that you are still alive.” The pure spite that is in this statement goes against everything the comic industry stands for. At its core, comics are about individuals overcoming adversity. The beautiful things about the comic book industry is that it always meets the challenges against it while inspiring its fans to overcome the own challenges they face in their own life. People get particular panels or emblems permanently tattooed to constantly remind them of their own strength that they discovered through comic books. The fact that comics inspire so many people is the reason why comic books will outlive a self-righteous bully who over-simplifies an entire industry for a series of poorly thought out jokes.
This weekend saw the release of Glass from writer/director M. Night Shyamalan. Glass serves as both a sequel to Shyamalan’s 2000’s non-traditional superhero film, Unbreakable and 2017’s horror film, Split. Due to Unbreakable and Split having such drastically different tones, Glass had large shoes to fill by providing a conclusion to the Eastrail 177 trilogy.
Despite its glaring narrative flaws, Glass is a important film to take note of in 219. Much in the vein of how Unbreakable deconstructed the superhero film genre in 2000 (eight years before the birth of the Marvel Cinematic Universe), Glass wrestles with trying to determine what comes next for the genre. While critics have already grown tired of the genre and fan attendance being unpredictable (many predicted that the billion dollar success of Aquaman would be a financial bomb for DC ), filmmakers struggle to determine what direction the superhero genre should go in next. Glass arrives on the scene to offer an answer as to where the genre should go next.
Right out of the gate, the film subverts your expectations of how you think the story will unfold. Since the reveal at the end of Split that the film took place in the same world as 2000’s Unbreakable, viewers were promised an inevitable showdown between Kevin Wendell Crumb and David Dunn. Expectations based on previous onscreen superhero conflicts dictate that the film would be based on a prolonged game of “cat and mouse” between the hero and villain. Surprisingly, a majority of them film’s conflict has nothing to do with the might of David Dunn squaring off against the brute force of Crumb’s “Beast” persona; instead the film primarily focuses on the question posed to all three main characters by Dr. Staple (Sarah Paulson) — “What if you aren’t special? What if this is all just inside your head?” The crux of the movie takes place in a prolonged surreal sequence in which Dr. Staple address each of the lead characters and deconstructs the more supernatural aspects of the previous films. She not only places seeds of doubt inside the minds of the characters, but also the audience. After that pivotal scene, both the characters and viewers start to question the reality unfolding before their eyes. As the film continues to unfold, viewers themselves doubt what was previously seen in the film, and start to pity the characters they previously saw as destined combatants, but now see as damaged due to their supposed mental afflictions.
The most obvious subversion in the film is the climax of the film. Typically in superhero films, the climatic final fight takes place in a large public place for the world to see — a fact that Mister Glass is clearly aware of as he advises Kevin Crumb on how to battle David Dunn. Moments like this demonstrate that the film is overly aware of the expectations of the audience in terms of how a story should go. Instead of delivering on the promise of a stereotypical superhero fight, viewers are given is a small intimate fight in the middle of a parking lot.
Despite the film’s clever subversions and thought-provoking questions regarding superheroes, it succumbs under its own weight. The final reveal that Dr. Staple is a part of an ancient Order designed to suppress individuals with superpowers by either forcing them to believe in a nonexistent mental illness and thereby confirming them into societal norms, or by murdering them, is a major stretch from left field. Almost no ground work is laid for this reveal and leaves the viewer numb at this revelation. However, the implications of this Order make for a more interesting discussion that the film skirts around. One starts with asking the question: Who is the hero of Glass?
Walking into the film, viewers expect that David Dunn will be the one who defeats both the Horde and the titular villain, Mr. Glass. Instead, the film has a much more bleak and unfulfilling ending for David Dunn. In lieu of walking away from a climatic cathartic battle, David Dunn is held down and drowned in a shallow puddle by members of Dr. Staple’s shadowy organization. (Oddly enough, the villains of the film, the Horde and Mister Glass, are allowed to die in the arms of their loved ones.) Due to the existence of this organization, David was never able going to walk away from the events of the film if he was able to defeat both the Horde and Mister Glass. Even if David Dunn had succeeded in stopping the Horde and Mister Glass, the shadowy organization would have won. The only person who is actually able to defeat the organization was Mister Glass.
While Mister Glass was previously a villain in Unbreakable, by the time of his death at end of Glass he has transformed into a more ambiguous character. There is no redemption arc for Mister Glass; he is a man who orchestrated the deaths of thousands in domestic terrorist attacks — a fact that the film doesn’t shy away from. However, the goal Mister Glass is fighting for by the end of the film is oddly admirable. At its core, Glass is a film about visibility and demanding that the world see you for who you are. After years of being sedated, locked away and kept away from the public light, Mr. Glass (an elderly disabled African American man) fights for the right to have his existence acknowledged. In order to complete his goal, he pairs with the Horde (who at one point proclaims himself to be the voice of society’s broken and discarded) and convinces him that the world needs to know of their existence. The only person standing in their way is Dr. Staple, the person who is actively trying to sedate them and keep their existence hidden away. Dr. Staple is a personification of societal factors that attempt to subdue and repress the extraordinary qualities of individuals. In order to conform Mr. Glass to her agenda, she attempts to essentially lobotomize him and remove his super-intelligence. Although David Dunn opposes them, Mr. Glass is also fighting for David’s betterment as well. At the beginning of the film, viewers are briefly introduced to David Dunn’s lonely existence as he is forced to alter his daily routine to avoid encountering law enforcement. If the main characters had survived and lived to see the world Mr. Glass was fighting for — a world in which society was forced to acknowledge their existence — David’s life would have drastically improved. Despite dying, Mr. Glass ultimately wins by uploading the security camera footage of David Dunn & the Horde’s fight to the Internet, thereby proving that superheroes do walk among us and defeating Dr. Stable’s attempts to repress and hide the extraordinary.
In addition to having Mr. Glass challenge stereotypical narrative norms, Shyamalan uses him as a way of challenging critics of the superhero genre. During the film, Dr. Staple actively tries to explain away all of the supernatural events of the previous films by offering possible theories of how the characters are able to do the incredible. Her practical theories are so incredibly persuasive that both David Dunn and the Horde start to doubt their own extraordinary existences. Mr. Glass is the only individual who consistently challenges Dr. Staple throughout the film. “You can’t explain away everything” he defiantly tells her as he holds onto his belief in superheroes. In conjecture with the other subversions in the film, Mr. Glass’s statements are not only a challenge to Dr. Staple, but to real world critics of the genre. The statement can be used a challenge to film critics who constantly berate superhero films for not having the emotional heft of a Paul Thomas Anderson film, and believe them to be nothing more than a soulless CGI fest to sell merchandise. With this statement it is evident that Shyamalan believes that over analysis of the spectacle of superhero films takes away from the experience. When comparing the mixed reception of the introspective and over analytical Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice to 2018’s cartoonish Aquaman, Shyamalan may be ahead of the curve by posing the idea that over analysis of the genre will be the death of it.
As much as Glass attempts to shatter the expectations and tropes of comic book films, it falls victim to the very stereotypes it tries to defy. The final line of the film proclaiming that a “universe” is about to start falls flat in a media space that is currently dominated by shared universes. Fifteen years ago the line would have been so much impactful, but with at least three MCU films being produced a year at this point, the idea of another shared universe film franchise is eye roll inducing for most audience members. However, the most important takeaways from Glass should not be the final moments but instead the self reflecting journey it took to get there. Just as Unbreakable explored and deconstructed what an origin story was, Glass deconstructs and subverts the audiences expectations of what a superhero film should be. As superhero films are continuously mass produced, hopefully Glass has set the groundwork for what comes next — more thought provoking, reflective films that refused to adhere to what came before.
Welcome to the inaugural episode of Critically Comics! Hosts, Steven & Tara, discuss the collected editions of Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale’s collaborations on Batman. Included in this episode are discussions of Batman: Haunted Knight, Batman: The Long Halloween, Batman: Dark Victory, and Catwoman: When in Rome.