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Detective Comics (1937) #477

Despite my youthful indiscretions in reading the famed Steve Englehart and Marshall Rogers, I had no idea what came after it. Turns out neither did DC at the time, since this issue’s got Len Wein, Rogers, and new inker Dick Giordano doing three new pages around a reprint from 1971.
Batman and Commissioner Gordon go to visit Rupert Thorne in Arkham—Rogers’s Arkham is situated right next to the Gotham Mountains—and Thorne tells Batman about Hugo Strange’s ghost. Gordon says it’s a bunch of hooey, but Batman met a mysterious ghostly figure last episode (not to mention he’s Batman, and he’s met ghosts before, right, he’s friends with aliens and gods).
As Gordon soapboxes about ghosts being stupid, Batman remembers back to the previous issue, which is reprinted. Wein and Marv Wolfman get the writing credit. Giordano’s inking too, but it’s Neal Adams pencils. Lots of great art, but the writing’s so insipid the art doesn’t matter. There’s the curse of bad superhero comics… sometimes the writing can ruin the art as a narrative. Individual panels look great but taken as a whole, super yuck.
Batman has tracked a missing Robin to a newly appeared haunted mansion somewhere in Gotham. Robin’s in college in the story, which means Dick Grayson took a long time to graduate, no doubt too busy superheroing.
The mansion’s haunted and starts scaring Batman, who takes to whining, especially after he walks in on his funeral, and all his friends show up to talk about how much he sucked. Superman calling him “The Caped Conman” is nonsense but more amusing than the rest, especially when a tweenage Robin decides with Bats out of the way, he can run Gotham his way.
The reveal’s terrible. Racist too. Be terrible even if it weren’t. It also doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts. It’s got to do with “Batman: The TV Show” levels of silly death traps, but no ghosts.
The last page, back to the present, has a cliffhanger involving a new villain.
Wein and Wolfman write the story in second person “tension” talk, directly addressing Batman and telling him how and why to be concerned or afraid. It’s a bad device once, terrible twice, but then they do it another forty-five times or whatever. It’s atrocious and succeeded in making me miss Englehart.
It’s certainly not a good sign for the post-Englehart but not yet post-Rogers Detective Comics.
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Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949, Robert Hamer)
I don’t think I’ve ever referred to a performance as delicious before. I haven’t on The Stop Button (if Google is to be believed), but I’m also pretty sure I’ve never said that phrase before. Delicious performance.
Dennis Price gives a delicious performance in Kind Hearts and Coronets. He narrates almost the entire film; there’s a prologue to establish the setting and ground situation a little. It’s the late nineteenth century (which director Hamer and co-screenwriter John Dighton forget numerous times), and a British royal is due for the gallows in the morning. Price is that royal. He’s spending his last night on Earth writing his memoirs, which will eventually get to his conviction, but first, he’s got to cover all his other crimes.
Price’s narration starts with his childhood, which succeeds thanks to Audrey Fildes’s performance as his mother. She’s out of the film, tragically, in a dozen minutes or so, but her character’s incredibly complex in that time. Fildes ran off with an Italian singer (also Price, but in a mustache), who died upon hearing his son’s first cries. Fildes’s noble family cut her off, even in her tragedy. Thanks to the flashback device, we get to see Fildes and Price (as her husband) in the salad days, which carries her character development through into Fildes as a widow. By the time Price is playing the part, in his late teens, presumably, Fildes has become obsessed with reclaiming her position.
Along the way, Price’s character makes some friends who are important (and not) later on.
It’s a wonderfully done summary sequence, though it does delay Kind Hearts kicking off. Part of Price’s initial success is distracting from the inevitable—Alec Guinness playing eight different parts. It’s no secret, he’s credited with all of them in the opening titles, but the film takes its time before bringing him in. And the first time is just a walk-on, walk-off so Price can get a look.
Fildes can’t wait forever for her family to take her back; eventually, after one tragedy and slight too many, Price decides he’s going to commit to pruning his family tree until he and Fildes’s line is back in contention for the title.
Once Price starts hunting Guinness in his various parts, the film takes on a slightly absurdist tone, and it works. It’s having fun with Guinness doing different parts—including one woman—at various ages, though all snooty. Price is also snooty, which ingratiates him to a couple of his targets. One’s an old bank manager; the other’s a young layabout photographer with a beautiful wife, played by Valerie Hobson. Price is taken with her, but he’s been carrying on a long-time affair with childhood friend Joan Greenwood, who threw him over—marriage-wise—for a man with a career while Price just had a job.
The second act of Kind Hearts is Greenwood realizing she’d made a big mistake not latching on to Price’s star and Price realizing he lucked out Greenwood was as shallow as him because he’s got an idea on getting Hobson away from her Guinness.
Thanks to Price’s narration—which comments on his motivations, feelings, and thoughts throughout—he’s able to remain the star of the film, which Guinness otherwise ought to be walking away with. The film never addresses, other than the Italian patriarch, why Price doesn’t look like Guinness. It’s also unclear how Fildes fits into the family and who she would’ve been abandoning when she ran off.
Another missing piece is Greenwood’s brother, who apparently doesn’t survive to adulthood in any meaningful way for Price (or Greenwood).
Greenwood’s actually where Kind Hearts goes the most wrong. Well, she and Hobson. Hamer and Dighton write the Guinness roles as caricatures, which Guinness then inhabits and exudes pure brilliance, but the female characters aren’t even caricatures. They’re entirely one note. Sure, they’re from Price’s perspective because he’s narrating, only they’re not. Hamer’s direction manages to showcase Greenwood and Hobson, but never their performances. It’s too bad.
Great music from an uncredited Ernest Irving, Douglas Slocombe photography, Anthony Mendleson costumes—Kind Hearts is a fantastic production. Hamer’s direction is solid, other than the aforementioned problems, but never particularly impressive. The production and the performances drive the film’s success.
Nice little turns from Miles Malleson and Clive Morton in the prologue.
Kind Hearts and Coronets: plenty of Guinness to nibble on, but Price’s the feast.
This post is part of the 9th Annual Rule, Britannia Blogathon hosted by Terence Towles Canote of A Shroud Of Thoughts.

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The Lion & the Eagle (2022) #3

I haven’t been betting against Lion & the Eagle. The first issue assuaged any Aftershock fears I was having after writer Garth Ennis’s horror comic for the company. The second issue was excellent. I fully intended to be Ennis war comic weeping the next and final issue. But I wasn’t expecting Ennis to do anything major with the title; artist PJ Holden’s already doing the European album size. Being square and bigger is enough.
And then Ennis has a spectacular series of narrative jabs this issue, turning Lion over on its head a couple times before turning it around too. It’s incredible. Especially since he doesn’t do it until the second half of the issue. The first half’s full of exposition and action; the second half’s reflection on it. Only then Ennis completely changes the narrative distance on Lion after giving it some solid whacks as the doctor character tells the army guy what’s up a couple times, and the army guy’s got to sit with it. Then there’s a Communist soldier soapboxing about the military-industrial complex, and it’s phenomenal. I can’t give away the big twists, either. There are two, one with the narrative distance, one with the narrative. Both do peerless character development work. Ennis is on fire.
And Holden’s keeping up. This issue’s simpler—the occasional silhouette, more frequently white backgrounds—but more emotive. Holden focuses on how the scenes hit, whether they’re talking heads or the dramatic ones. Not to mention there’s a phenomenal battle scene. Holden scales from close-ups on emphatic white to gory, frenetic battle action. It’s a beautiful book.
So now I’m expecting an Ennis war comic weep and being floored by whatever he and Holden come up with. Ennis has been doing excellent war comics for over twenty years now, and, somehow, he keeps getting better. He leverages the natural exposition of military command—someone can always be explaining something to someone else—and then works in historical detail, but he’s breaking out of that norm with Lion. He’s using character relationships while also playing with narration.
This series will make a wonderful collection someday; hopefully hardbound and obviously oversized.
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Kevin Can F**k Himself (2021) s02e05 – The Unreliable Narrator
Since Covid-19 doesn’t exist in either of “Kevin”’s universes, I forget this season is their Rona season, and it might have affected how they plotted the season. Because even though last episode had a surprise party gone wrong plot, I also forgot “Kevin” sometimes does sitcom tropes in their “sitcom” part of the episode. The imbalanced episodes—and Annie Murphy no longer hanging around Eric Petersen as much—have meant shorter sitcom portions.
This episode’s got a blackout, which I’ve seen in at least one sitcom I can readily recall, and there must be countless others. It’s such an easy episode (the blackout episode, not this episode of “Kevin”; this episode of “Kevin”’s an intricate marvel). The action picks up about a week after last episode, which had Mary Hollis Inboden’s birthday party, followed by a cliffhanger with Candice Coke making a show-shattering discovery.
Also continuing directly from last time is Brian Howe’s girlfriend, Lauren Weedman, who everyone finds annoying. And Murphy’s still pestering ex-boss, high school crush, ex-lover Raymond Lee. In fact, she’s bugging him when the lights go out, and Petersen, Alex Bonifer, Howe, Weedman, and Jamie Denbo show up. Petersen thinks Lee’s cafe is the perfect spot to hang out during a blackout, not suspecting he just walked in on Lee telling Murphy to stop complaining about Petersen so much.
Murphy leaves the cafe to commit a felony with Inboden; only then a couple cops—Inboden’s new pals through Coke—pull up on them and want to earn points with detective Coke by doting on her girlfriend, Inboden. It’s an incredibly stressful sequence; Anne Dokoza has done some fine directing work on this show, and I think this episode’s probably her best. The cop adventure leads to an unexpected wrench on the way to the actual crime. Meanwhile, Inboden’s sullen—more sullen than usual—and isn’t talking to Murphy about it, which turns into concurrent character development arcs. Very nice script, credited to Sean Clements.
There’s an excellent subplot for Bonifer and Denbo again, who again ably essay far more complex roles than initially written.
Lee and Petersen “bonding” is also a great bit, especially with Petersen invading Lee’s space at the cafe.
“Kevin”’s second season is quieter than the first (so far) but just as impressive an accomplishment for cast and crew.
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Werewolf by Night (1972) #18

I really haven’t been reading the creator credits well enough. First, I thought this issue was Doug Moench writing; it’s Mike Friedrich. Second, I thought it was Don Perlin’s first issue as full artist (penciler and inker), but he had that role last time. Third, he’s got an inker: Mike Royer. I blame the Don Perlin and Mike Royer art; it’s like an anti-Mozart effect. Instead of listening to the music for a temporary IQ bump, you look at the misshapen heads in Werewolf by Night and lose points.
I assume they come back but possibly not until you’re done reading Werewolf by Night and the book’s not even half over.
So, some of the problem with talking about Perlin art is Perlin is a punchline. At his very best, he exhibits the chops to do an Archie fill-in. One with a lot of adults making comedic mad expressions. This issue’s surprise villain is not the other werewolf (teased on the cover) but “Ma Mayhem,” the foremost witch in California. The Committee—led by Baron Thunder—has sent her to collect Wolfman Jack. She arrives just as copper Lou Hackett arrives to question Jack about being a werewolf, and Jack saves Hackett from her, well, her hatchet.
She’s got a bag of weapons for werewolf fighting, but she wasn’t prepared for another one to drop in.
Jack’s seventeen-year-old sister Lissa has arrived downstairs to witness the werewolf fight, and to get Ma Mayhem’s attention; she just has to get a Russell werewolf; they didn’t say it had to be Jack.
The issue starts with a flashback to the late 1700s when Baron Russoff (pre-Americanization) suffers his monthly lycanthropy, so it all ties in. I thought the Tomb of Dracula crossover revealed a limited family curse time, but it might have been the pre-TOD origin. The Russell family curse has changed at least three times in the two years since the character debuted.
The most incredible thing in the book is thinking about how Friedrich was probably writing it Marvel-style, meaning he was writing to match the Perlin and Royer art. There’s a mini-riot late in the book, and Friedrich reminds the reader it’s taking place in the pitch black so no one can see they’re fighting werewolves, but it’s bright as day. Sure, Linda Lessmann’s coloring plays a part, but Perlin and Royer don’t get lighting either.
So knowing Friedrich knew what he was bringing forth, he gets a little slack. He also does make Jack racist to his Black next-door neighbor, so he gets a point for that one (before Friedrich showed up, Jack was straight-up racist).
The art’s disappointing, but it’s never not going to be disappointing, which will become the latest curse for Werewolf by Night. Significant asterisks aside, it’s a nearly okay combination of silly action, werewolf action, and Bond villainy.
It’s a Seventies comic, after all.