Werewolf by Night (1972) #19

Werewolf by Night 19

The Gil Kane, Tom Palmer, and probably John Romita cover sells this issue as Wolfman Jack versus vampires on the moon. But the interior art isn’t Kane, Palmer, or Romita; it’s Don Perlin and Vince Colletta. Wolfman Jack versus the vampires is actually on a movie set, tying into a Dracula Lives story about a hacky Dracula actor going on a murder spree before the real Dracula kills him. Writer Mike Friedrich’s a real trooper, doing a sequel to another series’s story, one he didn’t write (Marv Wolfman wrote the first one).

I think Perlin might be trying with the composition, but it doesn’t work out. He’s got no rhythm to the fight scene, which isn’t a surprise, but he’s enthusiastic, which is both a surprise and unfortunate. Between Friedrich and Perlin, Jack in his human form is doing acrobatics, and as the werewolf, he’s… it’s hard to say. At least an unlikely jump kick makes visual sense; the werewolf versus vampire fight, not so much. Not with the Perlin.

The Colletta inks are dreadful, as one would expect. Every once in a while, there’s a very detailed panel, and it’s clear someone tried, Perlin or Colletta, and got there. But it’s a handful of panels; every other panel’s terrible. Some middling competence can’t overcome it.

Friedrich spends half the issue checking in on all the subplots. There’s kidnapped sister Lissa, who Jack’s having a relatively easy time tracking (he finds torn clothing on a fence at one point), there’s next-door neighbor Raymond Coker, who’s got a big secret of his own, there’s meddling copper Lou Hackett, who doesn’t appear thank goodness, and there’s Jack’s nymphomaniac apartment groupies, who try to seduce him or something. It’s so weird. Though also, it’d be fascinating if it were thoughtful.

Coker and Jack have a showdown, with Coker explaining he’s worked his way over from Jamaica, leading Jack to acknowledge the difficulty of that situation. Far cry from when Wolfman had Jack be a (seemingly unintentional) shitty racist to Coker.

But then one of the girls has an emergency at the studio, which relates back to the lawyer for the big game hunter’s movie producer brother, who tried to kill Jack and kidnap Lissa a long time ago. It leads to the vampire fight, then an overly dramatic cliffhanger.

Friedrich’s got a rocky start; he likes framing in flashbacks too much, and Jack’s always way too surprised when there’s a full moon; it improves as it goes along. Coker and Jack may be the second relationship we’ve seen develop on page in Werewolf, so it stands out. Especially with the cliffhanger.

Of course, the issue’d be incomprehensible for a new reader. Story for the content, art for the “do people really read a book with Don Perlin drawing werewolf fights?”

Yes, yes, we do. No questions, please.

Werewolf by Night (1972) #18

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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.

Werewolf by Night (1972) #17

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I’m already regretting this statement, but I’m glad to have hit the Don Perlin era of Werewolf by Night. No more wondering if Mike Ploog will get an okay inker this time (because he won’t); now it’s just Perlin enthusiastically hacking it out, page after page, including a kind of good double-page spread. Despite his wanting skills, Perlin’s visibly thrilled to be drawing this book.

At least on his first issue.

There’s some really bad art, though. You could make a drinking game out of how Perlin draws faces.

Mike Friedrich’s scripting again. The action picks up immediately following the previous issue’s finish, which had the werewolf unable to save a modern-day Hunchback of Notre Dame from falling. The Paris cops—all familiar with werewolf hunting—see Wolfman Jack in the cathedral and are out to get him.

There’s more about how Topaz can’t control him anymore, but she always manages just enough to get him to morning. Despite knowing how to hunt loup-garou, the Paris coppers don’t notice shirtless, barefoot, wearing the werewolf’s pants Jack Russell walking out with Topaz. Also, they abandon Topaz to the werewolf at one point (not knowing she’s the girlfriend).

Then they get back to L.A., where all is happy with the Russell family until sister Lissa explains it’s her half birthday and she’s only got six months (six issues?) until she turns into a werewolf too.

Until the action-packed conclusion, where the werewolf fights a giant monster, the comic’s a series of editors notes referring readers to previous issues. Not just Werewolf by Night,Tomb of Dracula, and Marvel Spotlight, you’ve also got to be reading Dracula Lives. Did Marvel sell back issues in the seventies?

Two things are missing from this section of the comic, as Jack pours over ancient texts trying to uncover a secret to save Lissa while having adventures with his neighbors. Friedrich does not write Jack as a low-key racist toward his Black neighbor, which is a nice change from before. But for the month between the opening resolution and the closing battle, Jack doesn’t seem to be spending any time with his girlfriend Topaz or panicking sister Lissa.

Even for a seventies Marvel comic, it doesn’t work. Probably because Jack’s narrating.

The finish promises even more changes to the book. I’m resigned to Werewolf by Night, but not in a bad way.

Werewolf by Night (1972) #16

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Mike Friedrich writes, adding his name to the list of seventies Marvel writers who tried to make hash out of Werewolf by Night with limited success. The issue credits have some enthusiasm for pairing two Mikes (Friedrich and Ploog), but then Frank Chiaramonte’s the inker, so how much can they really do? The most Ploog the issue ever gets is probably Topaz; Chiaramonte leaves her alone the most. I think it’s Ploog’s last issue, which makes the watered-down werewolf even more disappointing.

And then the villain.

This issue's villain is a mutant; his mutation contorts his spine and gives him super-strong skin. He begins the issue hijacking a French airliner; Jack and Topaz are connecting through Paris, done with their Tomb of Dracula crossover and ready to get back to Los Angeles. Except then there’s a fourth full moon (which the comic doesn’t explain at all, unfortunately). So Jack changes, running amok in the airport, then getting into a pissing contest with the hijacked airliner.

Thanks to the hijacker attacking the werewolf when it boards the plane, the werewolf decides he’s the bad guy. Topaz tries to control Wolfman Jack, which the bad guy observes, so he kidnaps Topaz and, because it’s a Hunchback of Notre Dame thing, literally takes her to the cathedral as a hostage.

The werewolf goes to save her, surprising bit of emotion in the finish, and scene.

Friedrich doesn’t do well with the Jack narration. He does well with some other things, ranging from the historical detail—hence why the fourth full moon begged explanation—and his willingness to put the werewolf in everyday situations. It’s a plane hijacking guest starring Werewolf by Night. It works way better than it should.

The villain’s a little flat throughout, but Friedrich has an arc for him. The groundwork’s there.

I’d thought Ploog was done after the Dracula crossover (anything to save another Chiaramonte inking), and this issue appears to be it. Unfortunately, art-wise, it’s a wanting finish, even with the usual caveats.

Overall, the whole thing’s wanting; there are just some solid moves from Friedrich, even if they don’t end up working out.

Dracula Lives (1973) #7

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I fear Dracula Lives has reached a turning point and not for the better. While this issue retains the same page count as previous issues, there’s a lot less content. Comics content. There’s still text content, including Tony Isabella finding his voice in his Taste the Blood of Dracula review, but there’s a little bit less of it. Lots more ads. No reprints, just the three original Dracula comics… including the Roy Thomas and Dick Giordano Bram Stoker adaptation. It’s a far cry from three fifties Atlas reprints, three originals.

And the art’s not great. The art’s usually pretty good, but it’s never great. Giordano’s is the best and even he’s clearly rushed, slowing down when he can but he’s never not visibly in a hurry. There are some good panels; they’ve reached the point in the novel where Jonathan Harker runs afoul of Dracula’s brides. It’s good work from Thomas and Giordano.

Though they include two pages from the previous issue’s entry at the start, which isn’t the worst idea for reminding readers, but with this specific cliffhanger, doesn’t work.

Still. At least there’s the Thomas and Giordano entry. Because otherwise, the high point’s Isabella’s review.

The first story is the most disappointing because it seems like writer Gerry Conway’s excited at the beginning. It’s Dracula in Washington D.C., getting involved in political intrigue. Or at least politics-adjacent intrigue. A bunch of people are getting killed in mysterious ways and Drac’s invested because one of them is a Dracula stooge.

Vicente Alcazar’s art is okay. Lives’s turning point includes not getting inkers, so Alcazar’s looks like high contrast pencils. Lots of work in the pencils, but still… it feels unfinished. It also can’t save from Conway not having a plot. Turns out Dracula playing Woodward and Bernstein with a disposal guest star doesn’t the Parallax View make.

The second original’s worse but not more disappointing. Dracula versus pirates only seemed so interesting to begin with. At twelve pages, it’s also the longest story in the issue, which is strange. Just what a boring story needs, two more pages.

The script’s from Mike Friedrich, who does an okay pirate story. Shoehorning Dracula in doesn’t do any good, especially not since Friedrich doesn’t write Dracula well. Or, at least, he doesn’t have a handle on Dracula Lives Dracula. If it were a pirate story about raiding Dracula’s castle (traveling across land to do it) and Dracula guest starred, it’d be fine. But Friedrich opens with a retcon involving Dracula’s dead human wife’s necklace, tying it to Lives’s Dracula origin stories. They’re usually so much better.

George Evans does the art. It’s competent, never anything more. In a good issue, this misfire would be the lacking outlier. In this issue, it’s way too close to the norm. It’s also misogynist, which just makes it more unpleasant as it goes on too long.

Throw in another chapter of the Dracula text story (written by Thompson O'Rourke, illustrations by Ernie Chan), a recap of Dracula in other media, and the issue’s done.

I hope it gets better next time. But I’m scared it won’t.

Batgirl: The Bronze Age Omnibus Vol. 1 (1969-70)

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Maybe I shouldn’t have complained so much about Gardner Fox.

After approximately a year off (or just appearing as a guest star in Batman or Detective and not getting an Omnibus reprint), Batgirl’s started getting backups in Detective. Gil Kane came back to do the pencils, but with Murphy Anderson on the inks and—outside the occasional eyes—the art rarely looks like Gil Kane. Anderson seems to have entirely erased and redone the faces, which leads to some strange face placements on heads. So outside the curiosity factor of seeing pencils and inks not going together, Batgirl’s going to need some good writing to get through.

Starting with Mike Friedrich, it’s pretty clear she’s not going to get any good writing. Friedrich takes Fox’s bad flexes—Barbara Gordon’s female vanity and her professional indiscretions as a librarian—and streamlines them into a tale of Barbara stalking a handsome customer. The first part of the story is just her deciding when he doesn’t come into the library at the regular time she needs to go to his home, where she finds another woman, so then we get Batgirl stalking the dude while being jealous of this other woman. It’s fairly obvious how the resolution is going to work but along the way there’s some constrained action—Batgirl fighting random thugs, who always manage to get the upper hand, which really reminds of the old Batman serials where the heroes would get beat up the entire fight scene and then succeed through a cliffhanger reveal. Unfortunately, Batgirl getting beat up because she doesn’t pay attention or just isn’t, you know, as good a fighter as a random college student maintains through the different writers.

One of the few things writers Friedrich, Denny O’Neill, and Frank Robbins are all going to agree on is Batgirl not actually being a competent crime fighter.

Robbins takes over after Friedrich’s first two-parter and has Barbara stumbling into some kind of plot because she wants a cheap apartment. It opens like it’s a Red-Headed League homage–oh, there’s another thing they all agree on: fetishizing Barbara being a red-head. Anyway, it’s not a RHL homage, instead having Barbara at a costume ball as Batgirl fighting with crooks dressed as other superheroes. Arguably the Anderson inks on the Kane pencils never work better than with the pseudo-superheroes. They’re at least effective. The resolve has what should be a gloriously silly resolution but it just doesn’t play; some of it is how Kane breaks out the action, so it’s not all on Robbins or Anderson. A lot of it is on Robbins and Anderson, obviously, but not all of it.

The next story introduces Jason Bard, an amateur detective who can’t be a professional because he’s got a bad knee, which may or may not have happened in Vietnam. He definitely was in Vietnam, but where he hurt the knee is immaterial or so I’m going to keep telling myself because I clearly skimmed that exposition dump. Though Bronze Age so there will be plot-changing details revealed in six words in a tiny thought balloon in the top right of an action-packed panel.

Barbara and a work pal are gossiping about customers—it’s just what librarians do, the pal tells Jason, silly ladies—and they set their sights on him. He’s in the library doing his amateur criminologist research and now he’s going to go out and investigate and prove his methods correct, starting with a mugging turned murder in Central Park. Gotham Park. Whatever. They both have Taverns on the Green. Jason makes quick work of setting a lunch date with Barbara and soon they’re investigating together, except she’s doing it behind his back as Batgirl while telling him how cool it must be to be an amateur criminologist on full disability. Jason Bard’s a weird character.

But his first appearance is nowhere near as cringe as his second, when someone at DC told Robbins to up the Vietnam references so nearly every panel in the second half of Bard’s intro mentions Vietnam or war, including something about Bard’s amateur criminology being “his new war.” It’s a lot. And a fairly blah resolution anyway.

Still better than the next one, which has Batgirl trying to take down a lonely hearts killer. Here’s where we find out Robbins thinks Barbara is homely (whereas Friedrich made sure to establish she was ogle-worthy).

I can’t imagine how these would read as backups, what with the very iffy art and the bland action. This two-parter is just more Batgirl fighting random thugs in alleys. It’s bland stuff. And then Jason’s hanging around because Barbara’s doing the Sea of Love thing, obviously, not Batgirl so Jason’s got to stalk his love interest because romance. Maybe if Robbins had committed and done Jason as a creepy vet stalker but he’s just there to remind Barbara she’s his lady whether there’s a ring on it or not.

I don’t even remember if he unintentionally fumbles through a fight scene to deus ex something. In his first story he falls down some stairs and it saves the day.

Vince Colleta takes over the inks for the O’Neill-written two-parter, which promises to be the first time Robin ever teams up with Batgirl. Clearly O’Neill hadn’t read the second or third story in the Batgirl Bronze Age Omnibus where Batgirl and Robin very definitely team-up… maybe they mean without Batman at all. Or maybe they mean with some flirting. There’s this really weird bit where Batgirl flirts with Robin in the last panel and there’s no time for a reaction from him. And as a late nineties Oracle/Nightwing shipper, it’s fine? But maybe it’s just the art. The Batgirl and Robin adventuring scenes are about as good as you’re going to get, even if it’s just a page.

O’Neill’s writing is… not great. His mystery—an homage to Edgar Allan Poe and some other mystery writers—would probably not make Poe blush. At some point you’re wondering if O’Neill realizes there can’t be any question of the villain’s identity because there are only five characters in the story, two of them are superheroes and two of them are dead. Or something along those lines. I was too busy appreciating decent movement for once in the comic. Oh, but funny thing about the Batgirl and Robin team-up—no Robin in the first part. Total bait and switch. You get a two panel Dick Grayson cameo without Batgirl knowing Dick Grayson is Robin. Then O’Neill switches over to Robin’s perspective for most of the second part.

Robin, it turns out, is just as bad a criminal investigator as Batgirl, so at least there’s consistent incompetence to Gotham’s best funded paramilitary enthusiast organization.

Wait, are the Bat-family just larpers at their core?

Then Robbins does a story about an Andy Warhol analogue getting murdered. Well, combination Andy Warhol (Billy Warlock—wait, isn’t that the guy from “Baywatch”) and underground pornographer. Maybe. I’m not sure what Robbins means when he talks about “x-epics” and it’s not worth trying to figure out. Frank Giacoia’s inks aren’t great. They don’t clash as much as Anderson’s—and initially the art seems like it’s going to be all right, the inks giving Kane a cartoon-y quality—but no. Jason Bard’s also back for this one and there’s—maybe—the first appearance of Commissioner Gordon in the backups. He was too busy in the features to bother making an appearance apparently.

The cliffhanger (since I’m cutting off at a year mark) has Colleta inks again—who knew you could be so happy to see “inks by Vince Colleta”—and involves Batgirl using her knowledge from library to hunt down random citizens again. But this time she’s after protestors and they know their rights so we get a scene where someone’s like, “Get your vigilante ass off my porch,” and we’re supposed to be siding with Batgirl harassing the person. Who she only knew to target from the library. Will Batgirl be able to save the day against the hippies who say they aren’t violent but really are? Hashtag peace is for pansies apparently.

Batgirl 1969 and Batgirl 1970 aren’t a complete waste of time—I’m also curious how Kane’s original pencils look—but given the best thing about a hundred or so pages of comics is a dozen panels with Batgirl and Robin doing acrobat stuff thanks to Vince Colleta inks? I mean, it’s pretty close to a complete waste of time then, isn’t it.