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whitelippedviper · 7 years ago

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Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin. Fuck war, love comics.

So I’m making my way through Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin and like I’ve seen Yaz’s work before. I have the first volume of Venus Wars--but it just didn’t click for me. MSG: The Origin tho is goddamn sorcery on the page. You need to know this first off, you don’t need to know anything about Gundam to read this. The whole thing is this is the book retelling the story that started it all but like Yaz’s from the heart version. And two volumes in, which is like...1000 pages of comics, and this is a masterpiece.

I’m mostly going to talk about the art, but story wise, military stuff is generally not my bag. Unfortunately, it’s a genre that is grossly popular in American comics, not just in straightforward military stories, but superhero comics as well. Too often these heroes have design updates that are all too happily to enlist heroes whose past models leaned more heavily into daredevil circus performers or wrestlers. You know the look. When your favorite hero goes from tights and a cape look to body armor looking shit everywhere. War on crime right? And then these companies on their film side have all kinds of connections to the military industrial complex--hell these companies often employ ex-military, or in some notable cases ex-CIA to write the damn books. And when you couple that with how interested the military has always been with warping people’s brains to keep the war machine humming(they once put acid in a whole town’s water supply just to see what would happen!) it’s quite unnerving! So besides being extremely anti-war in practice, I’m also pretty tin foil hat when it comes to seeing the edges of the military in pop culture, particularly when the message is like “look how cool this is!”

Which as a sidebar is one of the things that makes the Aubrey Sitterson GI Joe thing complicated to me, because like...I don’t think GI Joe is a good thing, and I don’t believe leftists should be getting their pay pushing paper for something that could not BE more military industrial. Like let's make kids think how cool being a soldier and going to war is--and then those kids grow up, and what a surprise we are in like ten wars that we know about, and will be for forever--and you get this kind of brainwashing that turns Kapernick trying to say “hey, maybe cops should stop shooting black men” into a debate about “respecting the flag” because the NFL is in bed with the military….agh. I hate it. I hate it all. From Operation Condor, the firebombings of dresden, hiroshima and nagasaki, the genocide of the american indian, fallujah, Abu Ghraib, our complicity in Saudi atrocities in Yemen and Qatar...we are not the good guys of history! We kill for empire, but our empire isn’t colonies, it’s more war. Our chief export is war. And I would love to expatriate to a country that doesn’t have these values, but I don’t know if even then I could shake that shit from my stomach. And even more insidious than our war is our financial arm, our banks and investors who have killed as many people with pens as any soldiers with guns. We are an empire of atrocity!

So when I see military comics, or cop comics, it just reminds me that I live in the most warlike country of the last 100 years, and all of those innocent people that are caught up in our bombs, and the way we turn whole regions into chaos to serve our ends and make more money--my relative prosperity as an American is built on the bodies and bloodshed of innocents the world over. I mean why is America what America is? It’s because WW2 basically moved europe's wealth to the US, and then we spent it on more bombs and we stepped in not because of any real moral thing--we stepped in because england owed us too much for us to let them go down. We as a country became a world superpower, the world superpower, through war profiteering and slavery. That’s a huge aside, but I’m saying, I fucking hate war. And maybe find ways to not contribute to more of those sort of comics? But more than that in an aesthetic sense, the codes for military in American comics are so bland and it seems half the time to justify not having to do interesting character designs. So surely there is a better fit for someone like Sitterson who has the politics I do, I think, than writing war comics to a patriotic pro-military audience, so I wish him the best, but fuck GI Joe. (And as an aside aside, if it were Frank Miller and not Aubrey Sitterson with the controversial opinion that book isn’t getting dropped--these companies only do these things as financial calculations, and if you are a big enough cash cow you can say or do whatever you want in comics for the most part but if you aren’t--you better protect your neck because these companies don’t have your interests in mind. And we live in stupid times) So I can fuck with Gundam because 1) it hates war as much as I do. And 2) they’re not trying to make everything look like utilitarian military shit. They’re about looking goood while they are hating war. The story is really rich, background characters positively radiate and each have their own character which comes to the fore at different parts. In some respects, Amuro Ray haunts this comic like death, because he’s the end of so many terrific characters that you really grow to love, and the Federation cause is somewhat murky at best, as is their exploitation of kids like Amuro. I kind of think Yaz does my favorite faces in all of comics, unseating Jose Munoz:

This kind of caricaturing is really lovely for a story this rich and dense, because you get so much just from how a character looks and the faces they make, and it’s quite appealing to look at I think. There are characters you fall in love with just because you want to see Yaz draw their face again. The range of expressions he has in the toolkit is amazing to me. Yaz’s style in general to me is like magic. Lines don’t connect, and it’s like he can just shift around these minimal set of lines and accomplish anything on the page. It’s like he has a set number of lines that he’s working with on every page, and he just dips his brush into the page and waves it around and those lines bend and contort into perfection. He’s one like Kirby where he kind of just sits down at a page and the images come out of his brain.

It’s not overly rendered, but it still is textural and inky. I think this also has my favorite lettering in comics. I don’t know who was responsible for it in english, but I love the obvious care that went into varying the lettering, and just how gentle and elegant it is. It probably was just a font in a computer--but it doesn’t FEEL like that, which is cool. Oh also Yaz watercolors various pages in the book, and they are almost all stunning. I’m planning to read his Joan of Arc book which is all watercolored, so that should be interesting. But I think what comes across more than anything reading these books, because of not only the comic, but the production value of the books themselves--the hard cover, the essays at the back, the slick pages, the thoughtful lettering--what comes across from stem to stern is that these books are a labor of love and passion in a way that you would not expect from the retelling of a decades old giant anime franchise!

Hideaki Anno said in his essay in the first book: “And I sense a certain good grace. He decides to draw Gundam--well known to the masses as a premier franchise of the plastic model and anime industries--not from weariness, not as expiation, nor to return to his roots, but in earnest as a work of his own” and I think he’s absolutely correct. There’s a love and attention to every inch of these books that is really inspiring to behold whether as an artist or in whatever you do to fill out your days--seeing something, anything, done by a master, with care and concern is a special thing to behold. I mean I don’t know for sure that Yaz actually gives a shit about this book--but that’s what comes across on the page. It comes across that he cares about these lines, about these stories, vividly, and even more surprising, the people whose charge is getting the work out to others, they seem to care just as much, so what you get is a very very special book.

In some ways, these dueling masters, Char and Amuro Ray, also express this concern and care. At one point Char loudly criticizes Amuro Ray for his lack of style. And while Char’s vanity, his secrecy, his romantic rogue ideal is extremely alluring, and any scene he’s in, I’m pretty glued to the page--he’s like Harlock or Queen Emeraldas. We don’t have these kind of artist villains in American comics for some reason. The closest I’ve seen was Ron Wimberly’s Prince of Cats which has characters who besides their bloody monstrous ideas, consider style to be important.

But even with all of that going on with Char, I’m surprisingly drawn to Amuro Ray--who is a character even without watching the original Gundam series(something I’m planning to rectify this winter--trying to finally knock out all the Gundam I’ve put off for years) that you just kind of know even without ever knowing why. He’s a legend. Like Luke Skywalker. Even his name when you say it, you feel like you are speaking the name of a god. But he’s a punk kid who has been dragged into this war against his will, and is desperately trying to balance doing the right thing, and keeping his identity. I love that sometime he just refuses to go out in the Gundam which puts Ltg Bright in these particular binds(Bright might lo key be my favorite character in the series weirdly, for how he kind of morphs through being a snotty prick, to being in over his head, to being someone capable of real genius creativity. I’ve been watching Iron Blooded Orphans which is a Gundam series about child soldiers and is really brutal and depressing, and Orga is kind of like Bright mixed with Char.) His mercurial nature speaks to the nature of his art versus Char. Amuro Ray belongs to the fickleness of inspiration, so because of that he’s not really reliable, but when he shows up he’s capable of things Char isn’t, moments of improvisation and grouchy genius that are the linchpins of the romantic appeal of the series.

Versions of this character archetype I feel usually are supposed to be incompetent or dumb to those around them, but their conviction carries them, they have the most will--but in Amuro Ray’s case, he’s just an asshole. The despair of it all, which is never lost on Amuro is that whether he does something, or doesn’t do something, people are going to die and it’s going to hurt. And knowing that, that in the end horror is inescapable, and that death is undefeated--like what do you do? How do you function? What do you choose when there are no good choices? Char is a little different, because his aim is revenge. Which that side of Char that he hides behind his rogue’s grin, and devilish acts is really stunning when it first comes out in these early books. He’s so careful to let that out, and when it does, you’re like “oh man, Char isn’t playing the same game the rest of you are”. Agh. It’s soo good. Comics like these keep the fires going. There’s an infinity of them out there to be sure, but nothing makes me happier than a truly great comic. Those comics that years after you remember the experience of reading them, where you were, what music was playing. A great comic is a great lover. It won’t last forever, though there’s a LOT of this book still for me to read--and I get in this mode where I both want to just inhale the whole comic as fast possible, and I don’t want this experience to end. This is that sort of thing. Which should be evident, since I bothered to write about it, haha. I could never just review comics. I’m like Amuro Ray with comics criticism, I need the right situation to be compelled to climb in and do it. I don’t fundamentally love writing comics criticism--but when I experience something great, I have to talk about it and write about it. Comics like these affirm everything about being involved with comics for me. Check it out, see if you feel the same way.

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#My Writing #Sarah Horrocks #Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin

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filmista · 7 years ago

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El Espinazo Del Diablo (The Devil’s Backbone) (2001)

“How lonely. A prince without a kingdom... a man without warmth.”

‘The Devil’s Backbone’ is one of my favorite films, as well as one of my all-time favorite horror movies and my favorite Guillermo Del Toro film. I don’t have anything against Del Toro, but he’s not my favorite director, this particular one I happen to love because he takes a direction that’s somewhat unusual for him.

He stays incredibly subtle throughout, yes there are monsters, ghosts. But they’re not overly gory or particularly colorful, like any Guillermo Del Toro monster they’re still really well crafted and fancy. But in this one they’re toned down, to blend in with the rest of the color scheme of the film.

The reason that this is one of my favorite horror films and one of my favorite films in general, is that it’s an impressive mix of horror, of human drama and a reflection on tragedy and the horror of war.

The first time I saw it, I found it one of the most subtle, most touching and most beautiful ghost stories I’d ever seen. Rather than introducing ghosts as something for shock value or scare factor, it shows that a ghost is inherently a sad thing.

And that a ghost is the residue of a memory, so a ghost can be an emotion or an instant of pain. Like the other Guillermo Del Toro film, ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, ‘The Devil’s Backbone’ is set against the tragedy of the Spanish civil war, to some degree still somewhat of a ghost for Spain.

As some of my followers will know, I went to high school in Spain. The first time that I was introduced to ‘The Devil’s Backbone’ was through my Spanish history teacher, one class we watched on Halloween. He saw it as the perfect horror film to see because it had historical background.

As I mentioned the Spanish civil war is still somewhat of a ghost for Spain, to this day there are family feuds in Spain, someone in one family remembers, that a family member of theirs died because one of the family members of the other family turned them in. And mass graves, full of anonymous people lost in the war have also been regularly found.

You had two sides in Spain, those who were for Franco: right-wing nationalists (a dictator who ruled Spain for 40 years before it reached democracy) and those who were against him, leftists. Sometimes you had people of conflicting ideas in the same family, so entire families turned against each other.

Or in some cases, you didn’t really know the ideology of those you were supposed to trust most. This is what happens in ‘The Devil’s Backbone’. The story takes place as I mentioned against the background of the civil war.

The entire story takes place in and outside of a boy’s orphanage, although some of it’s current occupants are not all orphans. But have been brought there as children of those opposing Franco (the leftists), as Franco’s side was gaining more and more terrain those opposing him were in danger of their life and about to lose.

The people that run the orphanage are of the side that opposes Franco. This kind of orphanages did, in fact, exist in Spain as well as in other countries in Europe that took some of these children in. And for those running them, it was indeed a risky business, this particular orphanage is run by Carmen and elegant older woman and her husband Dr. Casares.

Dr. Casares is a man of literature and music and possibly a professor in something before the war.

He’s someone who takes pleasure in the intellectual and good side of life and cherishes creativity and expression, everything Franco’s regime stood against.

As history has shown some of the first people singled out in any totalitarian regime are the artists, as they can question and critique through their art.

The summary of ‘The Devil’s Backbone’ is somewhat difficult, to sum up, although mostly it can be said that it is about human relationships in times of war and tragedy, how someone can suddenly turn out to be someone different than you thought they were. Or how in other cases, it bonds certain people together.

But most of all how it devastates and shapes tragedy, and as I said before creates ghosts. The real, as well as proverbial ghosts in the film, can be seen as a metaphor for the tragedy of war as well as Spain’s tragic past.

Like in ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, often seen as the lesser one and less deep of Guillermo Del Toro’s films set during this time, be that as it may, it’s visually impressive as well as strongly acted.

But moving on, both these films take place during a war, and both films are seen through the eyes of children. Del Toro is fascinated with the theme of children and innocence, and how things like war can suddenly rob them of it.

On the other hand it also explores how children are often times more intuitive than adults, they figure out someone’s intentions towards them oftentimes quicker than the adults around them; they seem to some degree to be more in tune with and respecting of their own emotions, which is an affinity that we sometimes seem to lose as we get older.

‘The Devil’s Backbone focuses mainly on one boy, Carlos an orphan, who is left abruptly and without explanation at the orphanage by his tutor. At first unbeknownst to Carlos he is taken the place of a boy that was a good friend of most of the boys and beloved by all, Santi.

They reproach him that he’s sleeping in the bed of their old friend, and laugh at his clear unease and sadness of having been left there; it’s not so much this as that he openly expresses emotions and openly takes comfort in things such as comics.

He’s at first bullied by one particular boy Jaime, and his entourage. Until he dares to stand up to him, they bond after and even become friends. It turns out that Jaime also had his own secret, he draws to process his feeling and emotions, and he is in a way just as vulnerable and sensitive as Carlos. Jaime was the best friend of the missing boy.

Santi, it’s not known at first whether the boy is just missing or if he was murdered, one of the boys happens to know that Santi was murdered and also by whom, but keeps it a secret because he’s afraid of the man who killed him. And that’s also one of the things the film’s about, fear and what it can make us do.

The boy was murdered by Jacinto, the caretaker who pretends to be a leftist but is actually on the wrong side of the regime. Now Jacinto is a coward and is actually too afraid to stand up to anyone or anything, and always takes the way that will save his own skin.

The murdered boy might have found out about Jacinto’s double agenda or at least dared to stand him up, and Jacinto ended up, even though it’s made to be an accident, killing him. One of the boys saw it happen but is too afraid to say anything because he fears Jacinto.

The orphanage does have a ghost, the ghost of the murdered boy. But the boys just call him “the one who sighs”, Carlos, however, comes to believe it is Santi and discovers that he means no harm and wants only to warn them of a tragic event, Carlos decided to help bring him closure. And Jaime later confides him with the whole story. The boys later together dare to stand up to Jacinto.

As the nationalists come closer to the school, it becomes more clear and clear to everyone that Jacinto is with the wrong party, and so they fight him. But the children are eventually left in a situation, where they must fight without any adults, as their beloved Dr. Casares is killed.

Dr. Casares had proclaimed he would never leave his boys or that place, and so even after the boys are gone; he says there, watching over that place. Bound by the memories of his wife, and by the tragedy attached to the place. The two ghosts in the film were created by war and it’s horror, the only real villain was human.

And that’s why I love the film so much because it’s so much more than just a ghost story. Also as I’ve said it’s one of Del Toro’s most subtle films, the camerawork is beautiful and elegant, yet in most parts for a horror film incredibly calm.

Here and there there’s an incredibly impressive visual effect, but even these are subtle and appear only in the film at precise times and often not as great shock but as plot device, which also why I’ve always somewhat wondered if it is a full-fledged horror film at all, it’s one of those films that happens to be a mix of different genres at once.

The background of the film is as I’ve mentioned the Spanish civil war and takes place somewhere in the south of Spain, which is known for its beautiful landscapes (many Spaghetti westerns were filmed there) but also for its aridness.

So most of the film is drenched in dusty yellow roads, bright blue skies, bright colours for the most part, which are then set against the older, somewhat washed and deteriorated background of the orphanage, many of its parts filled with oxidised old furniture, of a deep rusty brown, which goes perfectly well with the rest of the film.

The more pure horror parts mostly take place during the night time and at times of bad weather, dark colors but also intense lightning predominate here, but yet still fitting with the color scheme that Del Toro never abandons in this film.

Which is why I believe it works so well; it’s mostly a realistic depiction of events that really took place in the civil war, so Del Toro takes care to craft a historically accurate background.

Vintage furniture of the time, clothes and that kind of thing are all in order, yet at the same time he manages to infuse it with fantasy elements without it crashing, the film was made in 2001, but really does have something vintage about it and makes me recall films made during the actual Francoist era.

According to some ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ will most likely be the most visually impressive one. But my favorite and the Del Toro film that touches me the most is still this one.

And as visually beautiful as it is, what really makes this film great is it’s humanity, in making monsters human, not to forgive or excuse them but in showing how they became a monster in the first place.

All of the main characters in this film are flawed and human, but they work because they're played so convincingly by the different actors, who all work well together.

They all deliver a subtle, kind of undramatic acting, no one calls too much attention to themselves, yet each person is clearly a world of their own, even when together with others characters.

But ultimately each and everyone naturally comes closer to the others, until the climax where they come together to defend each other and their ideals, at the last moment that the orphanage is attacked, Dr. Casares plays one of his favorite records.

Very likely one the regime wouldn’t have approved of. That’s also what music and literature are used for in the film, Dr. Casares reads a poem to his wife, or recites pages of his favorite books, the young teacher Irene, asks her fiancee to dance to a record, or it’s used as a symbol of rebellion.

The film does have a normal soundtrack, which is a beautiful one, and one that fits with the whole atmosphere of the film, and is used like in so many a horror film to build up to a revelatory scene. But it’s also filled with moments where it’s characters interact with it.

For me that’s what makes the film so beautiful: it shows how difficult it is to kill someone’s belief, how difficult it is to kill the human spirit when the person in question doesn’t allow that. It shows that even in the direst of times we can be free in our mind.

“What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again? An instant of pain, perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time. Like a blurred photograph. Like an insect trapped in amber. A ghost is me.”

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