Author: Mike Gold

Mike Gold: Airboy Takes Flight – Again

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This may be hard to believe, but every once in a while the good folks at ComicMix L.L.C. act as though we really are a corporation. Yeah, it’s hard for me to believe that, too.

Last Sunday, our “senior” staff (a phrase that has nothing to do with age, until August 4th) met at Martha Thomases’ plush Greenwich Village condo. Adriane Nash and I were there right on time, but Glenn Hauman was caught in traffic in the Lincoln Tunnel, an all-too-common experience for those trying to escape the land of Christie. Not a problem; Martha’s kittycat Selina (yep; Selina – fangirls, go know) was making a rare public appearance. The conversation turned to this week’s comic books. I started out bitching about Bizarro #1 and Martha defended it nicely. No, I did not complain about internal consistency. I stopped doing that around Adventure Comics #285. Then Martha asked:

“What did you think of Airboy #1?”

“I haven’t read it yet, but it’s at the top of my pile” I lied. Everybody knows I read my comics on my iPad. “I love the character, but I’m annoyed Chuck Dixon didn’t write it.”

Martha was about to say something like “Yes, but James Robinson did” but it is even better known that my opinion of James’ work is so high that if he were writing the back panels of milk cartons I’d sell my cow. So, instead, Martha said “Chuck Dixon could not have written this book.” Then she smiled that smile that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

Chuck Dixon has been writing Airboy off-and-on for 30 years for at least three different publishers. IDW has been Omnibusing it lately. Obviously, I like it. Indeed, I like the original Golden Age character. It was Dick Giordano’s favorite as a kid and we used to talk about it on the commuter train after leaving DC for the day, much to the chagrin of our fellow travelers who really didn’t care to eavesdrop on a couple of extreme fanboys.

I told Martha I was really looking forward to it, and she repeated “Chuck Dixon could not have written this book,” this time with a sort of Lauren Bacall delivery.

“Fine,” I replied. “You don’t have to ask me twice to read a James Robinson comic book.” Or a James Robinson milk carton. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done, probably around one in the morning.” Martha goes to sleep when the sun goes down, and she knew I was kidding. She knew I’d email her at one in the morning.

And I did. I sent her a screen dump of just one panel of the issue. I sent her this one.

airboy-panel-4793062

The naked guy is James Robinson. The clothed guy is Airboy artist Greg Hinkle. That was my review.

Martha was absolutely right. Chuck could not have written it.

I mean, he still could write Airboy and James even explains why in that very issue. But this one is something else. It reminds me of the script and layouts to the unpublished Sonic Disruptors #11, but only about three people would know that and one of them is dead.

Go buy the book. You’ll see.

 

Mike Gold: Lex Luthor, Fiend or Foe?

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Batman’s got The Joker. Spider-Man has Doctor Octopus. The Flash has an entire rogue’s gallery. The Fantastic Four used to have Doctor Doom, but now that Marvel’s banished the Fox-Four from their universe Doom’s annoying everybody, without priority.

Superman has a bald businessman/scientist with a severe ego problem.

I never thought Lex Luthor was much of a villain. In fact, when I was in my teens I was pretty certain I could take him. Evidently, from time to time the folks at DC must have felt the same way. He’s been put into super-power-bestowing armor, he’s been given super-powers and he’s hired or co-opted powered super-villains to do his dirty work.

Lex has been an evil scientist, an evil businessman, an evil president, an outer-world hero, and a domestic hero. He’s been a picker, a grinner, a lover and a sinner.

But Lex Luthor is just a guy. He might be smarter than your average bear, but Lex is a lightweight compared to Michael Holt, Ray Palmer, Will Magnus, Rip Hunter, Ted Kord, Professor Ivo, probably Doctor Sivana… and most likely Bruce Wayne, if Bruce wasn’t burdened with the worst case of OCD in comics history. From time to time we’re told he’s the smartest guy around, but there’s very little evidence to support this claim. If I had to choose my Family Feud team, Lex wouldn’t make it.

At the very least you’d think that if Luthor was so damn smart, he’d have a better reason for hating Superman. Jealousy is not much of a reason. A smart person would realize its limits. But even a stupid person would realize that, after taking on Superman a zillion times and ultimately losing each time, further confrontation would be without purpose. Taking on and losing to the Man of Steel for three-quarters of a century is the very definition of insanity.

Curiously, his sundry movie and television appearances have been more threatening. The one thing that Lex Luthor has in common with Gene Hackman, Michael Rosenbaum, Kevin Spacey, John Shea, and Lyle Talbot is that all of them are human beings (more or less) who, clearly, all love playing evil villains. But the fact is, on the 1950’s Adventures of Superman teevee show, where the budget was lower than a temperature gauge at the South Pole, they never used the character. Superman editor Mort Weisinger was the story editor of the show; he knew all about the guy. Put him in a suit or a lab coat and you’ve got yourself an evildoer that doesn’t stretch the budget. Lex just isn’t worthy.

I have always felt Superman deserved a better arch-enemy. And he has them. Brainiac, Zod, the Parasite, and Darkseid – particularly Darkseid – are quite capable of being worthy of our most famous costumed superhero.

As a villain, Luthor would serve better as a behind-the-scenes manipulator, pulling the strings and making advantageous things happen. It should take Superman years to discover his presence and find him.

Lex Luthor should be the DC Universe’s answer to Sheldon Adelson.

 

Mike Gold: The Daredevil Issue

Lately there’s been some controversy about the creator credits on the Daredevil teevee series. To be specific, the hubbub revolves around the use of the name and comments of some comics industry notables with respect to the issue. In other words, we have a controversy about a controversy.

Both are important issues, and are quite different from one another. But for the purpose of this particular polemic, I’m going to focus on the root issue, which is, as I understand it, as the creator of the costume used in the program, whether or not Wallace Wood deserves a creator co-credit.

The issues revolving around creator credits, a subset of the entire creators’ rights movement, are of vital concern. But they’re not very cut-and-dried. For example, there’s a good reason that the creator credit on Superman reads: “Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.” That seems simple and straightforward. It is not.

I think we can all agree that Siegel and Shuster created Superman. If not; go away. I can’t deal with you. We may agree that they also created Lois Lane. Maybe. But, how about… Jimmy Olsen? Kryptonite? Perry White? Almost certainly not; all three were created for the Superman radio series and adopted by the newspaper strip, the comic books and the subsequent media manifestations. Okay, that’s just an example. I can cite dozens more. Maybe hundreds.

In the case of Daredevil, the first issue of the comic book was something of a train wreck. I read it off the stands and loved it, but I didn’t know that artist Bill Everett had enormous difficulty completing the issue and “various hands” were brought in to finish the job. Joe Orlando took over with the second issue, and Wally Wood followed Joe starting with issue #5, often with the credited assistance of Bob Powell. Bob penciled issue #11 and Woody inked it, and Jack Kirby and John Romita took over with #12. The briefness of Wally Wood’s tenure is not an issue here.

Woody changed the coloring of the costume from yellow-and-black to all-red in issue #7, which, coincidentally, costarred the Sub-Mariner – Bill Everett’s creation. The popularly held story, and there’s no reason to doubt it, is that Wood thought Everett’s costume was silly and that if the guy is called anything-devil, he should be in red.

So, some contend, because it is the Wally Wood costume that is being used in the television series, Wally Wood should get a creator’s credit.

I am second to no one in my admiration of and lust for Wally Wood’s artwork. I believe he was the first artist who’s work I could recognize by name – because Woody signed his stuff and Jack Kirby did not. But the immense quality of his craft does not enter into this argument.

There are comics creators, almost always writers, who believe that because they were the ones who came up with the original idea they were the true, and sole, creators of the property. Generally I reject this because comics is, first and foremost, a visual medium and the person or persons who create the visuals are also critical to the creation of the property. When I work on a creator-owned property, as I do almost exclusively these days, I insist the creators have a signed agreement stating their ownership positions. This makes life easier for everybody. I really do not care what those positions may be – as long as it’s not totally egregious, it’s not my business. If it is totally egregious, I know that it will blow up before long and possibly take the project down with it. That’s the only horse I have in the race.

After that point, things get a little tricky. Can you imagine the creators’ credits on any contemporary Superman story? Damn, the credits on Superman The Movie ran longer than some life-forms. Imagine adding the names of the people who came up with all the other characters and unique elements of the saga.

Of course, Batman’s “creator” will get his contractually due credit in next year’s Batman/Superman movie. I won’t get into the issue of just who created Batman right now; it has little to do with the Daredevil situation and, besides, my head would explode. Just consider my quotation marks to be editorial comment.

In my view, Wally Wood did not recreate Daredevil’s costume. As dynamic as the change was – and, damn, it certainly was – it was a coloring change and a tiny bit of alteration akin to putting that yellow circle around Batman’s bat. I know I just pissed a lot of people off and I’m sorry about that.

But it’s a tough one. Marvel notes all (or most all) of the writers and artists whose work is adapted for each movie and television show, and I think it drives my daughter crazy when I freeze-frame that part of the end credits because we’re both enjoying the “coming next week” teaser. But I’ve never seen the end-credits on Daredevil because, at least on my Netflix delivery system, the screen shrinks down to an unreadable size so that Netflix can inform me of how much time I have to not read those credits before the next episode starts. My guess is that for those who believe Woody’s name should be prominently displayed wouldn’t be satisfied, and I get that.

Comic book characters that survive for any length of time are like snowballs going down a ski-slope: they get bigger and bigger as they roll on. To me, the phrase “created by” refers to the people who started that ball rolling.

And my love of and respect for the work of the late Wallace Wood remains undiminished.

 

Mike Gold: Mad Max – Back In The Desert Again!

Today’s Zen question: Can a movie be called a sequel even if it has a cast that hadn’t been in the earlier three movies but it stars the same lead character and the worldview remains consistent with those movies and all four movies have the same director, but the last one was released 30 years ago?

Today’s Zen answer: Who the hell cares? Mad Max: Fury Road is an absolutely terrific movie.

I saw this epic with my ComicMix comrade Martha Thomases and our mutual pal, Michigan’s own Penelope Ruchman. It was the beginning of an amazingly astonishing pop entertainment day; I’d give you those details but you know how I absolutely hate to name-drop. I won’t speak for Martha or Penny except to say that Martha enjoyed the movie at least as much as I did and I believe Penny liked it even more. Yes, it really is the Gone With The Wind of action movies, except instead of torching Atlanta they trashed several megatons of George Metzger-esque decrepit vehicles traveling across the desert to… well, to nowhere. Action ensues.

And that’s about it for the plot. Usually, that is not a good sign. Here, somehow, it works. If somebody pitched this to me as a graphic novel I’d have rejected it – but on the screen, in George Miller’s more-than-capable hands, it soars. I did not notice one person in the crowded Manhattan theater leaving for food or a bathroom break. That’s better than “two thumbs up,” particularly when damn near the entire movie was set in the desert. You’d think people would need some water or soda or a Slurpee or something.

Tom Hardy is fine as Max. The role isn’t overwhelmingly dependent upon acting chops, but when needed Tom delivers. The true star of this movie, in every conceivable way, is Charlize Theron. She plays the other title character, Imperator Furiosa. She is the heart and the soul of the movie but, to the regret of a few morons, she and her women companions also carry the brunt of the action. They carry it right to your lap.

There’s a bit of a controversy contrived by these aforementioned morons about how Mad Max: Fury Road emasculates men. There is a phrase for this attitude: neurotic bullshit. If this movie made their balls shrivel up and fall to the ground, trust me: society is better off.

There’s a long-standing meme in Hollywood about how women can’t carry an action movie. Executives point to truly shitty movies such as Catwoman, Elektra, and Supergirl. It doesn’t occur to the cigar-chompers that if you rewrote these movies for a male lead, they would be just as shitty and only marginally more income-active. I have three things to say to these people:

  • Lucy
  • Mad Max: Fury Road
  • Greenlight the fucking Black Widow movie already.

Mad Max: Fury Road was co-written by comics great Brendan McCarthy, of 2000 AD fame. Particularly of Judge Dredd fame. The parallels between the Mad Max series and Dredd are, well, overwhelming. Jus’ sayin’. I thought Mick McMahon should have received royalties for The Road Warrior, but it is a great movie. Just like Road Fury.

This movie was so relentless and so compelling that even George Eastman’s parents should be proud.

Go see it. But first, stop by the ridiculously overpriced candy counter and buy vast quantities of consumable liquid. This time, it’s actually worth the money.

 

Mike Gold: Gerry Conway, Freedom Fighter

I’ve been reading Gerry Conway’s new Amazing Spider-Man mini-series (or whatever; contemporary comic book numbering would even baffle the ancient Romans who had no concept of “zero.”) and I’m enjoying it… but not in the way I expected. I expected Classic Conway, which is fine. What we got was a solid Spidey story written in a very contemporary style.

But that’s not this old dog’s only new trick.

Gerry’s been very busy standing up for creators’ rights; obviously, including his own. His efforts have earned praise from Neal Adams, the medium’s worthy and long-time leader in the ongoing battle for creators’ rights. Most recently, he’s been commenting on DC’s latest talent-relations habit where they would bonus comics talent for extra-media use of characters they created. If the creation was at all derivative, DC no longer feels the need (non-contractual obligation based upon decades of precedent) to write a check. For example, Gerry Conway created Power Girl – with artists Ric Estrada and Wally Wood – but, because Power Girl is “derivative” of Superman, no bonus. One would think the character is derivative of a certain soon-to-be-televised Marvel superhero, but that’s a story for a different legal team. DC can define derivative any way it wants, but the end result is that money that once went into creators’ pockets now stays in DC’s.

The fact is, any character created for the DC Universe is derivative at least in part simply because it must exist in the DC Universe and honor the DCU’s laws of physics. The old bonus thing is now meaningless because the creator has no recourse except to complain. There is no incentive to trust DC with your new creation because they feel you’re lucky to walk away with your page rate intact. Maybe.

From this point forward, only an idiot or a newbie would create a character for the company. The DC Universe, perpetually fighting eight decades of staleness, is going to continue to press the Reboot Button like some crack monkey in a lab.

This is hardly Gerry’s first rodeo at the Freedom Fighters’ Ranch. Way back in 2014, Gerry wrote a very impressive piece that was reprinted in Forbes Magazine about how Amazon’s acquisition of Comixology hurts comics creators.

This is so important that I’m actually putting it in a separate paragraph and italicizing it:

What hurts comics creators hurts comics readers, and hurts the entire comics medium.

I must make two disclaimers. First, I’ve known Gerry for, oh damn, almost 40 years. That’s frightening… for Gerry. Second, Gerry Conway has created or co-created the Punisher, Firestorm, Steel, The Deserter (my favorite; sadly, it fell victim to the DC Implosion), Killer Croc, Tombstone, Man-Thing, Killer Frost (if you watch The Flash teevee show, that would be Caitlin Snow) and just under a zillion others. So, yeah, it’s his ox that’s being gored, but when you’re right, you’re right.

And Gerry Conway is right.

By the way, you’ll note I called Gerry an “old dog” up in the second paragraph. For the record, he’s two years younger than I am. So I mean “old dog” in the nicest, Scoobie-Doo sort of way.

 

Mike Gold: Saturday Matinee Superhero Horror

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear, when superhero movies were kiddie fodder and proud of it.

Yes, I know. The Avengers: Age of Ultron opens this Friday (which is really Thursday night; Hollywood exists in a different time/space continuum). Everybody’s stoked to see it; well, everybody but ComicMix’s own Martha Thomases, who has already seen the movie. That’s just about the, what, twelve thousandth superhero movie to open in the past decade? I’m not complaining, as these days most of these movies – dare I say it? – are more entertaining than their source material. However, I’m not here to praise this crop of superhero movies for being adult-accessible. I’m here to wax nostalgic about the first time I saw a superhero movie in a real, honest-to-Crom movie theater. Or theatre, for those who drift towards the pretentious.

Let’s go back to late July, 1966. I was at the palatial Uptown Theater on the mid-north side of Chicago. I wasn’t quite 16, so I was old enough to know better. By this time the glow of the Batman television phenomenon had faded for my friends, even those who were comics fans. But I was a hard-core comics fan, and I wanted to see the movie as nature intended: at an old-fashioned Saturday matinee.

For those of you who are too young to have experienced such a thing, the purpose of the old-fashioned Saturday matinee was to serve as a baby sitter. Mothers dropped off their precious darlings at the theater so they could get some much-needed quiet time with their friends. The kids would sit in the darkened theater and watch four hours of cartoons and Three Stooges shorts, or, perhaps, a “real” movie that was accessible to children.

A “real” movie like Batman.

Peculiarly, the good folks at the Uptown Theater decided to schedule a double-feature, and the opening flick was Paul Newman’s Harper.  I love that movie, but I was a bit surprised to see it at a Saturday matinee. Even in those days, I thought Harper was a bit too violent for kids who were already gifted at hurling Jujubes at their peers. The most violent parts were at the end, or, for these purposes, right before the beginning of Batman.

Clearly, many kids were traumatized. During those final scenes damn near each and every one of them was silent. Think about that: a couple thousand unsupervised kids between the ages of maybe 8 and 12, staring wide-eyed at a movie that would make Fredric Wertham shit his pants. It put the kiddies in the perfect mood for the upcoming campy cape caper.

Kids are a resilient lot, and as Adam West and Burt Ward were doing their opening tribute to the cover of Batman volume 1 number 9, the tykes had shed all thoughts of bloodied movie superstars and settled into the moment for which they’d been waiting. The teevee show already had grown a bit tiresome for a guy as old and sophisticated as I, but I loved watching Frank Gorshin and Burgess Meredith work. Thanks to the kiddies, I quickly got caught up in the spirit of the film and had a great time. So great, in fact, that I still enjoy that movie.

Will I have a similar experience when I see The Avengers: Age of Ultron? Maybe. I hope so. Given the nature of the previous Marvel Studios movies, I think there’s a pretty good chance.

Call me a starry-eyed optimist (although others may laugh at you), but that’s why I’m going to see this movie. Hey, it worked with Guardians of the Galaxy. I’ll be with friends, including my daughter, so I’m bringing my own environment to the multiplex.

Sadly, Frank Gorshin is no longer with us. He lived nearby and I ran into him a few times at local restaurants. But just imagine what a hoot it would have been had he been in the theater next to us.

 

I have every reason to expect a great time at The Avengers: Age of Ultron. Let’s see what happens.

 

Mike Gold: Forward, Into The Past!

Regular readers of this space know my first true love is the city of Chicago, and that I’ll use any excuse to cop a visit to my fatherland. That’s where I was this past week, and I did not need an excuse. The 15th annual Windy City Pulp and Paper Convention was in town, and, therefore, so was I.

It’s a great chance to meet up with old friends and make a couple new ones, all the while gawking at ancient publications printed on ever-deteriorating paper, more permanent facsimile reprints of same, and brand new efforts that replicate the mood, techniques and often the characters of those thrilling days of yesteryear. As my pal Jim Wisniewski says, the comradery echoes the days when comic book conventions were social occasions accessible to all… and were actually about comic books.

pulp-cover-5For the few of you who may be unaware – and who have yet to obtain the first volume of Jim Steranko’s History of Comics – comic books characters and comic book publishers got their start in those sense-of-wonder inspiring lurid tales of adventure. The Shadow, Doc Savage, John Carter of Mars, Nick Carter and The Spider, among many others, begat super-hero comics. Archie, DC Comics, and Marvel Comics, among many others that did not survive Fredric Wertham et al, got their start by publishing pulp magazines. It’s our roots.

And it’s slipping away. Paper was not meant to last forever, and pulpwood paper wasn’t meant to survive more than a month. That’s why I am so supportive of all the reprint projects. Yes, one man – another old pal, Anthony Tollin – has the lion’s share of the most popular characters but he is hardly alone in these endeavors. He’s already reprinted half of all The Shadow stories.

I am equally amazed and pleased to see so many small-press publishers (defining “small-press” as, say, not as large as Abrams and Simon and Shuster and their pals) doing “new pulp.” This is exactly what it sounds like: new stories written in the style of the classic pulps. Many of the new pulp authors are comic book veterans: Chuck Dixon, Martin Powell, CJ Henderson, Ron Fortier, John Ostrander, Paul Kupperberg, Will Murray, David Michelinie, Rob Davis… the list is as long as the long arm of the law. And it appears that I’ll be joining that stalwart group.

JimWiz laments the days when conventions were social occasions, and he’s most certainly not alone. Way back in those days, comics fans enjoyed more than comics, television and new movies. We enjoyed the pulps, sure, and we enjoyed newspaper comic strips, science fiction, mysteries, dramatic radio, illustration art… all kinds of stuff. We had a well-rounded education in America’s popular culture.

I’m not saying today’s comics fans avoid these important and closely related media, but you can’t ascertain their interest from going to shows such as this weekend’s C2E2 or the New York Comicon or the San Diego Comic-Con. Indeed, if you walk around these megashows and their ilk, you’d have a hard time ascertaining the level of interest in comic books. These shows have very little to do with comic books per se, and some of these convention organizers (note I said “some” and not “all”) clearly could not care less.

So when I go to shows such as the Windy City Pulp and Paper Convention – and there are many others; check out Pulp Coming Attractions for all the news in the pulp world, including these shows.

This stuff has little to do with nostalgia. It’s all about our cultural heritage.

And the folks doing the new stuff, the reprints, and the conventions are true cultural warriors.

 

 

Mike Gold: The Magic Of Comics

At MoCCA this past weekend – that’s one of my favorite shows, by the way – a surprising number of people asked me about how I felt about DC Comics Entertainment Periodical Publications moving to the Left Coast.

It amuses me to note that only one of these people actually worked at DC, and he was being sarcastic.

In its 80 years DC Comics has moved more frequently than a family of vaudevillians. I worked at only three of their locations; I know many who worked at five or six. Every time DC moves, they relaunch Aquaman. They are now a fully integrated part of Warner Bros., so moving to LALALand is a no-brainer.

And I hope my friends at Marvel are paying attention.

Once Marvel joins Disney out in Hollywood, only one comic book leaflet publisher will be left in New York City proper, that being Valiant. (If I’m missing anybody, forgive me – you really can’t tell the players without a scorecard, and, besides, I haven’t seen Jim Shooter in about a year). If you consider the entire New York metropolitan area, that number grows to… what, two? Archie Comics is in Westchester County. If ComicMix returns to leaflet publishing, and, yeah, we’re considering it but then we collapse in a fit of giggles – then that’ll make three. The combined output of the New York comic book leaflet publishers wouldn’t amount to a fart.

For the record: I think it is absolutely great that we have comics publishers all over the nation. There’s no magic to publishing comic books in Manhattan, despite what lazy publishers told poor cartoonists between the middle of the Depression until the election of Ronald Reagan.  Actually, I think it is great that we have so many comics publishers that they can be all over the nation.

I admit: the first time I dropped my butt into my chair at 75 Rockefeller Plaza – that’s four locations and 40 years ago – I was in fanboy heaven. It was a great feeling. Jenette Kahn offered me the job at a moment when, as they say in the business, I was “between radio stations.” In 1976, stations were changing their pretty much after every third song and I saw the handwriting on the wall. It said “Work for Superman.”

The fact is, most of my best and most enduring friendships have been formed while in the comics racket. I’ve lunched with Steve Ditko, I’ve worked with Will Eisner and Peter O’Donnell, I intervened in a, ah, friendly discussion between Stan Lee and Joe Orlando. Great stuff. ComicMixers Glenn Hauman, Martha Thomases, Denny O’Neil, Mindy Newell, Bob Ingersoll, and Robert Greenberger? These folks have been my friends forever, and I met them all through comics. Yes, they have amazing intestinal fortitude.

John Ostrander is different. (I can’t tell you how much I wanted to end this paragraph right here.) I’ve known John even longer, through our common interest in both theater and comics. I brought him into this business – at his own request, so he can’t complain.

I have absolutely no doubt that there are a ton of people just out of school out on the Left Coast who will put in their time at DC Comics and come out of it exhausted but with plenty of great friendships.

And for me, that is the magic of the comic book racket.

 

Mike Gold: Alfred, Master of the Butlerverse!

alfred-the-butler-1943-7418440When it comes to the world of heroic fantasy, there have been a hell of a lot of really great butlers. We’ve got such luminaries as Ram Singh (The Spider), Bernardo (Zorro), Cadbury (Richie Rich), Ianto Jones (Torchwood), Lurch (The Addams Family), Max von Mayerling (Sunset Boulevard), two different Smitherses (Veronica Lodge and the Simpsons), Fritz Brenner (Nero Wolfe), Birmingham Brown (Charlie Chan) and of course Edwin Jarvis (The Avengers or Agent Carter – take your pick). There were the Green Hornet’s Kato, but that dude was more of a partner/sidekick than a butler, and Jack Benny’s pal Rochester was only technically a butler. He was actually Benny’s arch-enemy.

But head and shoulders above all other butlers, the king of the mountain of butlers is Bruce Wayne’s own Alfred Pennyworth. You can tell from the actors who played him on film and television – Michael Caine, Jeremy Irons, Michael Gough, Sean Pertwee, David McCallum, Alan Napier, to name but a few.

However, the actor who most looked like the Alfred Pennyworth of comic book and newspaper strip fame was a gentleman named William Austin, and he didn’t even receive screen credit.

Austin played Bruce Wayne’s gentleman’s gentleman in the 1943 serial, aptly named Batman. If you’re curious, you can check him out on TCM Saturday mornings at 10 AM Eastern. In fact, Alfred plays a major role in this coming Saturday’s episode, “Poison Peril.”

If you’ve never seen a movie serial, well, for most these days that’s an acquired taste. Imagine a movie with the budget of Doctor Who. The original 1963 version of Doctor Who. Now imagine spreading that budget out over 260 minutes carved into 15 spine-tinglingish parts. Worse still, Batman was made by Columbia Pictures, which at the time was Hollywood’s bargain basement so we’d better cut that budget in half. If you enjoy wonderful cheapness – and I do – then movie serials should be right up your alley.

This 1943 production starred Lewis Wilson as the title character, and when not in costume he truly looked like the Bruce Wayne of the comics. In costume, he truly looked like an idiot. But he came off a lot better than Douglas Croft’s Robin, who, according to IMDB, was 17 at the time. In costume, he looked like a 40 playing the lead in Eraserhead.

The remarkable J. Carrol Naish played the ominous villain Dr. Daka, the yellow peril of the week as mitigated by World War II. Naish was a world-class character actor with a list of performances as long as your arm. Longer.

The 1943 Batman serial was pretty damn close to its comic book origins, perhaps closer than any other filmed incarnation. But for today’s comic book fan, it is William Austin’s performance as Alfred that is most arresting. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Jerry Robinson drew him.

The interesting part to this is that it is quite possible that Alfred was redrawn to look like Austin. Introduced in comics shortly before the serial as a short, kind of goofy unmustachioed fat guy, Wikipedia   reports “when the 1943 Batman serial was released, William Austin, the actor who played Alfred, was trim and sported a thin moustache. DC editors wanted the comic Alfred to resemble his cinematic counterpart, so in Detective Comics #83 (January 1944), Alfred vacationed at a health resort, where he slimmed down and grew a mustache.” Wiki isn’t always accurate – they’re doing better – but I’d like to see more in the way of evidence.

There are two reasons why you might want to check this out. The first is that it is fun – slightly goofy fun, but far less goofy than the mid-60s teevee series.

The second is that this Saturday’s episode only runs 17 minutes. It’s worth that much of your life if the only thing you like is the logo.

 

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