The Alien Adventures of the Superfisters
This week's comic books bring us, Sherpa-like, into two worlds we know relatively little about: comic book conventions and Mormonism. If only there were a way to combine them. We find it difficult to discuss our favorite of the books because of its incredibly horrible title -- let's just say it once, just to get it over with, and then we'll never refer to it again. "Toupydoops," by Kevin McShane. There. It's done. Let us never speak it aloud again.
It's a shame the title of the book is so dumb, because it's actually a fun story: a doofy blue actor moves out to Hollywood in a parallel universe where LA's main output is comic books. He auditions for the part of a villain in a Superman story, while his friend Teetereater (ugh) addresses the mundane chores that comprise life in LA: harassing women, fighting cockroaches, watching TV, meeting attention-craving homosexuals. But everything's bigger and bolder and comic-bookier in this world: like, f'r instance, the cockroach in their apartment is named Tim, stands six feet tall, and knows all the Street Fighter combo attacks. It's cute, fun stuff; we just wish they'd spell-checked their dialogue.
After the jump: more spelling problems, and symbolic underwear.
Shall we compare the aformentioned comic-centric work to "Convention Confessional," by Rob Reilly? It's a sort of anthology of comic convention stories, all of which is drawn really nicely but utterly fails us in the story department -- there's the story about the pretty girl who got away, or the one about a guy who's obsessed with Superman, or the one about the self-published book that kind of sucks. We can't spoil the ending of any of those stories, because there isn't really any payoff at all; the setup just kind of squats there, says, "hey look at me I'm mildly interesting" and then the next story waddles in to do the same. So, short on plot, but a check-plus in the art department; hmm, maybe they've got a future at Image. Oh snap! (Also irritating: right before "Convention Confessional" makes fun of unproofread comics, the book itself substitutes a "your" where there should be a "you're." AAARRRRGHHHH.)
Our knowledge of Mormonism is spotty; we know it involves geneology, and special underclothes, and Jesus rematerilizing in Central America, and we've heard that, like Scientology, there's something about a spaceship. (We've yet to substantiate that last bit.) But now, thanks to "The Golden Plates," a comicbookization by Michael and Laura Allred of The Book of Mormon ... um ... very very little has been cleared up for us.
Here's a dialogue sample: "And I will do this that the tree may not perish, that, perhaps, I may preserve unto myself the roots thereof for my own purpose." Ah, yes ... that's snappy stuff, there. We'd transcribe some more, but we nearly fell asleep after that last sentence, which is part of a parable about, oh Lord knows what. It goes on for about 20 pages of very dense text. Nobody ever said religious tomes were concise; but if the authors' goal was to make Mormonism accessible to a more casual audience, we've got some bad news for them.
It's a shame, too, because isn't mythology supposed to be really interesting? All the elements of adventure are there -- sex (with all those tasty begettings), violence, magic powers, strange supernatural edicts, arcane relics. Our guess is that these particular interpretations just cling a little too faithfully to their source materials, without updating themselves for modern consumption. Oh well. If you were raised with these stories and you love and revere them, you'll probably enjoy seeing them yet again in comic-book-form. If not, you'll probably get motion-sickness from rolling your eyes so much.