Fish and Cherries Productions

DC Comics, we need to talk.

Oh, sorry, I forgot. It’s DC Entertainment now. Hmm…

I’ve been a fan of yours for a while ever since I picked up a copy of Blackest Night #0 at Comic Con. Remember Blackest Night? You know, that big mega-crossover between all of your stories where the dead superheroes came back and started an invasion of life itself? You remember, it had brilliant writing by Geoff Johns and stunning artwork by Ivan Reis. I do. That was the moment I got into comics. After that issue, I bought every comic that was leading up to it from big crossovers like Infinite Crisis to single comic lines like Green Lantern or Teen Titans. Ever since then, I was hooked on your stories and your universe. I was even a big defender of yours when you started most of your stories from scratch in 2011 in the infamous reboot. I figured if anyone deserved the benefit of the doubt, it was you guys.

Now, in 2014, I’m starting to wonder if I was wrong.

I can’t help but notice that there are some disturbing trends cropping up around you. There was the suicide art contest that turned out very poorly for you and the infamous comic where a previously fleshed out and prevalent female character asked someone for sex just because she was bored, but I’m not here to talk about how you treat your fictional characters. I want to talk about how you treat your creators and even fans.

Let’s talk about the sheer amount of talented writers and artists who have quit or walked out from DC. George Perez, Joshua Hale Fialkov, Andy Diggle, John Rozum, all of these amazing talents have left your company, all of them citing constant micromanagement and last minute changes to their stories as creating an unbearable working condition. That’s not even getting into when Gail Simone, one of the most universally loved comic writers, got fired from Batgirl over an e-mail by an editor and got rehired twelve days later after the backlash from fans. Personally, I think that firing someone over e-mail is about as wussy as breaking up with someone via text message, so suffice to say, not your most endearing moment.

But the big one I have to mention is when Batwoman talents J.H. Williams and W. Haden Blackman left the company after a last minute change banning Batwoman from marrying her girlfriend. The reason given behind said change was that heroes shouldn’t lead happy lives, which is a baffling argument in itself. On a conceptual level, since when are marriages automatically happy? And on a reader level, why should readers care about their heroes if they know that they can never be content? And did you not realize that you would get heat from LGBTQ groups over this?

But the real crime is how this was handled on an editorial level. From what I understand, stories are planned out months, maybe even years in advance, the writers submit their story outlines to the editors, the editors write out notes and changes that they want, and then the writers are free to go from there. These last minute changes are, in a world, unprofessional and unbecoming of a company that has been around for 75 years. What exactly is your plan? What was so important about this that you had to jump in at the last minute? Because this seems like the absolute wrong way to run a work environment.

But you know what? I was going to let it be water under the bridge and move on with my life. After all, most of the stuff I’m bringing up was years ago. I should give you the benefit of the doubt and assumed you learned your lesson, no? But then, come the end of last year, I looked over some facts and discovered that in the 3+ years you’ve been doing the New 52, you have canceled no less than 61 titles. 61 titles? That’s insane! You have gotten rid of more titles than you allow yourself to run. If you do the numbers, that’s as if you canceled a title every two-and-a-half weeks. Fish and Cherries may be a very young company, but even we know that isn’t how you run things. Forget heroes always being miserable, why should readers invest in any of your books when they could be canceled after only eight issues because of some obsession with the number 52?

Maybe it’s the union worker in me talking, but I’ve seen things like this happen before at Wal-Mart, Sears, Dish Network, and countless others. If there was some sort of union in comics, do you think this sort of thing would stand? For crying out loud, this is exactly the sort of thinking that led to the incident with the Bangladesh factory. Haven’t we learned by now that when we treat our workers workers badly, everyone, including the employers, suffer for it? Famed comic writer Neil Adams told me that comic companies sometimes lose money unless they print a license that ties into a movie, but I don’t see how keeping your creators on such a tight leash is going to help you make a few extra bucks. I can also assure you: there has never been a time where mistreating the staff for profit has ever ended well for a company.

So where does that leave me, a once proud fan? Hard to say. It’s hard for me to continue to support you knowing the work conditions that you perpetuate. The big question is, since my dollars are important to you, how do you plan to keep me around and paying? What’s to stop me from, say, giving my money to small comic companies like Mark Waid’s Thrillbent, which was made after he left you guys, or other comic companies like IDW or Pantheon who both create great, forward-thinking stories? I’ve been picking up Image Comics’ stories as of late and I have to tell you, I’ve been more invested, enthralled, and challenged than I have with your books in a long while.

Brian Heinz, a video blogger known as the Last Angry Geek, accused DC Comics of not caring about what the readers want, but rather telling them what they want. And really, he has a point. Few people outside of your staff would say that they want a story with no marriage or personal connections or heroes that are constantly unhappy. So, in response to twisting your creators around, as well as firing then rehiring the most beloved woman in comics, botching an art contest in which suicide was sexualized, refusing to let dissenting bloggers interview your creators until they posted more positive things about you, and making poor marketing decision after poor marketing decision, I ask you the same question I ask myself when I think about picking up a DC book:

What’s the point?

A few weekends ago, I lived a nightmare. I was deep-sea diving in shark-infested waters with no way to defend myself against them except hiding myself in patches of seaweed until they passed by. Of course, sharks weren’t the only things I had to worry about; there were moray eels waiting to leap out of hiding and bite me and jellyfish floating in my path to navigate around. I had no diving suit or even an air tank, but had to go into barrels with air pockets in them to refill my lungs before going off into the dark unknown and wondering if that gulp of air would be my last.

Okay, to clarify, that didn’t happen to me in real life. It was something I experienced playing Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag. (Yes, I’m aware that this game has been out for a year, but I like to get games late when the price goes down or when publishers inevitably release the Ultimate Edition with all the extra add-ons.) Regardless, it touched on a very real terror that doesn’t seem to crop up as much in fiction: that of being in a hostile and very lethal environment cut off from anything comfortable and familiar to any regular person.

That really is a shame because there’s something very powerful and terrifying about having an environment as your enemy rather than some psychopath or monster. There’s no central thing that can be destroyed, yet everything about the scenario can or will kill you. Now it’s true that the jungle, desert, and tundra have harsh climates and deadly creatures to worry about. But with the deep sea, it’s a much different story.

In the ocean, as in space, the environment is literally toxic to a person’s wellbeing by nature. You are surrounded by a foreign element that will lead to your demise if it penetrates you. The only thing keeping you alive is an airtight suit, a piece of glass over your face, and a very limited air supply. Take away any ability to reconnect with an environment you can survive in and the suit becomes a slow execution chamber. Your heartbeat mingles with the noises from the outside as paranoia starts to set in. You try to control every breath that you take, keeping on the lookout for any danger that might speed up your demise, whether it’s a hungry barracuda or, in the case of space, a wayward meteorite. Your hearing becomes extra-sensitive, listening for any telltale pops or cracks that would indicate that your personal life line is beginning to come apart. And all the time, you’re keeping an eye on that slowly-dropping gauge on your air tank, praying between ragged breaths for something to either save your life or end it quickly…

Sounds pretty terrifying, right? So why don’t more works of fiction capitalize on this option? Well, apart from the fact that most Hollywood audiences like seeing the hero triumphantly vanquish a foe, most of the ones that have attempted this… sucked. The first Open Water movie, focusing on two people stranded in the middle of the ocean, may have pleased some critics, but audiences didn’t seem to warm up to it and the sequel got torn apart by both. Apollo 18, following two astronauts trapped on the moon, got ravaged on all sides for being boring, suspense-free, and just downright goofy in some areas. Gerry, which was about two people walking through the desert… and nothing else… for over a hundred minutes… yeah, it was as boring as whale shit and didn’t even break $300,000. Suffice to say, people don’t seem to know the potential of the environmental menace. It’s true that Gravity was a successful movie with a similar idea and Buried was able to deliver the terror of being trapped in a small box underground, but most people seem to eschew it for drama, found-footage, or attempted artiness.

That said, there really is a goldmine of terror just waiting to be mined in such a scenario. Perhaps it wouldn’t be something for a summer blockbuster or a novel you’d pick up at the airport bookstore, but if someone really wanted to run with this, it could be a classic in the making. Something like that could revolutionize the world of horror and open up new venues for people to explore. Granted, this would give rise to a lot of pale imitations as a lot of successful movies do, but I’d rather see more of that than Found Footage Haunting the Seventy-Billionth. Don’t be shy, writers; take the plunge.

Originally recorded on November 16, 2014.

Join us in our first podcast as we discuss Marvel’s diverse creative choices, the cosmos, and why we’re here.

Tonight’s players:
Colin Eldred-Cohen
Tim Lindvall
Bradley Monajjemi
Andy Reyes

Title: Aama (Volumes 1 and 2)
Author: Frederik Peeters
Artist: Edward Gauvin
Type: Graphic Novel
Genre: Science Fiction

Verloc Nim is… actually, Verloc doesn’t know who he is. He woke up on a barren planet with no memory of who he is or how he got there. However, he soon finds an apelike robot named Churchill with suspiciously human legs who gives him a journal written by none other than… Verloc Nim. The journal tells of how Verloc descended into substance abuse after his wife left him, taking his daughter away as well, before his brother picks him up and recruits him to a mission that might give his life purpose. Together with Churchill (who did not have human legs at the time), they travelled to the planet Ona(ji) to retrieve an away team and the project of one of the scientists known as Aama. They find the team holed up in a colony of their own making, but discover that the lead scientist on Aama left and took the project with her. Even more surprising is the mysterious appearance of a girl a week before the Nims’ arrival who bears a shocking resemblance to Verloc’s daughter, right down sharing to her muteness. While the Verloc of the past is working to discover what’s going on and what Aama even is, the Verloc of the present is trying to discover what happened to him, though he finds that he may not like the man he’s reading about.

This fledgling series comes to us from the hitherto unknown publisher Self Made Hero. So far, the company is making a good impression as it avoids a lot of the bad tropes that plague modern comics. The characters are diverse in race as well as personality and there’s no singular gorgeous body type for the women. Strikingly, though, attention isn’t drawn to this fact and there’s no big message about inclusion, it’s just how the world is. Or rather, worlds, as this is very much a time when travel between planets is as commonplace as changing a tire.

In fact, the handling of the sci-fi genre also stands out among other works. Everyone has their own take on sci-fi, but most of the time a lot of the conventions tend to repeat themselves, especially in robot and alien design. Not Aama. It seems to draw on the H.G. Wells school of thought in using sci-fi to depict the absurd and outlandish, yet still possible. From this absurdity comes most of the wonder of the future and the fear from the creatures the characters encounter. Monsters and robots aren’t drawn to look scary or impressive, but they still achieve that effect because of how foreign they look to our eyes and in doing so, capture the essence of the science fiction genre.

Of course, impressive visuals are nothing without good characters, but we got lucky on that front too. Both Verloc and his brother Conrad have a very interesting dynamic of being estranged for ten years and also being radically different. Verloc mires himself in humanity’s past and rejects all types of genetic modifications that are standard for other people, even having a child through natural intercourse, which is unheard of in his culture. Conrad, on the other hand, works for a corporation that seems about as ethical as Weyland-Yutani from the Aliens franchise and sees what most of us would consider wonderful and new as cynically mundane. Neither of them are perfect human beings, but there’s a sense that they’re trying to do right by their own set of values. The other characters are nice and colorful too, especially in the colony on Ona(ji), the one that stands out being the leader Professor Kaplan whose design resembles Jabba the Hutt forced into a human woman’s body.

The atmosphere of the comic is very surreal and cerebral. Several times, we’re treated to some of Verloc’s tortured dreams, which are both insightful and visually interesting. In a way, it reflects the series, seeing as both the characters and the plot are a mystery. We know where they all end (mostly), but we don’t know how they got there. Verloc’s dreams and anecdotes are interesting parallels to his future-self reading his own diary in that we’re learning about him just as he is learning about himself. One can only imagine how they would feel if they were left with no memories and were learning about their life from their own printed recollections. One must also wonder if they would be able to like themselves through those eyes.

Aama is only two volumes into its life cycle, but I’m really interested to see where it goes. I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen anything so visually imaginative in a comic. Maybe Saga, but that still has roots in some conventions. Even if the ending turns out to be a complete wash, I highly recommend this story in its infancy. Hopefully I’ll be able to write more when the next volume comes out. I’m dying to know what happens next.

Fifty Shades of Grey was bad with a capital B. Even if I hadn’t been loaded with alcohol while watching, the dialogue was stilted and bad enough to make me burst out laughing. This attempt at romance fails not just because the sex scenes have the steaminess of a plate of cold noodles, but Christian Grey is creepy enough to have a book based on him entitled Fifteen Ways to Know You’re Dating a Serial Killer. For crying out loud, after Anastasia refuses his advances, he drives her to a remote area of the woods and asks her to take a walk with him. What do your parents have to do to you to make you think that’s a good idea?

Worst of all, the movie had no plot whatsoever. The closest thing I can think of is it revolving around whether or not Anastasia signs the contract (and really, is there nothing hotter and sexier than reducing red hot passionate sex to paperwork?), but even that’s weak as all hell. There is no payoff in this movie whatsoever. The sex scenes are awful, the characters are morons, Christian is hilariously awful in how he was written to personify vaginal manipulation, and lest we forget the horrible and abusive way this movie paints BDSM culture. Really, everyone has beaten that drum until the hide broke and it wasn’t nearly as awful in that regard as I dreaded (though it’s still pretty bad). See this only if you have enough friends to riff it and alcohol to dull the experience, but for God’s sake, don’t pay for it. It really is hilariously dreadful and if I see a worse movie this year… I don’t know, I may actually resign doing Reel Snippets.

Into the Woods was… okay. I think my biggest issue was that the pacing felt so rushed and there wasn’t really enough time to get to know these characters. I wouldn’t have minded so much if the performers blew me away with their acting and their singing, and while they weren’t bad, they weren’t spectacular either. Similarly lackluster was the cinematography and the set design. On stage, it’s different because the sets in the woods can go for a lot of artistic license. But in the film, it’s just a bunch of gnarled trees that look all the same and it simply get exhausting to look at. I know the woods are an odd thing to complain about in Into the Woods, but I’m sorry, by the end of it, I was so sick of those fucking woods.

The frustrating thing is that none of it’s bad, it’s just not spectacular. for an adaptation of a Stephen Sondheim work, that’s a huge step down. And what really hurts it is the stuff from the play that doesn’t translate to screen, like the several strips of nonstop songs (which is puzzling considering that quite a few were cut). There’s some nice original stuff like Cinderella’s song where time stops for her and Little Red Riding Hood’s journey into the wolf’s stomach, but they’re few and far between. Moreover, it feels grim where it should be colorful, colorful where it should be grim, and a lot of the bite and the serious bits were left by the wayside (including my favorite part which concerned the narrator… you all know the one). Overall, I feel like this worked way better on the stage than it does on the screen. I can’t say I regretted seeing it, but I’m not exactly sure I took that much away from it either. If you need to see it, do so as a way to tide yourself over before the play comes to your town.

It is with a heavy heart that I must once again take to my keyboard to write about a tragic loss to the online community. Monty Oum, the artist behind Haloid, Dead Fantasy, and RWBY passed away yesterday due to a severe allergic reaction during a medical procedure that took place some days prior. I am told that he died surrounded by loved ones from his family and from the offices of Rooster Teeth as well. I have never met the man, even though he and I allegedly attended the same Fanime Con together, but his loss is still felt.

Monty was a great artist, pouring a lot of passion into his work. RWBY was his foray into writing and creating a whole world and while it wasn’t always perfect, his passion for the project was still felt by many. He never resorted to unnecessary fanservice or cheesecake, treating all of his characters and creations with profound respect. Even if you’re not a fan of RWBY, you can still tell that he put a lot of thought and detail into the world in its look, its feel, and its internal mechanics. I don’t know how or if RWBY will continue without him, but the loss of such a great and devoted artist certainly makes the world at large a bleaker place.

Fate can be cruel sometimes and such a man dying at 33 because of a mere fluke definitely qualifies. But this isn’t a screed to make you paranoid, it’s a call to celebrate life. Monty Oum wasn’t one to sit back and hide from the world, he worked tirelessly day and night to make something worthwhile and give it to his community. The blood, sweat, and tears in his projects, his animation, and especially his Dance Dance Revolution moves were always felt and I will never regret experiencing any of it. Remember Monty Oum and with him, remember that a moment expressing yourself is never a moment wasted.