The Man, the Myth, the Perv

 Context is a funny thing (understatement of the century). When I became vaguely familiar with R. Crumb's work, I was "weirded out" to say the least. To me he was "that guy who drew sexual cartoons of little girls", which in my defence, is not entirely untrue. In fact, Crumb himself would probably agree with me. I mean, take a gander at this piece on the right. It's a self portrait, for gosh sakes. 

Crumb's work makes no attempt to disprove his controversial reputation. In fact, he seems to delight in feeding his public a constant stream of demented imagery. 

Then I watched the movie "Crumb" directed by Terry Zwigoff, a straight forward documentary that looks at R. Crumb's work and family amidst the confusion of his upcoming move to France. The film featured startling interviews with his brother's Max and Charles, whose revelations and behavior make Crumb's neuroses look like child's play. The film even gives us a glimpse of the Crumb children's wildly painful and traumatic childhood. 

Crumb appears to be the hero of the story, attempting to cope with his career, do his best with women and his children, and keep his utterly insane family at bay. Meanwhile, he is in a constant state of self-analysis, contemplating his flaws and errant sexual desires with a sincerity and humor that makes him easy to forgive. He is a man trying to make the best of a raw deal and he "weirds you out" in the process, then so be it. 

( Crumb's son Jesse, brother Maxon, and R. Crumb)

Persepolis

Disclaimer? 

For some reason, I've always found it harder to explain how much I liked something, rather then how much I didn't like something. Bitter, pointed quips flow quickly through my fingers, but any attempt at praise is reminiscent of a third-grader's first essay on summer vacation. Unfortunately for you, oh reader, I really, really enjoyed Persepolis (in both its incarnations) and I'm required to write about it. Sorry.

Persepolis is a fantastic story. It's also a fantastic movie. I'm very proud of the author, an odd sensation, as we have never met. But yes-I'm proud of her because she told her own story, material that is totally loaded (Middle-east! Women! Burqas! No!) and made it accessible to anybody, American, Iranian, male, female, whatever. It makes sense. Even though the story (her life, lest we forget) deals with painful experiences and emotional, upsetting scenarios, the author maintains her sense of humor (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlIAmCfHzbg), which allows us to forget our discomfort with the context and connect with the people in the story. When our entire view of the middle east is informed by redneck politicos and suicide bombers, it's so refreshing to hear a person talk about their actual life without an agenda, even if it's not about relations with the US at all. Actually -the fact that I would collapse those two subjects is indicative of what a media/education disaster the whole thing is. 

Incidentally, here's a situation where Scott McCloud's theory of "I relate to simple shapes" proves true. Satrapi's simple portrayals make the characters incredibly endearing, as well as universal.

Here's a great interview with the creator of Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi, in which she describes turning the graphic novels into a book. Also, the interviewer, Tavis Smiley of PBS, is quite possibly the worst interviewers in the history of interviewing. Just saying.

http://www.pbs.org/kcet/tavissmiley/archive/200801/20080117_satrapi.html

Negative Space

Black Hole is a graphic novel that I will only read once. 

 

I'm in no way implying that I didn't enjoy it. The drawings, all black and white, are beautifully executed in a style that is the perfect vehicle for the story they tell.  Best of all are the panels that take up the entire page. These are rendered with detail and charisma, imbued with so much multi-faceted symbolism, that they elevate both the visual element and the power of the narrative simultaneously. 

That said, the imagery in the book was both upsetting and down right gross. I know it's just drawings and everything, but we're talking about an entire novel of shredded pseudo-vaginas and glowering, disfigured maws.  The main characters are both vulnerable teens pursuing young love, and they are met with nothing but trauma inducing sexual encounters, mockery, and vicious STDs. 

(Click me, I'm gross!)

I often wonder how an author of a graphic novel chooses his or her content, since it must be something complex enough to write a novel about and visually interesting enough to illustrate in it's entirety. Charles Burns, the author and illustrator, seems to have chosen well in one respect. Wild n' out teen STDs is certainly a topic graphic enough to provide fodder for thousands of illustrations, and Burns definitely lets his images do the talking. However, 200 plus pages (Burns does not include page numbers, visionary that he is) of visceral illustrations that feature overtly nasty sexual imagery, arranged to tell a tale of heartbreak and alienation is a literary journey one need take only once. 

It is, quite literally, too gross for words.