Looking
over the schedule before heading to Comic-Con today, I noticed something odd:
Today's panels seemed to be largely about comics. Oh sure, Hall H—the
immense facility that's home to the big movie presentations–was playing host to
a panel with footage from the Keanu Reeves-starring remake of The Day
The Earth Stood Still and the adaptation of Stephanie Meyer's
teen-vampire novel Twilight. But the focus was largely
elsewhere. The day was due to end with big, company-spanning panels from Marvel
and DC. Both were preceded by panels with names like "Spotlight On Eddie
Campbell" and "Superman's 70th Anniversary." While Comic-Con has
elsewhere sought to expand its reach this year by embracing projects like The Pineapple Express and Tropic
Thunder—I'm supposed to be seeing both tomorrow—and
playing host to a panel dedicated to The Office, today was
largely about the core audience that made the con what it was in the first
place.
10:35
A.M.: You know how you can tell when something has gone from being
popular to being a phenomenon? When young fans start making their own T-shirts
dedicated to it. I share a trolley ride this morning with two pre-teen girls,
both wearing homemade Twilight T-shirts saying "Bite me!"
and "4-Ever Team Edward." For anyone not familiar with Twilight, you might want to get ready. It's due to be a
movie this December, at which point it will reach at least High School
Musical-level ubiquity.
10:55
A.M.: I'm too late to make it to a panel featuring Stan
Lee and Grant Morrison talking about… Well, I'm
not sure. I don't feel too bad. Two years ago, I saw Stan Lee on a Spider-Man panel
during which a fan complained about a storyline in which Spider-Man had his eye
ripped out during a fight. Lee, who apparently was a few months behind on his
famous co-creation's adventures, asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"
then turned to the current Marvel writers and asked, "You ripped Spider-Man's
eye out?" Could anything top that? I have my doubts.
Instead, I
hit the convention floor, which seems to be calmer than last night. Which isn't
to say it's not crowded. Figuring that if I'm going to buy any art, I might as
well hit Artist's Alley now, I head to one of the floor's far corners. Artist's
Alley is where established talents, up-and-coming artists, and everyone in
between hangs out, meets fans, sells original art, and occasionally creates
commissioned sketches. Legendary writer and artist Al
Feldstein, who worked for E.C. Comics and later for Mad
Magazine and now paints nature scenes, sketches quietly while
avoiding eye contact. Behind him, Bryan Hitch of Ultimates fame entertains a flock of fans. I greet Todd
Klein, the best letterer in the business, and purchase a print he
created from an original piece by Neil Gaiman. It's the last significant
purchase I'll make in a day otherwise taken up with panel after panel.
On the
floor, I spot the first of what will turn out to be many Heath Ledger-model
Jokers. (Really, all you need is some green hair-dye, pancake make-up, lipstick,
and ill-fitting clothes.) This one's a woman, which makes the effect even more
unsettling for some reason.
11:40
A.M.: I'm in line for a panel dedicated to Doctor
Who. I fell in love with the revived Doctor
Who a few years ago. The show's a phenomenon in the UK, but
a cult hit here. It feels like there's only a few hundred Who
fans in the States, but all of us are in line for a panel that promises to
feature departing show-runner Russell T. Davies–who revived
the show after over a decade of lean years–and incoming show-runner Steven Moffatt, a fan favorite who's written some of the series'
most mindbending episodes.
That proves
to be only half-right, as Davies didn't make the trip. Moffatt, however, proves
charming enough for two show-runners. Already a huge name in British
television thanks to hits like Coupling, Moffatt still seems
humbled by the chance to write for the show he grew up loving. Recalling how
his mother would threaten not to let him watch Doctor Who as
punishment, he now reckons that he must be "the best-behaved boy in the whole
country," given that he gets to call the show's shots.
2:20
P.M.: After a break for lunch, I hit the floor again, where I spot
another disturbing Joker, this one a mohawked kid of not more than 4. I kill
a little time talking to some book publicists.
3:00
P.M.: Back to panels again, this one an hour dedicated to Ed
Brubaker, the first-rate writer who made headlines for his "Death Of
Captain America" storyline. He's still the writer for Captain
America, even though the original Cap remains dead. He's also writing Daredevil, an X-Men book, and the noir
series Criminal, a self-professed labor of love. (I can't
recommend Criminal highly enough.) Despite the dour tone of
most of his books, Brubaker is a lively, engaging guy, which helps patch over
some inherent awkwardness stemming from the unexpected absence of a moderator.
Brubaker cuts directly to questions from the audience.
3:35
P.M.: I bolt the Brubaker panel a little early to make an all-star
lineup dedicated to talent from the Golden and Silver Ages of comics. This
includes Feldstein, Mad fold-in artist Al Jaffee, Larry Leiber (the
artist-writer brother of Stan Lee), and Jerry Robinson, an
early Batman artist who probably created The Joker.
(Accounts vary, as they so often do in stories from the early days of comic
books.) It's cool to see so many justly famous talents together, but the
90-minute session quickly collapses into familiar stories told in familiar
ways. I find myself wondering what
Robinson thinks of all the young people dressed up as his creation. Is he proud
or disturbed by it?
4:45
P.M.: It's time for "Mondo Marvel," a panel long on bonhomie and
short on major announcements. A Marvel newcomer (unless my memory fails), Kevin Grevioux, the writer and occasional actor best known
as the screenwriter for Underworld, announces a project
called Adam: The Legend Of The Blue Marvel, about a black
superhero in the '60s who hides his race. Neat idea. Hopefully he can pull it
off.
And that's
pretty much it. Marvel has, by and large, been drawing raves from fans for the
past year or so. The Marvel audience is respectful but challenging to the
panelists. It's a weird contrast to…
6:00
P.M.: … the "DC Nation" panel. Over the past year, fan reaction to the
direction taken by many DC books has been contentious. That's not unusual for
comic-book fandom, but the extremity of the response to the poorly received
crossover series Countdown and the directions taken by books
like The Flash has been unusually harsh. A month or so back, rumors of DC Executive Editor Dan
DiDio's imminent departure even got picked up by sources like Nikki
Finke's Deadline Hollywood Daily site. Turns out there was nothing to them, and
DiDio, perhaps emboldened by a renewed contract, was as charismatic and
unapologetic as ever.
DiDio
didn't have too many new projects to announce. The most notable
concerned a three-issue Batman miniseries written by comics-loving film
director Kevin Smith, who joined the panel and joked about the perennial
lateness of his past comics projects. After Smith left, DiDio turned to the
audience, who delivered some of the most softball questions I heard all day.
Internet bravado faded into effusive praise. Maybe the doubters just stayed
away. Maybe comic-book fans were just swept up in the good feelings of a day
given over almost entirely to them.
