Full confession: I'm not a fan of comic books. It's not my field of expertise, not a page-turning pastime that was burned into my routine as a young boy. These days, it's difficult to go without an OCD knowledge of the industry, especially as someone who spends most of the day watching comic-inspired screen entertainment, hit with all types of heroes and obscure characters boasting rich ink and paint histories only the truest of the true fan could decode. And colleagues in possession of such knowledge? Transformed into message board deities. The beauty of director Ron Mann's 1988 documentary, "Comic Book Confidential," is that it requires little homework to enjoy, creating an air of artistic accomplishment and expression without working through the suffocating details of history, hitting the viewer with brief blasts of idiosyncrasy and storytelling that provide a secure appreciation of the personalities involved with the production. Today, it feels like comic books are all about commerce, the resell values and quality grading, not the tales splattered on the pages. "Comic Book Confidential" returns viewers to the combustible realm of the eighties, where publishing legends were still alive, the acid on the tongues of industry rapscallions was still fresh, and superheroes were taking a breather from pop culture consciousness. The highest compliment I can pay the picture is that it makes me want to delve further into the research and discussion of comic books, to continue exploring where Mann's work ends.
"Comic Book Confidential" isn't an informational experience. There's no meticulous tracing of history and industry development to savor, with Mann layering in a wealth of inspirations and creative activity to best capture the enormous movement of the business and its prickly participants. Instead of packing the documentary tight with tidbits, Mann conjures a cool breeze of stories and artists to help investigate a few turns in the ongoing saga of the comic book. The approach might frustrate some on the hunt for a more comprehensive examination. However, by keeping a certain distance from an academic approach, Mann is allowed a unique freedom to expose an expansion of confidence and creative thinking, observing a development in the occupation that goes from basic day job survival to something of artistic substance, expanding into harrowing expressions of self and society as the decades pass, shifting the intent and ability of comic books to alter personal perspectives and act as therapeutic instruments for their creators. There's little here that provides an intense appreciation for the nuances of the biz -- this is no textbook. Instead, "Comic Book Confidential" allows the viewer to linger on brilliance, insanity, and mischief for a few moments before it's on to the next decade of growth.
The documentary supplies a loose narrative of historical appreciation, dating back to the thirties and the origin of the superhero. With the world heading into war, comic books offered a needed distraction and amplification of patriotism to ease nervous minds, giving rise to creations such as Captain America and Superman, establishing a larger-than-life industry standard that enchanted young readers. However, the forties and fifties introduced a whole new shift in adolescent appetites, finding the rise of horror comics and violent panels stimulating sales and the suspicion of the government, who attempted to throttle content it deemed inappropriate through the Association of Comics Magazine Publishers Code, eventually failing to contain such grotesque fantasies. The sixties greeted the return of the hero, though particularly insular champions who fretted over personal choices, with Spider-Man a particular favorite with readers aching to pore over the accomplishments of a relatable character. With Vietnam in the headlines as the decade commenced, counterculture ideas seeped into funny books, contributing to a growing sense of discontent and confessional attitudes that carried into the seventies. Finally, the eighties deliver a sense of chaos and alternative branding with the likes of Zippy the Pinhead, while fiery material like "The Dark Knight Returns" arrives to explore and comment on the very nature of heroism that once defined the industry.
"Comic Book Confidential" is rich with a study of artwork and a manufacturing of fluid transitions, with Mann using his subjects as a way to navigate through the years, generating a surprisingly snappy pace to the movie, which rarely slows to labor over details. The images pop and shock, often read aloud by the artists themselves, creating a rare opportunity to hear the work articulated through the creator -- we listen to Will Eisner read from "The Spirit," Harvey Pekar croak out passages from "American Splendor," and hear Stan Lee whip through "The Amazing Spider-Man." It's a treat. Interviews with these legends are more philosophical in nature, but nevertheless offer a full sense of character, with Robert Crumb exposing his drug experimentation as his career floundered, Art Spiegelman explaining the origin of his Holocaust graphic novel, "Maus," Frank Miller (sporting heavy metal hair) confidently dissecting his appreciation of Batman, and William Gaines, who chats up the initial years of "Mad" and its mission of pronounced satire and silliness. Assorted faces from the mainstream and the fringe also appear, open to sharing a few thoughts on the business, creative endeavors, and social critique, defining their work further.
The AVC encoded image (1.78:1 aspect ratio) presentation brings the 16mm-shot feature to Blu-ray with some dignity, capturing the feel of the work with a heavy preservation of grain, sustaining its filmic look. With such expressive work on display, colors are fully explored, highlighting a bright palette that's used to help printed material pop while goosing interviews with varied lighting designs. Fine detail is adequate during the study of pages, while human participants shift into softness befitting a low-res production. Skintones are pink and natural, while shadow detail is articulate, rarely solidifying, keeping ink and paint efforts vivid and deep. Print is in less than ideal shape, with white speckles galore and numerous elements of debris. It's not a clean-looking presentation, though an argument could be made that the damage adds to the viewing experience, bringing character to a film about rough, underground interests.
The 2.0 DTS-HD MA sound mix triggers some concern, with audio on a few of the interviews slightly out of sync with the visuals (Will Eisner's time in front of the camera is particularly noticeable), though this appears to be trouble originating from source elements. The rest of the simple track is largely clean and inviting, featuring only a few shrill moments with some of the interviewees. Conversations are easily understood, isolating odd personalities and communicating echoed environments. Scoring is comfortable without overwhelming the mix, while soundtrack cuts reveal a nice confidence and bass presence.
"Introduction by Kevin Smith" (2:24, SD) is a strange way to commence the "Comic Book Confidential" supplement experience, asking the filmmaker to sit down for a few minutes and recount his love for the art form and its legitimate offerings, hoping to quell snark from dismissive outsiders. It's aimless and unfunny, but it does provide a snapshot of Smith from around 2001, before his pro-pot/anti-critic behaviors silenced his once enchanting amiability.
Outtakes (38:57, HD) return to the extraordinary artistic personalities that make up the documentary, capturing anecdotes, histories, and daily activity that couldn't fit the flow of the film. We hear Sergio Aragones discuss the origin of "Groo the Wanderer," observe a drawing session shared between Robert Crumb and his young daughter Sophie, talk "Watchman" sensibilities with Dave Gibbons, listen to Harvey Pekar defend the integrity of his vocation at a convention, and investigate the intent and inspiration behind "Wimmen's Comix" and its creators. There's plenty more to feast on, with the snipped scenes almost creating a sequel of sorts, delving deeper into the artists and their philosophies.
"Interview with Ron Mann" (7:32, SD) spends time with the director of "Comic Book Confidential," who discusses his filmmaking origins, the birth of his interest in creating documentaries, and his drive to capture topics he holds a particular passion for. Like Smith's introduction, this conversion is ported over from the 2002 DVD release.
"Original Promo Comic" provides 22 pages of bios, art, and quotes from the artists featured in the documentary, supplying brief background information to get outsiders up to speed.
"The Balloon Pops" is an 11-page essay by media critic Geoff Pevere, who shares his thoughts on the comic book industry and his appreciation for Mann and his movie.
"Comic Book Confidential" is a flavorful documentary, speeding along as it surveys industry ripples and shots of brilliance. Again, it's not an extensive picture, covering every inch of the discussion. It merely embraces certain advances in thought and artistry, hoping to impart a sense of the creative arc that continues on to this day. Smoothly assembled, amusing, and enlightening, "Comic Book Confidential" is a wonderful time capsule and a valuable study of achievements, articulated with a fresh style and palpable reverence that maintains interest in the expansive subject matter.
Strand Releasing is bringing director Ron Mann's Comic Book Confidential to Blu-ray. The documentary features interviews from comic book icons such as Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Frank Miller, as well as an introduction by Kevin Smith. Comic Book Confidential blasts ...
Comic Book Confidential Blu-ray, Forum Discussions
