Kirby As A Genre

A new regular feature examining Kirby-inspired work

by Adam McGovern

From Jack Kirby Collector #29

Matching the dynamism of Jack Kirby's design, and mining the cast of characters he created or collaborated on, has long been an imperative of mainstream comics. Now, as generations of artists come into their own for whom Kirby-influenced art is the primary frame of reference rather than one prominent approach, and as Kirby's pivotal place in the pantheon of pulp culture is belatedly acknowledged, there are proliferating examples of creators who channel his style to a degree unthinkable among his contemporaries, and revivals of his concepts which make them ever more central to the mythos of his two main employers, Marvel and DC. From time to time this column will examine recent homages to "the King," from stylistic emulations, to current treatments of his characters, to the ways in which his successors handle acknowledging him by name.

The Power of Myth

There's no better way to start measuring the Kirby influence than to note how far beyond the mainstream it reaches. Thomas Scioli's The Myth of 8-Opus is a self-published indy initially bankrolled by the Xeric Foundation, alternative-comics philanthropists perhaps best known for having funded the original Castle Waiting. This quest saga of a mysterious drifter on the intergalactic plains (the first issue of which should be on sale as you read this) incorporates not only Kirby's look but also his sensibility in a way which shows the true freshness of the enthusiast rather than the stasis of the imitator. First and foremost there is, of course, the art, which goes beyond almost all current Kirby tributes to not only evoke the rendering style (a rare enough gift to master), but also to apply and advance the all-important compositional sense; some of the most dynamic layouts you've seen in a long time, you'll see here.

Thomas Scioli's very Kirbyesque work from The Myth of 8-Opus, available now.
© Thomas Scioli.

Also present is Kirby's hallucinatory imagination; the first issue finds our hero searching through the remains of a dying world shaped like a gargantuan human corpse, with a mysterious and deceptively utopian city thriving upside-down on the ceiling of its skull! And we have Kirby's fevered classic/pop-culture mix-and-match, creating fresh recombinations on each stir; the mytho-technological wordplay of the title character's name alone is an audacious gem (if it's not coming to you, say it to yourself fast or consider the first issue's title, "8-Opus Wrecks"—which, with storytelling economy in the manner of the master, doubles as the start of the narration's first sentence!).

Along the way we get a few of Kirby's idiosyncrasies, too. Some of the narrative transitions could be a bit smoother, some of the anatomical passages a bit more convincing, and some of the exposition tightened up; and the covers show how much Scioli's intricate art could benefit from color or at least tones. But most of these cavils are a product of the full-speed-ahead creativity that makes the book endearing, and even as of the second issue (the last I had prepublication access to), all of the problems are working themselves out as he steams along. In general, the project weaves together Scioli's own mythic and science-fictional ideas and those of his predecessors with impressive fluidity, the story draws one into its surreal universe with ease, and the visuals meet their ambitions with command.

(Check out the Xeric Foundation at www.xericfoundation.com; 8-Opus is available from Thomas Scioli Publishing, 5645 Hobart St., Apt 1, Pittsburgh, PA 15217; sciolit@yahoo.com.)

The Next God

Ironically, the overdue recognition of Kirby's unfinished Fourth World saga as a major point in pop-culture history has solidified it into a static franchise from the finite serial novel Kirby intended. This imposes certain obstacles on the concept's would-be inheritors, rendering reams of sequels unmemorable while the most radical departures from the original (Steve Gerber's brief late-'70s run on Mister Miracle, Waid & Ross's few pages in the collected Kingdom Come, and Kirby's own revisitation Hunger Dogs) are, however paradoxically, the only ones which feel canonical. Too often these inheritors focus on plot-oriented cosmic spectacle or character intrigues, rather than the allegorical projection of current social and psychological conflicts that Kirby had in mind. These challenges are no less in evidence in Walter Simonson's Orion series than in any attempt, (though they are, in fairness, mostly built-in), and after four issues the jury is still out on how well Simonson the writer will ultimately transcend them. But for Simonson the artist, as of issue #1 "unmemorable" is certainly not a problem.

Walter Simonson's stellar work from Orion #4. © DC Comics.

Simonson is one of comics' unduplicable stylists and visionaries—on a par with departed innovators like Gil Kane and analogous to oversees creators, like France's Moebius, from lands where it's taken for granted that comics are an art form—and he's at the height of his considerable powers here, with bravura design, cinematic drama, and resolutely experimental layout that sacrifices nothing in narrative clarity. Sometimes-murky color slightly undermines the impeccable linework I had the good fortune to peruse in prepublication copies, but this series still marks a banner moment for the medium.

Simonson is not the only superb artist seen in Orion's pages; in back-up features some of his leading peers are coaxed into the belly of mainstream comics for the privilege of associating with him, and in return his writing shows singular sensitivity to their work; you'll find it hard to believe that the flashback sequence drawn by Frank Miller was not scripted by Miller as well. And speaking of fine writing in unexpected forms, also worth the price of a copy is the first-issue text-page's how'd-he-ever-get-away-with-it disembowelment of market-driven '90s comics—though the post-Kirby transformation of the Tigra character from formidable middle-aged woman to breastplate-bustin' babe itself remains a sad sign of the times. Overall, however, while it may be impossible for anyone but Kirby to invest the Fourth World with its full grandeur, Simonson is among those who've given it the most dignity.

By Any Other Name

We have just enough space left for the first fruits from TJKC's Vault of Euphemisms, that almost-real zone in which appreciative creators come as close to crediting Kirby as their corporate hosts will allow. Marvel's Earth X Issue Zero is "Dedicated to the works of" Kirby and several others, while the company's X-51 #1 is published "In memory of Jack Kirby"; meanwhile, the joint Marvel/DC one-shot Incredible Hulk vs. Superman comes "With acknowledgment to the work of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby," right above the "Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster" line long-since mandated by litigation. Kids, spot those euphemisms, send 'em to "Kirby As a Genre" care of this magazine, and we'll, um, gratefully appreciate your proximity to the mailbox. By name!

Soon On This Site

Be here next time for our Back-issue Bonanza, in which we survey unsung but significant Kirby homages in the still-on-the-shelves or soon-to-be-collected categories.

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