CSotD: Moving the characters but not the reader
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I like this Mark Fiore piece a lot, but I don't think it's a comic. (You'll have to go watch it there, since he has disabled embedding. We'll talk about that another day. Go.)
So I don't know that it fits the mission of the blog, but I do know that it's a very clever takeoff, not so much on TV ads as on the little animated pieces that appear on corporate websites, right down to the calm-but-emotional tone of voice, and if that seems like an oxymoron, play it again, because the voice is chosen and modulated to sound in control but to keep you fully engaged.
It's the same vocal trick used to tell you that coal burns cleanly, or that the fact that your 401k includes a minor, non-voting share in Exxon means you, too, own an oil company and therefore have no business criticizing the environment-destroying imperialistic robber barons who actually call the shots.
And it's a tick down from the still-controlled-but-more-compelling voice in a political commercial that expresses disillusionment and fear and your need to tell Senator Wassisface that you oppose clean air, feeding hungry children, voting rights or whatever it is they are spending money to avoid.
Of course, part of why the piece works is because it not only mocks the self-serving animations being parodied, but takes advantage of their strategies to work against uncaring corporate greed. It's a nicely executed piece of forensic jiu-jitsu.
So, is it a comic? Does it fit the mission of the blog?
Well, it's certainly not a comic strip, but let's accept that, title of the blog not withstanding, we look at a lot of panels here in addition to actual by-definition strips.
And we use "cartoon" to mean the static thing, not the animated thing. We don't run Spongebob or Powerpuff Girls or vintage Bugs Bunny cartoons, except as little video post-scripts at the end. That kind of "cartoon" is not part of what we (by whom we mean "I") do here.
But there are plenty of the-kind-we-do cartoonists turning their strips into the-kind-we-don't-do, and this is a good chance to note why we don't.
Because I don't like them.
So there you have it. Thanks for stopping by.
For those who are still here, some elaboration:
I like the timing of a comic strip. It's like volleyball: Serve, prompt, return, and you only have a limited number of touches to get it back over the net before the point is lost (and that's an excellent but unintentional pun).
Even a single static piece, a panel, has timing. I don't know how much of it is intentional and how much is instinctive, but it does, and there are different ways of creating the flow that leads from seeing it to getting it.
For instance, anyone can do a weeper in the wake of tragedy. Mauldin's commentary on the Kennedy assassination is a classic because of timing:
First, you see the sorrow. Then you see the "symbol of America." Then you realize it is one murdered president grieving another. And one man, grieving another.
That increasing awareness is what gives this classic its depth and distinguishes it from the hordes of mundane, forgettable weeping Statues of Liberty on 9/12/01.
But even a panel on a less portentous topic involves that gradual shift from seeing it to getting it.
This Drew Litton cartoon is also a classic, though only in Denver, and, now, only among those who were Bronco fans 30 years ago.
You see the stadium and the ridiculous goal posts, and then the 3 on the kicker and you realize it is Rich Karlis, who had been matchless as a placekicker but, as this cartoon appeared, was mired in a streak of hitting the uprights on crucial attempts.
You had to be there, of course, but that insider element makes it more delicious: The fun of "getting it" when you know that others will not.
And sometimes, the timing is deliberately drawn out, as with Peter Arno's famous panel, which takes a minute to sink in, and which some will never get, but has lasted half a century because the laugh is the result of some effort on the reader's part:
The element of timing is more obvious in a strip, because the panels force you to take things in sequentially:
This 2005 Arlo & Janis is a favorite because you walk past the yard along with Arlo and the tension builds in part because he's taking it all in, but also on a meta-level because three panels go by and he only has one panel left in which to deliver the punchline, at which point the understatement — coupled with the upside-down dog — makes it that much funnier.
The late Jerry Bittle was a master of timing, but I'll admit to using this particular cartoon to let you know that "Shirley & Son" has recently begun a new cycle of reruns at GoComics and it's a good time to jump in.
However, it's also an excellent example of why I hate animated comic strips.
Okay, granted I'm a certified loner, but I don't think I'm the only person who doesn't like having somebody read over his shoulder, and I'm even more sure that I'm not the only person who hates when someone shows you something they think you should read, but then, instead of just handing it to you and letting you read it, puts it in front of you and proceeds to read it aloud, pointing to the words.
I loved having my dad read me the Sunday funnies when I was four years old. But with all due respect to him and to Fiorello LaGuardia and to the Comic Weekly Man, I can read now.
Just hand me the thing and then sit back, shut up and drink your coffee.
Not only is it annoying as hell, but I don't want to be stuck with your take on what is supposed to be an internal process.
First of all, what does Louis's voice sound like? What does Emily's voice sound like? I'm not sure I can articulate it, but I know they don't sound like you.
Most of all, however, timing is personal in this art form, and when you read it aloud, you force your timing on me.
It is a perceptual spoiler.
It destroys what makes comic strips work.
There's nothing wrong with animated cartoons, if they are created as animated cartoons. Which, in this case, Mark Fiore has done.
But make up your mind: If you want to do comics, do comics. Strips or panels, I love'em both.
If you want to be Chuck Jones or Fritz Freleng, do that.
Please. I'd love to see somebody do things like this on a regular basis:
(What do you mean, "You got the voices wrong?")
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