The Power of a Single Panel, by Christopher Derrick – Sympathy for the Devil #45 | @MDWorld

April 14, 2014 Chris Derrick 1 Comment

Comic panels can communicate an extraordinary amount of information in a short period of time (Geoff Darrow estimated that the average comic panel gets about 7 seconds of viewing…), so it’s a serious accomplishment to have a single panel etched into your mind’s eyes for years (or decades).

A lot of people smarter than me have argued and will argue about the power of single comic panel, considering that at the heart of the art form — sequential art — any “single panel” is rendered powerless or its power reduced when displayed out of context (and that is quite possibly true). It’s just like in a movie — no stand-alone shot has any true power (to the narrative; in both cases it might be compositionally drenched with raw paw) unless you know the before and after.

What comics can do exceptionally well is use the single panel as exclamation points in the comic narrative, and are, therefore, integral in effectively speaking the sequential art language, and perhaps unique that way. Because unlike a movie or TV, the actual dimensions of the comic “screen” can change to exquisite dramatic effect (i.e. a dual-page splash can arguably convey more power and reveal story elements than a 28mm anamorphic lens trained on a movie moment).

A few months back, Comic Book Resources ran a story on the 70 Most Iconic Marvel Comic Panels… it covered a wide range of seminal moments that have reached mythic status in the dense and rich Marvel Universe history (I wonder if CBR will do one for DC, because as it stands Marvel might have a lock on the most poignant narrative emotional punches throughout the Silver Age).

As I scanned through the list of 70 (and took a trip down memory lane), it became immediately apparent that Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, John Byrne, David Mazzucchelli, Walt Simonson, John Buscema were the mainstays of Marvel’s most iconic panels (we all probably knew this, but it is interesting to see the culled data)… each contributing at least three panels that have been burned into the collective unconscious of comic readers during those halcyon runs on their respective titles.

One of the first times a comic book shocked the shit out of me (SPOILER ALERT) was ALPHA FLIGHT vol. 1 issue 12 when Guardian was blown to hell after defeating his old nemesis. Too young to be familiar with such heady concepts as Greek tragedy or Shakespearean, John Byrne ripped my heart out and stomped on it with jackbooted glee. You almost can’t do that kind of last-minute twist-of-fate ending these days, it would cause too much outrage.

The ending of “Cold Mountain” (the book) was a recent example of this; after hearing an interview with the late, great filmmaker Anthony Minghella, who claimed he threw the book against the wall when he got to the end was pretty much what prompted me to read the book.

And I had pretty much the same reaction.

I don’t remember precisely how I handled the ALPHA FLIGHT ending, just that I was pissed and pissed in way that wasn’t actually the way kids typically get pissed at shit they don’t like. And since this was back in the ‘80s when one of the joys of being a comic fan was waiting a whole month for the next issue to find out what happened next was murder (at the time, DC and Marvel hadn’t stumbled upon trades as means to reap additional profits, but also keep stories in print for late-coming readers to get caught up without having to spend shitloads of money in the back issue market; No instant gratification, which has ruined a certain amount of entertainment). I just couldn’t believe Mac was dead; he had to have been snatched into another dimension at the last second and that was going to be revealed a few issues later (maybe a year two; you know how they do it comics)… alas that never happened.

Somewhere around that same time I had started picking up the back issues for Frank Miller’s DAREDEVIL run (when he wrote and drew the book) where Elektra was abruptly executed by Bullseye. You see, the very first issue of DAREDEVIL that I read/bought was #201 (and this was one of the very first comics I bought that lit the fuse for being a comic fan) and there was all this talk about Elektra’s murder in that and subsequent issues thus making me aware of what had happened, but not exactly how it happened.

When I finally scored those key issues (they were fucking expensive, like $15 or $20 when comics were still 60-cents) that led up to Bullseye impaling Elektra down at this comic shop in the Old Arcade in downtown Cleveland, I wasn’t quite prepared for the visceral nature of that one iconic panel…

I also love the panel a few issues later when Stick and the others attempt to resurrect Elektra, and Matt hears/senses Elektra’s heartbeat… Miller’s ability to convey the shock and astonishment WITHOUT showing Matt’s eyes (his dark glasses were covering his eyes) was more masterful illustrative skill.

Walt Simonson’s run on THOR in the mid-80s was my favorite run for that character, he did one of those semi-agreed upon no-no’s — mixing mythology/magic with hyper-technology (just like what George Lucas did with Star Wars) when he introduced Beta Ray Bill… and his art was stupendous and resonant throughout the run… if you go back and look at the Manhunter back-ups Simonson did with Archie Goodwin (there’s a trade for those stories), you’ll see that Simonson’s art made tremendous leaps while on Thor; it was more graphic, more compelling and when he “killed Odin” as Thor and Loki helplessly watched… the image burns in your head.

Of course, any and all of these panels taken out of context don’t have quite the same impact (because there’s no emotional story baggage carried with them), but many of them pack an emotional wallop regardless if (e.g. Death of Elektra, Death of Phoenix, Spider-man holding Gwen Stacy) one knows the precise storyline that’s coming to a conclusion… the composition (and the little bit of text surrounding the image) boasts a thousand words that hit you straight in the heart.

What strikes me the most odd is that there’s only a couple post-1990 panels that made the grade… what does that say about comics at Marvel in the post-Jim Shooter era?

One big factor, we have to agree on, was the breakout success of the eventual founders of Image Comics (Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane et al) and ironically the potency of great, impactful narrative storytelling took a back seat to Fancy Dan art.

Rob Liefeld, who it could be argued was at the forefront of redefining superhero art in the 90s, ushered in a wave of overwrought art that sold like hot cakes (remember all those shitty-ass variant covers? Rob, take a bow for that, too, please)… and the stories didn’t seem to carry as much narrative or emotional weight, like that crucial element wasn’t the point any more.

Obviously the heavy-hitter writers were no longer controlling the ship; Lee, McFarlane, Portacio and Liefeld started scripting and plotting story arcs, and while they had cool concepts for characters, the stuff of Greek tragedy that the writers mined so well was missing. Peter David was awesomely paired up with Todd McFarlane for a run on THE INCREDIBLE HULK that featured a re-mutate Leader are probably some of the best stand-alone Hulk stories from that era. It seemed like the conventional wisdom was if Byrne and Miller (former pencilers-only) could successfully do write & draw, then so could they.

[Note: What’s also interesting to consider is that with rise of the “style over substance” art in the mainstream comic books, DC’s Vertigo imprint took off like a rocket to the moon in terms of storytelling complexity and expanding what was possible with comics as a medium.]

My gripe with the guys who “changed the business” is that while they excessively relied on intricate (perhaps over-cluttered) single and dual-page splash panels and excellent draftsmanship, their compositions and visual narrative rarely reach the iconic status of the aforementioned stars, and it’s hard to list off what stories that were generated during that time hold the same long-term resonance. When you focus on visual flash over an emotionally compelling narrative, your storytelling expectations can’t be too high, right? Even with the best intentions.

There’s a John Byrne panel on the last page or second to last page from Fantastic Four 260 where Sue Storm, Ben Grimm and Jonny Storm all hover over a crater where Doctor Doom was supposedly consumed by the Power Cosmic in his battle with the Silver Surfer and Terrax. It was an actual cliffhanger moment — was the FF’s long-time nemesis vanquished forever? All that was left was Doom’s face mask…

A few issues later, Byrne dropped another heart-stopping single-page splash panel – proclaiming the fate of Reed Richards; (also Byrne did a FF comic in which pretty much every page was a single panel, to be read horizontally where the panel aspect ratio was closer to Cinemascope, as if he was trying show you what an FF movie could look like).

This kind of emotional exploitation of the graphic nature of the medium seemed to be second nature for lot of the guys who came up in the 60s and 70s.

However, something we have to take into account is this: a huge thing that the formation of Image did was preclude Marvel (the House of Ideas) and DC from getting a crack at any of the juicy ideas (stories and characters) all these stellar creators were giving birth to — the creator-owned paradigm was here to stay, and it forever changed the face of comics.

I’m not begrudging the creator-owned movement (in fact it is the one thing that keeps comics more than exciting the last 20 years), but Marvel and/or DC fucked up when they opted not to find some balance in which to reward the comic creators for their work. In TV, when a writer creates a character that’s not part of the original conception and that character continues to appear, the creating writer gets some sort of additional compensation.

I don’t know all the ins and outs of what happened with Frank Miller and his spat with Marvel  over Elektra, but once Frank unleashed SIN CITY through Dark Horse there hasn’t been too many devastating comic storylines in Marvel Comics (and DC) that had the impact of the death of Gwen Stacy or Jean Grey (the first time). Even when Professor X was killed (presumably), did we really care?

Characters kept getting killed and coming back, and the potency of killing someone lost all its luster (would these companies really banish a piece of IP? Perhaps one of the only character who died and stayed is the Kree warrior Captain Mar-vel… for a long time the Barry Allen Flash was dead and stayed dead, but he was eventually resurrected).

Milestone Media came after Image, and its publishing partnership with DC was unprecedented; I’ve always wondered by Marvel didn’t have a similar deal with a group of comic creators (and not necessarily African-American, but if it was another group of African-Americans it sure would have been another interesting twist in the ever-going rivalry).

Throughout the 90s and 00s, creative control at Marvel and DC was reduced as their corporate parents required these endless sources of exploitable IP to fit within the broad strategy of “safe”, and be ready of incessant commercial incarnations.

Think about how popular and talented as Brian Michael Bendis is, and ask yourself why hasn’t he created a truly groundbreaking Marvel character — the best stuff in his imagination he knows he’s not going to give to Marvel as a salaried employee, because he’s never going to see the major financial rewards. One of Bendis’ partners in crime, David Mack, had created an amazing universe with Kabuki, and yet none of his work for Marvel has ever reached the experimental narrative dynamics (and his final days of Daredevil work was stellar).

Fabian Nicieza and Rob Liefeld “created” Deadpool, arguably the biggest fan-favorite character in post-80s Marvel Comics Universe, and yet I doubt those guys get ANY kind of continuing compensation for creating that character. That must suck for them.

Of course the stories being told – Death of Gwen Stacy, The Dark Phoenix Saga, Born Again – are arguably some of the most emotion-laden stories produced in the Marvel Comics canon, and it’s quite difficult to come up with anything remotely as devastating after nearly 50 years of publication (it’s one of the reasons why the Latino Spider-man from the Ultimate Universe could of had a shot of breaking new barriers IF he was introduced a couple decades ago; but since he’s been controversial since his inception what exactly does that say).

All this brings us back to the concept of the single panel as a weapon in the storytelling arsenal. The single panel has the power to chisel climatic moments from the Marvel Comics canon into our collective conscious. ‘Tis a pity that many of the pantheon of comic illustration gods aren’t considered “hot” anymore and therefore don’t get to work on the juicy titles.