1990: Plastic Forks

Plastic Forks (1990) #1-5
by Ted McKeever

I always get this series gets mixed up with Bill Sienkiewicz Stray Toasters. Mostly for superficial reasons: Stray Toasters was also a squarebound painted single-creator limited series from Epic.

And they both have a final issue that has a (mostly) black cover.

But I guess that’s where the similarities end. Sienkiewicz’ series was quite experimental and modern, while this is a pretty straightforward mad scientist tale. If you squint a bit (OK, a lot), you could see this as being a 50s B movie.

Only with more grisliness and a more … sexually odd plot.

OK, I hate recapping plots of comics I write about (I don’t find it interesting to read or write that stuff), but I think I have to here: For some reason or other (never really explained), there are these two scientists that think it would be really cool to have creatures that are able to self-impregnate. It turns out that one of these evil scientists is even more evil, and does the procedure on the other scientist. Hijinks (and revenge) ensue.

Now, this doesn’t really make sense on any level: Even if you lop off somebody’s genitals and then install a device that makes self-fertilisation possible (through woo-hoo science), there’s still no uterus there, for instance, so… and… what’s the upside here, financially? Somebody’s paying for all these laboratories, surely?

So it’s a book that leans really hard into having as stupid a plot as humanly conceivable, which makes me wonder: Why? Is this supposed to produce some counter-intuitive frisson that pushes the reader over the edge into just going along with the ride?

If so, it kinda works, because when you can’t think about even the premise without having a mental prolapse, then you get sort of swept away by the rest. That is, it’s a logic off switch thing, which may allow other reactions to the work.

Anyway, I’ve always loved McKeever’s artwork: Since when I was a teenager, whenever I doodle, I always doodle McKeever heads, teeth and all. This is his first fully-painted colour series, I think?

When he switched to this two panel per page layout during the hospital scene, I thought we were in for some formal experiments throughout the series, but there isn’t that much beyond just that.

There’s a lot of fight scenes in this series, and there isn’t a lot of witty repartee during those scenes, so it’s a pretty brisk reading experience, even though it’s over 300 pages long in total.

I do love it when McKeever goes into manic mode. Perhaps he should have pushed that even further.

One thing that I just find weird is that every issue has one of these recap scenes. I think the likelihood of anybody picking up the third issue of this series without having read the first two would be approximately nil.

There isn’t much left for the reader to figure out on their own: The storytelling is exceedingly clear, and everything is explained. Like the title: People are disposable.

The design of the series is pretty nice. There’s no extraneous stuff to distract, and even the back cover is nice and stark.

There aren’t a lot of female characters in this book, but the protagonist’s wife does get put through the wringer.

Ah yeah. That’s some McKeever teeth!

If you look at this as a 50s B movie, speeches like the above (which are fortunately far between) make sense, I guess?

OK, here’s what I think of the book: It’s an entertaining read, and McKeever’s artwork is uneven, but pretty brilliant here and there.

In a preview in Amazing Heroes #157, page 174

I asked McKeever about the meaning
of the title. “What’s the ultimate dispos-
able item? A plastic fork: you use it and
you throw it away. The way the human
race is threatened is that it becomes
disposable. It was either plastic forks or
vacuum bags.” By the way, he’s getting
awfully tired of the comparisons to a
certain other kitchen appliance.

Oops! I guess I shouldn’t have compared it to Stray Toasters…

In another preview in Amazing Heroes #170, page 82

Getting droppd from Comico’s line-up was
a rrversely lucky break for McKeever. Not
only does he get more money and probably
more exposure, but Plasdc Forks benefits
from the hefty forrnat change, as uell as from
the germination priod Biblishers. “I
was excited he “but nmv—well,
this is the way I to do it in the first
place. It’s much mster; the format
makes it much He feels that the extra
time has allowed him some much-needed
breathing after Eddy Current. “I didn’t
want to tell another story of a guy running
through tings, and just change the buildings
to cactus. I want it to be something more than
that.”
What Forks has into is a comic
reminiscent of one of McKeever’s fivorite
childhood authors, Jules %rne. “It deals a lot
more with epic scale and %rne type adven-
ture,” he says, “Even though it deals with
vivisection–[Henryl is still a scientist and
there’s still animal experiments; there’s still
loss of geniulia—what it surrmlnd.s itself with
is more in line with something like Master of
the world or Mysterious Island.” The grand
scale extends to the props, the settings and
even to the bolder of the protag-
onist, “There are planes in this, there’re
there’re hordes of hermaphrodites.
It deals a lot more with heroics and sacrifice
than before.
“Henry before a victim of circum-
sunce, where nmv I find that he’s much
stronger than I had originally thought. He
takes what they do to him in the first issue,
and rather trun uke as a ruson to go after
them for revenge, he utilizes it and adds on
to it.. then goes after them!”
The more psitive bent to the series is
immensely plasing to him, “They can’t
promote it comparing it to anything. I
that with and Meltdown and Blood
that Epic has enough of the self-indulgent,
pity-me-I’m-laying-in-blood-and-sand-and-l-
snrll-oranges attimde. nose are bk.s,
but I figure thw already have ü’træ. don’t
need more.”

That’s some bad OCR! But he does compare the book to Stray Toasters himself… as a way of distancing himself from those kinds of boring books.

TM Maple writes in Amazing Heroes #179, page 85

This is one of those comic series
that is very difficult to judge after just
the first issue. You’re not sure if the
series will break through to the great-
ness that you can see in the initial
episode or just eventually fall flat on
its face.

[…]

McKeever’s artistic style is as bi-
zarre and idiosyncratic as ever but he
also demonstrates again his fine sense
of pacing and presentation. All in all,
the effect is rather disorienting, which
is a splendid way of easing us into the
strange and disorienting world in
which Apt exists.
The production values are up to
Epic’s usual high standards, making
for a very appealing package.
The outlook is still a bit scrambled
but all the signs are good. Let’s hope
that McKeever can come through on
this. Right now, I’m optimistic about
it all.

McKeever explains how it ended up at Epic in The Comics Journal #163, page 66

Afterwards, I went ahead and did book one of Plastic
Forks. It was originally supposed to come out as an eight-
or 12-issue series from Comico, and it was going to be a
standard 24-page or 32-page thing. So I did the first issue
and I did the cover for it, and that went into their files. I was
doing it ahead oftime, so there were three issues in the can
before it started coming out. I sat down to do #3, and I got
a phone call from Comico. ‘Oh, by the way, we’ve gone
bankrupt. We’re out of business.” Which was probably
one ofthe worst days of my life. It was like flying high, and
then the wings fall off your plane, “Okay, we’re going
down, folks!” At that point I turned around and said,
“Okay , the contract is now null and void, andl can take this
anywhere I want.” So I went to Epic with it and I said,
“Look. Here’ s an idea thatl want to do. Here’ s the first two
issues; I have them ready to go.” And they looked at them
and said, ‘ ‘Wow! They’re painted and everything!” “Yeah,
they’re ready to go — which means I’m that far ahead.”
And they said, “How did you want this to come out?”
Originally, I wanted them to come out as a five-issue, 64-
page book — but Comico had never done anything like
that before, so they basically wanted to go with what
they’ve done, tried and true, which was standard comic
book format. I said, “Well, what I’d really like to do is have
it be a five 64-page book series.” And they said, ‘Okay,
fine.”
But between me turning in the artwork and them
saying, “Okay, fine,” it was three months. And that was
because they had to turn it in to Marketing, and then
Marketing had to establish there was an audience, and
Promotion had to make sure they could promote it, and
then there was a sales thing where they wanted to make
sure how much they should price it for and the whole profit
margin thing. And that took three months to do.

Or in a more recent interview:

After “Transit,” you made two series with Marvel’s Epic line, “Plastic Forks” and “METROPoL.” What was it like working at Epic? Who were you working with there?

I had originally signed with Comico to do “Plastic Forks” as a 12-issue miniseries. I had the first two issues, and the first three covers finished, when Comico went bankrupt. Having no idea what I was going to do, or where to go, I ended up talking with Archie Goodwin, who was EIC of Epic at that time, about a series I had started, and the situation at Comico. He said he wanted to see what I had done so far. So, I brought in the first two issues of original art, and the three covers, to his office at the Marvel building in New York. He went through every page, and said, “I want this. Only instead of 12 issues, it’s going to be five issues, 64 pages each, and fully paint every page.” And that was it. I signed the contract that week. Never once did he, or anyone there, tell me what to do, how to work, change the title, or alter a word. I was just given the keys and let loose. It was an awesome time for me.

Plastic Forks was published in a collected edition by Image some years back, but I’ve been unable to find any reviews of that.

1990: Harvey Kurtzman’s Strange Adventures

Harvey Kurtzman’s Strange Adventures (1990)
by Harvey Kurtzman and a bunch of people

This is a Byron Preiss publication, and after having read so many of the things he’s behind, my enthusiasm for this book is somewhat tempered, even if the list of contributors here seems awesome. I mean: Rick Geary! Crumb! Kurtzman!

From the very start (i.e., the cover) it’s a bit confusing what kind of book this even is. “Strange Adventures” and the Silver Surfer on the cover seems to hint at this being a super-hero parody book?

Hey! My copy is signed by William Stout (and has a nice sketch, too).

OK, we start off with a two-page introduction by Art Spiegelman, and it’s all about what a great guy Spiegelman I mean Kurtzman is.

Then an introduction from Preiss where he explains that this book was supposed to be a collection of movie genre parodies… but then it wasn’t. Anyway, he’s paired off with “today’s hottest cartoonists”: So is the concept here pairing Kurtzman off with new, fun artists? I’m aboard with that.

And then another introduction: This time by R. Crumb, and this one really is about how great Kurtzman is. So is this a tribute book to Kurtzman, where everybody contributes an anecdote or two?

ME AM CONFUSE.

But then the book actually starts, and the rest of the book consists of funny shorts in a Mad vein — and written by Kurtzman. William Stout does his best Bill Elder impression, which is a very good impression indeed.

I’m guessing “today’s hottest” didn’t refer to young up-and-coming artists, but who can resist Sergio Aragones? He does insanely detailed artwork for his part.

And… Tomas Bunk? Hm… I’m not familiar with his work, but I should be, I see. It’s the best piece in the book. It’s got all the insanity the other pieces only hint at.

Kurtzman does the artwork for one of the stories, and it’s not exactly up to his 50s standards.

The most disappointing piece in the book is drawn by Rick Geary. Not because it’s bad, but my expectations were so much higher than this.

Dave Gibbons does the only super-hero thing in the book, and he sneaks in some of the cast from Watchmen. And a fig leaf.

Finally, Sarah Downs does the artwork for a generic slasher parody, and it looks very much like Kurtzman’s artwork, doesn’t it?

Oh, right! Kurtzman did sketches for all the pages, not just the script. This is for the Gibbons piece…

So… This is a quite handsome book. It’s 80 pages long, and there’s 50 pages of story: The rest are blank, or introductions, or backmatter, so it just feels a bit slight. I mean, getting Kurtzman to do the book at all is great, and We Should Be Grateful, but it’s a confused and disappointing book.

TK Dean writes in Amazing Heroes #189, page 72

This was to be a major quality item
this fall—a hardcover collection of
new stories written and layed out by
the legendary Harvey Kurtzman with
finished art by such luminaries as
Dave Gibbons, Rick Geary, and
Sergio Aragones. It is my sad duty to
report that this book is not good.
I am dumbfounded. I read the book.
I did not laugh. I was kind of bored.
I was confused. I know who Harvey
Kurtzman is. I know he’s a legend. I
know these artists are good. I looked
up my old MAD paperback reprints.
Yes, Kurtzman is (was?) a genius. I
looked at Aragones’s MAD art and
looked back at Groo. Yes, the master
ofa million funny details. I looked at
Rick Geary’s Junior Carrot Patml and
David Copperfield. Yes. I looked at
Gibbons’s %tchmen. Yes. I looked
again at Harvey Kurtzman’s Strange
Alventures. No. Wha’ hoppen’?
This book is just not funny. The
stories are not well-constructed. The
art, for these guys, is uninspired.
Maybe the problem is that Kurtzman
went after generic satire—lampooning
movie types rather than specifics. But
that doesn’t hold for “Super Surfer,”
which is very specific satire and about
as funny as the latest What The—?.
Maybe the artistic collaborations just
don’t click. I don’t know.
There are some bright spots,
though. Tomas Bunk’s art for “A
Vampire Named Mel,” on an individ-
ual panel level, is crammed full of
funny stuff, reminiscent of the old
MAD. “Halloween, or the Legend of
Creepy Hollow” has its looney mo-
ments. But then there’s a story like
“Captain Bleed,” with not one funny
bit and unfunny Aragones art
What’s going on? I don’t know.

OK, my take on the book is more positive than that, so now I don’t feel like such a grouch.

Darcy Sullivan writes in The Comics Journal #141, page 67

To start with, Strange “ventures’ six stories
spoof caveman dramas, pirate stories, Westerns,
vampire movies, the Lassie movies, super-
heroes, and slasher films. Half of these cultural
forms have outright disappeared over the last
30 years. Kurtzman tore into American
popular culture’s sacred cows in MAD or Jungle
Book, he generated a real sense of outrage,
matched by his (and readers’) dismay that socie-
ty would place advertising or Archie on a ped-
estal, that such transparent lies could pass for
truth. Most of his targets in Strange Adventures
have strictly nostalgic values; for instance, we
perceive the representations of the pirate story
as illusion, not as symbolic truth, so piercing
the illusion has no satiric or cathartic value.
Kurtzman’s choice Of old-fashioned targets
forces the attention from his subject onto his
style, which hasn’t fared well. The jokes are too
simple, too predictable. As Spiegelman noted
in his introduction to 1986’s reissue of Harvey
Kurtvnan ‘s Jungle Book, Kurtzman’s jokes often
follow a pattern: high-minded statement, second
high-minded statement, wacky deflating state-
ment. It’s a formula that uorked, but Kurtzman’s
application of it now seems mechanical and old.

[…]

Behind the mirthlessness in this volume
lurks an even greater problem. No one could
expect Kurtzman’s frenetic style to seem fresh
any more; he’s done it for decades, every other
parody comic has done it, 30-plus years Of
watered-down post-Kurtzman MAD has done it,
TV shows like Get Smar and police Squad! have
done it. It has been done. But even if his style
no longer seems novel, we might expect it to
work on its own terms. It doesn’t. In fact, it
seems staggeringly anachronistic. Why has it
aged so poorly?

[…]

In MADs heyday, to be a fluttering image
was to be deprived of the individual’s power;
today, the changing image represents Exr,ver, the
power to move between different states, to be
omnipresent, reproducible. Images are the cur-
rency Of super-stars, as Andy Warhol demon-
strated, so image-bending no longer breaks
icons, it makes them. The chameleonic Madon-
na has replaced steadfast John Wayne.
This all relates to mtxlern theories of post-
modernism; Spiegelman himself states in the
current volume’s introduction, “[Kurtzman’s]
MAD stories were high examples of
Postmodernism decades before the term was
coined.” Certainly MAD now seems redolent
with postmodern features. The critic Frederic
Jameson has noted (in his essay “Postmoder-
nism and Consumer Society”) that one feature
of postmodernist art “is the effacement in it of
some key boundaries or separations, most
notably the erosion of the older distinction be-
tween high culture and so-called mass or
popular culture.” This kind of breakdown oc-
curred regularly in MAD, where Julius Caesar
and Houdy rubbed shoulders, and where
different cultural genres mixed in a confus-
ing stew.

[…]

When Einstein appears in one panel of
Strange Adventures’ caveman Story, “Schmeg-
eggi of the Cavemen,” we may not compare his
context — specifically, his temporal one, the
20th century — against the story’s context —
prehistorical times — note the discrepancy, and
laugh. As symbols, what prevents their inter-
mingling? Nothing. Their merger doesn’t con-
stitute a juxtaposition to readers who expect im-
ages to be recombined without “logic,” without
recourse to context.
The implication in all this seems to be that
today’s readers wouldn’t know a joke if it bit
them. That’s not so — obviously, people still
appreciate what we might call MAD-style
humor, as proven by the success of the films The
Naked Gun and I’m Gonna Git You Sucka. Both
those movies, though, had tighter control and
relied more on strong, current jokes. Kurtzman
here is riding hik style, which pales beside the
image manipulation we find in other media. He’s
like a bebop jazzman in the age of scratching
and sampling.

It’s a tribute to Kurtzman that “today’s best
cartoonists,” as the book’s jacket hails them, il-
lustrated his tired material here with such gusto.
Their work provides the greatest appeal in the
slim (80-page), overpriced ($20) volume. Wil-
liam Stout’s artwork on the caveman story is
positively delicious, fully realized without los-
ing any of Kurtzman’s enviable flow. His seven
pages would be worth the book’s price alone.
Tomas Bunk’s work on “A Vampire Named
Mel” sharply recalls longtime Kurtzman col-
laborator Will Elder’s work in its torrent of tiny
gags. Sergio Aragones and Rick Geary both
supply top drawer examples of their style.
Dave Gibbons’s work on the Silver Surfer
parody, though, is curiously flat; he’s no Marie
Severin. (The story reads like something from
the What 7h—?! slush pile, particularly distress-
ing since that comic apes Marvel’s 1960s book
Not Brand Fxch, which aped Kurtzman’s MAD)

Well, that’s a pretty insightful review; go read it all on the TCJ web site.

The book has never been reprinted.