6/02/08
TOR
The War that Time Forgot
Being the dinosaur fanatic I was as a kid, I can’t help the immediate interest elicited by anything prehistoric. Jurassic Park was a pre-pubescent nergasm (the dinosaurs are still impressive, everything else, not so much). It’s the same with zombies, though I think I’ve finally read enough bad zombie books to give me pause and while there’s enough zombie titles now to make undead Solomon blush, books featuring ancient reptiles don’t exactly qualify for their own genre. DC is remaking…? REBOOTING (thank you recent DC and Marvel movies that fall somewhere between sequel and remake) two titles from 1953 and 1960 which means they’re about as prehistoric as their subject matter…see what I did there? With the exception of Jonah Hex (awesome) and Bat Lash (poop), there aren’t a whole lot of books with the big capital letters in the upper left hand corner that don’t have capes in them, so I like to give the little booger some positive reinforcement by pretty much buying whatever non-superhero book they decide to publish. The two books I’m referring to are TOR (yes all caps is necessary) and The War that Time Forgot (soon to be the comic book that time forgot).
I can’t exactly recommend The War that Time Forgot unless you can appreciate the novelty of such a pulpy premise: American (as well as German apparently) icons and heroes from different periods in history find themselves together on a mysterious island running rampant with dinosaurs. The first issue introduces what seems like a dozen characters and half a dozen action scenes, so already we’ve thrown pacing and character out the window for the most part, but who cares? Davey Crocket and the Red Baron are teaming up to fight a T-Rex. Personally, I’d rather see Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson, and Machine Gun Kelly go up against Al Capone (ahem, Mike?).
TOR on the other hand, feels like classic pulp, along the lines of Robert Howard or Edgar Burroughs, which makes sense since Joe Kubert adapted Tarzan. Without a single speech bubble, without a single thought bubble, Kubert demonstrates how effective simple narration can be. This is my first time sampling Joe Kubert’s work, but I immediately got a sense for his style and voice, and I love it. Kubert takes you through this issue as a true narrator, not only weaving a story with his words, but also with his pictures. The story could be understood just by reading the text, or looking at the art, but they compliment each other without being dependent on one another. It reminds me of stories I’ve heard of artists drawing all the panels first, telling the story with the pictures, and then having the writers come in and do their thing. Get back to your roots, read some pulp, and give a dude in a loincloth a chance.
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