Peter David's Blog, page 89

I Guess I Owe an Apology to Zombies

I've been asked by fans if I would ever have any interest in writing fiction about zombies. And I've always said absolutely not. I found zombies boring and one-note and couldn't imagine what I'd do with them.

Then Marvel needed me to step in and write the last three issues of "Marvel Zombies Destroy." And the concept was simple: World War II Nazi zombies. I thought, "How could I possibly pass that up?" Still, I was worried that I didn't have the proper mindset for such endeavors.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. Except now the fact that I needn't have worried, in and of itself, worries me, considering some of the truly sick stuff I came up with. And even worse, I had fun doing it. It's oddly liberating, from a storytelling point of view, to have a character get disemboweled and then use his own intestines as a weapon against his attacker. Although I did avoid the obvious dialogue line of, "That took guts!" Even with zombies, some things are just too much.

PAD

The Bear Story

Originally published January 3, 1997, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1207

"Tell us about the bear."

It's the most-asked question I get at conventions. "Tell us about the bear," they say, "the famous Babylon 5 bear."

Joe Straczynski, B5 creator, goes around at conventions and tells folks near and far about the adventure regarding a certain plush bear which has thus far made appearances in two, count 'em, two science fiction series, with more possibly on the way.

Of course, Joe's version of the events surrounding the bear aren't quite exactly right. And so I, in the interest of public spiritedness and public service, will now tell the complete, unvarnished, and, frankly, slightly bizarre history of the B5 bear.

The time was two years ago, as we were approaching the holidays. Joe had purchased not one, but two scripts from me for the second season of B5: one called "Soul Mates," which had already been filmed, and a second called "There All the Honor Lies," which had not yet gone before the cameras.

As a token of appreciation befitting the holiday spirit, I sent Joe a bear from Vermont Teddy Bears that was dressed in a little baseball jacket that read "Babearlon 5″ on the back and sported Joe's initials on the front.

About two weeks later, I was talking to Joe on the phone (I don't recall who called whom), and Joe said, in that famous overly formal manner he sometimes adopts, "I got your… package."

"Ah, the bear," I said chipperly. "Did you like him?"

A frozen moment. "I'm not into cute," he said in a voice evocative of Lou Grant informing Mary Richards of his feelings on "spunk."

My response was the natural one in such situations. I said, "Oh. Well, sorry. Didn't know that. Do you want to send him back?"

"No. No. He's staying here." He paused. "I'm going to get you back."

"You are? Why?"

"I'm going to get you back," he repeated.

I found out what he meant when I got the final draft version of "There All the Honor Lies."

Joe had done some rewrites on the script, which was, naturally, his prerogative. And I cannot stress enough that I have no problem with that. B5 is Joe's vision.

When you write a script for someone else's show, it's a given that he's going to make changes to keep consistent with that vision.

Certainly, it's a situation I encountered as co-creator of Space Cases. Virtually every script on Space Cases required rewrites, so why should my work for someone else's program be any different?

But this was a little different.

One of the storylines in "Honor" involved the establishment of a souvenir shop on space station Babylon 5, hawking all manner of B5 merchandise. It was basically a riff on how Star Trek has become regarded as the money-making "franchise" of Paramount. I even had the character Ivanova protest, "We're not some—some deep space franchise!"

I had originally wrapped up the souvenir shop story by having trouble resulting from a toy weapon which was thought to be a real one—and Ivanova then working with a lawyer character I'd introduced to have the shop shut down through legal means (since it presented a hazard to station security).

But in the rewritten version, Captain John Sheridan learned that little bears with his initials (not coincidentally the same as Joe Straczynski—or, for that matter, Jeffrey Sinclair, Sheridan's predecessor) were being sold in the shop. Considering it an insult to his dignity, he ordered the entire shop shut down and off his station. And the next time we saw the offending bear, it was ricocheting off the windshield of a Starfury fighter ship, having been hurled into the vacuum of space by the annoyed Sheridan.

Now, I gotta say something here. Joe is one of the most diplomatic people you could ever hope to meet. My feeling (and he will strenuously deny it, I'm sure) is that he kinda got a kick out of the bear. I mean, Joe strikes me as the type of person who, if he received a gift he didn't like, would simply mumble "Thanks" and stick it on a shelf somewhere. Instead, he gave it national attention and incorporated it into B5 canonical lore. There are several B5 encyclopedias, "making of" books, and such (all published in England), and all of them have extensive entries on the bear.

Nonetheless, when one's gift is dissed coast to coast (globally, if you consider that B5 is shown in other countries), then retaliation is in order.

I warned Joe that the bear was going to return on Space Cases. And Joe started getting really enthusiastic about the whole idea. "I'd love to see this bear start showing up on every SF series on TV: pops up on Star Trek, and wherever else. Make it a running gag on science fiction television. We can play this up."

Not a bad attitude for an alleged bear-hater.

So some months later on Space Cases, the crew of the Christa found a bear floating in space. The bear was no longer wearing his cap and jacket for reasons too byzantine (and, frankly, silly) to go into. But it was an identical bear (since I'd taken care to get a duplicate from Vermont Teddy Bears). Rosie, upon discovering the hapless toy, asked rhetorically, "What kind of dope would throw a perfectly good bear into outer space?"

The answer was not long in coming. It turned out the bear had been a fiendish plan courtesy of a race called the Straczyn. The Straczyn wanted to conquer the galaxy, you see, but it was short on funds and didn't have the money to mount a conquering army. So it conquered a little bit at a time by leaving booby-trap viruses planted on harmless-looking objects and depositing them in space for unknown passersby to pick up. The virus wound up almost killing our entire crew (but not succeeding, obviously, since it was only our second episode).

And after it aired, I said to Joe, "Now we're even."

"No, now I have to get you back," he said joyfully.

"Uh, no, you don't. We're even."

"No, no, my boy. You've unleashed the floodgates," he chortled.

And I thought, "Ooookay."

Nothing happened for a while. To me the most amusing aspect was at a B5/Trek convention in England called Wolf 359. Not only were B5 bears popping up in the dealers' rooms, but Bruce Boxleitner (who plays Sheridan) was doing a Q&A on stage, and one of the first questions he was asked was, "Do you feel that Captain Sheridan has hurt his likability because of his ghastly treatment of the bear?" The British adore B5, but they also take their bears seriously.

Joe's efforts at retaliation, however, didn't go exactly as planned.

At the Chicago Comicon this year he announced that at Dragon*Con in Atlanta (which I was attending that same weekend) he'd arranged for someone in a bear suit to follow me around with a sign that said, "Peter David Unfair to Bears." Which is kind of weird, considering Joe's the one who blew the thing into space. But ultimately the question was moot, because there weren't no such animal. Whether he was putting on the audience or simply misfired on the arrangements, I dunno, but it simply didn't happen.

At the San Diego con, a girl in a bear suit actually showed up to deliver a teddygram during a Space Cases presentation. She sang, danced, and gave me a stuffed bear with huge gashes in it. But no one saw it. Why? Because I'd spotted her in the back of the auditorium while I was running an episode.

I told her she'd have to wait until the tape was over and then kept telling her that, gosh darn it, that costume looked pretty hot. She sweated up a storm and finally agreed to do the presentation in the hallway—which, as it happened, was deserted. (That was lucky on my part: Todd McFarlane was giving a presentation next door. If it had let out while the bear woman was serenading me, God knows what would have happened. But I was willing to risk it so that my Space Cases presentation would be uninterrupted.)

So Joe had retaliated, though it had misfired. And I was ready to strike back, to keep it going.

Then I got a call from a friend of mine, SF writer John Peel, who had been contacted by a convention up in Boston. They had asked him for recommendations as to whom they could invite to an upcoming convention. John had recommended me.

The response from the con organizers? "Well, y'know, we like Peter David's work and all, and it's nothing personal—but we've already got Joe Straczynski coming to this convention, and everyone knows that he and Peter hate each other."

Upon hearing that, that's when I said, "Okay. That's it. It's over."

Because it's one thing to have this semi-demented battle of wits going on, using the convention landscape as a playground. But now fans are going around thinking that Joe and I are enemies. And I don't want that, not at all. Joe and I get on just fine. We're friends and have tremendous respect for each other. And the last thing I need is for fandom to think I've got some sort of mad-on for Joe Straczynski. I mean, hell, there're enough people out there who really do hate my guts. I don't need fans adding to that list.

So as far as I'm concerned, the "Great Bear Feud" is over. Although it might be that the fans don't share that opinion. Joe was doing a B5 presentation at a convention a month or two ago, and when he turned around he discovered that fans had placed an array of half a dozen plush bears on the table behind him: all those bears, staring at him in silent accusation. My understanding is that a little girl raised her hand and asked if she could have a bear, whereupon Joe gathered up all the bears and gave them to her.

And I bet not a single one of them ended up floating in space.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. Fans should be happy to note that he's finally actually hired an assistant to help him organize and answer fan mail. His name is Bernie. So next time you write, put "Hi, Bernie!" on the envelope. He'll appreciate the attention, I'm sure.)

 

No Wonder Conservative Pundits have to Blame the Victim

Glenn Beck, Geraoldo Rivera and, I would think, other conservatives are trying to assert that Trayvon Martin was responsible for his own death. That either he had it coming because supposedly he was a criminal, or he was wearing a hoodie (which is one step removed from claiming that women brought sexual assault on themselves because of sexy attire.)

Naturally that's the angle they'd have to take. Because if they blame the gunman, then in the de rigueur discussion of gun control laws which is sure to follow this incident, and which rarely leads anywhere since no one wants to piss off the gun lobby since they're, y'know, armed, then Beck, Rivera et al risk being portrayed as coming down on the wrong side of this favorite conservative issue. Because you'll take their guns when you pry them from their cold, dead fingers.

You know…the kind of fingers Trayvon Martin has.

Meanwhile, Kath and I will apparently have to wear our hoodies at our own risk.

PAD

'Annual' Notions

Originally published December 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide Annual 1997

Some assorted thoughts on some of the things upon which this year's annual is themed:

Five years ago, Image Comics was launched, and I wrote a column which (a) noted that the Image boys should watch what they say in public forums, (b) observed that combining friendship and business was "a volatile mix," and I hoped they all had good lawyers, and (c) I wished them luck because, if anyone succeeds, we all succeed.

Several Image personnel, who shall go nameless, promptly sprung—not to respond—but to attack. Attacks upon me continue to this day.

In the meantime, Rob Liefeld has been fired or quit or quit so he wouldn't be fired. And several of the Image founders are actively bad-mouthing him, while suits and countersuits are being lobbed. But Image has managed to have its share of successes, as well.

So, considering that pretty much everything I ever said about Image turned out to be accurate, I'm trying to figure out why some people still believe that I was remotely unfair in my earlier treatment of Image. Then again, consider this: I just finished writing Spider-Man/Gen13. Who would have thought that my participation with Image would outlast Rob Liefeld's?

*   *   *

My first inkling that the black-and-white craze might take off was when I returned to my office at Marvel Comics, having just completed a road trip in my capacity as Marvel's sales manager. I'd picked up the last copy that a retailer had had of a new black-and-white title called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As I sat in my office, going through the assorted material I'd amassed on my trip, I pulled out the issue of TMNT and started to flip through it.

And someone came past, gaped, and said, "Where did you get that?"

"From a retailer in Illinois. Why?"

Apparently the cover price had already skyrocketed. The comics were in scarce supply, hard to find anywhere. There was a demand. Tons of it.

And where there are tons of demand, there are always tons of supply. The comic book publishing industry is no different from any other: supply the demand until the demand is sated.

Whereas, once upon a time, black-and-white comics couldn't be given away, now you couldn't get enough of them—turtles, hamsters, whatever.

Thank God for Marvel. Because as soon as Marvel planned to jump on the bandwagon with Power Pachyderms (which I, I blush to disclose, actually thought was damned funny), that was enough to kill it. Marvel usually manages to kill whatever fad it tries to get in on.

Hey, don't laugh. If Marvel hadn't introduced the Disco Dazzler, we'd still be stuck with the BeeGees and leisure suits. We can only hope for the imminent arrival of Macarena Man to polish off that dance craze.

*   *   *

Speaking of gluts and Marvel—

Aside from black-and-white comics, Marvel managed to flood the market with a glut all its own: reprint comics—collections of various Marvel titles from the past, popping up like chicken pox all over the body of fandom. There were quite a few people who believed that Marvel was doing this for one reason and one reason only: to try to force smaller publishers out of business. To try to obliterate them by taking up the racks with nothing but Marvel product.

Now, I freely admit that I was not present at the upper levels of management. I suppose it's possible that, at the highest reaches of Marvel's brain trust, the notion was, "Let's see what we can do to eliminate the competition."

But I don't know if I buy that. Because the independent publishers were such a negligible draw on the market share at the time, it's hard to believe that Marvel was especially worried.

All I can tell you is that at my level, the motivation behind the reprint glut that Marvel created had nothing to do with trying to force out other publishers. For that matter, far from trying to force out or downplay other publishers, Carol Kalish was always urging retailers to display and intermingle smaller publishers' comics with Marvel titles. Why? Because she felt that it was important to have a diverse market with as many strong-selling titles as possible. Diversity meant lots of customers, and lots of customers was—ultimately—good for Marvel.

No, in the direct-sales department, the creation of the reprint glut had zero to do with a cold-hearted attack on the indys.

It was money.

Money, pure and simple. The edict came down that the powers that be wanted Marvel making more money. I don't know why it came at that particular time. Maybe some comics weren't performing up to expectations. Maybe it was a ploy to make the company look better for potential customers. Maybe someone wanted to build an additional wing on his summer house. Who knows?

All I know is that Carol and I were told to come up with recommendations for assorted reprint packages, because Marvel wanted to make money.

I wouldn't say that greed is necessarily a more noble motivation than aggressively trying to wipe out other publishers. But it's certainly more—I dunno—benign, somehow. When smaller publishers started claiming that Marvel was launching an offensive against them, I know that Carol and I were both surprised at the reaction. Neither of us felt as if we deserved the Nobel Peace Prize for coming up with a dozen different potential reprint packages, but to us it was simply a "let's make money for the Hou$e of Idea$" and nothing more than that.

Independent publishers—again, at least at our level—simply didn't pose any sort of threat to Marvel's dominance of the market. For an indy to accomplish that trick, it would have to have had a bunch of hot artists and a huge war chest at its disposal. And, since the only possible source of superhot artists and large amounts of money was Marvel itself, the only way there could possibly be a serious challenger to Marvel would be if Marvel itself manufactured it.

Which would be, of course, preposterous.

Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to a Second Age Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.

 

The Most Awards 1996

Originally published December 27, 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1206

It's time for the yearly wrap-up which I call the "Most" awards: Those things throughout the year that catch my attention and prompt special mention.

Most Ironic Sexual Harassment Case: The women soldiers who were allegedly harassed and abused by three male married officers at Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland.

I certainly have no intention of trivializing whatever crimes may have been perpetrated when I make the following observation: It's ironic that heterosexual men are the army men of choice while gay men must skulk in silence. If the three officers in question had been gay, what are the odds of having women complaining of sexual harassment?

Most Boring Presidential Campaign: Don't have to spell this one out, I guess.

Most Desired Casting: There seems to be a general thought that Sara Gilbert would be the ideal actress to play "Death," were Neil Gaiman's incarnation of the gamine reaper ever made into a film.

As far as I'm concerned, forget it. If you want to see the face of Death, check out actress Fairuza Balk as she appears in The Craft, particularly in the latter part of the film. Raven-tressed, pouty, mischievous, and otherworldly, the former "Dorothy" from Return to Oz would be, to my mind, the ideal Death. Now all we have to do is get a movie up and running and we're all set.

As always, Woody Allen remains the ideal Morpheus.

Most Pronounced Skidmarks in Making a Turnaround: A year or so ago, largely in response to comments in this very column, Todd McFarlane proclaimed his everlasting fealty to Rob Liefeld in the pages of Wizard magazine—taking potshots at me in the process.

Well, now he's sniping at Rob Liefeld. Does this mean Todd will be producing a column for Wizard singing this column's praises? We wait with appropriately baited breath. This actually ties in with the:

Most Appropriate Comment from a Past Column: From February 21, 1992. The third sentence of the first article I ever wrote about Image read, "A group of friends band together to form their own business (friends and business; now there's a volatile mix; I hope everyone's got good lawyers going over the contracts)…"

Considering that, if one looks over my columns regarding Image and sees there's nothing there that hasn't been directly applicable to the company's development, and considering that they're now suing and badmouthing each other, all without any help or encouragement from me, and considering that I've written crossovers involving one former Image character (Pitt) and one current Image group (Gen13) —considering all that, can we please retire the "Peter David hates Image" falsehoods now?

Most Inappropriate Comment from a Past Column: I ragged on the policy for selling season tickets instituted by the New York Yankees. Okay, okay, it was a lousy call. They can't all be gems.

Film that Most Deserved to do Better Than it Did: The Phantom. This marvelously faithful-to-the-source version of the Lee Falk adventurer tanked at the box office, and that was a damn shame. Not only did Billy Zane cut a fine figure of a hero in those smashing purple tights (we didn't even miss the funky diagonal-striped shorts), but he essayed the role with a charmingly off-the-cuff manner that managed to be both self-confident and a bit tentative. Given a choice between a sequel to Phantom and another in the increasingly bloated Batman films—I mean, c'mon… Batman and Robin and Batgirl and Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy and Bane? Pardon the reference, but Holy Excess!—I'd have opted for further exploits of the jungle adventurer.

Most Interesting Addition to the Home Video Market: A tie between the decorative boxed set of Pee Wee's Playhouse and original episodes of the illegitimate father of X-Files: Night Stalker starring Darren McGavin as Karl Kolchak, a reporter with a knack for stumbling into the most bizarre and unearthly stories in the world. I would love to see an X-Files episode featuring a pastiche of the character—even played by McGavin—side by side with Scully and Mulder.

Film that Most Deserved to do Less Well Than it Did: Independence Day. I'm sorry, guys. It was a lousy movie. I don't care if it made $300 billion. The public rewards bad movies, and ultimately gets the kind of movies it deserves.

Most Upsetting Marvel Loss: No, it's not Ron Perelman letting the company slip away. We knew that was inevitable the moment Perelman got his hands on Marvel. It's the loss of Mark Gruenwald, the heart and soul of Marvel Comics. A moment of silence, please.

Most Welcome Return to Television: The Flash has dashed back into view on The Sci-Fi Channel. We can thrill to Mark Hamill as the Trickster (anticipating his later gig as the demented voice of the Joker), and we can finally see the entire episode in which guest star Bill Mumy's death scene which was pre-empted throughout most of the nation for a news bulletin.

Most Unexpected Personal Comic Book Development: I thought Incredible Hulk was canceled.

Indeed, it was canceled. And fan reaction was overwhelmingly furious. How dare Marvel reject Incredible Hulk?! How dare it?! And lo and behold, Marvel recanted and continued to publish the book. I knew that my continuing on the book would require me to wind up hip-deep in the types of stories that I normally loathe: huge mega-crossovers (the type which resulted in me walking off X-Factor rather than deal with them since, frankly, life's too short). But out of loyalty to the fans (who were loyal to me, after all) I decided to stick with the series in hopes that eventually we'd manage to work past all this "Lee-Feld Universe" stuff.

And what happened? Fans complained about the current storyline and my work on it.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There is an innate need for fans to tear down that which they built up. Look at the last few seasons of Seinfeld. Look at Chris Claremont's last few years on X-Men, during which time fans acted as if he could do no right (until his departure was brought about by Jim Lee and Rob Liefeld—at which point the fans complained).

When I first started on Hulk, fans complained I wasn't bringing back the dumb green Hulk. When I brought back the dumb green Hulk, fans complained because they didn't want to lose the savvy gray Hulk. When the Hulk hung out with the Pantheon, fans complained about the Pantheon. When the Hulk went off on his own, fans complained they wanted the Pantheon back. One tends to notice a pattern after a while, and become somewhat immune to fan complaints. Why? Because one realizes that the fans do not speak with one huge communal mind. Different fans complain about different things, and if a creator does anything except soldier on and do the best he can regardless of complaints, then that creator is going to go nuts. So one simply can't care about complaints.

Most Welcome Non-Personal Comic Book Development: The end of the spider-clone and the reinstitution of Peter Parker as the one and only, true Spider-Man. Thank God for fan complaints.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

 

Movie Reviews

Originally published December 20, 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1205

Some recent movie-going experiences:

I took Gwen to see the new version of William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet—which is kind of like saying William Shakespeare's West Side Story, because, although the basic elements are there, the film bears as much resemblance to a real staging of Romeo and Juliet as Kiss Me, Kate does to Taming of the Shrew. Actually, now that I think about it, there was probably more actual Shakespearean dialogue in Kiss Me, Kate.

The West Side Story comparison is apt, since director Baz Luhrmann has set the story in modern day, with the Montagues and the Capulets as warring corporations and the squabbling youngsters tooling around in hot sports cars, shooting at each other and blowing up gas stations. It stars the kid-friendly pairing of Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes.

I must admit I have no intrinsic problem with even a gutted version of Shakespeare. Anything that has a scintilla of a chance at getting even one kid per audience genuinely interested in the Bard is something I heartily support. Bottom line is, we went to an afternoon showing and the place was packed with teenagers. Teens watching something purporting to be Shakespeare: Hey, at least it's something. How many of them would have been inclined to see anything that even hinted of Shakespeare if it didn't look like an extended MTV video and feature familiar young actors?

So to a certain extent it doesn't matter that Danes is, at most, adequate; that DiCaprio, despite all his efforts, never manages to wrap himself around the dialogue. He says his lines, he's prettier than Juliet, he doesn't bump into the furniture, and he's rather effective screaming, "I am fortune's fool!" at the top of his lungs. But that's about it. And the actor playing Benvolio is on par with the jock who auditions for the High School of Performing Arts in Fame by stumbling through Juliet's part in the balcony scene.

But this isn't intended as a commentary on the film. Rather, it was the audience that I found intriguing—to be specific, the audience as the film moved to its climax.

And no, I'm not going to put a spoiler warning, because as I will shortly make clear, that's the whole point.

There is Juliet, laid out in the crypt, apparently dead. There's Romeo, crying his eyes out, about to down poison so he could join his love in death.

And I hear audience members muttering all around me, "Watch. She'll wake up just in time."

I couldn't believe it. I glanced around the audience, saw them smiling, confident that everything would work out. And that's when I realized they didn't know how it ended. I was in an audience full of people who were utterly clueless as to what was about to happen. They figured it was going to have a happy resolution. They didn't know Romeo and Juliet both end up dead.

I was astounded. This goes beyond not knowing, say, the significance of "Rosebud." The average school system doesn't teach Citizen Kane. But how could they never have been exposed to one of Shakespeare's most renowned plays?

Not to mention that it went beyond cultural and/or scholastic ineptitude (and here's why I don't want to insult the intelligence of CBG readers with a spoiler warning). I couldn't comprehend why they didn't know the fate of the lovers because it's said right at the top of the film.

In one of the movie's cleverest bits of business, the famed prologue is delivered via a news anchor as if she were reporting the 11 o'clock news. Dutifully describing the feuding households of Verona, the newscaster says:

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.

And just to make sure that the point is not lost on anyone, the prologue is immediately repeated, with the dialogue printed on the screen. You would have thought that key phrases such as "take their life" and "death" would have tipped the audience off.

But no, the viewers remained oblivious of the star-crossed lovers' fate. There were startled faces all through the theater as Romeo, with a final kiss, died. Then Juliet picked up Romeo's gun, to complete the "take their life" part of the prologue. And the audience, watching in confusion, muttered, "She's going to shoot him, too?"

I can't wait to see that group at the four-hour version of Hamlet.

***

As Star Trek celebrates its thirtieth anniversary, who would have thought we'd actually have some fun stuff to see as a result of it? Granted, when I watched the Deep Space Nine episode, "Trial and Tribble-lations," I was amused that it took five writers to produce a rehash of a script that previously took one writer—and that one writer's name didn't even show up until the closing credits, which I consider a shocking and insulting omission.

And I'm sure that I wasn't the only one who was waiting to see Forest Gump, or perhaps Zelig, go wandering through the fight scene in the bar, as that same technology dropped DS9 characters into the original series episode. Indeed, I think it would be kind of cool if they released a new edition of the original episode, with the revised DS9 scenes replacing the previous ones.

The other big anniversary release is, of course, Star Trek: First Contact. My favorite of the films remains Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, and this one—like Wrath—is something of a sequel. Actually, it's a sequel and a prequel (not to mention a floor wax and a dessert topping). First Contact follows up the two part "Best of Both Worlds," largely ignoring most of the subsequent Borg scripts (fortunately enough), while serving as a prequel to the Original Series episode "Metamorphosis," which introduced Zefram Cochrane (Glenn Corbett), the creator of warp drive.

In First Contact, the Borg have narrowly lost a major battle with the Federation. How many Borg actually exist remains unclear; apparently they never attack in more than one ship at a time. For a race that supposedly learns quickly, you'd think they'd have realized by now that, if sending one ship causes them to almost win, then sending two ships would pretty much seal the deal.

And then it turns out that the Borg possess time travel capabilities. By catapulting into the past, they change Earth's history, and the entire world is populated by nine billion beings, all Borg.

This of course begs the question as to why the Borg would ever bother with a frontal assault. Just go back to a time when a target planet hasn't the technology to mount a defense and assimilate it.

But if one dwells on such matters too long, one isn't going to be able to get past the first reel of the film. Time travel stories demand that we backburner such considerations in order to accept them. This we should be willing to do, provided the story is diverting and entertaining enough (which Generations, offering similar time travel paradoxes and plot holes, was not).

In this case, First Contact most definitely is worth suspending disbelief for. Two storylines rapidly unfurl, one involving the Borg (in best Aliens style) taking over the Enterprise. Meantime, on planet Earth, an away team tries to guide Zefram Cochrane (now played by James Cromwell, who just doesn't look right without a runt pig next to him) to a destiny that will result in a first contact scenario which, in turn, leads to the formation of the Federation. (After thirty years, it's nice to finally get some hint of its origins. It's only the linchpin of the entire Star Trek universe, after all.)

Also along for the ride is Alfre Woodard as Cochrane's assistant, who is inadvertently brought up to the Enterprise and sucked into the battle for survival.

As opposed to the lethargy that seemed to have taken hold in the previous entry, the cast seems crackling and ready to go in this film. This time out Jonathan Frakes (Riker) is at the directorial helm. I've been a fan of Frakes-as-director ever since a ST:TNG episode entitled "Cause and Effect"—probably the laziest episode ever written, since the entire first act was repeated several times throughout the episode as the Enterprise found itself stuck in a time loop. Frakes, by inventively reinterpreting identical scenes, saved the episode.

Here he's got a lot more to work with and he does an excellent job with it—whether we're seeing Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis) getting completely blotto in a drinking bout, or watching Picard (Patrick Stewart) and Data (Brent Spiner) leading armed troops through the corridors of the Enterprise in search of the enemy.

Sometimes the mood shifts rattle the viewer, since the bug-hunt sequences are so tense while the earthbound storyline is practically bucolic. They're linked thematically as we have Picard and Cochrane, both men of destiny who are seized by compulsions that threaten to destroy them, but the thematic links aren't quite enough to completely shake the feeling of hitting dramatic speed bumps every time we cut away from the ship.

Fine, sure, Cochrane's upset and getting drunk and doesn't want to be idolized, but the hell with that, Data's been captured by the Borg! What's up with that?! If you're doing parallel storylines, they should each have some degree of dramatic tension. You don't want your audience murmuring, "Oh God, not again," when you go to your B-plot.

And there are some occasional dramatic misfires. At one point (as has been shown in various trailers) the notion is floated that the Enterprise should be evacuated and blown up, thereby handily ending the Borg menace. Picard resists the notion. In an incendiary scene with Woodard, Picard refuses—not because it would effectively strand them, which seems reasonable—but because "a line must be drawn here!"

A great scene, as noted, which is undercut on three levels. First, one wishes it had been between Picard and a character we had some emotional stake in—Dr. Crusher, for example, whose major contribution to the script is to set up an amusing cameo for someone else. Second, the prospect of blowing up the Enterprise carries no emotional punch. We saw Kirk blow up the original, and the immediate predecessor went nova the previous film. And we've never seen this version of the Enterprise before we got into the theater. Fine, blow up the Enterprise E. Who gives a damn? And third, on an issue of such dramatic importance to him, we see Picard reverse himself faster than you can say "Bill Clinton."

But for every moment that doesn't quite click, there are others that succeed far better than one could have hoped, such as the over-the-top seduction scenes with Data and the Borg hive queen (Alice Krige), the hottest babe with a bolted-on head since the Bride of Frankenstein.

Overall, it's a film that's solid, diverting and crowd-pleasing—presuming it's a crowd of Star Trek fans. "Civilians" will basically feel that they've seen it done bigger and better in other films, and they won't be far wrong.

***

Critics are busy trashing Jingle All the Way, in which we find Ah-nuld cast as a desperate father trying to find a much-sought-after toy for his son. As the critics busily compare it unfavorably to True Lies, Terminator and other Arnold action fare, they neglect to note two things.

First, any parent who's ever found himself in a similar predicament around the holidays (myself included) can empathize. And second—it's a kids' movie. This is simply not a grown-up film. It's goofy, it's silly, and it becomes increasingly absurd. It could run on Nickelodeon. The only reason it's PG is that there's a sequence where a child is depicted in mortal danger (an automatic PG). Otherwise, this is a G movie. Arnold went and made a film that he could take his own kids to see without feeling uncomfortable, and I say good for him. The hell with the critics. I saw it in a theater packed with kids and they had a ball.

And I bet not one of them knew how Romeo and Juliet ended.

***

This is to note the passing of Mark Lenard, a wonderful actor and charming guy who died of cancer much too young. We had the opportunity of having dinner once with Mark and his lovely daughter, and had a great time. And Mark once recorded a message for my answering machine in which he intoned, "This is Ambassador Sarek. Peter David cannot take your call right now." The first time that played on my machine, one person (whom I will mercifully not identify) said with all sincerity, "Peter, that is the worst Sarek impression I've ever heard."

Mark brought dignity and humor to whatever roles he played, and taught acting as well. He will be missed.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

My first foray into Marvel Zombies

A week or so ago I was contacted by Marvel editorial: The writer for their new Zombie limited series, "Marvel Zombies Destroy!" had run into some health issues and they needed someone to step in and write the last three issues. Having not read the solicits, I said, "What's the premise?"

"World War II Marvel Nazi zombies."

I gave it not a moment's hesitation. "Sold."

Because really: How can you possibly turn down World War II Marvel Nazi zombies?

I wrote my first issue (#3 of the series) and candidly really got a kick out of it. And I've got incredibly twisted things in mind for #4 and #5. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I am writing it.

PAD

The State of Marvel 1996

Originally published December 13, 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1204

It's tough to keep up with the current situation regarding Marvel Comics. Whatever I write at the moment becomes overshadowed by new outrages.

There's horror for everyone. For shareholders who see Marvel only as an investment, there's the fiscal bottom line. Who would have thought that the term "Negative Zone" would apply to the price of Marvel's stock? For fans of 30 years or more who remember things like "Bullpen Bulletins" fondly, guess what! The Bullpen is pretty much gone, gutted in the most recent round of firings.

I am, at present, surrounded by news articles describing Marvel's current state of affairs. I love seeing various writers stating that "the other shoe has dropped." These people have clearly not been paying attention. An explosion at the home of Imelda Marcos wouldn't have yielded the number of flying shoes that currently is raining down in the Marvel empire. One looks at the financial situation ever since the company was taken over by Ron Perelman, and one finds oneself saying, "This guy is a multimillionaire?" If we judge only by the performance of Marvel under his care and feeding, it makes you wonder how he could possibly mount a successful paper route, much less a financial empire.

The problem is, in trying to (with deference to the Borg) assimilate all this info, I have to admit that I'm in a bit over my head. Writers try to be jacks-of-all-trades, but I'm not a financial analyst. I'm not entirely sure exactly what it is that Perelman is trying to do to salvage this mess. It's been explained to me, and I understand it at the time that it's explained, but beyond that I get a bit confused, and I'm certainly not qualified to try and tell you. Sales, I know. Distribution, I'm fine. Mergers and acquisitions, leveraged buy outs, I'm in trouble. I could barely decipher the climax of Trading Places when Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd were cornering the market on orange juice.

I'm reminded of the Barrons article which ran back in 1992; it recommended for all sorts of reasons that stockholders steer clear of Marvel Comics. The problem was that none of the reasons were remotely accurate. They were based entirely on misinformation (wrong cover prices, statements that mis-solicited books were not returnable) and incorrect speculation (that the animation and toy line impetus would dissipate; instead they've grown and have become the tail wagging the dog).

However, as it has turned out, the article was right. Just for all the wrong reasons. After all, it was only after the article ran that Marvel made the series of mistakes which led to the current fiasco.

Because the new Marvel hierarchy came into the comics business with an utter lack of knowledge as to the dynamics of our little industry. Worse, they couldn't have cared less. Executives boasted in interviews that, because they had no sense of history, they could make decisions that were not tied to the past. Of course, in the past, Marvel was a success, but that apparently didn't occur to them. Instead they ballyhooed their unfamiliarity, embraced it and caressed it like a lover. Ignorance was more than bliss. Paraphrasing Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) in Wall Street, as far as the Marvel brain trust was concerned, ignorance was good. And while we're at it, bad is good, up is down, wrong is right, and everything old is in Mylar snugs.

You see, if they had paid attention to history, they'd have noticed that the comics industry was in extremely bad shape about fifteen years ago. The relatively low profit margin and high maintenance of comics had made them extremely undesirable to the IDs (Independent Distributors), who gave them little to no attention in the average magazine and mom-and-pop stores.

It was the advent of Phil Seuling and the direct market that pretty much saved the comics industry. Suddenly comic books became high profit items for the publishers because they could print exactly what was needed and sell it all. The IDs reacted with tremendous anger to this new, upstart form of distribution, but people such as Marvel's circulation head, Ed Shukin, warded them off, like Van Helsing waving back Dracula with a crucifix.

The direct market and the comic industry were in a delicate balance, one thing leaning upon another.

But Marvel was not beloved within the industry. It was the largest, which gave it incredible control and power. And it doesn't matter whether one is benevolent or not; if one has power and control, one is always going to be regarded with suspicion because power tends to corrupt.

Distributors always had chips on their shoulders, daring Marvel to fulfill their greatest fear and cut out the middle man by selling directly to retailers. Retailers always had chips on their shoulders, daring Marvel to fulfill their greatest fear and cut out the middle man by selling directly to the readers. Readers always had chips on their shoulders, daring Marvel to produce something that they actually wanted to buy, rather than something they felt they had to buy.

Even Marvel's positive deeds came back to bite them. Their royalty plans put hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars into the pockets of key creative personnel—who then turned around and formed their own company. The creation of Image was one of the two major death knells for Marvel, in that Image accomplished two things:

First, it showed that it was possible to compete head to head with Marvel. In doing so, a lot of the underlying fear that the industry felt for the company began to erode. And when fear evaporates, that leaves anger and hostility with no dampers to hold it back.

And second, Image tied up retailer dollars by taking orders for books that didn't ship, thereby depriving both retailers and Marvel of income.

If Marvel had only waited matters out, they could have looked golden. But Ron Perelman—like the old song, "Do Do Ron Ron"—felt that he had to Do Do something. With the unbridled industry hostility sweeping over Marvel like acid rain, and market share eroding, Perelman the slash-and-burn control freak decided that Marvel had to take control of its destiny.

Which it did. Which means, ultimately, that they've no one to blame but themselves as the second death knell chimed.

Basic physics: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. In the world of comic books, it just takes a while. For example, the creation of The Fantastic Four was spectacular. But when something extremely good happens, something extremely bad has to occur in order to balance it out (which would explain Team America.) In this instance, if we take the creation of the direct market as an exceptionally good idea, then it was only a matter of time before an exceptionally bad idea cropped up to balance it out.

And that was the decision to self-distribute through Heroes World.

It was massively stupid and wrong-headed in its inception. Everybody knew it. Everybody—with the sole exception of those who were actually making the decision. Proudly devoid of loyalty, history and common sense, Marvel went to the already crippled retailer base and turned loose termites on the crutches. Lower discounts, higher shipping costs, and a previously regional distributor who was being asked to gear up, overnight, to become a national outlet.

In the old days, when distributors would voice suspicion to Carol Kalish or myself that Marvel would self-distribute, we would dismiss the idea as ludicrous. We would say that Marvel wasn't set up for that. That Marvel would need regional warehouses. That Marvel would need a huge staff to deal with thousands of retailers. None of these things did Marvel have, and what Marvel didn't need was the tsuris that such a situation would create.

But Ron Perelman didn't care. Mr. History Lesson knew all he needed to know, and heaven save us from those who know all they need to know. The comic book industry has always been cyclical, with highs and lows in its sales. With a spectacular high point having arrived, a spectacular low point was inevitable. And when it arrived, it sent the Marvel brain trust into panic mode, stupid decisions were made, and now Marvel is hemorrhaging money, sales and trust.

In a desperate attempt to rewrite history, Marvel turned around and gave key Image personnel carte blanche over major characters. Too little, too late, particularly if Marvel was hoping to reacquire the glory days of a million or more copies sold. A couple of hundred thousand, yes, but that doesn't make up for the disastrous slippage and panicky stockholders.

Morale has never been lower at Marvel. Why? Because Ron Perelman has made it clear that he trusts no one—a not atypical trait in someone who knows that he himself cannot be trusted. He did not trust the distributors, and so took it upon himself to do it himself. He did not trust the current editorial line-up and creators, and so took away some of Marvel's greatest characters and "outsourced" them—a move that many have perceived as having ramifications far beyond a mere desperation measure to jack up sales. As the old joke goes, he's a self-made man, which shows you the dangers of unskilled labor.

If Perelman cut the line back to about 10 titles and outsourced everything, he could absorb accounting and legal needs into already existing arms of his businesses and shut down the entire office. Can he be trusted not to do that? No. Can he be expected not to do that? No. At this rate, unless something turns around very quickly, nothing will be left of Marvel but scorched earth. Which would be disastrous across the board.

After all, Marvel the publishing entity may only account for 15% of Marvel's income, but it's 30% of the market. If Marvel Comics ceases to exist, the already beleaguered retailer base takes a major hit. More and more comics shops close.

If enough comics shops close, Diamond goes belly up. If Diamond goes, DC will have to move with lightning speed to distribute through Warners—and it might not be able to move quickly enough.

As for the independents, well—there's talk of the indies forming their own group distribution arm. I think it's a good idea. And they'd better talk fast.

What would be an interesting development would be if Time Warner purchased Marvel. This isn't to say that I have inside information; I don't. I'm just speculating that it would be a good match.

From the showbiz end, Marvel has any number of characters who would be good fodder for movies and television series, and Time Warner has the resources to produce something that Marvel's never had: a movie that doesn't stink on ice. From the publishing side, the Marvel and DC universes could continue to cross over, to mutual benefit. Hell, most of the top editors at DC used to be at Marvel, anyway.

Besides, if Marvel was the one who drove the stake into the heart of the direct market—let's be honest—DC, in going exclusive with Diamond, cut off the head. DC bears some responsibility in this mess, and, if Time Warner saved Marvel, it would help mitigate some of its own actions.

The industry teeters on the edge of the abyss, folks, and someone is going to have to take swift action to drag it back. And I have a sneaking suspicion it's not going to be Do Do Ron Ron Perelman, because Do Do Ron Ron took a publishing giant and turned it into—well—Do Do.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)

 

To the Moon Over "John Carter"

It's easy to point out that, since I have several dogs in this hunt–namely I work for Disney and also wrote the *ahem* New York Times Bestseller graphic novel prequel, "World of Mars," that I cannot approach the newly released "John Carter" in any sort of unbiased way. And that's true. But not for the obvious reasons.

I'm going to be biased because when I was ten years old, throwing myself eagerly into the Edgar Rice Burroughs tales of Barsoom, there were nights–especially at the end of some VERY lousy days–where I would stand in the backyard and try to find the glittering red spot that was Mars against the blackened sky. And I would look up longingly, just as Carter had, and throw my arms wide, and wish desperately that I could leave my mortal body behind and find myself on Mars. There I would pal around with a four armed green guy, and a calot would be my pet, and I'd have a naked Martian girlfriend (yes, I thought that way at age ten. What can I say? I was precocious. Don't tell ME gender preference isn't ingrained.)

So when I sat down in the darkened and actually impressively crowded (for a 12:20 in the afternoon show) theater, I murmured to myself repeatedly right before the film began, "Please be good, please be good, please be good." Why? Because "please don't suck" just wasn't gonna get it done. It had to be good. Granted, I have some insight: I'd read the script. Then again, to some degree, anyone who's read the books has in some respect read the script. And as the French used to say while gathered around the guillotine during the Revolution, It's all in the execution.

Especially in this case, since people have been waiting in the high weeds with the long knives for this film. When people were dismissing it out of hand because "it's unoriginal," I was going out of my mind. "Avatar," THAT was unoriginal. An earth soldier who has an out of body experience romancing, and fighting alongside, a differently hued, scantily clad princess on another world for the survival of the planet? "Star Wars" featuring valiant sword-wielding heroes with extraordinary physical prowess battling monsters in arenas (in two different films, no less, not to mention the Dejah Thoris-esque outfit Leia wore in ROTJ.) Those filmmakers and more owe a huge debt to "John Carter," and now Andrew Stanton was stepping up to repay that debt in full.

And I'm sorry, haters, but in my opinion, he succeeded. I loved it. I loved the characters. I'm not sure why Taylor Kitsch was channeling Michael Keaton's "Batman" voice, but he still conveyed a broken and frustrated man who had to find something worth fighting for. And I loved Lynn Collins as Dejah Thoris, prideful and formal and otherworldly in both her demeanor and delivery of her dialogue. The Tharks looked great, as did the kid-friendly Martian dog Woola (the fact that there's no plush Woola for the kiddies…or, screw that, even me…is downright criminal). Mark Strong, rapidly developing into the go-to guy for movie villains, was wonderfully menacing as one of the behind-the-scenes manipulators. Plus genuinely funny sequences and moments as well.

I have absolutely no idea how modern audiences who aren't remotely familiar with a Burroughs hero from a century ago–the same ones who don't even know who Paul McCartney is–are going to react to this film. Is it going to seem similar to other films they've seen? Well, yeah. To some degree, Stanton was in a no-win scenario. If he kept it exactly the way Burroughs did it, then history-blind movie goers will say, "Seen it.'" If he changed it so radically that it bore little to no resemblance to the source material, the hard-core fans will say, "This isn't 'John Carter.'" So he had to walk the line, producing a film that's different enough to be fresh to new eyes but faithful enough to satisfy the hardcore.

I can't speak for the former, so that's something they're going to have to decide for themselves. But for this hardcore, it was literally a dream come true. And by the end of the film, believe it or not, I was tearing up. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was. And the reason for it was that inside me a ten year child was sobbing for joy that finally, after dreaming about it for so long, he'd finally made it to Barsoom.

Now where the hell are the action figures? I want my Dejah Thoris, dammit. Even if she IS wearing too many clothes.

PAD

The BID Poll Revisited, part 2

Originally published December 6, 1996, in Comics Buyer's Guide #1203

Picking up from last week, we're following up on the But I Digress poll, conducted in these very pages four years ago. The original notion was for readers to predict the state of the comics industry a decade into the future. Since life is—to put it mildly—uncertain, I thought it might be worthwhile to take a look at how a passage of less than half a decade has affected the industry.

7. The following person will be revealed to be the Anti-Christ:

Rob Liefeld 78 (35.62%)

Todd McFarlane 20 ( 9.13%)

Tom DeFalco 14 ( 6.39%)

Peter David 12 ( 5.48%)

Jim Shooter 11 ( 5.02%)

John Byrne 10 ( 4.57%)

Bill Clinton 6 ( 2.74%)

Respondent 3 ( 1.37%)

Fabian Nicieza 2 ( 0.91%)

Gary Groth 2 ( 0.91%)

Tony Isabella 2 ( 0.91%)

Ross Perot 2 ( 0.91%)

Single votes went to, among others, Mike Carlin, Mark Gruenwald, Paul Levitz, Erik Larsen, Superman, Lobo, Damian, Rich Buckler, Dave Sim, Sam Donaldson, Pat Buchanan, Sinead O'Connor, George Bush, Macaulay Culkin and Cat Yronwode.

The results of this survey was, to me, the first major indicator that Rob Liefeld had enormous obstacles ahead of him. Keep in mind that Image had only been around a year or so, and the numbers coming in were still fairly formidable. Nevertheless, Rob clearly had a big-league public relations problem. At the time of the survey, I was astounded at the reaction. Considering all the flak Marvel was taking at the time, and considering the vituperation heaped upon the editorial line in general and the X-titles in specific, I had been certain that either Tom DeFalco or Bob Harras had had a lock on this one. For that matter, so were they.

The fact that Rob not only claimed the top spot, but did so by such a thumping wide margin, indicated a reaction that went beyond simply disliking someone's work and tripping straight into full-fledged hostility.

And it would seem that the acrimony has only grown since then. His work for Marvel has been greeted with the sort of reaction generally reserved for known felons. Former friends are lining up either to sue him or take turns attacking him in print.

In any event, the BID poll was something of a signal flare to Rob four years ago that disaster was in the air. I don't know if he could have done anything to avoid it. This is a cyclical industry in that people tend to get "cyc" of you, particularly if you're hugely hyped, ship comics late, and/or have an art style that is, er, hotly debated.

On the other hand, no one's career was deader than John Travolta's, and he came back thanks to Pulp Fiction. And, y'know, Quentin Tarantino is a big comics fan, so who knows? Bad rap Rob Liefeld all you want, but you have to admit that he draws at least as well as Tarantino acts.

8. The following title(s) will probably be just about hitting the stands.

Youngblood #4 108 (49.32%)

An X-Men title that doesn't yet exist 103 (47.03%)

Cerebus #300 68 (31.05%)

Ms. Mystic #8 36 (16.44%)

Tom DeFalco's Two-Fisted Adventures #6 6 ( 2.74%)

Well, Youngblood #4 came out—eventually. I don't think Ms. Mystic #8 ever surfaced. TDTFA doesn't exist. And as for the X-Men title that doesn't yet exist—well, heck, in any given week there's a new X-Men title. So the odds seem stupendously good that there will be a new X-Men title hitting the stands—presuming, of course, that there are any X-titles. Unless we discover that, in fact, Ron Perelman is the Anti-Christ and Marvel completely evaporates into the ozone layer.

9. The standard Marvel comic book is 32 pages for $1.25. Ten years from now, should there still be Marvel comics, the standard one will be:

32 pages 99 (45.21%)

24 pages 53 (24.20%)

16 pages 38 (17.35%)

48 pages 20 ( 9.13%)

64 pages 3 ( 1.37%)

A disc 3 ( 1.37%)

(There were 17 other votes for various page lengths.) The standard Marvel comic remains at 32 pages.

And will cost:

$2.50 80 (36.53%)

$3.95 40 (18.26%)

1500 Yen 16 ( 7.31%)

$1.75 12 ( 5.48%)

$2.95 4 ( 1.83%)

$4.95 4 ( 1.83%)

$5.00 4 ( 1.83%)

$2.00 4 ( 1.83%)

$10.00 3 ( 1.37%)

$1.00 2 ( 0.91%)

$1.25 2 ( 0.91%)

$1.50 2 ( 0.91%)

$3.75 2 ( 0.91%)

Single votes were also recorded for, among others, $3.25, $5.95, and $3.50.

At the time, I wrote, "So it would seem that the future Marvel package would be 32 pages for $2.50—a 100% increase over the next ten years, and getting nothing in addition in terms of editorial matter—unless, of course, Marvel expands on the present 22 pages of story and art by cutting back on advertising revenue (yeah, right)."

Well, as of this writing, the average Marvel comic book is somewhere in the neighborhood of $1.95. I think it fairly safe to say that we're looking at an average price of $2.50 by the time we hit the 21st century.

10. If Warners ever unloads DC Comics, it will probably be bought by:

The Japanese 67 (30.59%)

Marvel 37 (16.89%)

Jim Shooter 24 (10.96%)

Disney 22 (10.05%)

Ross Perot 11 ( 5.02%)

Image 7 ( 3.20%)

Seduction of the Innocent            4 ( 1.83%)

Krause Publications 2 ( 0.91%)

Ted Turner 2 ( 0.91%)

Malibu 2 ( 0.91%)

Single votes were also recorded for, among others, Murphy Brown, Three X-Editors, Archie Comics, Dave Sim, Eastman and Laird, and Nabisco.

Well, this is a stark example of how much things change. As Marvel Comics teeters on the edge of bankruptcy, the prospects of Marvel's buying DC seems right up there with the likelihood of Bob Dole calling for a recount.

In fact, if anything, we might see the opposite occurring. The notion of Marvel's being purchased by DC doesn't seem completely out of line. God only knows whether Time Warner would want to get sucked into the financial morass that currently constitutes Marvel Comics, but, then again, stranger things have happened. Not much stranger, I'll grant you, but stranger.

11. The majority of comics will be produced by:

Writer/Artist teams 170 (77.63%)

Writer/Artists 42 (19.18%)

Well, I haven't done a survey or anything, but I think most comics remain in the hands of writer/artist teams. Then again, technology has a way of leveling the playing field, and I wouldn't be surprised if "art programs" helped writers to become artists with as great a facility as artists become writers.

12. The majority of comics produced will feature:

Characters owned by the publisher and produced as straight work-for-hire (example: Marvel) 121 (55.25%)

Characters owned by the creator and published by someone else, wherein the publisher assumes most of the risk (example: Epic) 42 (19.18%)

Characters owned by the creator and published by someone else, wherein the publisher is essentially a hired hand (example: Image) 40 (18.26%)

Characters owned by the creator, published by the creator (example: Cerebus) 13 ( 5.94%)

At this point, the majority of comics—in terms of market share, if not necessarily variety of titles—are produced by Marvel and DC. And it is, of course, an interesting development that founders of Image Comics are back doing work-for-hire for Marvel. Granted, it's work-for-hire with unprecedented freedom, but it's work-for-hire all the same.

13. Check off all of the following which will actively be used as marketing gimmicks:

Trading/hologram cards 135 (61.64%)

Signed, limited editions 134 (61.19%)

Pre-bagged comics 129 (58.90%)

Hologram covers 129 (58.90%)

Foil covers 121 (55.25%)

Multiple covers 114 (52.05%)

Talking covers 108 (49.32%)

Floppy discs 97 (44.29%)

Scratch & Sniff 96 (43.84%)

Pop-up Books 6 ( 2.74%)

Floppy Disks 4 ( 1.83%)

Holograms 4 ( 1.83%)

Multiple endings, same story 3 ( 1.37%)

Virtual reality 2 ( 0.91%)

#0 Origin issues 2 ( 0.91%)

Single votes were also received for, among others, Covers but no pages, lower prices (oh, dream on), recycled comics, Multiple editions of the same story, but with different artists (now there's a thought), and—of all things—dinner with the artist.

It might be my imagination, but it seems to me that we're seeing fancy-schmancy promotional junk with less and less frequency. It may be that such gimcracks have run their course. Variant covers still seem popular, but the buying public appears sick of foil covers, holograms, and other tricks that have questionable sales impact but jack the cover price up by a buck or more.

14. Check off all the following places that you think Seduction of the Innocent will be playing:

Street corners 92 (42.01%)

San Diego Comic-Con 76 (34.70%)

Chicago Comicon 71 (32.42%)

The Disney Channel 47 (21.46%)

Atlanta Fantasy Fair 44 (20.09%)

Great Eastern Cons 38 (17.35%)

Caesars Palace 36 (16.44%)

Dragon*Con 29 (13.24%)

Single votes were also received for WonderCon (where they've actually played) and the Sci-Fi Channel.

At the time that the poll was taken, "Seduction" and San Diego were on the outs. Since that time, however, the two groups kissed and made up. So the 34 % who foresaw "Seduction" playing at the SDCC—despite the then-current friction—were exactly right.

Haven't seen "Seduction" there for a while, though. Return engagement, anybody?

15. The year 2002 will seem most like:

Space: 1999 64 (29.22%)

John Byrne's 2112 39 (17.81%)

2000 AD 32 (14.61%)

Spider-Man 2099 24 (10.96%)

Jack Kirby's 2001 23 (10.50%)

Single votes were also received for Blade Runner, Terminator, 1992, Max Headroom, and A Clockwork Orange.

Well, we're going to have to wait and see on that one.

16. In the year 2002, Spider-Man 2099 will be in:

The 3/$1 box 106 (48.40%)

2099 49 (22.37%)

2109 31 (14.16%)

2100 17 ( 7.76%)

2101 14 ( 6.39%)

2105 7 ( 3.20%0

What I wrote at the time was, "Yeah, well, screw you. What do you know, anyway?"

Well, quite a lot, apparently.

Actually, before the 2099 world went bust, the intention was that we were going to jump the entire line forward a couple of years to—in fact—2101.

But then Joey Cavalieri was let go, a number of creators went with him, the 2099 line collapsed, and now shadows of the characters romp through the World of Tomorrow group title.

Spider-Man 2099, after having a personality and speech pattern carefully constructed over four dozen issues, now speaks no differently from the 1990s Spider-Man.

And the supporting cast has been killed or distorted beyond recognition. I can barely stand to look at it.

17. I think my comics will be worth more 10 years from now than they are now:

Agree 154 (70.32%)

Disagree 60 (27.40%)

18. I think the bottom is going to fall out of the collectors' market:

Agree 126 (57.53%)

Disagree 90 (41.10%)

I would love to know—now that the bottom has indeed fallen out of the collectors' market—how many people who felt their comics would be worth more 10 years down the road would voice the same opinion now.

19. Ten years from now, the average reader will be buying comics:

To read the stories 130 (59.36%)

To look at the artwork 62 (28.31%)

For collectible value 50 (22.83%)

Well, I have no idea where we stand on this one. Only you guys can answer it.

20. But I Digress will be:

A fond memory 92 (42.01%)

Written by me 78 (35.62%)

Written by Shana 26 (11.87%)

Drawn by Todd McFarlane 13 ( 5.94%)

An unfond memory 6 ( 2.74%)

As before, I tend to side with the folks who think it'll be a fond memory, since I have great difficulty envisioning my doing this column 10 years hence.

I am:

20-something 99 (45.21%)

30-something 69 (31.51%)

40-something 21 ( 9.59%)

Teen something 21 ( 9.59%)

Over 40-something 3 ( 1.37%)

Kid-something 1 ( 0.46%)

Considering the way comics have been hemorrhaging readers, one wonders whether those demographics remain accurate.

I buy comics:

Combo of Story/Art 122 (55.71%)

Mostly for the story 76 (34.70%)

Investment value 44 (20.09%)

Because I'm a Marvel Zombie 11 ( 5.02%)

Mostly for the art 9 ( 4.11%)

Because they're written by PAD 2 ( 0.91%)

How much would you like to bet that the 20% who bought for investment value have dwindled in number significantly?

I am:

A fan 163 (74.43%)

Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. 40 (18.26%)

A professional in the comic industry 31 (14.16%)

The pirate king 8 ( 3.65%)

The president of Marvel 2 ( 0.91%)

The very model of a modern major general 2 ( 0.91%)

An editor at CBG 1 ( 0.46%)

Mark Gruenwald's father 1 ( 0.46%)

The one from Grueny's father is a little tough to take in retrospect.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., P.O. Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)