Speculative Friction # 1

1-2-06

So I finally took the time today to sit down and read, all the way through, the Danger Girl: The Ultimate Collection hc that I've had racked next to the Big Reading Chair for about a year now. I had, of course, picked up the single issues when it was first released, back in the heady days of early 1998, and was among those who were really blown away by what J. Scott Campbell, Andy Hartnell and co. had accomplished. And, regardless of how much Campbell's ample abilities at rendering hypnotically gorgeous women equates with pandering [and I, for one, don't take that view...hey, this is _entertainment_ folks, and fantasy at that, so relax and have fun], Danger Girl was and remains an extremely well-wrought action-adventure that pleases the eye while giving the heart multiple and good reasons to race. Better still, the book never insults the intellect. And the fact that it was filled to bursting, almost literally, with all-out action wedded to a childlike joy in exploring the visual limits of the medium, vis-a-vis depicting movie-like action, only made it all the more enticing...and endearing.

Now, taking a good, long look at the entire tale years after it was finished has really driven home Campbell's often overlooked abilities as a storyteller. And while it's readily apparent in some of the more sensational sequences--such as the car chase which ends the prologue and opens the first issue of the mini-series proper--it suddenly struck me that it's in some of the quieter scenes, and especially in the personal interaction and hand-to-hand combat exchanges--where Campbell really shines, and displays some of his finest technique, storytelling-wise.

For example, there's the classic mano-a-mano showdown in the book's final chapter between Agent Zero and Assassin X. Here Campbell and Hartnell inject some real tension into this sequence by using the classic device of having the combatants pause in battle to hurl insults which both explain their enmity and map out the altercation's inevitable outcome; even better, they make it work visually and verbally.

But why does this sequence work? We've all seen something similar done in dozens of different manners, typically with so-so or even terribly clichéd results. What makes this particular sequence add to the tension of the story, then, rather than deflate it?

Well, I think the answer, aside from it being as obvious as, "The action and language work together well, and only serve to further the action, dope!", may well come down to something almost hidden in plain sight within the page and panel layout. Now, yes, the pacing of the visuals and language, the choice of shots and body language depicted, all work very effectively together to tell their part of the story. And the coloring, inking and lettering all support it as well. But what really drives home the seriousness of these pronouncements and the proceedings might just lie in the final panel of the sequence, in the background--something which literally caught my eye and held it.

It's page-wide panel, "silent" aside from a series of four sound effects, which depicts the shadows of the two battling warriors cast being upon a group of pipes set against a blank wall. And the reason this particular, nicely rendered but seemingly innocuous panel is so important is that it literally slows down the reader's eye by making it appear that each one of those SFX occupies its own panel. And this, in turn, gives the source of each one of those individual sounds--each of which represent the reality of flesh and blood clashing violently with meat and bone--those short pauses effectively then give those individual SFXs real impact and resonance, and all that much more meaning and weight. Sure, it might be only a "speed bump" sort of effect, literally slowing the eye for a mere split second. But it's enough of a jar to the smoothly flowing narrative that it gives the eye pause, and so calls attention to each separate moment. If only for a second's tick. If only unconsciously, and fleetingly.

Sometimes, in comics, that's all the pause you need cause in the reader for it to work, however quietly.

Now, I'm not saying that Campbell intended for this effect to happen in this manner, or that he actually bothered thinking about all of this high-falutin' theoretical stuff while planning and drawing this page. But, having spoken with him at length about how he creates his art, and why he creates it in the manner that he does, I honestly wouldn't be surprised to discover that he did, indeed, plan all of it.

Enough big head stuff for now, except to note that a serious examination of the storytelling mechanics of this particular collection would have a lot to teach anyone who is interested in becoming a better comic book creator. Danger Girl: The Ultimate Collection is exactly what it claims to be: An entertaining and absolutely fun story featuring well drawn [and endowed] women in High Fantasy-tinged action-adventures. It meets, nay exceeds, its own genre's requirements by leagues, and does so with real verve, joy and aplomb. Still, and luckily for those of us who are interested in such things, lurking below that glossy and slick surface lies a wealth of information and insight into the comic medium and its workings.

Just because something's pretty, popular, or enjoyable doesn't mean that it's bereft of any weight, insight, or incapable of offering anything of real or lasting worth to the reader. There's nothing wrong with a bit of glitz, glamour, and sexiness combined with good, fun comic storytelling...especially if it's also got a head on its shoulders.





Danger Girl: The Ultimate Collection
written by J. Scott Campbell & Andy Hartnell
published WildStorm/DC Comics
www.dccomics.com