NOTE: Last year, when I was on staff at a small time comics-related site, I requested a regular column that would allow me the chance to review/revisit some classic single issues of the past. We came up with a series called 'Tales From The Comics Crypt' that I was eager to write, but only ever created two instalments for. After I left that site, I took the idea to one of the main sites I work for, 'What Culture.com'.
My editor there agreed to give the series a shot, but this time we called it 'The Cosmic Treadmill' (after The Flash's super-fitness time-travel device) and the first part was published HERE. Sadly, it failed to generate the interest needed for the series to continue and was cancelled after the first article. Personally, I think that's a shame, as I had a blast writing about comic books of yesteryear. Still, these things happen...
On the bright side, you can now read the full piece here...So, for the first time ever, allow me to present the debut of the second (and possibly final) 'Tales From The Cosmic Treadmill' piece...An (Affectionate) Look Back At Mike Mignola's 'Amazing Screw-On Head' 1-Shot...
“Mr. Groin! I’ll be needing a body for this”
...So begins Mike Mignola’s first (and so far only) foray into the deliriously weird (not to mention delightfully funny) world of The Amazing Screw-On Head. If you haven’t read this offbeat little gem and you thought that the Hellboy short with all those puppets was odd...Well, I don’t know what to tell you, you’ve really got to see this one to believe it.
Inspired by the action figures that the writer/artist played with as a child, TAS-OH is a brilliantly vibrant work of pure, uncut imagination. Sure, it’s kitschy, throwaway and wholly expendable, but equally, this 2002 one-shot is one of the greatest single-issue comic books ever published.
The titular Screw-On Head is a robot that works for President Lincoln (why not?) He is charged by his boss with the task of protecting America (& presumably the rest of the world) from the evil machinations of Emperor Zombie (who is not an actual Emperor, but who does appear to be an actual zombie, albeit a dapper and well-spoken one). Screw-On Head is aided in this mission by his butler (Mr. Groin) and his dog (Mr. Dog).
He also has a rocket capable, apparently, of penetrating Earth’s atmosphere. However, when said rocket does veer off course in such a fashion, our hero calmly requests “Back to Earth please, Mister Groin” and the adventure simply continues, never mentioning it again.
According to Screw-On Head, his foe Emperor Zombie is yet more proof of his long-held conviction that all really intelligent people should be cremated “for the sake of national security”.
Zombie, for his part, has two henchmen, Doctor Snap, who is some sort of scientist and Madam, who is a vampire. Together, this terrible trio invades the temple of Gung the Magnificent in search of an artefact that will give Zombie dominion over the world. It turns out to be a turnip, but it does still have an unexpected power...
As an uncomplicated, absurdist black comedy, TAS-OH is exceedingly successful. From the first few panels of a body-less Screw-On Head bouncing around his HQ, to the final three unrelated pages featuring “three horrible old Women and a monkey”, this book is hilarious from start to finish, especially for those with a quirky or bizarre sense of humour.
What Mignola successfully managed to do in this issue is marry a child-like sense of adventure to a dream-like unfolding narrative, without stopping to consider (read: get hopelessly bogged down by) any of the usual mumbo jumbo that we writers tend to get hopelessly bogged down by...
For all those naysayers who argue in favour of ‘realism’ in comics, or enjoy better the movies that ruthlessly strip away all the impossibilities, wonder or joy from a character, (usually leaving only a male model in a silly costume), this is not a book you should be reading under any circumstances. TAS-OH is, purely and truly, a comic for people who love comics. Essentially, everything that was ever joyful and good about comics exists within this one shot.
This book wantonly, (and with a refreshing lack of forethought) breaks pretty much every rule there is, from heaps of expository dialogue to a deus ex machina ending (complete with random characters who exist purely to create a closing statement), but it does so with such cheek, charm and effortless panache, that you can’t help but love every single second of it.
If you were the sort of kid who didn’t just play, but who told stories with the toys, if character development, repeated plot motifs and recurring gags were a staple of your action-figure escapades (even if you had no clue what those things were at the time), then TAS-OH is definitely for you.
This, my friends, is the work of a comics-loving child who grew up to be a comics-creating genius, at play. It is the glorious cacophony of a grown man rediscovering his childhood, but with a savagely irreverent adult wit and a macabre spirit that adds a moreish splash of vinegar to the honey pot.
Oh, and the art is beautiful.
Like all the best Mignola stuff (from Cosmic Odyssey through to Hellboy & beyond), this self-contained story meshed Kirby dynamics with expressionistic risk taking. The panelling reflects this absolutely, punk-rockingly transitioning from tiny little insets to ornate widescreen splash pages with the excited turn of each new page.
Panoramic panels mingle with ‘splitscreen’ panels, whilst action sequences explode from the page with a boundless energy that recalls Technicolor memories of 60’s Marvel Comics and colourful Saturday morning cartoons. The pages are oddly laid out, but you really don’t notice that as you follow the story. As usual with Mignola, every single panel flows freely with an almost animated sensibility. There’s not a single “wait, which bit do I read first?” moment here. Its Just good old-fashioned craftsmanship.
TAS-OH, is the master-artist having fun. His story allows him to draw two or three pages of ancient architecture, creepy crypts and cobweb-strewn statues, just like he loves to do. Never mind that it all gets destroyed in a few pages, Mike doesn’t care; he just draws it all because he wants to.
Likewise, the ostensibly expressionless Emperor Zombie’s face is rendered with such subtlety that it simply boggles the mind as to how a character with no discernible cheeks, eyebrows, lips or even eyeballs can be made to look furious, devious and elated all within the space of a few panels. Wonderful.
Mignola obviously birthed this one in one breathlessly creative lightening-ride session; I can almost imagine his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he hummed cartoon themes from his childhood and brought this crazy cast of characters to life.
You may feel like you know Mike Mignola after years of reading his work, but until you’ve read this, you’ve never really met him in a silly mood (not even when Hellboy ate pancakes for three pages and thus offended the lords of damnation. Nope, not even then).
OK, so how do I sum up this wayward masterpiece? Is it Hellboy-meets-Monty-Python? Or is it something else entirely? I don’t know and I don’t care, because whatever it is, it is pure comics gold.
- CQ
My editor there agreed to give the series a shot, but this time we called it 'The Cosmic Treadmill' (after The Flash's super-fitness time-travel device) and the first part was published HERE. Sadly, it failed to generate the interest needed for the series to continue and was cancelled after the first article. Personally, I think that's a shame, as I had a blast writing about comic books of yesteryear. Still, these things happen...
On the bright side, you can now read the full piece here...So, for the first time ever, allow me to present the debut of the second (and possibly final) 'Tales From The Cosmic Treadmill' piece...An (Affectionate) Look Back At Mike Mignola's 'Amazing Screw-On Head' 1-Shot...
“Mr. Groin! I’ll be needing a body for this”
...So begins Mike Mignola’s first (and so far only) foray into the deliriously weird (not to mention delightfully funny) world of The Amazing Screw-On Head. If you haven’t read this offbeat little gem and you thought that the Hellboy short with all those puppets was odd...Well, I don’t know what to tell you, you’ve really got to see this one to believe it.
Inspired by the action figures that the writer/artist played with as a child, TAS-OH is a brilliantly vibrant work of pure, uncut imagination. Sure, it’s kitschy, throwaway and wholly expendable, but equally, this 2002 one-shot is one of the greatest single-issue comic books ever published.
The titular Screw-On Head is a robot that works for President Lincoln (why not?) He is charged by his boss with the task of protecting America (& presumably the rest of the world) from the evil machinations of Emperor Zombie (who is not an actual Emperor, but who does appear to be an actual zombie, albeit a dapper and well-spoken one). Screw-On Head is aided in this mission by his butler (Mr. Groin) and his dog (Mr. Dog).
He also has a rocket capable, apparently, of penetrating Earth’s atmosphere. However, when said rocket does veer off course in such a fashion, our hero calmly requests “Back to Earth please, Mister Groin” and the adventure simply continues, never mentioning it again.
According to Screw-On Head, his foe Emperor Zombie is yet more proof of his long-held conviction that all really intelligent people should be cremated “for the sake of national security”.
Zombie, for his part, has two henchmen, Doctor Snap, who is some sort of scientist and Madam, who is a vampire. Together, this terrible trio invades the temple of Gung the Magnificent in search of an artefact that will give Zombie dominion over the world. It turns out to be a turnip, but it does still have an unexpected power...
As an uncomplicated, absurdist black comedy, TAS-OH is exceedingly successful. From the first few panels of a body-less Screw-On Head bouncing around his HQ, to the final three unrelated pages featuring “three horrible old Women and a monkey”, this book is hilarious from start to finish, especially for those with a quirky or bizarre sense of humour.
What Mignola successfully managed to do in this issue is marry a child-like sense of adventure to a dream-like unfolding narrative, without stopping to consider (read: get hopelessly bogged down by) any of the usual mumbo jumbo that we writers tend to get hopelessly bogged down by...
For all those naysayers who argue in favour of ‘realism’ in comics, or enjoy better the movies that ruthlessly strip away all the impossibilities, wonder or joy from a character, (usually leaving only a male model in a silly costume), this is not a book you should be reading under any circumstances. TAS-OH is, purely and truly, a comic for people who love comics. Essentially, everything that was ever joyful and good about comics exists within this one shot.
This book wantonly, (and with a refreshing lack of forethought) breaks pretty much every rule there is, from heaps of expository dialogue to a deus ex machina ending (complete with random characters who exist purely to create a closing statement), but it does so with such cheek, charm and effortless panache, that you can’t help but love every single second of it.
If you were the sort of kid who didn’t just play, but who told stories with the toys, if character development, repeated plot motifs and recurring gags were a staple of your action-figure escapades (even if you had no clue what those things were at the time), then TAS-OH is definitely for you.
This, my friends, is the work of a comics-loving child who grew up to be a comics-creating genius, at play. It is the glorious cacophony of a grown man rediscovering his childhood, but with a savagely irreverent adult wit and a macabre spirit that adds a moreish splash of vinegar to the honey pot.
Oh, and the art is beautiful.
Like all the best Mignola stuff (from Cosmic Odyssey through to Hellboy & beyond), this self-contained story meshed Kirby dynamics with expressionistic risk taking. The panelling reflects this absolutely, punk-rockingly transitioning from tiny little insets to ornate widescreen splash pages with the excited turn of each new page.
Panoramic panels mingle with ‘splitscreen’ panels, whilst action sequences explode from the page with a boundless energy that recalls Technicolor memories of 60’s Marvel Comics and colourful Saturday morning cartoons. The pages are oddly laid out, but you really don’t notice that as you follow the story. As usual with Mignola, every single panel flows freely with an almost animated sensibility. There’s not a single “wait, which bit do I read first?” moment here. Its Just good old-fashioned craftsmanship.
TAS-OH, is the master-artist having fun. His story allows him to draw two or three pages of ancient architecture, creepy crypts and cobweb-strewn statues, just like he loves to do. Never mind that it all gets destroyed in a few pages, Mike doesn’t care; he just draws it all because he wants to.
Likewise, the ostensibly expressionless Emperor Zombie’s face is rendered with such subtlety that it simply boggles the mind as to how a character with no discernible cheeks, eyebrows, lips or even eyeballs can be made to look furious, devious and elated all within the space of a few panels. Wonderful.
Mignola obviously birthed this one in one breathlessly creative lightening-ride session; I can almost imagine his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he hummed cartoon themes from his childhood and brought this crazy cast of characters to life.
You may feel like you know Mike Mignola after years of reading his work, but until you’ve read this, you’ve never really met him in a silly mood (not even when Hellboy ate pancakes for three pages and thus offended the lords of damnation. Nope, not even then).
OK, so how do I sum up this wayward masterpiece? Is it Hellboy-meets-Monty-Python? Or is it something else entirely? I don’t know and I don’t care, because whatever it is, it is pure comics gold.
- CQ