Author Archive

Brian Bendis: All That and a Bag of Tricks – Part 5

Posted September 30, 2001 By Dave Thomer

DT: There was a lot of secrecy around it, do you think that that created an expectation that was harder to fulfill?

BB: My secrecy came from the single idea that when I was a kid, and Elektra died in Daredevil — I don’t know how far back you go with comics, but if there was like a surprise big moment in comics, I didn’t know about it, I didn’t have the Internet, I didn’t have a catalogue, a Previews catalogue, telling me what the book was gonna be about. I just bought them off the stands, and when Elektra died in Daredevil, I was stunned. It shocked the crap out of me. And that is totally gone from comics, because everyone has to know everything before it comes out. Same thing with movies, if you pay attention you’ll know every single thing that happens in the Spider-Man movie, if you go online and look, because it’s all there. No one will let you have your moment. And I wanted to test the readers and folks online, some of whom get their books before other people do, and I said, “Can you control yourself and not ruin the comic?” ‘Cause it’s not news . . . you know, all these comic book news sites . . . it’s not news. You’re just ruining the book for people. I would like everyone to read it and be surprised, and if they even knew the subject matter of the book, it’s over, ’cause it’s only about one thing.

So I wanted as many people as possible to have the “Get out of here!” experience that my employer did at Marvel. They were all jazzed up about it, and I said, that’s the feeling I want people to have when they read it. Marvel totally got behind me, and we said, “Look, we gave you a good year of comics, so trust us on this one. Just buy it blindfolded, buy it blindfolded, and I will personally refund your money if you don’t like it.” (laughs) And you know, it was a blast. It was a lot of fun, ’cause it was another one of those things where, you know, the Ultimate books are supposed to break format. Of course you have to create the format before you break it. Now, as the book continues, people have no idea what we’re gonna do. We just introduced Gwen Stacy this week, and they have no idea where we’re gonna go with it, they have no idea what we’re gonna do with Doc Ock. It’s all up in the air now, all the rules are thrown out the window, and that’s what I wanted to get with people. I wanted people to pick up the book and go, “I don’t even know what’s gonna happen.”

DT: Cool. I want to talk about some of your other books, but before we do I have one more question about the whole Ultimate project. Is this something where you’re thinking, “I have to keep these books in a state where they’re always gonna be this distilled pure version that anyone can get into at any point,” or are you going to let these characters have changes and things happen to them and let them develop, for want of a better word, a continuity?

BB: They just will. As soon as you get to page four of the first issue you’ve developed a continuity. As soon as you’ve established anything you’ve established a continuity. What the book is supposed to do is stay youthful and reader-friendly, and we have that recap page, which a lot of comics never do. They do their recaps within the confines of thought balloons. We’ve also thrown out a lot of conventions of comic book storytelling. There’s no big thought balloons, there’s no captions that say “Meanwhile . . .” It’s all words and pictures. And starting with issue 14, we changed the font of the lettering. What we did was, the president of Marvel had read that dyslexic kids can’t read all caps, and the question is why are comics all caps? And everyone goes “‘Cause that’s the way they are,” and that’s not a good reason. So we’ve created this new font that’s different than other books, I think all the Ultimate books will have this font, and it’s more legible . . .it’s more what people are used to seeing, you know, capitalization and normal punctuation.

DT: So you’re not thinking that someone’s gonna have to do something like this again in ten or twenty years?

BB: If I keep this job for ten or twenty years, and that’s the worst problem I have . . . you know what I mean? My job is every month to tell a really interesting story, and that’s it. Under the confines of the Ultimate it’s to be readily available to a younger audience and just be interesting to people, you know? Not talk down to people and just be interesting. That’s what we’re doing, me and Mark Millar who does Ultimate X-Men and The Ultimates, we work together on creating this world.

Brian Bendis: All That and a Bag of Tricks – Part 4

Posted September 30, 2001 By Dave Thomer

DT: Speaking of Ultimate Spider-Man, that’s a good chance to segue into that. You were talking about the Marvel purists not wanting anything changed or having their set expectations. That’s an interesting thing about the whole Ultimate project, ’cause one of the stated things, in a lot of the marketing, was to strip the characters down to their essence, and strip away the barnacles or whatever you want to call it. That’s gotta be a challenging thing to do, to figure out, “What is the essence of any of these characters to begin with, and how do I get a whole readership to agree with what I think is the essence?” Was that a challenge?

BB: Well that’s true and there’s a leap of faith there as far as that goes. When the first issue came out, it was a big, “Pheew!” Because if you’re gonna buy this, you’re gonna buy the series, right? It’s 40 pages, there’s no costume, obviously we’re gonna take our time telling the story. Because other than the way comics were done in the 60s, audiences are a little more sophisticated now, and you have to spend time with the characters to make us care for them. You can’t just go into the fight scenes and have a blast. That’s true with anything, you know? People expect a lot now, they don’t want to be talked down to. And also there’s that shared experience of Spider-Man that we’ve all grown up on, and an interpretation should done lovingly, it shouldn’t be done rushed. I think people saw right away that I don’t think I’m smarter than Stan Lee and I don’t think that Spider-Man was broken at all. There’s nothing wrong with it. But just like Shakespeare, it can be taken into a new context, and all of the themes remain true, and all of the characterization and the moral humanity remain true. I really do hold it up to Shakespeare. If you do this again in twenty years, it’ll still work, because the theme of the story totally works.

DT: That was an interesting thing, that a story that was originally told in one issue, you took seven issues. And that wasn’t wasted space, it was a sign of how comics have changed.

BB: Plus, you know, if you know the story of how Spider-Man was created, he had 11 pages, so he told the story in 11 pages. You know, I bet if he had a hundred pages, he would have done a hundred pages. That’s what he had, he had 11 pages. Everyone goes, “oh look.” That’s always the negative look at it, they go, “Hey, Stan Lee did this in 11 pages!” I don’t know, it’s just a funny thing to say. I could tell it on one page — would that make me a genius?

DT: Another thing with Ultimate Spider-Man, you spent a lot of time pushing issue 13 —

BB: Yeah, and I think I did so expertly, thank you, by the way.

DT: Absolutely. There was certainly a lot of attention and expectation going into that and trying to figure out exactly what would be going on. What was it that made you decide that that story should be treated in that way?

BB: Six issues in I knew that clearly . . . the characters take over the story. Starting from the base of what Stan Lee created, they become their own entities, and they write the stories themselves. They take over. Clearly, in the modern world, having a secret identity is not as easy as it was in the 60s. We live in an all permeating, all seeing society of super information, and I can’t imagine how you’d have a secret identity, and also I can’t imagine how you’d hold it back from people you care about. That was always one of the things . . . that was like a plot thing that they tried that they sort of buried themselves into, that became like a staple of comics without anyone thinking, “OK, what would happen if he did tell his girlfriend?” He’s got one friend in the world is this girl, he’s fifteen years old. He’s fifteen, he’s got one friend, it’s her, he’s gonna hurt her feelings and alienate her? Or is he gonna go, “I have to tell you this.” I remember when I was fifteen, my best friend was my girlfriend, or was the girl who became my girlfriend. Right? And there’s nothing . . . I told her stuff I didn’t even tell my friends, my guy friends. My first person I really expressed my secrets and desires to, and I do see myself as Peter Parker when I was fifteen, right? And I go, if I were fifteen, I would have told her.

I told this to Joe [Quesada] and Bill [Jemas] who run Marvel, about six issues into the story, I said, I have to build up to it, but you tell her. And we debated it back and forth, and they let me go for it, and I expressed to them, if we’re exploring modern society, the secret identity thing is what’s different now . . . . there’s two things that we’re not going to be able to do that they were able to do in the older Spider-Man. One is that a lot of the Marvel characters were created from nuclear paranoia, they were all radioactive spiders and gamma bombs and cosmic rays. And that’s not going to be the overall origin, the radioactive whatever is not going to be how we accomplish things, they have to be more about our society, because we don’t live with nuclear paranoia. But we do live with other things in our lives and we’re going to explore them. And within the confines of that, is the fact that he’s fifteen and this is what I thought he would do, and the characters wrote it themselves. Nobody who read it said, “He’d never do that!” It was all, “Oh, I can’t believe . . . of course he would do that!” It was a lot of fun to write, and it was also a lot of fun to write a one scene comic. Which I know was a little harder for some of the purists, but there was something really gratifying about being able to put out a comic that was all taking place in the bedroom and was all just a conversation and to see if I could hold someone’s interest for the whole time.

Brian Bendis: All That and a Bag of Tricks – Part 3

Posted September 30, 2001 By Dave Thomer

DT: Are there any of your books that you find are more successful at reaching out to that first time comics reader or that first time independent comics reader?

BB: A lot of them are crime genre material that are complete works. Torso is a very successful graphic novel, it wasn’t a successful miniseries, it was just doing enough to make the rest of them, you know? And we sold it to movies and we’ve done all right off it. But as a series it wasn’t big, but we’re already close to our third printing of the trade in like under a year, which is amazing. So that’s done very well, Jinx is in like its fifth printing. It’s 450 pages, it’s a big mammoth book, you drop your dollars and you get a whole big epic read and people feel like they’re getting their money’s worth. It depends on what people’s tastes are, if they like crime ficiton they’re gonna dig it. I have another book [Fire] that’s a spy thriller that is my earliest work that I have out, that I’m still proud of, it’s a spy thriller and I can’t believe how well that does. And it’s a lower price, a smaller cover price because it’s a smaller graphic novel, but it constantly sells and it’s bizarre to me. I wish I knew why, because I’d do it again.

DT: Do you find that some first-time readers have trouble following your work, because they might not be up on the vocabulary or storytelling techniques of comics?

BB: I’ve been to the movies where people have trouble figuring out what the plot of American Pie is, so you try not to worry about too much what people will or will not get. I’ve not had anyone e-mail me and go, “What happened?” And many, many people read all of my things before anyone sees them in the public, because I’m very aware that I’m communicating to a large number of people. Even independent filmmakers go through a screening process where they show the movie to people and take notes and see what works and what doesn’t work and adjust. I’m not some genius that thinks everything I do is pure gold and everyone will love me. I remember Scorcese saying he shows his movies to a group of friends, a trusted group of friends, and he asks them questions. If there’s a scene and everyone got something different out of the scene, then the scene isn’t working. It doesn’t matter what he thinks it said, it doesn’t say it, because the people didn’t get it. So he’ll go back and he’ll do something to the scene. That’s exactly it, and the same thing with the comics.

I have my trusted group of advisors, and at Marvel you have your editors that are very in tune with what you’re trying to accomplish and the artists that you work with, and everyone comes together and discusses where we’re going, what we’re doing, and is it working. And I absolutely can’t stand myself, so I’m very happy to hear if things aren’t working if I can go back and hack the script to death. I’m really kind of good at that, and that’s why when the book comes out, you can’t control everything about a person’s reading experience, people have their tastes and people have what’s going on in their lives or what situation they’re reading the book in. But I’m pretty much sure that the work will stand up for itself and anything that you ask me about it, it’ll be there on the page. I get that even online. Someone will post on my board, you know, “I don’t understand why the cop did this,” and then before I can even answer someone else will have already gotten it, and the guy just missed it. It’s like blinking during the movie. “What happened, I missed it, what’s going on?”

DT: It’s like, you can’t always trying to write for the guy who doesn’t get anything —

BB: I personally can’t stand when I’m being talked down to or not challenged. I like being in the hands of someone, they know what they’re doing, they’ve got something to say, they’re in control, and they’re not pandering to me. I hate being pandered to, I can’t stand it. So why would I do that to people? I’d rather overshoot, and miss, than shoot underhanded, you know what I mean? I don’t have any respect for creators that pander. That’s why with Ultimate Spider-Man, I was biting my lip . . .it’s a character study more than it’s a superhero book, and that doesn’t necessarily always mean, you know, “Top 10 book.” So I’m biting a hole in my lip, going, “Oh, I hope this works!” I was proud of it, and everyone who read it was digging it, but if someone’s used to a certain kind of superhero comic and you’re handing them something else, you know, they get very angry. “Where . . . what happened to the fight scene? Where’s the costume, you son of a bitch?” And you do get that, there are Marvel purists who want what they want and don’t want you to screw around with their icons. But you know, 99% of the people are happy to be taken for a ride. In comics, just like filmgoers or people who buy CDs or when you’re watching TV, people just want to be told a story. “Here’s my couple bucks, entertain me for twenty minutes, because you know what, I had a really crappy day at work, so just tell me a story, man, just let me forget for a minute.” And I take that job pretty seriously.

Brian Bendis: All That and a Bag of Tricks – Part 2

Posted September 30, 2001 By Dave Thomer

DT: What’s the process of figuring out what’s the right style for a given project?

BB: You know, you see it in your head and you just try to accomplish it with your hands. That’s true with every craft or art. You see it very clearly in your head, and with a lot of the books of mine that have seen print, I saw them very clearly and I try to accomplish that, and if I can’t accomplish it, you’re not gonna see it.

DT: You working on anything in your head now? Trying to figure out any new styles?

BB: Yeah, the next thing that I draw is gonna be a semi-autobiographical, almost a romantic comedy that’s not very funny or romantic, and it’ll be something I draw in a style that’s somewhere in between the two, that’s the best I can come up with. But we’ll see where I go with it, and that’s what I’m working on now. And when the style is ready, that’s when I’ll put it out. I’m not in any hurry.

DT: So you’re still working on the drawing, even though right now you’re busy with all your writing assignments?

BB: Oh, I like to draw. It’s very clear that as soon as I stopped drawing I became very successful, but I’m gonna ignore that and continue to draw. Also, as soon as I stopped drawing, everyone’s like, “Oh, why don’t you draw?” Oh yeah, now, sure. Eight years, no one was buying the damn things. Now I have a lot more people have discovered my work through my Marvel work and a bunch of other stuff, so . . . but even with my collaborations, it’s vibrant to me to work with people who do things I can’t physically do. Like with Mike Oeming, when I work on Powers, I couldn’t do that style and it needs to be in that style. It has to be that way and that’s the way I saw it. And what he accomplished and what he accomplishes every month on that book is so great for me, and I write differently for him. You know, my bag of tricks gets put away. I’m very addicted to the collaboration, to working with artists with different styles, you know, like working with [Mark] Bagley on Spider-Man or David Mack on Daredevil and the laundry list of artists — both heroes and peers — that I work with on Ultimate Marvel Team-Up. Every month I have to concoct a writing style that matches what that person does, which forces me to come up with a new bag of tricks or alter my bag of tricks for that artist. I chose that job and created that job specifically because I’m addicted to the collaboration.

DT: You mentioned people getting exposed to your earlier work and the stuff that you’ve drawn. Is that something that people have come up to you a lot and said, you know, like “I started reading Ultimate Spider-Man and Daredevil, and now I’ve read Torso?”

BB: Absolutely. It started when I was working at Todd McFarlane’s company, doing a book called Sam and Twitch. I was given the job because of the strength of my graphic novels that Todd had read. Within that book people started to discover that there was other crime fiction that I did, so they started to pick that up. Then when Powers started, because that’s a color series . . . there are some people that, they need a lot of push to pick up black and white. There’s a lot of people that don’t understand what black and white comics are, or why they’re in black and white. Some people think they’re unfinished, which is kind of funny. So you’ve really gotta sort of win their trust over, to get them to buy them. And that’s happened to me a lot over the last couple of years, with people that never bought a black and white comic, because of Spider-Man or Daredevil, they’re picking it up, you know, or they go, “How bad can it be, I love Spider-Man, right?” If there’s anything I’m proud of, there’s a couple of things I’m pretty proud of over the last couple of years, but . . . there’s always that one book that’s the bridge book for people that discover comics in a new way. Like, they only bought superheroes and then they take a plunge one day and buy something that’s not superheroes and then that whole world opens for them, and I remember what those books were for me when I was a kid, and I’m very happy to have been that book for a few people. That makes me feel like I’ve accomplished a lot. Or they see the artwork in Marvel Team-Up by an artist that I yanked out of indy comics for a month to do a fun Marvel book with me, and they’re like, “Oh I didn’t know you could draw a Marvel character that way,” and then they go look for that person’s work, and that’s kind of exciting. A lot of my friends get very angry, they’re like, “Why won’t people buy black and white, why won’t people blah blah blah?” I go, “All right, we’ll go to them. I’m gonna get ’em!” One way or another. So you know, it’s kind of cool, because I’ve done all this work for eight years that’s still work I’m proud of, it’s out, it’s ready, it’s printed. And you know . . . they find it now, hey, it’s free money for me.

Brian Bendis: All That and a Bag of Tricks

Posted September 30, 2001 By Dave Thomer

If you’ve been reading the Comics Forums, you know how much we love Brian Michael Bendis. He currently writes Powers for Image Comics and Ultimate Spider-Man, Ultimate Marvel Team-Up, Alias and Daredevil for Marvel Comics. He’s also written and drawn a number of excellent graphic novels, including the crime fiction books Goldfish and Jinx and the true-crime story Torso (which details Eliot Ness’s efforts to track down a serial killer in Cleveland). He recounted his adventures in Hollywood working on a film version of Goldfish in the hilarious Fortune & Glory, and recently re-released one of his earliest works, the spy thriller Fire. And he just moved from Cleveland to Portland. In other words, he’s a busy, busy man. But he took some time to talk to us about his career and what excites him about the medium — and since he has plenty to say, I’m gonna shut up and get out of the way. Let the Q and A begin.

DT: How’d you get started? What made you decide you wanted to do comics?

BB: That’s just simply a childhood love of them. They were a form of escapism that I wasn’t getting anywhere else. It was pure and I discovered it as entertainment, and then discovered what the art of the entertainment was. It was one of those expressions that was . . . it’s unlimited what could be done with it. As the information I had about the medium grew, my taste for the medium grew. It’s just a medium that has an immense about of things that it can accomplish. It excited me consistently, throughout my artistic growth.

DT: What first got you to look at the art of the medium?

BB: I was a Marvel kid when I was growing up. There’s an imagination and a morality that’s just . . . it’s like a comics page has an unlimited special effects budget. There’s no cap on what can be accomplished on the page other than your imagination, and that’s an amazing thing.

DT: Were you doing anything before you got into comics?

BB: I was doing comics ever since I was a kid. I broke into the business eight years ago while I was still in college. I was lucky enough to be able to get my books published but they weren’t enough to sustain any kind of life. So, you know, I took jobs. And I made a conscious decision that I will write and I will draw for a living in whatever medium I could get into. So I did greeting cards and caricatures and worked at newspapers and magazines. And over the last couple years, I’m pretty much just doing comics, and, you know, TV and movie stuff. But up until just a couple years ago, it was anything I could do to support myself and at the same time create my comics. ‘Cause you know, I never actually thought I’d have a hit comic, I just wanted to put out comics.

DT: A big element of a lot of the comics you’ve written and drawn has been the xerography, the design work, the photographic elements. When did you first start thinking that this was something you could do?

BB: Comics are a bastard medium, which means there’s no right way to make a comic. Rock and roll is a bastard medium where there’s no thing about rock and roll that is itself. It’s a crossgeneration of a bunch of different things, right? And it always succeeds when it looks outside itself, like when someone brings country or jazz or opera into rock and roll, it thrives. And comics are the same way. And comics always thrive as a medium of self expression when someone goes outside of comics and looks at something and brings it in. For me, it’s many things, but the thing you’re talking about that I capture most is the cinematography of film noir, the harsh black and white gritty look of film noir that is a language unto itself and it drives me crazy and I love it and I can’t get enough of it and I try to express that inside the comic book page, and I use the xerography and the photography which I have a great fondness for. And again, for independent comics guys, a lot of the times it’s creating a comic book that you would buy for no other reason than that you would have it. And if anyone else buys it, then that’s cool, but I would like to see a book with a lot of xerography and photography. That would be cool, and I’d like to see that expressed, so I tried it.

DT: Were there people who said, “Hey, you can’t do this? It’s a comic, it has to be drawn?”

BB: There’s always people that say that, and it usually means I try harder to do it. Even writing Spider-Man, someone says “You can’t have him not in the costume for five issues,” I’m like “Oh yeah? Bet you can!” There’s no rules, that’s the thing. Even like last night, you see people arguing if West Wing was really drama or not, I’m like, “Who cares? It was an expression, man! Let him say whatever he wants!” We’re putting rules on art, it drives me crazy. Especially comics. You’re gonna start putting rules on that? It’s silly. Every good comic that was ever made was a rule-breaking comic. Listen, you can overdo it, and you can fall on your ass, right? But I’d rather fall on my ass by overdoing it than by not trying anything. That’s the way I see it.

DT: The film noir look that’s in your crime comics, that wasn’t as heavy an influence in stuff like Fortune and Glory. How’d you develop that approach?

BB: I try to come up with a new bag of tricks for every project I do. I have certain things I try to do that I’m constantly exploring. I knew for Fortune and Glory, there was another way to present the material, and that the film noirish look at the world would have created a tone unlike what I wanted to achieve. So even with the stuff I’m doing for Marvel, my tastes for what I want to accomplish as a writer and as a storyteller are varied, so I will jump from very dark serial killer film noir to autobiographical humor to teenage drama to all kinds of stuff.

DT: Do you think there’s one style or approach that feels more natural to you at this point, or do they all feel like things you’re equally comfortable with?

BB: Writing is the most natural thing for me, and I don’t why that is, but it is. For drawing, I think my most natural drawing style is the Fortune and Glory drawing style. That’s what I draw without any bag of tricks or photo reference or anything like that. But I try to strengthen that, not, “Oh, this is what I do the easiest, that’ll be it for me.” So you try as an artist to do new things and accomplish new things. Like, for Torso, that drawing style, that has a lot of xerography and computer work, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done by far. Nothing about that is my natural style, but that’s the way I felt that book should look, or as close as I could get without going over. [Check out art samples from Torso, and some free web comics in the same autobiographical humor style of Fortune and Glory.]

Ex-Hume-Ing the Truth

Posted August 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

For all their differences, Descartes, Locke and Berkeley share one trait: they believe that it is possible to develop an argument that defeats skepticism and gives human knowledge a foundation of certainty. That optimism is not universal among philosophers, as David Hume makes clear in Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. Hume is probably the most noted of the British empiricists, philosophers who (like Locke and Berkeley) believe that our knowledge comes primarily through our observation of the world around us and not from any inherent set of ideas or rational arguments. Where Hume differs from his fellows is in the amount of faith he’s willing to put into those empirical observations.
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Con Games

Posted August 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

The worst thing about coming back from vacation is getting back to work. The best thing about coming back from vacation is telling people who didn’t go anywhere about what a great time you had. I figure if I combine the two and write a column about my vacation, I’ll come out somewhere in the middle and for once seem like a normal, well-adjusted fellow. At least till I get to the part about the four hour line for a sketch, but that’ll come in its own good time.

Now, Pattie and I have never taken a real extended vacation; the closest we’ve come is a weekend at a bed and breakfast. So this year we decided, to heck with it, we’re gonna fly somewhere on a jet plane, stay in a hotel, the whole nine yards. We both decided it would be cool — and pay attention here, because one reason I married this woman is that she would actually think this is cool — to fly out to San Diego for Comic-Con International, the biggest comic book convention in the world. Four days of comic buying, autograph getting, and watching people dress up like Jedi and stormtroopers. I had to promise her something about seeing the rest of San Diego while we were there, but I figured one day of cruising around California was a small price to pay for a visit to Graphic Art Nirvana.

Of course, first we had to get there, which is where the jet plane came in. Now, I am over six feet tall, and we were flying in coach. Despite this, and the fact that I booked the plane tickets, I forsake any hope of an aisle seat so that Pattie could sit by a window that may have been twice the size of my thumb and look at the clouds. As a result, I was slightly cramped during the six hour flight. Fortunately, I had my revenge, as the cramping resulted in my ankles cracking loudly for the rest of the day and night. Foley artists have recorded my ankles in order to better replicate the sound of a fierce thunderstorm, which can make trying to sleep in the same room with me an . . . interesting experience, to say the least. Cramping aside, the flight was fairly pleasant, the in-flight meal was actually pretty tasty, and everything was going along smoothly.

Until we started our descent, of course, and I experienced the most agonizing pain I can remember as my ears tried to deal with the change in air pressure. Ten sticks of Wrigley’s Spearmint did absolutely nothing to help me, and to make matters worse, I couldn’t hear a darn thing. Pattie would try and say something to me, and all I could do was shrug my shoulders. Now, a medical excuse to not hear any of your wife’s requests may seem like a good thing at first, but since we were on vacation there was no chance she was asking me to clean the dishes or take out the garbage, and besides, she’s a pretty good conversationalist most of the time. To say nothing of the fact that without any sense of hearing on my part, regulating the volume of my own voice was suddenly a challenge. Next time we fly, they’re gonna have to pull some kind of BA Baracus stunt on me, because I do NOT want to go through that again.

Anyway, we get to San Diego, and let me tell you, I’ve heard all sorts of claptrap about how the weather’s always perfect in San Diego, and it’s so beautiful, and the sun’s always shining, and I’m here to tell you it’s just not true. Just as an example, on Friday, I saw a cloud. It was one of those perfect, fluffy cumulus clouds, but still — it was a cloud. And I think the high temperature may have deviated by a degree or two during our five day stay. And once, for a moment, I think it may have been slightly humid before a breeze came in off the bay and took care of that. So really, we Northeasterners with our humid 100 degree summers and our slushy below freezing winters don’t have a thing to be jealous of, and I think those Southern Californians should just stop fooling themselves.

I’m running out of room here — why do I never have this problem when I’m trying to write a philosophy article? — so let me get to the con itself. When I say it is enormously huge, I’m understating it. Walking the floor of the San Diego Convention Center was probably more exercise than I get in a month. And it was full of retailers, artists, companies, filmmakers, you name it. I got to meet people whose work I’ve been reading for years and tell them how much I enjoyed it. Or at least, I could attempt to. Once or twice I got a wee bit tongue tied. The worst was when I hoped to commission a sketch from Jeff Moy, one of my favorite artists who drew the Legion of Super-Heroes for several years. I was standing by his table, patiently waiting for him to finish what he was doing so I could talk to him and trying to figure out what exactly the protocol was for commissioning a sketch, since I’d never done it before, when he stopped, looked up at me and asked something along the lines of “What can I do for you?”

Now, I’m in graduate school. I’ve given lectures and presentations pretty much on the fly. I consider myself a fairly intelligent articulate guy. Of course, since I all of a sudden was put on the spot, what came out was, “Um, yeah . . .sketch . . .can I get one? Or two? With characters? If I paid for them? Or something?” Let’s just say I’m sure I’ve made better impressions. To top it off, he didn’t have any more openings to do sketches that day. (I did manage to go back and get one the next day, so at least that story has a happy ending.)

One of the things Pattie and I had done in the weeks before the con was to go over the programming list to select all the entertaining and informative panels that we would attend. Unfortunately, these well laid plans were shot to pieces pretty quickly, especially for me on Sunday. George Perez, one of my favorite artists (whose work appears in the corner of the first Not News cover image, by the way), was at the con and doing free sketches for his fans. Unfortunately for me, George Perez has had a spectacular 25+ year career in comics, and he’s a LOT of people’s favorite artist. So much so, that somehow the lines for his sketches managed to be full practically before the convention opened for business each day. (I am still trying to figure out how that worked, by the way. The ability to distort time and space in that fashion would pay off my student loans in a hurry.) In true comic fashion, I got my sketch in the nick of time, with about 15 minutes before the whole con closed, and after a four hour wait that absorbed most of the day. Now you can say that’s crazy, but hey — someday, I might find myself stuck in a six hour line at DisneyNation and look back fondly on the old days.

The Juror Is Out

Posted August 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

I had the following dialogue at least a dozen times in the beginning of July:

ME: I have to go downtown for jury selection on the tenth.

OTHER PERSON: Oh, they’ll never pick you. Lawyers never pick jurors with too much education.

I’ll be honest, I assumed the same thing, and I guess I can’t blame anyone who would knock a philosophy PhD student off a panel. I mean, would you want to have to convince some know-it-all punk whose job it is to nitpick and find holes in any argument? And while it bugged the nobler side of my nature, which really wanted a chance to do its civic duty, there was a side of me that really hoped the conventional wisdom would hold up. I had just finished teaching an intensive summer course at Temple, I still had a month to go in the other course I was teaching, I had a number of personal and academic projects to catch up on (including this site), and Pattie’s and my vacation in San Diego was fast approaching. So somewhat smugly, I showed up at Philadelphia’s Criminal Justice Center and figured I’d collect my nine bucks and be on my way.

Whoops. I must have been really convincing during the voir dire stage, because despite my education, despite my having been mugged last November, and despite having had some relatives who’ve had run-ins with the law, I found out I was accepted for the jury, and that I would start hearing a rape case on Thursday, two days later. All of a sudden, I had to make plans to cover the two class sessions I was guaranteed to miss, to say nothing of the fact that my plane left for San Diego exactly one week after the trial was set to start. The judge had said she expected the trial to take until Tuesday, which left only a one day margin for error.

Now, like I said, I was a little annoyed by this, but the larger part of me was excited about the chance to use my reasoning skills to serve the community. And when I arrived at the courthouse the first day, I quickly realized that my fellow jurors were intelligent, serious-minded people who took the responsibility seriously, as irritated as they may have been to have their lives disrupted by it. I was feeling pretty optimistic about our chances to resolve the case fairly, intelligently, and within the expected time frame. Then the trial started.

I may be biased by this experience, but I can not think of a harder type of case to decide than a rape case like this one, where both parties acknowledge sex took place and the crucial issue is whether or not there was consent. It’s not a question of looking at facts and determining if those facts are valid evidence for a particular conclusion, like ‘Is so-and-so’s alibi valid’ or ‘did so-and-so really have the opportunity to commit the crime.’. Ultimately, it boils down to a she-said/he-said (or a she-said/his-lawyers-said) situation, where your decision ultimately rests on your assessment of the alleged victim’s credibility. And that means that the ideal defense strategy is an all out effort to destroy that credibility, in a scene right out of every rape-related movie of the week. The defense made every effort to imply that the alleged victim had been flirting with the defendant for weeks, that she had behaved suggestively the entire night of the incident, that she had invited the defendant to her room and that the allegation of rape was a hastily-concocted attempt to save her reputation with her friends and boyfriend. It was a classic blame-the-victim maneuver, delivered by a female defense attorney whose smugness and hostility made me want to get out of the jury box and slap her. At the very least, I wanted to deliver a guilty verdict to show her that This Would Not Be Tolerated.

There was only one problem. Remember what I said about the case boiling down to an assessment of the alleged victim’s credibility? Well, I had major problems there. Her testimony conflicted in major ways with just about every other witness’ account of events before and after the incident. Now, my study of history and of journalism has shown me that there are almost always inconsistencies in different accounts of events — heck, when my friend and I were mugged, we remembered different things and different parts of the event only a few hours later. But in this case, the inconsistencies were major, and concerned crucial elements of the alleged victim’s testimony, details that were so significant it’s hard to imagine how one might forget or confuse them. The only conclusion I could come to was that the witness was lying about certain things.

Now, the judge’s instructions to the jury are quite clear — a juror can believe all of a witness’ testimony, or part of it. It’s not required to assume that because a witness lied in one instance, he or she was always lying. And it was plausible to me that the alleged victim was telling the truth about the alleged crime and lying about other significant elements in a misguided attempt to make her testimony more believable; in fact, that’s what I considered the most likely explanation. But then there’s the other part of the judge’s instructions — the definition of ‘reasonable doubt.’ We throw this phrase around all the time — Lord knows I use it often in my logic and critical thinking classes — but I don’t know if I had ever heard the official definition. A ‘reasonable doubt’ is one that would cause a person to pause or hesitate before making an important decision. Well, judging by the tossing and turning I was going in bed thinking about this case (and let no one tell you that jury duty is a walk in the park; besides the effort required to listen to and retain testimony — since you can’t take notes or reread the transcripts — the sheer weight of the responsibility is draining beyond belief), how could I not say I had reason to pause or hesitate? Sure, I had concluded that it was most plausible to believe that the alleged victim was lying about some things but truthful about other things, but the idea that she was lying about the whole thing was plausible, if unlikely. Thing is, I wasn’t allowed to say that the defendant was probably guilty. The presumption of innocence means that it had to be all or nothing. And I fully support that standard, even if it means that sometimes juries will have to let a person they believe probably committed a crime go free.

However, for a small but significant minority of jurors, there was no doubt in their mind that the defendant was guilty. The scenarios that I found to be plausible enough to raise reasonable doubt weren’t at all convincing to them. And there was no convincing these people otherwise — they had the courage of their convictions, and I applaud them for that. The notion of some kind of compromise verdict that would let us all get back to our lives was raised, and quickly dismissed. Moments like that made it a trying but ultimately heartening experience. The only problem is that our deadlock meant that the jury deliberations took far longer than anyone expected — and it came time for me to fly to San Diego. The other jurors were escorted out of the courtroom while I was left alone with the judge, who thanked me for my effort and dismissed me from the panel. I was free, but I felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment and failure that I have not been able to shake. I so desperately wanted to finish what I started, to resolve the question before us one way or another. Instead, I was being told that life, and the deliberations, would go on without me. I’m trying, now, to retain the positives of the experience; my faith in the possibility of a citizen democracy is restored, and my belief in the importance of the Not News project is stronger than ever.

Most of What Follows Is True

Posted August 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

One of my graduate courses last spring was a seminar in what’s currently called “public history,” which pretty much covers any historically-grounded work that’s produced by and/or intended for an audience consisting of people outside the academic historical community. Museums, monuments, and commemorative memorabilia all fall into this category; so do many forms of historically-derived entertainment, from docudramas and documentary programs like Biography, Behind the Music, or Ken Burns’ documentary films to memoirs and biographies to films and programs that claim to be ‘based on a true story.’ It’s a very wide and varied field, and while the labeling of it as ‘public history’ is something of an attempt to maintain the perceived purity of the academic discipline, it’s also a recognition that these works are more accessible to the public than many of the texts and articles that attract the attention of ‘professional’ scholars. One of the challenging questions we grappled with throughout the term was how far one can go in trying to attract the public to a historical work while still maintaining the work’s integrity. This was very clear on the first night of the seminar, as we discussed what an ‘ideal’ public history project would look like, and whether any of the historically-inspired blockbuster motion pictures had a place in serious public history.

I was seriously torn on the issue. We’ve discussed the presence of cultural myths several times on the forums; I believe that these distorted views of our own history are one of the most serious problems we face in society, because they form the bedrock of many people’s resistance to the social changes needed to address our problems. (The myth of rugged individualism, for example, is one of the reasons why reforming our school funding systems is such a challenge.) Any form of popular entertainment that perpetuates these myths — such as the historical exhibits at the Disney theme parks described in Mickey Mouse History — has something to answer for, in my opinion. I think shows like Behind the Music and Biography can be dangerous in the way they transform history into entertainment by playing up certain emotional themes and restructuring a person’s life into a relatively brief narrative; the fact that many of these programs occur with the cooperation of their subjects is another cause for skepticism.

Furthermore, I am worried that many people will see that a film is based on true events and assume — consciously or unconsciously — that what they see on the screen is what “really happened.” I love Apollo 13, for example, but the filmmakers apparently chose to play up the tension between Bill Paxon’s and Kevin Bacon’s character in a way that did not really reflect what happened during the mission. Oskar Schindler’s breakdown at the end of Schindler’s List was also a Hollywood creation, and the writers chose to create composite characters for the sake of the storyline. Dramatically, I think the former worked much better than the latter. But both films are compromised as historical works. Read the remainder of this entry »

Can’t Get There From Here

Posted July 1, 2001 By Dave Thomer

Thirty-two years ago, on July 20, 1969, human beings set foot on the moon for the first time.

Today, we couldn’t go back if we wanted to.

More than anything else, that sums up the current state of spaceflight research in the United States. The US stopped building the Saturn rockets that sent the Apollo missions beyond the orbit of the Earth years ago, and never developed a successor. We cannot go to the moon. We cannot go to Mars. We cannot go any farther than the low-Earth orbit of International Space Station Alpha and the space shuttle travel. What is worse, we have no plans to go any farther, no idea of how to get there from here. NASA is still trying to decide what kind of orbital craft will succeed the space shuttle, despite the fact the current fleet of orbiters is much closer to the end of its life than the beginning. There are currently no plans to use Alpha to construct interplanetary craft. There is no vision for the future, and thus no effort to make that vision real. Read the remainder of this entry »