“Give Me the Secret of Talking Robots”: The First Translation of a French Superhero Comic

Editor’s Note: This post was created in consultation with Chris Gavaler. Chris’ introduction to Atomas is here.

[Note from Alex Buchet: All comments in italics below are from me. Click on images to enlarge them.]

Mon Journal No. 70, episode 1:

Atomas, Mon Journal 70

 

Panel 1

Caption:

The year 1999: Professor Sinclair, father of Bella, has invented an electro-magnet able to attract the stars. Dr Borg, his associate, is ready to betray him.

Sinclair: Our electronic telescope is perfected.

Bella: Father, you’re the world’s greatest magician!

Borg: What a prodigious vision of Saturn!

 

Panel 2

Borg: Enough playacting! Hands up! I’m the one who’ll exploit the mineral wealth of the moon! I shall be the master of the world! Chang!… Put the cuffs on him!

Sinclair: We are betrayed, Bella!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Bella Sinclair is shut up in an isolation cage.

 

Borg: We’ll need the Professor. Keep an eye on him!

Chang: OK chief! Nucleopolis has just sent a message! Our men are masters of the American fortress!

 

Panel 4

Chang: The teams are hard at work! Everything’ll go right!

Borg: And now, to work, Chang! The cosmic electro-magnet will attract the Moon. It’ll splash down in the Pacific Ocean!

 

Panel 5 (insert)

Caption:

The Moon heads for the Earth in a horrific magnetic storm

 

Panel 6

Ship: S.O.S We are in hazard!

 

Panel 7

Loudspeaker: The State Police communicates: The population is ordered to observe the utmost calm. Our scientists…

 

Panel 8 (insert)

Astronomer: Hello! The Mont Ventoux Observatory here. The moon is hurtling towards the Earth at a speed of 100 000 kilometers per hour!

 

Panel 9:

Atomas: It’s time for me to intervene!

Caption:

On the 25th floor of the Opera Building, someone is watching the sky! Atomas…

[This seems to bring on the crazy like Fletcher Hanks. Note that the background seems to be American — since Jules Verne, America was always the home of futurism for the French. PS Opera Building is in English in the final caption.That said, Mont Ventoux is a real French observatory.]

Mon Journal No. 71, episode 2:

Atomas, Mon Journal 71

Panel 1

Caption :

Installed at the cosmic machine, Borg seems master of the situation.

Borg: The Star Building has just collapsed! Too bad! The end justifies the means!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

Thanks to his magnetic detector, Atomas manages to get right to Profesor Sinclair’s laboratory

Atomas: It’s here!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Hanging from an antenna, the atomic hero advances through empty space

Atomas: I’ve been spotted!

Borg: Curses! It’s Atomas!

 

Panel 4

Borg: Hello Nucleapolis! Continue the experiment with the fortress’s electro-magnet…I’m going to blow up Sinclair’s laboratory!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

From a terrace at the African base, the mutineers gaze on a grand spectacle

Mutineer: When the Moon lands in the ocean, I believe it’ll make waves!

Accomplice:We’re prepared for the tidal wave…

 

Panel 6

Mutineer: To your posts!

Mutineer 2: Dan!..Kid!…Battle stations, all. Things are going wrong in the city! Borg’s transferring controls to us!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

Borg, who’s just caused a short-circuit in the uranium piles, beats a hasty retreat.

Borg: Load the Professor into the autogiro, he’ll be our hostage. His daughter will blow up with the laboratory!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Surrounded by radioactive effluvia, Atomas tries to avert the disaster.

Atomas: It’s no use, the disintegration is starting!

 

Panel 9

Bella: Help! Help! Atomas!

[The name Atomas is certainly a riff on the far more famous Fantomas.” –as” isn’t a normal French suffix; but “as” translates as ace, both the card and in the sense of a supremely competent person. So we’re reading about Atom Ace, name inspired by Phantom Ace!]

Mon Journal No. 72, episode 3:

Atomas, Mon Journal 72

Panel 1

Caption :

With a blow from his shoulder, Atomas has broken through the isolation cage

Atomas: Quick! Everything’s going to blow up!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

To more speedily avoid danger, the two young people dive into the park’s basin

 

Panel 3

Bella: Ah! My God!

Atomas: Saved!

 

Panel 4

Bella: They took my father to Nucleapolis, in East Africa. This ‘Supersonic Meteor’ will

do for us. Let’s board, you can fill me in!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

In the Pacific Ocean, the Moon suddenly splashes down, crushing the capes and islands, throwing terrestrial geography into chaos…grinding…drowning…destroying…

 

Panel 6

Caption:

The sea overwhelms the African jungle, and the panic-stricken animals flee.

 

Panel 7

Bella: Splash down, it’s here!

Atomas: The land’s a huge swamp. Too bad, I’ll risk it!

Caption:

After a record-breaking trip, Atomas and Bella are flying over Tanganyika.

 

Panel 8

Bella: Let’s try to reach the atomic fortress!

Atomas: Careful! The ocean’s overflowing the continent..let’s not get swept away!

Caption:

The vehicle is stuck in the mud, but the passengers are uninjured.

 

Panel 9

Atomas: Bella!

Bella: I’m keeping afloat!

Caption:

In the furious waves, the young people swim amidst the half-sunken trees…

[The insanity just keeps ramping up! Note the mention of Tanganyika, which in 1947 was still a colony and hadn’t yet merged with Zanzibar to form the new state of Tanzania.]

Mon Journal No. 73, episode 4:

Atomas, Mon Journal 73

Panel 1

Caption :

Atomas and Bella find footing in a swamp.

Bella: We’re saved for the moment!

Atomas: The jungle animals aren’t any better off than we!

 

Panel 2

Bella: I’m afraid! The swamp is infested with reptiles! And those panthers in the trees!

Atomas: Fear nothing, we’re getting to solid ground!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

In a lagoon of clear water

Atomas: This mud sticks like putty!

Bella: We’re a little cleaner, but my clothes are in rags!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

On an islet spared by the tidal wave all the animals in creation seem to have rendez-voused…

Atomas: All these animals seem paralyzed by fear …forward to Nucleapolis!

Bella: Don’t stray away from me!

 

Panel 5

Bella: What a nightmare!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

In Nucleapolis Borg directs operations

Borg: From the underground base, 30 Flying Wings will take off for the Moon to set up hangars. Transport the cosmic magnets, too. It’s from there that we shall govern Earth.

 

Panel 7

Borg: Dan, watch over the work. I’m going in the vanguard.

Dan: Everything will be set up by tomorrow!

Caption:

In a gigantic glider, the machine for attracting the stars is hauled aboard.

 

Panel 8

Borg: And now, it’s between you and me, Atomas!

Caption:

Borg dons stratospheric armor

 

Panel 9

Atomas: Nothing doing, the climb is impossible!

Bella: Nothing is impossible for Atomas!

Caption:

After a hard trek, Atomas and Bella arrive before the ramparts of the fortress.

[Pity, Bella reverts from a capable and brave adventurer to the standard whiny, shrinking female – one who typically complains about her wardrobe and showers the man with adoring flattery.]

Mon Journal No. 74, episode 5:

Atomas, Mon Journal 74

Panel 1

Caption :

On the Moon an army of jet-propelled armored men set up pre-fabricated hangars

Foreman: Assemble the segments carefully! Mind the welds!

 

Panel 2

Dan: Here are your installations assembled in record time!

Borg: Oof! This armor’s become intolerable! Here we can breathe!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

At the bottom of the Pacific, Borg’s laborers exploit the uranium at a depth of 2000 meters

 

Panel 4

Near Nucleapolis, by an ocean once more tranquil, Atomas and Bella are intrigued as they watch bizarre goings-on.

Bella: It looks like a convoy of prisoners. There are women among them!

Atomas: They’re going to enter the fortress. I have an idea!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

To one side, a guard was watching the disembarkation.

 

Panel 6

Caption:

In Nucleapolis, strange doctors prepare their equipment

Doc 1: Terrific, this new invention of Borg’s. We needed manpower!

Doc 2: Yes! We take a man and make him a robot!

 

Panel 7

Atomas: Shh! We’re in!

Caption:

Disguised in the clothes of his victim, Atomas leads Bella and a group of prisoners into the fortress.

 

Panel 8

Doc 1: Voltage 10…Cut!

Doc 2: Zero current!

Caption:

Borg’s acolytes have finished a first experiment.

 

Panel 9

Doc 1: That’s fine! Detach them! Prepare a second shift!

Caption:

Emptied of their intelligence, the prisoners are now docile, reactionless robots.

[I like how Borg whines about how stuffy his suit is. You don’t hear Iron Man complain, do you? Meanwhile, Bella is treated like an idiot who has to be shushed in the enemy’s presence, as though she’d start blurting out her hero’s secret plans at any moment.]

Mon Journal No. 75, episode 6:

Atomas, Mon Journal 75

Panel 1

Caption :

Before Atomas, men and women pass by, walking in an automatic way…

Atomas: How bizarre…they look like sleepwalkers.

Guard: Group 3, come in!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

Guard 1: Hop to it, come on!

Guard 2: And you too!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

After getting rid of his disguise, Atomas decides to enter the laboratory

Atomas: I’ve got to watch these fellows, Bella might need me!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

In the laboratory, the prisoners will be forced to undergo the horrible electric treatment

Doc: They’re really calm, Captain!

Captain: We drugged them on board before disembarking!

 

Panel 5

Doc 1: Tighten the electrodes!

Doc 2: This one’s not going along easily!

Caption:

On an insulated platform, a horrified Bella undergoes the preparation.

 

Panel 6

Caption:

Despite her desperate resistance, Bella is at the mercy of the scientists in Borg’s pay.

Doc: Everything’s ready. Can I lower the bell-jars?

Bella: What are you going to do, you wretch?

 

Panel 7

Atomas: In a minute it’ll be too late. What to do?

Caption:

Behind a glass wall, Atomas follows the horrible preparations.

 

Panel 8

Bella: Ah! Ah! Oh!

Doc: Let’s start out slowly…voltage 250!

 

Panel 9

Bella: Atomas! Atomas!

Caption: Through the gass bell-jar, the deformed face of Bella seems drawn from a nightmare.

[ I agree with that last caption. A pretty powerful image!]

Mon Journal No. 76, episode 7:

Atomas, Mon Journal 76

Panel 1

Caption:

With a prodigious effort, Atomas tears a heavy dynamo from its base and hurls it against the wall of glass that separates him from the laboratory!

Panel 2

Bella: Quick! Quick!

Doc: Atomas!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

The atomic hero with his steely grip breaks the electrodes binding Bella

Doc 1: He’s going to electrify himself!

Doc 2: Overpower him!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

Then with no care for the formidable current he grasps with full handfuls the high-voltage cables.

 

Panel 5

Caption:

Lethal discharges force the accomplices of Borg to beat a retreat.

Atomas: Your turn, now!

Doc: It’s the Devil!

 

Panel 6

Atomas: Are you hurt, Bella?

Bella: No, you got here in time…but we must free these unfortunates too!

 

Panel 7

Freed captive: Let’s take advantage of this quiet moment to leave this Hell!

Atomas:No! I’m with you, we’ll fight together!

 

Panel 8

Henchman: Nucleapolis here…Atomas is in the fortress…Come quickly, he’s making the garrison rise up against us!

Caption:

In the radio room, Borg’s agents communicate with him.

 

Panel 9

Borg: Atomas! Him again! All right, I accept the brawl!

Caption:

Borg, in the lunar stratospheric station, has received the message.

[Seem to be some swipes from Burne Hogarth’s Tarzan here. Actually, I’ll bet the major influences on Pellos’ style are the American strips Flash Gordon—“Guy L’Eclair” in French—and Brick Bradford – “Luc Bradefer”.]

Mon Journal No. 77, episode 8:

Atomas, Mon Journal 77

Panel 1

Caption:

Atomas harangues the prisoners he has just freed.

Atomas: Borg tried to enslave you. All of you join me and we’ll be masters of the fortress!

Bella: Most of them don’t understand you but I’m sure they’ll obey your orders!

Ex-captive: Alert! The enemy’s attacking!

 

Panel 2

Atomas: Let them approach, I’ll be their host! Take cover behind the insulators!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Manning a cosmic ray machine, Atomas bombards the assaillants with terrible discharges!

Atomas: They’ll get the idea real soon!

 

Panel 4

Ex-captive: Victory! They’re fleeing!

Atomas: Come on…come on, Bella!

Bella: Think of my father, he must be freed!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

Down a vast spiral staircase, Atomas and Bella descend towards the underground parts of the fortress.

Bella: He’s sure to be imprisoned in the below-ground levels!

Atomas: Let’s go down, we’ll find out!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

In one passage, iridescent bubbles float like balloons.

Atomas: Don’t go near them! It’s certainly a trap!

Bella: I wonder what that could be?

 

Panel 7

Bella: The poor man!

Atomas: It’s a satanic invention of Borg’s. The displacement is considerable!

 

Panel 8

Atomas: I’m going to rid the area of these explosive bubbles! Get down flat!

 

Panel 9

Bella: Father! Father! They’re dragging him into the water!

Atomas: I’m going to his rescue!

Caption:

The underground passage ends in an immense cavern in the middle of which is a lagoon

[Whew, say what you like about old-timey adventure comics – boy, did they ever have pace! By the way, please don’t assume the creaky English shows incompetence on my part; I’m trying to replicate the weirdness of the original French. I mean, “The displacement is considerable”?]

Mon Journal No. 78, episode 9:

Atomas, Mon Journal 78

Panel 1

Caption:

Bravely, Atomas dives from the top of the cliff at Professor Sinclair’s kidnappers.

Bella: Father! Atomas!

 

Panel 2

Bella: One minute…two minutes…Atomas isn’t coming up!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Twenty meters underwater, Atomas wages a Dantesque battle against Borg’s divers.

 

Panel 4

Borg: Let them keep him away for a few more seconds and I’ll be safe in the submarine!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

In the shelter of the submersible, Borg laughs with sneering satisfaction.

Borg: Too late, fellow, you haven’t won the game yet!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

Behind Atomas a diver, survivor of the battle looms up with a heavy iron bar in his hands.

 

Panel 7

Caption:

Though wounded, the atomic hero still has the strength to cast down his adversary with his Herculean arms…

Diver: Rrra!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

…then, out of breath, he rises towards fresh air.

 

Panel 9

Bella: Atomas?… Are you hurt?…I thought you’d never come back!

Atomas: Your father is alive…but I’m at the end of my strength!

Mon Journal No. 79, episode 10:

Atomas, Mon Journal 79

Panel 1

Caption:

Moments after the dramatic dive

Atomas: It’s nothing, Borg will pay for it a hundredfold!

Bella: Let’s go back to the terraces. Our men are mounting guard at the strategic points!

 

Panel 2

Atomas:The Professor is still a prisoner but Nucleapolis is in our hands. Nothing is lost!

Bella: Listen…there’s fighting up there!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Assailed by stratospheric-armored men the garrison fights on the ramparts with the weapons taken from the enemy.

Atomas: Hold on, I’m coming!

Ex-captive: Atomas! Here’s Atomas! Courage!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

In one group of adversaries Atomas fights like a lion.

 

Panel 5

Ex-captive: Look! The young girl! They’re dragging her away!

Atomas: Bella!

 

Panel 6

Atomas: Too bad…I’ll risk it! We’ll see!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

Atomas dives into the void. A hundred feet lower: the sea…and Bella’s kidnapper.

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Seized in mid-air, the armored man feels a terrible vise crush his carapace of rubber

Atomas: Prepare for a head-first dive, Bella!

Bella: I’ll do what I can!

Bad guy: Ahrr!

 

Panel 9

Caption:

The young girl’s kidnapper, his limbs broken, tumbles through the void. Atomas and Bella try to restore their balance…to arrow into the water>

Atomas: What a dive!

[Artist Pellos’s skill at depicting human bodies in action probably is largely due to his main career—as a sports cartoonist for many decades.]

Mon Journal No. 80, episode 11:

Atomas, Mon Journal 80

Panel 1

Ex-captive: Everything’s fine! They’re coming up!

Ex-captive 2: What a dive!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

A few moments later…

Atomas: And now, keep your eyes peeled! Borg doesn’t think he’s beaten!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

On the Moon, Borg has had a colossal city built.

Insert panel:

Borg: We still have the electro-magnets, that’s the main thing! From here, we’ll govern the Earth!

 

Panel 4

Borg: First, a reign of terror! Men will die…the survivors will obey!

Dan: These atomic bombshells will sort things out!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

In the capitals of Europe, the fearful crowds await their last moment.

Runner: We’ll all die!

Runner 2: To the shelters! To the shelters!

 

Panel 6

Borg: This is Selenos World Radio! The Master of the World declares his sovereignty over all nations!

Techie: Master, the broadcast is scrambled…this is coming from Nucleapolis!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

At the citadel…

Soldier: Borg’s message was inaudible…it’s our turn to take action!

Atomas: I’m expecting reinforcements from the United Nations!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

In the operating rooms, specialists have Borg’s victims recover their intelligence.

Doctor: O.K.! The experiment’s a success!

 

Panel 9

Caption:

Meanwhile, from all points of the globe, aerial squadrons are converging on Nucleapolis.

Mon Journal No. 81, episode 12:

Atomas, Mon Journal 81

Panel 1

Atomas: Destination: Selenos! Altitude: 800 kilometers1

Bella: I’m going with you! I want to deliver my father!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

A few hours later, coming under terrible fire, the planes burst into flame. The rocket carrying Atomas and Bella is hit.

 

Panel 3

Caption:

The two youths clad in their jet-powered suits set foot on a sinister valley on the Moon’s surface.

Atomas: Follow me, we must get to Selenos!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

Atomas and Bella behold the giant city under its Plexiglas dome.

Atomas: Borg’s capital!

Bella: How can we get into a glass fortress?

 

Panel 5

Caption:

Yet Atomas has managed to enter the place through an airlock.

Atomas: Here we are, anyway!

Bella: I’m not unhappy at getting out of this suit!

 

Panel 6

Atomas: Borg’s done it up right. You’d think we were in the tropics!

Bella: And now, let’s try our luck!

 

Panel 7

Atomas: What the devil of a machine is being built?

Bella: Father told me one day: Borg has found the mortal fluid. Would that be it?

 

Panel 8

Bella: See, the rings come from this crater.

Atomas: What sinister work has the bandit undertaken? All is not lost!

 

Panel 9

Atomas: Elevators! They’ve got to lead somewhere!

Bella: Let’s go…nobody’s paying attention to us!

Caption:

Next issue: The Mortal Fluid

[I love how they set up, in panel 4, how challenging and dangerous it’ll be to enter the citadel – and then, in panel 5, ehh friggit, they just stroll in. Note that Bella joins Borg in complaining about the suit. They really should get an ergonomist to check it out.]

Mon Journal No. 82, episode 13:

Atomas, Mon Journal 82

Panel 1

Caption :

For an hour, the elevator in which Atomas and Bella are descends into the depths of the ocean

Atomas: Here’s the sea-bottom!

Bella: What a monstrous factory!

 

Panel 2

Caption: At 9000 meters beneath the Pacific, in a submerged diving-bell, Borg’s workers extract uranium ore. The vein is incredibly rich.

 

Panel 3

Caption:

Far above, at some dozens of meters above sea-level, in a robot factory.

Dan: All he lacks is the power of speech!

Borg: Perfect, this is the humanity I intend for the Earth!

.

Panel 4

Borg: Activate production…our invasion plan has advanced!

Dan: Professor Sinclair refuses to help us!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

In the prison-laboratory of Bella’s father.

Borg: Your stubbornness will cost you dearly, Professor! Give me the secret of talking robots…or else…

Sinclair: It’s no use insisting, Borg, you’re a scoundrel!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

Meanwhile, at different points of the globe, lethal fluidic rings fall.

Runner: It’s the price of progress!

Runner 2: It’s extermination!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

In the factory at the bottom of the sea, Atomas and Bella follow a path.

Atomas: That robot’s transporting uranium!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Giant locks supply energy to the factory.

Bella: They’re tapping considerable forces!

Atomas: Yes, I understand, it’s from there that the fluidic energy flows out!

 

Panel 9

Caption:

In the infernal lair

Atomas: Bella! We have to blow up this installation!

[Yet again, our heroes merely stroll into this top-security setup, taking in the sights like a tourist couple… Note the splendidly phlegmatic attitude of the chap in panel 6. “It’s the price of progress!” Shrugging through the apocalypse…typically French.]

Mon Journal No. 83, episode 14:

Atomas, Mon Journal 83

Panel 1

Caption:

Atomas and Bella have climbed up to the command valve.

Atomas: One more bit of effort and we’re there!

Bella: What a climb!

 

Panel 2

Atomas: Careful! I’m shutting off the escape valve!

Bella: Oh my God!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

The mortal fluid, turned back from the gigantic tube, flows into the factory.

Burning guy: Ahh!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

Atomas and Bella have managed to reach a mechanical ramp that links to the upper factory.

Atomas: We’re getting near the sea surface!

Bella: This is the last level!

 

Panel 5

Caption:

They arrive at that factory where they find a mysterious retreat.

Bella: I’m sure that my father is imprisoned here!

Atomas: Impossible to get any closer. The robots are mounting guard and the building is flush against the sea!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

Borg is told of the catastrophe striking the factory on the sea bottom.

Video guy: The machines are unusable…the robots too. As for most of the men…

Borg: Curses! All this is signed Atomas!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

An army of robots sets out in search of the hero Atomas.

Borg: Chang! Lead them! Dead or alive, bring me Atomas!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Meanwhile, Atomas and Bella, clad in light diving suits, explore the outer ramparts of the submarine city.

 

Panel 9

Bella: There…there…my father!

Atomas: Professor!

[So evil henchman Chang returns in panel 7, and in the worst tradition of yellow peril racism is colored in a spectacular lemon hue. Apart from this dubious instance, however, I salute this strip for consistently excellent coloring, vibrant and expressive. Some color effects are so delicately done, like the iridescence on the bubble bombs in chapter 8, that I suspect artist Pellos is responsible.]

Mon Journal No. 84, episode 15:

Atomas, Mon Journal 84

Panel 1

Caption:

The professor communicates with Atomas.

Sign: Enter through the immersion column

 

Panel 2

Atomas: It must be this!

Bella: Yes, this lever controls the trapdoor!

 

Panel 3

Caption:

With a torrent of water, Atomas and Bella are thrust into the prison.

Atomas: Are you injured?

Bella: No!

 

Panel 4

Professor: My dear child!

Bella: Father!

 

Panel 5

Atomas: When the pressures have equalized we’ll leave via the immersion column!

Professor: I’ve prepared this plan, take it! Borg must, at no price, ever possess it!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

But Borg, on a telescopic screen, follows these goings-on.

Borg: They’re with the professor. Close the exit trapdoor. I’m sending a Goliath Robot against Atomas!

Flunkie: O.K.!

 

Panel 7

Flunkie: It’s supercharged!

Flunkie’s pal:If Atomas messes with it he’ll be crushed like a fly!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Heavy, colossal, terrible, the Goliath Robot goes to face its enemy.

 

Panel 9

Caption:

In the prison

Professor: The water’s no longer entering and the door’s opened!

Bella: All is lost!

Atomas: I feel there’s going to be a brawl!

Mon Journal No. 85, episode 16:

Atomas, Mon Journal 85

Panel 1

Caption:

Atomas, at the threshold of the laboratory’s door, sees the steel monster.

Atomas: This time, Borg’s tipped the scales of luck!

Bella: What a horrible monster!

 

Panel 2

Caption:

The atomic hero steps forth and the robot lowers its fearsome fist. Atomas, muscles clenched, is ready to strike back.

 

Panel 3

Caption:

The battle is on. But the metal giant remains insensible to the formidable blows rained on it.

Atomas: Hhahn!

 

Panel 4

Caption:

Atomas has just thrown a heavy metal part against the robot that teeters, unbalanced…

 

Panel 5

Caption:

The monster has fallen. But its immense arm was able to grab Bella who was in its reach.

Bella: Atomas!

 

Panel 6

Caption:

Borg, leaning toward his periscopic screen, commands the robot via shortwave.

Borg: Such a lovely girl! It’d be a shame to damage her. She’ll make a magnificent hostage!

 

Panel 7

Caption:

Meanwhile Atomas, his strength grown tenfold by anger, breaks the steel fingers imprisoning Bella, and the injured robot bellows terrifyingly…

Robot: RUUGGH!

 

Panel 8

Caption:

Bella is free, but it’s Atomas’ turn to be caught in the steel vise of the infernal machine that has managed to get up.

Bella: Hold on one more minute!

 

Panel 9

Caption:

Bella, armed with a steel rod, beats relentlessly on the robot’s radar.

 

And so unfortunately the story ends, although it’s refreshing to see Bella stop screaming and start kicking robot ass! If my comments often were sarcastic, please don’t think my attitude towards this strip was one of indulgence in camp. With all its zaniness, ‘’Atomas” is a crackerjack thriller with the pace of a jet plane, a delight for every boy and girl, every week…while it lasted.

Hats off to artist Pellos! His work here has nothing to envy that of his 1947 fellow superhero artists across the Atlantic. Pellos had a remarkable career (from 1916 to 1981) and found success in genres ranging from sports cartooning to humor strips to science fiction – his 1938 strip Futuropolis is deemed the first French s.f. comic. Bravo, Monsieur Pellos!

–Alex Buchet

 

(Note from Chris: And as a special bonus, here’s the worst selfie ever taken on my wife’s cellphone:

chrisandalex

[That’s Chris on the left and me on the right — Alex]

Atomas: An Introduction

Ed note: This post was put together with the help and collaboration of Alex Buchet.

more angouleme 084

I met fellow superhero scholar Alex Buchet for the first time in Paris during a World Cup game televised in an Irish pub before my wife’s poetry reading in the building’s medieval cellar. After bemoaning the sorry state of Hollywood superheroes, Alex and I agreed we should collaborate on a project. I was headed to Angouleme, France’s center for comic book research, where I would be delicately flipping sixty-five-year-old newspaper sheets printed with the still-bold colors of one of France’s first superheroes, Atomas.

Mon Journal (“My Journal”) ran its first weekly issue on August 8, 1946. It’s front and back cover adventure strips were in color, with four of the six, inner pages in black and white, a standard format among French, newspaper-style, comic strip periodicals of the time. Beginning with No. 21 on January 23, 1947, reprints of  the American “Captain Marvel Junior” appeared on the cover. Mon Journal also translated an American magician strip, retitled “Ibis L’invincible,” for one of its two interior color pages. “Captain Marvel Junior” continued on the cover until December 18, 1947, after which the series moved to its own inside, black and white page.

No. 68 also announced a forthcoming feature: “Soon Atomas the Master of the Atom.”

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No. 70 featured Atomas in its revised header and “Charlie Chan” as its new front feature:

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“Atomas” replaced “Hopalong Cassidy” on the back cover. Each full-page episode included the credits: “par Pellos ed R. Charroux,” but the strip’s origins are more complex. According to coolfrenchcomics.com, writer Robert Charroux created the character for artist Auguste Liquois, who was drawing a similar superhero space opera “Salvator” for the weekly Tarzan periodical in 1947:

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Liquois drew Charroux’s first “Atomas” page:

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The page may have appeared in Mon Journal No. 69, but the issue is missing from the Angouleme collection. If so, it would have appeared in one of the four black and white, interior pages.  When Pellos (AKA Rene Pellarin) took over the strip, he used the same opening script for Mon Journal No. 70:

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The two versions highlight a range of differences in artistic approach, including Pellos’ asymmetrical panel layout and Liquois’ comparatively realistic figural style. I prefer Pellos, though his Atomas may also owe a debt to Bill Everett’s scantily-dressed and A-chested Amazing-Man:

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Centaur Publications ran Amazing-Man from September 1939 to February 1942, five years before Pellos started illustrating Chirroux’s script. The series had also appeared in France, though Amazing-Man was renamed “Surhomme” or Superman:

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The Pellos version of Atomas continued until Mon Journal No. 85. The Angouleme collection does not include No. 86 (or any subsequent issues), but according to coolfrenchcomics.com, the final issue was drawn by an uncredited artist who produced it in the style of Pellos, “d’apres Pellos.” Mon Journal then replaced the series with “Zorro.”

I was studying “Atomas” to test the claim that the violence of American superhero comics influenced their French counterparts. In short, Atomas is less violent than his immediate Mon Journal predecessor, Captain Marvel Junior. Though he often wrestles and flips his opponents, Atomas throws only one punch in his sixteen pages:

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That maniacal smile is a bit troubling though, and unlike Captain Marvel Junior and the majority of American superheroes of the late 40s, Atomas uses deadly force, which Pellos depicts overtly:

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Pellos adds a category of representation I’d overlooked in my initial lexicon of violence, merging an impact burst with a panel frame:

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Chirroux also scripts a surprising range of wide-scale death, from the tidal wave destruction of the moon crashing into the ocean to a heavily populated city exploding, images uncommon in American comics. Pellos’ exploding city holds even greater meaning less than three years after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

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In contrast, when Wayne Boring depicted the destruction of a Kryptonian city in 1944, he included no figures in the foreground, reducing the human impact of the violence. France’s comics tabloid L’Astucieux reprinted Wayne’s art in May 1947, less than a year before “Atomas” premiered:

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The post-war context highlights one other significant difference between Pellos and Liquois. I’ll let Jean-Pierre Mercier, conseiller scientifique at Angouleme’s le Musée de la Bande Dessinée (comic book museum), explain:

“Why was [Liquois] so abruptly discharged? Maybe because publishers had discovered that, during WWII, he published in Le Téméraire, a collaborationist, anti-English, anti-Russia, anti-American and  very anti-Semitic weekly magazine for kids. Even worse, Liquois published a very harsh story on the French Resistance in a satirical magazine named “Le Mérinos”, and it caused him a lot of trouble after the war. This is precisely what happened to him at “Vaillant”. He got fired right after the publishers discovered the Merinos story. Is it possible that he got the same reaction at Mon Journal (Mme Ratier, the woman publisher of Mon Journal was part of the Resistance during the war). And Liquois’ name disappears in Vaillant summaries in 1947… We know Mon Journal stopped because the publishing company had money problems, and that’s the main reason why they merged the two titles in only one, and therefore had to stop several series on a very short period of time, including Atomas.”

There is currently little or no scholarship in “Atomas” because the series has never been collected or translated. Until now. Alex Buchet’s English version is now online.

Tom Spurgeon Subtweeted Me and All I Got Was This Lousy Long Essay

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I’m a freelance writer who occasionally writes about comics. I’m sort of an outsider to comics criticism and reporting; I came to it two years ago when I wrote a long piece on truth in autobiographical comics for The Awl.

Recently , Pacific Standard ran an interview I did with Hillary Chute, a comics scholar. On Twitter, I couldn’t help but notice when Tom Spurgeon mentioned it:

i admire the work and writing of Hillary Chute, but Lucy Shelton Caswell was writing a/b comics in an academic milieu before Chute was born

writers, please, there’s no reason to shape the past to serve a distillation that reads well in a modern article; i can do better, too

I’d like to explain how I interpreted his words about my work, pausing first to acknowledge the obvious fact that there’s something distasteful about parsing someone’s subtweets (at least in public). It feels undignified. I’m doing it anyway because it’s a near-perfect case study in how comics criticism is systemically closed to women.

Here’s a gloss of what Spurgeon’s subtweets said to me:

  • Why did I write about THIS woman in an academic milieu? I should have written about THAT one…even though she retired like five years ago.
  • Tom Spurgeon knows who the real foremost comics scholar is. His ruling on the matter is final and implicitly correct. It is impossible for another writer to have a valid, but different, opinion.
  • Further, he feels the onus upon him to dispense writing advice to his brethren. “Writers, please…” Everyone gather round so Tom can tell you how to be.
  • But he disguises his presumption with faux humility: he “can do better, too.” Better, in this case, meaning two pompous subtweets.
  • He questions my journalistic integrity, saying I “shape the past” to serve an agenda. A nasty little thing to say about a professional writer, even in a subtweet.
  • That agenda, according to Spurgeon, was “to serve a distillation that reads well in a modern article.” Note the negative value judgment here on distillation, reads well, and modern. Are those things bad?

In summary, he suggested there is only one female comics scholar(-ish person) worth writing about, questioned my integrity, and used my work as an example of what comics critics must never do. And he got to do ALL OF THAT without ever saying my name or directly referencing the piece. I mean, why would he? To him, it wasn’t even real for the simple reason that he disagreed with it.

All critics should try to seek out opinions that are different than their own, but with vaunted experts like Spurgeon, the stakes are even higher. As one of the foremost figures in comics writing, he has a professional responsibility to think twice before trashing new perspectives and alternative approaches to his field. He seems like a vocal advocate for diversity, but how does he expect his insular world to open up if he isn’t willing to entertain the possibility that someone who doesn’t share his view isn’t just a hack?

I’m lucky to be old enough and confident enough in my talent that Tom Spurgeon’s opinion doesn’t impact my sense of self-worth. But I suspect his lack of regard might have been deeply discouraging to a younger woman, especially one who hoped to seriously pursue writing about comics. When I think about that, and about how he broadcast his ridiculous proclamations on what a critic should be to his 14k followers—who, again, give his opinion on these matters special weight—I feel mad as hell and perversely amused. I have read the same tone in other women’s comments when they write about sexism in comics.

Which brings me to another tweet of Spurgeon’s I saw earlier in the week.

dear professional friends that happen to be women — please stop writing me and start posting

He wasn’t talking to me, of course, and I know he meant well, but boy, did that stick in my craw. This sort of “encouragement” has seemed to me a common refrain from male critics as the conversation about The Comic Journal’s woman problem has revived itself over the last few weeks. Stop complaining and start writing. Be the change you want to see! This sentiment is, in itself, deeply shitty because it suggests that women themselves are the root of the problem (for not writing enough) and they themselves should fix it (by just writing more). Quit whining and get to work! It’s a line of thinking that conveniently ignores the environment that prevents so many women from writing comics criticism for outlets like TCJ in the first place.

I strongly believe that Spurgeon and Dan Nadel and Tim Hodler at TCJ (and many other guys) really would love to see more criticism from women writers. But the time has come to shift the focus from listening to what people SAY to analyzing what they DO.

It is perhaps worth noting that my Chute piece criticized The Comics Journal for having a homepage where every single piece was authored by a man. This is nothing that people in the comics community don’t already know. I received a (friendly, complimentary) message from TCJ explaining that one of the interviews on their homepage was actually written by a woman. When I pointed out that it hadn’t been there at the time I was writing, they said “No worries.” I had not apologized.

What kind of mindset does it take to read “yeah, but your site was all male critics literally four days ago” (to paraphrase) and interpret it as an apology? Were they proud of that one piece written by a woman, I wonder? Why mention it at all if they had, as they hastened to add, taken my larger point seriously? (They also said they were working on it. How? Rethinking their commenting policy seem like a step in the right direction, but what else is in the works?) Dan and Tim strike me as likeable, smart, thoughtful people, but sexism is so endemic to the culture of comics criticism that good men often miss the point, even when you plainly lay it out for them, as Heidi MacDonald and Nicole Rudick (at Tom Spurgeon’s site) and many others have before me.

Why do women favor platforms that aren’t dedicated organs of comics criticism? Because those are the places they feel welcome. If TCJ wants more women to start writing for them, they need to apologize for their shameful lack of diversity on their Twitter and their blog and anywhere else where there’s the (admittedly off) chance that someone outside their circle of middle-aged male insiders might hear them. They should create a page on their website that outlines what they’re looking for in a pitch instead of burying the submissions email in a single line in their FAQs. The new submissions page, too, should include a prominent pledge to diversity. They should recruit graduate students or women that have been writing for free at other sites and offer those people choice reviews instead of letting them get claimed by the same five guys who always do them. (I don’t know the exact demographics of TCJ’s regular contributors, but I suspect they’d do well to keep an eye out for gay people and people of color, too.) Offer some of these new voices regular columns. Be proactive! I don’t even think it’d be that hard!

But to return to Spurgeon: subtweeting makes having a critical dialogue near impossible. I would have just replied or sent an email if I hadn’t felt uninvited to do so, but alas here we are. (Even now, some dude who’s reading this thinks I’m a self-obsessed bitch.) Given the closed-off milieu in which he works, if Spurgeon wishes to denigrate a woman’s piece in a public forum, I encourage him to do so in a more direct fashion. But I suggest he come correct instead of offering up his conflicting opinion as though its truth is self-evident like some Grand Poobah of Comics. Deep expertise has its advantages, but so do fresh eyes.

This is a story about my personal experience, but it isn’t really about me. I doubt anyone connected Spurgeon’s subtweets to me, and even if they did, no one cares—me least of all. But being aware of the conversation about women and comics criticism that’s ongoing, it was sort of fascinating to receive a critique in which I myself had been so thoroughly erased. My anger comes not from a place of sour grapes, but of imagining how that might feel to a woman who aspires to someday sit at the lunch table with Spurgeon and Gary Groth or smaller dragons like Sean T. Collins and Rob Clough. And by the way, as the community wonders how to encourage women writers, they’d do well to look to Clough, who has been, in my limited experience, a really kind and generous mentor. Please make him your king.

While I do not aspire to expertise, it is my fervent hope that some other woman will. (The dying relevance of TCJ is often overstated; I think it will persist in history in a way that the disparate pieces that people like me write for other markets simply cannot.) I’m sorry to say that I find the prospect very unlikely. Why would someone put herself through it? People in that world behave badly and they don’t even know it, and those are the good guys.

The world—in comics and around it—is changing, but then it always has been. I think life must be hard for men who appoint themselves the docents of something that never existed. I wish Spurgeon the best.
_____

Editor’s Note: Tom Spurgeon replies in comments below.

Tim Hodler of TCJ also replies in comments.

The Helen Reddy of Rap

Nicki Minaj is gearing up for a new album; thought I’d reprint my review of her last one from the Chicago Reader.
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“I’m the best bitch,” Nicki Minaj declares on “I’m the Best,” the opening track of her debut album, Pink Friday. It’s not the first time she’s bragged about her bitchiness—the difference here is that she doesn’t seem to mean it. A year and a half ago, on “Itty Bitty Piggy” from her mix tape Beam Me Up Scotty, she came across as a cackling, potty-mouthed machine gun, declaring “I’m a bad bitch, I’m a I’m a bad bitch” in a deranged, hammering singsong that made you believe in both her badness and her bitchiness. In comparison, “I’m the Best” sounds like—well, like a rapper looking to go pop by abandoning weirdness for rote R&B backing and rotely inspirational lyrics. “I’m fighting for the girls that never thought they could win” is a long, sad trip from profane nuttiness like “If you see a itty bitty piggy in the market / Give that bitch a quarter and a car, tell her park it / I don’t fuck with pigs like as-salaam-alaikum / I put ’em in a field, I let Oscar Mayer bake ’em.”

I wish “I’m the Best” were an aberration. But alas, Pink Friday is filled nigh to bursting with blandness. You know those swelling, earnest, I-have-overcome bullshit tracks that even decent rappers often put at the ends of their CDs, where you can conveniently avoid them? Imagine a whole album of that, and you’ve got a general idea of what Minaj has perpetrated. The Rihanna collaboration “Fly” is the sort of dreary gush you’d expect from a song that uses “fly” as a verb; the Natasha Bedingfield collaboration “Last Chance” is the sort of dreary gush you’d expect from a Natasha Bedingfield collaboration. But don’t blame the R&B songstresses: Minaj proves she can suck all on her lonesome with dross like “Here I Am,” where she actually says, “I’m a woman, hear me roar.” What’s next—is she going to call Lil Wayne the wind beneath her wings?

The fact that Minaj channels Helen Reddy with a straight face on a hip-hop album seems like a good indication that she’s lost her way in spectacular fashion. It’s easy to see this as a desperate and misguided effort to reach a mainstream audience—and it clearly is that. But at the same time, the album’s rudderlessness seems like part and parcel of Minaj’s persona. With a flow that hops from Barbie cuteness to Rasta declamation to a faux British accent to sped-up Tourette’s, Minaj has always been about spastic incoherence, and one of her most acclaimed performances is deliberately and gloriously bipolar. In her verse on Kanye West’s “Monster,” she switches back and forth between a flirtatious little-girl coo and a fierce, ranting growl, using the alternation to create an escalating momentum so massive it makes the other rappers on the track—Jay-Z and Rick Ross—sound positively precious.

As the two poles of “Monster” make clear, Minaj has flirted throughout her career with both of the standard hip-hop roles for women: sex kitten and ball breaker. That flirtation, though, has up till now tended to be oddly and in some ways refreshingly halfhearted. True, Minaj wears preposterous ass-accentuating outfits in the video for the pre-album promo track “Massive Attack” and huge castrating claws in video for Ludacris’s “My Chick Bad,” but for the most part it’s remarkable how little she seems to care about teasing cocks or cutting them off. Her focus is almost always on, as she invariably puts it, “bitches.” One of the decent tracks on Pink Friday, “Did It on ‘Em,” is fairly characteristic: “All these bitches is my sons. . . . If I had a dick I would pull it out and piss on ’em.”

If fantasizing about having a penis so you can better dominate other women sounds suggestive—well, yeah. Though Minaj dances around her rumored bisexuality in both her lyrics and her interviews, her most explicit statements of lust on record almost invariably involve women. The exception that proves the rule is perhaps her cameo on Christina Aguilera’s “Woohoo,” about the pleasures of cunnilingus. Though the song is ostensibly addressed to off-mike men, Aguilera is on record as not especially straight either, and when Minaj exclaims “Lick, lick like a lolly,” you get the sense that she’s not just the potential lickee. Less coy are her verses on Usher’s “Little Freak” and Gucci Mane’s “Girls Kissing Girls,” in both of which Minaj hornily anticipates a menage, offering to hook her brothers up.

Pink Friday doesn’t have anything that hot and heavy. Minaj may enjoy lasciviously contemplating your “kitty cat” and asking if she can “touch her,” but she’s careful to rhyme the whole thing with “Usher.” Lesbianism is only OK packaged for male consumption. Minaj wants girls . . . but it ain’t no fun if the homeys can’t have none.

And no wonder: as a female rapper, Minaj can’t be a sex bomb and a badass; she can’t be a castrator and one of the boys; she can’t be an out dyke and have a career. But artistically, this tension isn’t always a bad thing. Her seesawing between identities is a large part of her appeal and her genius. What other female rapper has called herself Monica Lewinsky, Barbie, and Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street? Minaj’s refusal to stay in the hip-hop box labeled “women” has allowed her to be silly, unpredictable, and fierce in a way that few rappers of any gender have managed.

But a debut album is where an artist shows the world who she is, and for Minaj that’s a trap. You can see the problem most clearly on the album’s best track—”Roman’s Revenge” with Eminem. Swizz Beatz drops the two rappers into a factory full of hammering synths, and Eminem proceeds to tear that shit apart, bouncing from S&M to pissed-off Happy Meals, spewing tangled knots of filthy punch lines so fast that lesser mortals don’t even have time to be knocked on their asses. “So I tied her arms and legs to the bed, set up the camera and pissed twice on her. Look! Two peas in a tripod.”

Like most rappers, Minaj doesn’t have Eminem’s skills, but she doesn’t get blown away either. From her first stuttering transgender declaration—”I am not Jasmine, I am Aladdin!”—she spits insults and threats, at one point even comparing herself to Eli Manning, and in general she sounds lean, mean, and nuts.

The only thing is . . . well, Eminem is up in there getting a blow job and pissing on women, you know? And in response, Minaj . . . starts sneering at bitches again. The Internets have speculated that she’s calling out Lil’ Kim, and fair enough. But can you imagine Minaj cutting off some guy’s bits and Slim Shady just saying “ayup” and going after a third party? You have to wonder if he’s glancing sideways at Minaj when he snaps, “Look who’s back again, bitch / Keep acting as if you have the same passion I have / Yeah right, still hungry, my ass.”

The point isn’t that Minaj has some obligation to fight for the rights of women everywhere. But it is to suggest that, even at her most feral, there are places she won’t or can’t go. “I feel like people always wanna define me and I don’t wanna be defined,” Minaj said in a Vibe magazine interview this summer. I can sympathize with that—but on Pink Friday, the fear of being defined seems to have made her unwilling to say anything of interest at all. At some point, if you’re not going to stand for something, you might as well sit down.

Utilitarian Review 7/25/14

On HU

On Octavia Butler’s Xenogenesis and feminist submission.

Me on Ariel Schrag’s Adam and penises.

Ross Campbell, author of Wet Moon, on endings.

Chris Gavaler documents the graffitti of Angouleme.

Ben H. Winters on a career writing mash-ups, funny and otherwise.

Me on how Bob Dylan and John Porcellino will get you with twee nostalgia.

Michael A. Johnson on surrealism, history, and Rutu Modan’s clear line.

Kailyn Kent on “Under The Skin” and failing to get inside the mind of the spider lady.
 
Utilitarians Everywhere

At NPR I did a commentary on masculinity and virginity.

At the LA Review of Books I wrote about Octavia Butler, Gone With the Wind, and how a utopia for some can be a hell for someone else, depending on where you’re standing.

At the Atlantic I

—tried to quantify how many women read superhero comics.

—wrote about the genius of casting Beyoncé as Christian Grey in the 50 Shades movie.

At Splice Today

—I write about Iggy Azalea, racial appropriation and class solidarity.

— I listed the worst Beatles songs

At the Chicago Reader I briefly wrote about Insect Ark and emo goth drone for metalheads

I was on WCEH’s World’s Finest radio show talking about sci-fi and genre. (download the Hooded Utilitarian show from itunes at the link.)
 
Other Links

Mark Stricherz on what happened to Dinesh D’Souza.

Kim O’Connor interviews Hillary Chute.

Jessica Lahey on a 6th grader who stole a scientist’s research.

C.T. May explains why Thomas Frank’s complaints about Obama are silly.

Maya Mikdashi on how Palestinian men are seen as always, already dangerous.
 

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Skin Deep: Under The Skin

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I went to Under The Skin on a date. Poor guy. Before the movie started, I had looked forward to a little kissing, a little hand-on-thigh. I sat in a back row to be minimally obtrusive, and grew bothered when he was late. I confess I had no idea what the movie was about. I had seen the trailer before The Grand Budapest Hotel, and had laughed through it. I assumed it would be pompous, sexed up and non-narrative, thus perfect for some smart guy on smart girl action. If things went really well, we could pillow talk about the cinematography and haute-scifi genre afterwards.

Then the trailers started, and he jumped into his seat as the lights dimmed. The first fifteen minutes are meant for good behavior, and there were neat visuals and key plot information to puzzle out of the silence. Yet as soon as the shadowy protagonist begins to drive her van down the streets of Dublin, the date went cold, and was eaten by the film. The camera begins to follow the paths of everyday men, aging men, frumpy men, men walking alone in crowds. The ‘heroine’ is preying on men, the camera and the audience implicated in the hunt. I wanted every part of this reversal, and the enforcement of the unsympathetic perspective of the spider lady. I sat enthralled, and completely present, and very hungry. The film kept moving into the old horror terrain, but freshly, like someone forced to describe a dream exactly, background details and all. It didn’t skip over the dance of how each man comes to get into the van, and into her house, and into the dark pool of water. It doesn’t shy away from showing what happens underwater either. Remarkably, it makes this spectacle more harrowing than its concealment. It is exhilarating to see a cruel desire spelled out so intimately.

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At the tipping point of the predations, the woman seduces a man with proteus syndrome, which she must do very carefully, as he’s distrustful and suffering. Their exchange is as emotionally generous as the film gets. (The trailer maker understood this, accompanying the clip with swelling orchestral strings.)  Yet the woman breaks down mid-consumption, questioning herself with a glance in the mirror. She releases him. (Remorse over an abandoned baby also contributes to her personal transformation, of course.) She runs away, and the film madly unspools into dusky, unbounded country side. Pursued by her ex-conspirators, who are dark, silent, interchangeable men on motorcycles, she finds refuge in care of a lonely bachelor, but leaves when they fail to literally connect.

In the final scene, the woman attracts the attention of an isolated man sleeping in the woods, who tries to rape her. Her skin slips off as she struggles, revealing a black-widow spider shell figure beneath. The rapist recognizes an abomination when he sees one, and lights her on fire. She dies. This can be read bitterly as a sort of revenge for all those harvested men, and a return to Hollywood order. After two hours of uncomfortably sympathizing and identifying with the man-eater, she is restored to the monster movie ‘other.’  A narrow, violent representative of Frankenstein’s mob acts as a foil to her exceptionality, but still must vanquish her.  Its ambiguous if the end is also her victory. The film begins with the motorcyclist harvesting her (dead?) body from a roadside,  a Scarlet Johansson lookalike, who the woman strips and usurps. Destroying the body could break the cycle. But perhaps the motorcyclists had been out to off her anyway, and cut off the metamorphis. Who knows. The script barely attempts to world-build, and demands that viewers fill in the blanks themselves.

If the spoilers above didn’t faze you, I feel safe in continuing on about skin. The woman’s victims, after wading into the black water of her netherspace, hang suspended for some time. Their skin prunes and pickles, and finally, with a roar, an invisible mouth sucks away their innards completely, leaving only a drifting sheath of skin. A belt conveys the blood and guts into a furnace-like hole, perhaps to feed or create the black shelled female/s, a creature only briefly displayed before the final reveal. The heroine is a shell for this creature, a full body mask. Only skin deep, she is physically unable to have sex, and a literal tease.

In our rather un-flirty conversation after the film, my date  didn’t seem as conflicted about the woman’s victims as I had been, or expected him to be. I had just sat through a movie not wanting to kiss him, exalted about a spider lady eating men. I wrongly assumed he felt a little victimized on multiple counts. Yet he referred to the victims as “extraneous.” Insecure, dejected, in flabby dress shirts and ridiculous underwear, passionless, of low intelligence and few prospects, friendless and girlfriend-less– what better purpose did these men have, than serving to fuel the body of an incredible, beautiful monster? I wondered about what fear this betrayed. He spoke to a social anxiety about these men, reconciling their failure to self-acutalize. The spider lady’s hunt is the natural order of things, but she must rebel against it to support the monster-movie plot.

Thus, the woman’s extinguishment in a column of smoke, over a snowy plain, is an Eastern solution. She learns compassion from a man with elephantiasis, someone whose skin is also literally slipping off, and badly matches their inside. Her ability to identify with him makes her unable to eat him. She seeks to remove herself from the food chain. Unable to replace her nature, she creates discord, and her own food source destroys her. In my reading, the men were sympathetic, if pathetic, and the film did them justice by not trying to justify or dodge the woman’s actions. She was deceiving and killing them. They were worthy of compassion, which is why she eventually changes, and won’t be reborn again. I resisted my date’s interpretation that they were ‘fair game,’ but couldn’t deny that his interpretation fit the tone better. I had found a way to sum up the movie in a kind, satisfying way, but I couldn’t ditch the feeling that Under the Skin is rather mean-spirited.

Skin is useless in this alien conspiracy, a floating remain. Yet the motorcyclists and filmmakers alike make very good use of Scarlett Johansson’s. She examines herself naked in front of a mirror, slowly stripteases men to their doom, and strips herself. She begins the movie as a lifeless body, all corporality. She is primarily a body during the film. Her story arc suggests a developing consciousness, but she becomes vacant and doll-like when she breaks away. The filmmakers only seem to respect her, and hold interest in her, as the embodiment of a nightmare. We never really get under her skin until the end, when she’s revealed as totally inhuman. As the movie is ostensibly about aliens, mission accomplished, I guess– if aliens are assumed to be bland ciphers. The woman puts ‘extraneous’ men to use, and in turn becomes extraneous when she stops being a sexy fantasy. The machinery of this is deadening, if not alarming. In the movie theater as well as the film, Johansson lures people into a dark space and suspends them there. It would be nice to be consumed by her, but her hunt is a ruse. It turns out she’s just a dull puppet, trotted out by a few grim men who operate the human sluice gates.