Tag Archives: Larry Hama

October 28, 2011 · 11:40 AM

The Comic That Changed Everything – Part Eight

Part One – Two – Three – Four – Five – Six – Seven – Eight – Nine

In our last episode, Tim bought G.I. Joe #93, a comic book that promised to tell much about NINJA COMMANDO Snake-Eyes, but surely would not reveal his never-before seen face! But then Tim turned to page 18…

There it was, taking up almost the entire left side: A full portrait of Snake-Eyes, unmasked! Four huge scars crossed his cheeks and mouth, his right eye bugging out, a calm expression on the martial arts master’s face. It was a shock. I must have made some noise outloud, or burst out “WHOOOA!” Kevin must have asked what was up. I didn’t show him the page, but I sure wanted to. “There’s something in here you’ll really like,” was all I could tease. Surprises in fiction, whether they be dramatic reveals at the end, unexpected cameos, or twists and turns along the way, are the most exciting parts of reading stories and watching films or TV, and this was possibly the biggest surprise of them all. (In a dead heat for first place are the deaths of several key characters at the beginning of the animated Transformers: The Movie, a shocking theatre-going experience that had taken place three years earlier and three miles north.)

Looking back at Mark Bright’s robust portrait of everyone’s favorite Joe I’m struck by how tame the gore is by any standards of action and violence twenty years on. (This is a topic for another day, but it’s clear that what used to net an R-rating now is routinely PG-13, and concerning blood and violence we’re a much more permissive and desensitized society.) When I really think about it, Snake-Eyes doesn’t look that bad. This is the face of a soldier who took trace fire in Vietnam, and who took a face full of exploding fuel in a crashing helicopter on the way to the Iranian Hostage Crisis? I mean, his skin doesn’t look like what little I know of burn victims. But again, this is me being rational and methodical in an analysis that benefits from decades of hindsight and reflection. This image, and indeed all of the violence in Marvel’s G.I. Joe, had to meet the standards of the The Comics Code Authority, the industry’s self-censorship board. But as a soon-to-be sixth grader mired in the height of kid G.I. Joe fandom, this was a revelation without comparison.

The rest of the issue is thrilling. The Joes arrest and then lose the Dreadnoks, Flint and Roadblock threaten civilians (not really), the Baroness learns that the same plastic surgeon who fixed her years earlier (a footnote to issue #22, waaay too early for my brother and I to register as a big deal) is the some one operating on Snake-Eyes, and that Snake-Eyes killed her brother! And then, the Baroness blows up Zarana and the Dreadnoks’ van via remote control — while talking to Zarana on the telephone! This ranks as one of the best cliffhangers ever, and is heightened by the cruelness with which the Baroness executes her task, frowning while she literally pushes a red “detonate” button. (“Luckily I had a contingency plan.” WHAM!) It was all too much excitement, and if it weren’t for needing to shove the issue into my brother’s hands so he get up to speed, I would have read it again from page 1 that very instant.

It is this magic that I long for when I read comic books. A thrilling hunger to know what will happen next, and a nervous worry that anything will, and that my favorite characters might not make it out of the next story alive.

What Kevin and I couldn’t have known was that we started reading the G.I. Joe comic book right around the time that writer Larry Hama was pulling together several plot threads and character revelations, and that the next few months would be my favorite comic books of all time.

What are they? Tune in next week to find out!

Part One – Two – Three – Four – Five – Six – Seven – Eight – Nine

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Filed under Prehistory

Tagged as Issue #93, Kevin Finn, Larry Hama, Reading comics, Snake-Eyes

October 21, 2011 · 12:14 PM

The Comic That Changed Everything – Part Seven

Part One – Two – Three – Four – Five – Six – Seven – Eight – Nine

In our last episode, after returning home from summer camp and buying G.I. Joe issue #92, Tim went with his family to Ocean City, Maryland.

One of OC’s two malls, Ocean Plaza Mall, had a toy store near a bookstore next to a video arcade in front of a food court with my favorite pizza, so it was a destination. And one afternoon in the August before 6^th grade I wandered into Harriet’s Books, which was a small shop with (I want to say) a green sign with yellow letters. Kevin had gotten into Dungeons and Dragons novels, and I might’ve had to pick up a summer reading book. Just inside on the right was a newsstand with magazines and – COMIC BOOKS! Comic books? Why, if those had been there in years past I certainly hadn’t noticed. But my eyes worked differently. Now I was on the lookout. And there on the bottom shelf was a bright yellow logo that spelled one my favorite words: “G.I. JOE.” It was issue #93! Confusing! Hadn’t we just bought issue #92? Was Waldenbooks behind? Was Harriet’s Books ahead? It didn’t matter, all I knew was that I now had three comics to read over and over on the trip (we had brought G.I. Joe #92 and the Batman adaptation).

For some reason Kevin had stayed in the car – I guess my jaunt inside was going to be quick? Mom or Dad must have been there, or both? Maybe they were in the Super Fresh (grocery store) and I had enough time to kill to run in the mall? Anyway, I opened the car door and excitedly showed Kevin. “Awesome!” was probably his reply. Contrary to his mild reaction two months earlier regarding issue #90, Kevin was now fully onboard and we were splitting all comics purchases 50/50.

The cover to #93 teased big revelations regarding Snake-Eyes, the masked ninja commando clothed in all black. It’s important to properly set the scene of how mysterious and cool this character was: We’d never seen his face, he never spoke, his action figure came with a sword, an Uzi, and a wolf, AND HE WAS A NINJA COMMANDO. I also liked grenades, and his action figure had three molded onto his chest. Very cool. Since he didn’t speak, the writers on the TV show seemed not to know what to do with him, and besides three or so episodes, Snake-Eyes rarely appeared. It fell to Larry Hama, who had created the character’s entire back story, to flesh out him in the pages of the monthly comic book. Even though we only owned less than 15 G.I. Joe comics by this point, Kevin and I knew that portions of Snake-Eyes’ origin and motivations had been doled out over time – issues #21, 26, 27, 43, 84 – but we didn’t have most of those yet. We were in the dark.

I got in the car and started reading. The issue was great, starting with a compelling splash page of the Baroness and Zarana (two villains) grappling with each other in the open doorway of a transport helicopter over Manhattan. At the top, the title “Taking the Plunge” only added to the drama. In the story, threads from issue #90 continue and new story beats develop: Destro asserts his leadership over Cobra; the Dreadnoks brainwash Clutch and drive an ice cream truck; Flint, Lady-Jaye, and Roadblock (three series regulars from season 2 of the TV show) drive G.I. Joe’s Tiger Force-recolored vehicles; and seemingly innocuously, Snake-Eyes and Scarlett see a plastic surgeon in Switzerland. Tantalizingly, Dr. Hundtkinder removes the ninja commando’s mask (the one that looks like a normal face for going about in public, not the black costume one) and rattles off anatomical mumbo-jumbo. (Actually Hama being diligent and accurate.) But we weren’t going to see Snake-Eyes’s real face because that was a permanent part of G.I. Joe lore. Since early 1982, Hasbro, Marvel, and Sunbow had held back what masked characters Destro, Cobra Commander, and Snake-Eyes looked like. It was embedded in the mythology. Those visages would forever be mysterious and unknown. The comic book had previously gone to some lengths to show Snake-Eyes without his mask, but always in shadow, cropped, or from behind.

And then I turned the page.

What did Tim see? Tune in next week to find out!

Part One – Two – Three – Four – Five – Six – Seven – Eight – Nine

Behind the scenes of G.I. Joe – Rock-Viper

Today’s post reveals some development artwork for the 1990 Cobra Rock-Viper. First, a not-great photo by me of the production toy to serve as a baseline for all you casual fans.

Interesting to note this Cobra soldier, of which there were many (rather than a specific individual like Destro or Gristle) has a moustache. So I guess graduates from training school had a facial hair requirement?

First up is Dave Hasle’s sculpt input drawing for the Rock-Viper’s backpack:

A black and white photocopy (probably of a color photocopy and not a chrome) of Dave Dorman’s internal presentation painting:

Note above and below there’s no moustache. Here’s the pencil sketch of what will become the final package painting. I’m attributing this to Hector Garrido:

Here’s the almost complete layout of the cart front and back, in b+w photocopy form, with Garrido’s drawing now a finished painting:

I don’t have a color copy of the painting or a full blister card (any readers want to help?) so this cropped close-up from my dossier and the tiny back-of-package thumbnail of Garrido’s final painting will have to do for comparison.

If you didn’t read this above, check it out here. Dossier writer Larry Hama’s sense of humor on display.

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Filed under G.I. Joe Behind the Scenes, Toys and Toy Art

Tagged as Behind the scenes, Dave Dorman, Dave Hasle, G.I. Joe toy development, Hector Garrido, Larry Hama, Rock-Viper

July 9, 2011 · 9:50 AM

Interview #1: Larry Hama, June 2001 – Part Three

Regular readers: Sorry for posting a day late!

In our last episode, Tim sat down to interview Larry Hama, either the best person to start with or the worst…

“Best” because Hama never answered a question with “I don’t remember.” He recalled stuff from the beginning of G.I. Joe as well as the end. He talked for two hours. And he dropped several helpful names, good people to track down next. He was candid, funny, and not severe.

So why was this the worst interview to start with?

One, because I was starstruck. Could I even ask the questions without stuttering?

Two, would Hama call my bluff? I wasn’t a writer, and what research project was I researching anyway? But this was a writer. Sitting in front of me, humoring me, was a major reason why I was a comics reader, a Wednesday regular wherever my local store was – Bethesda, Providence, Cambridge. Here was this famous guy whose name was credited first in almost 200 comic books I kept in my closet at home. The writer of my “desert island” comics. I worried my questions were too fannish, that I was bothering Hama and wasting his time.

Three, some of his answers were short, not because he was cutting me off, but because that’s just the way he answers some questions. To the point. I didn’t know Hama or his conversational cadence, so in the short term I thought my inquiry was lacking if I wasn’t teasing out bigger answers. I didn’t feel like I had gotten much of the information I had gone looking for.

Two hours in, Hama suggested we break, and offered up some snacks from his pantry. As I had stupidly skipped lunch, but hadn’t wanted to impose by asking for food, my relief was palpable. Those cheese slices, crackers, and salami were a relief, and in the times I’ve visited Larry since ’01 I always smile when I see his kitchen. Years later I would realize in fact it was a great interview, and that much of the work philosophy and analytical introspection was better than nuts and bolts like “favorite character.”

Nth Man issue #16 cover by Ron Wagner and Bob McLeod, 1990.

We talked for a little while longer, bouncing around non-Joe topics like Nth Man, an underappreciated Marvel gem, and the K-Otics, the blues band Hama played in for years. When we were done, Hama walked me out. Heading toward the elevator I sort of mumbled that I was writing a book, which codified it for me. If I hadn’t been writing a book before, I certainly was now, even if I didn’t know what that meant. Off the cuff Hama mentioned one Susan Faludi, a writer for Esquire Magazine. I didn’t know who this was. Larry explained that she had previously interviewed him by phone for 45 minutes, and that she had interviewed “everyone” regarding G.I. Joe. Everyone. It ricocheted around in my head like a lightning bolt. My heart sank. Already my project had competition! Someone had tracked down all the people I didn’t even yet know I needed to track down! I would later learn that Faludi had won a Pulitzer Prize, and that any article or book of hers on society, the male, and/or G.I. Joe would in no way compete with mine. But that word “everyone,” as frightening as it was because I was now behind in the race, was vital. As the elevator doors closed I promised myself that I would interview “everyone” and more, that I would find obscure contributors to G.I. Joe comic books, toys, and animation. That I would track down people until I had an unreasonably large number of interviews.

So I did.

2 Comments

Filed under Book Behind the Scenes, Writing Process

Tagged as Behind the scenes, G.I. Joe interviews, Larry Hama, Nth Man

June 30, 2011 · 2:36 PM

Interview #1: Larry Hama, June 2001 – Part Two

In our last episode, Tim secured an interview with Larry Hama and took a train to New York…

Canon GL-1 and a GE microcassette recorder

In my backpack were a marble journal for taking notes, a video camera for recording audio (I’d keep the lens cap on), and a back-up microcassette recorder. Even though we hadn’t agreed on an exact time, I worried that I had no time for lunch, so I called from a payphone at Penn Station and immediately hopped a subway. When I got to Hama’s place, I was struck by how open it was, a two floor studio apartment with lots of light and a high ceiling. My experiences with New York living spaces were all dark and narrow — whatever college dorms and apartments friend (and future book editor) Nick Nadel had been squeezed into. Years later Larry would tell me about how his building used to have a view all the way to New Jersey, but by the time I got there in 2001, the whole street was built up with shops and tall apartment buildings.

I was also struck by the decorations. On the left wall was a Gary Hallgren post-modern painting of Dick Tracy. Across from it was another Halgren of Blondie, Dagwood, and Krazy Kat. Next to the kitchen was a 1976 ink drawing of Bilbo Baggins and 12 dwarves by a young Michael Golden. Up the steps to a narrow passageway filled with books and packaged G.I. Joe toys (and Golden’s original cover artwork to The ‘Nam #12) was a tiny room – Hama’s office. Art, photos, memos, and an old paycheck covered the right wall. Straight ahead was a computer, to the left were windows and an A/C unit. A second PC, papers and books, and a flight simulator joystick covered the spare table, smaller than a chess board. The whole space must have been six feet by fifteen feet, a sliver of a room you’d give to your drunk friend who’s crashing after the party ends. A glorified closet, and yet so out of the way and with such an interesting view of the street it made perfect sense as a writer’s room. And this is where scripts and cover layouts for my favorite comic books had been typed and drawn.

I drew this after another visit years later. The space hadn’t changed.

Leaning against the left wall and below the windows was Hama’s guitar. (Years later on a subsequent visit there was a guitar and a metal 1:1 scale working model of a machine gun, which made me think of the Warren Ellis quote “Larry Hama, perhaps unsurprisingly, knows a lot of people with guns, and so has marvelous stories to tell about stone lunatics with too much artillery who also happen to be comic artists.”) (And it’s telling that the one time Larry appeared on the cover to a Marvel comic book, he’s holding a machine gun.)

Art by Paul Ryan and Tom Palmer, 1990.

There was just enough space for the two of us to sit down, me in the spare seat. I turned on my gear, and started asking questions. Mel, Larry’s pug, joined us halfway through. I will never stop smiling at the seeming incongruity of it: The famous Larry Hama, who had written a light “war” comic for 12 years, and who guided Wolverine’s solo adventures through a swath of Yakuza and evil mutants for another seven, who bridged the ninja craze at Marvel Comics after Frank Miller left Daredevil for DC, thoughtfully and quietly reminiscing with a pug in his lap. What did I expect? A chat at a shooting range? With no plan besides “get the interview,” I didn’t know what to expect, but it turns out that the man I met was the real Larry Hama: a reserved and modest guy, a thoughtful and learned reader and writer.

In some ways, this was the best interview to start with, and the worst.

Why? Find out next week…

Interview #1: Larry Hama, June 2001 – Part One

The idea of me writing a book had not coalesced, despite the revelation that John Michlig and Paul Dini would likely never write my ideal G.I. Joe history. It was still a vague notion. But one day while wasting time on the internet at work, I stumbled across Larry Hama’s e-mail address. I frequented toy and comic book news sites, and someone was announcing Hama’s birthday, or the completion of an interview. Hama wasn’t doing much in comics in the spring of 2001. His brief term as writer of the flagship Batman book the previous year was over, his seven-year Wolverine run had ended in ’97, and G.I. Joe’s 1994 finale was a distant memory. Finding this address was dumb luck, and felt like I was breaking some unspoken rule. This was a famous person, and I was not. Whatever kind of opportunity this was, I had to take it, and I had to ask for an interview, even if I didn’t know what for. I recall mentioning a “research project,” as if I was still somewhere in the limbo between my G.I. Joe Mixed Media issue and this as yet non-existent book. Surely the fan or webmaster who had included this address had done so by accident! I couldn’t just copy and paste it into a new e-mail message and bother the man, could I?

For years Larry Hama had been just this to me, a name — a credit — in hundreds of comics I owned.

I could and did. Hama responded, which was a surprise. I had only corresponded with two famous people at the time, and the instantaneity of e-mail was still shocking. Moreso how it broke down barriers between fans and pros. A celebrity would not call back by telephone, and paper mail was iffy, but e-mail was somehow different. Hama provided a phone number and asked if I would need his fax, or if this would be an e-mail interview. I suggested in-person. New York wasn’t far and I knew that any interview would come out better if conducted face to face. To my surprise, Hama said yes. It was generous and trusting of him. What if I turned out to be an axe murderer? Or the worst kind of fanboy, digging for dirt and begging for autographs?

For years, all I knew about Hama came from this bio that had run in all Marvel Comics cover dated October 1987.

Hama had a few trips in the near future, and we settled on a tentative date in June. I sent him links to various toy photos and catalog scans at yojoe.com, thinking that he might need a memory jog. (He didn’t.) And then I asked my friend and future editor Nick Nadel if he could help me come up with questions.

I didn’t want to ask noodley fan questions. The problem was that I wasn’t a writer and didn’t know what made for good questions and what made for bad. All I knew was that the interviews I read in Wizard Magazine were fluffy, while those in The Comics Journal were smart and long, and I needed to somehow keep Hama talking. If he ended up terse or forgetful, the trip would be wasted, and whatever this “research project” was would now lack a necessary lynchpin. Nick looked over my list and suggested fewer specifics like “Favorite issue?” and more process ones, like “Who do you write for?” The day came and I hopped an Amtrak bound for Manhattan.