MYTHCOMICS" "SNOW WHITE AND THE DEADLY DWARFS" (VAMPIRELLA #39, 1975)

 

Once or twice, I've stated that I believe that the crafting of concrescent mythcomics is a democratic talent. It doesn't appear only in the works of whatever persons are deemed "the Greats" of the medium. That said, raconteurs who produce a lot of material to sustain themselves as professionals may not always do their best work in the best-known features. For instance, both Gerry Conway and Len Wein had long tenures on the SPIDER-MAN title, but neither of them produced much of anything with a strong symbolic discourse. Each also labored in the world of the horror genre, though, and so I did find that they did rather better in that bailiwick. Steve Skeates is another writer whose contributions to superhero titles I found ordinary, but I recently came across this 1975 story. Since I usually don't read that many Warren horrors, I credit the oddball title "Snow White and the Deadly Dwarfs" with drawing me into this story Skeates co-authored with one Gerry Boudreau-- though the Esteban Maroto art held some appeal as well.     

The first two pages of this six-page effort establish that beautiful Myra Banner possesses an unexplained antipathy toward the outside world. Her backstory mentions that she did desert her "hortus conclusus" briefly to attend college at the Pennsylvania-based Swarthmore, where she was given the nickname "Snow White" as a comment on her reluctance to surrender her virginity, even to her nominal boyfriend Warren. Yet even Warren didn't believe that she lived with seven little bearded men, who seemed vaguely menacing though they never spoke to her nor interacted with her. 

Warren, for his part, has been extraordinarily patient, since he's continued to date her for three years after they both graduated college. He journeys to her fusty mansion to appeal to her once more, while to herself Myra wonders "what it was [about her body] that made those filthy men want to touch it." This minor detail makes an interesting contrast with the traditional Snow White story, in that the reader always knows that Snow is the "fairest in the land" even though the heroine herself is not aware of her burgeoning attractiveness.

     

The short tale proceeds to its climax as quickly as Warren attempts to argue his case, kissing Myra for the first time ever. Instead of Myra being awakened from a state of death by "true love's kiss," the kiss causes Myra to feel the need of protection-- and for the first time, the dwarfs speak, promising Myra their protection as they stab Warren to death. However, it's no great surprise that the dwarfs turn out to be projections of Myra's mind, and she's the one who really slays Warren to guard her purity.

The SNOW WHITE story in its best-known version has little to do with sexual fear, but it does center upon the young girl's need of a male protector. Most stories barely mention the father who inflicts on Snow the wrath of an irate stepmother, but in the standard tale, the seven dwarfs are manifestly unable to keep Snow from being killed, as the queen almost succeeds twice before apparently offing Snow on the third try. What the writers did here was to eliminate female fear of other females and to put Myra in between competing male protectors-- a contest which Warren manifestly loses. The traditional Snow is also a symbol of feminine purity, which makes her a willing prize for her prince charming. But here, though Myra considers that Warren endangered her sexual purity, she's also unwilling to accept her responsibility for violence, deflecting it onto "little men" who, despite their masculine nature, will never do anything to Myra but  to keep her in the state of isolation she desires.

One additional myth-trope appears in the eminent character's name. The last name "Banner" originally meant "one who carries a banner," as in wartime-- meaning someone who champions a cause. And while the name "Myra" may have two or three possible origins, the most relevant speculation is that it began as an anagram for "Mary." I hardly need mention the association of THAT name with the concept of feminine inviolability.    

         

 
     

MYTHCOMICS: "THE CAVE OF THE BANSHEES" (AIRBOY COMICS #90, 1953)

 I doubt the writers and artists knew in advance that AIRBOY #90 was fated to be the last issue of the series, a ten-year-old survivor of the WWII superhero boom. Still, the final HEAP story does provide a better-than-average wrap-up for the wandering muck-monster. Various earlier stories had attempted to infuse the horror-themed creature with a dollop of high fantasy, like linking the Heap to Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. But though I have not read the entire run of the Golden Age Heap, I doubt any other stories did better than CAVE OF THE BANSHEES in terms of mythicity.

The previous HEAP story had "nature's powerful messenger of right" (see above caption) in Germany, the native land of the late air ace who became transformed into a swamp-creature. Neither artist Ernie Schroeder nor the unbilled writer provide the least rationale as to why the near-mindless monster winds up on the Irish seacoast, watching as a young woman is apparently being carried away to some dire fate. The splash alone suggested to me the Irish idea of the mythical Pookah:

If a human is enticed onto a púca's back, it has been known to give them a wild ride; however, unlike a kelpie, which will take its rider and dive into the nearest stream or lake to drown and devour them, the púca will do its rider no real harm

Following the splash, the story juxtaposes rich Irish against poor Irish, and both in terms of beautiful women: the Countess, who owns and races horses, and Moira Shea, who's been made poor by her uncle making bad bets on horse-races. The two women don't speak but each sees the other in negative terms: Moira as a "witch," the Countess as "something evil."

Moira at least has a specific reason to fear the foreign woman's presence, for her boyfriend Tim seems smitten with the Countess. However, the same uncle who ruined their family financially has one prize for Moira's dowry: the untamed white stallion Killarney King. Motivated less by money than by the desire to show up the Countess, Moira tames the King.

   However, the Heap stumbles across Moira taking the King out for a canter, and the horse panics, plunging into a nearby bog. But bogs are no challenge to the superhuman swamp monster, who carries stallion and rider to safety. 

Possibly the Heap has his own "heap-o-trouble" sense, for on the same day, he meanders over to the estate of the Countess. A jealous trainer almost gets Tim killed by provoking the black stallion "Satan," but the Heap saves Tim. From Moira's POV, this is doubly good because the Countess believes the trainer's lies and sacks Tim, thus getting Tim away from the Countess' beauty.

   

To be sure, the Countess never shows any romantic interest in Tim. However, when the noblewoman gets a look at Killarney King racing along the meadows, she covets the stallion, realizing that the King is faster than Satan, her best horse. She doesn't exactly tell her corrupt trainer to set up a booby trap for the horse, but the guy does so anyway. (This also seems counter-intuitive, since a trap might injure the horse, so probably the writer just introduced the gimmick to set up the trainer's death.) In any case, the Countess makes a bet with Moira. When Moira can't pay the entry fee, the Countess pays it, against the promise that Moira will surrender the King if the King loses the race. Up to this point, the rich beauty hasn't done anything villainous-- but then she cheats during the race, setting her, not Moira, up for the dire fate seen in the splash panel.

So we're at the last page, meaning that the writer has scant time to show us what he meant by the "cave of the banshees," mentioned only in the opening caption-- and then, that's even after getting rid of the trainer by having him trampled to death by the very steed he tormented earlier. Fortunately, even in 1950s America, the association of the banshees with death-spirits was pretty solid (even before the DARBY O'GILL film). Satan the stallion, panicked by the trap, serves the function of a pookah, plunging with his rider into the legendary cave-- and only the Heap bears witness when the "haggard broken horse" emerges from the cave without his rider.       

MYTHCOMICS: MONSTER MARRIAGE SHOP (2021-2023)

 I said at the end of HARUM SCARUM that I'd be analyzing a harem comedy that didn't conform to the predominant pattern of the subgenre. MONSTER MARRIAGE SHOP does include a male protagonist surrounded by comely females. many occupying the same domicile, but all the females are yokai, "monsters," after the fashion of the still-ongoing 2012 manga MONSTER MUSUME. Like the influential LOVE HINA, SHOP telegraphs the inevitability of a particular "till death do us part" joining of the male lead with one of the resident females, though SHOP concludes within a mere twenty episodes. I've read enough translated manga that I feel I have the sense of what it looks like when a given manga has been structured for a long run, only to be wrapped up arbitrarily when some editor/publisher cancels the feature. I can't prove SHOP was not subjected to some similar circumstances. But to me it seems that female mangaka Kaworu Watashiya arranged everything in SHOP to come to an ending that she executes to deliver her specific take on the harem comedy-- one in which the "harem" functions a lot like a feminine support group.

At roughly age 9 male lead Yuto Nikao loses his father (about whom the reader never learns anything). At the funeral, his mother Mrs. Nikao (no first name given) comments that at least she still has her only child Yuto to console her-- except that in the wings a half dozen guys are waiting to date a hot widow. Throughout Yuto's adolescence his mother seeks to find a new father for Yuto, but she has terrible judgment, resulting in a stream of users and losers. Freud theorized that every male child would be conflicted once he was old enough to perceive Mommy having relations with Daddy. But though Yuto never thinks he ought to be the man in his mother's life a la Norman Bates, hearing Mommy Nikao have sex with assorted men has a bad effect on his male ego. Freud assumed that the Oedipal male would resolve his mother-complex indirectly, by seeking a mate reminiscent of his mother. Adult Yuto's solution to his complex takes a new wrinkle: he becomes a "marriage advisor," whose mission in life is to do well what his mother did poorly, facilitating good marriages. However, he also declines to seek a mate for himself, deeming himself an incurable "mama's boy" devoted to niche pornography.              

Then one night Yuto gets off his bus in the wrong place, wanders into a forest, and meets his leading lady, werewolf-girl Ururu di Bianca. She guides him into her hidden "monster town," where every resident is a yokai of some sort. Yuto takes his discovery in stride, and perhaps because nothing but his job defines the young fellow, he starts giving the relatively civilized monsters matrimonial advice.

 This state of affairs irritates the love-god Cupid (apparently all sorts of myth-beings occupy Monster Town). Feeling like Yuto's infringing on his territory, Cupid shoots Ururu with a love-arrow. Ururu comes close to de-virginating Yuto, but she's interrupted by a bevy of monster-girls who want the human's marital counsels. Yuto shakes off his near-rape and decides to open a matchmaking service in Yokai-ville. He doesn't realize, despite many subsequent hints, that Ururu has fallen in love with him now, so she and other monster girls start aiding Yuto in his new business.

I won't spend much time on the ancillary monster-girls. Watashiya seems to be following the example of MONSTER MUSUME, but with an important difference. Though two or three of the other beast-babes-- a succubus, a vampire, etc.-- seem inclined to sex up the human, none are really "into" him as Ururu is. Most of the time, the monster girls just hang around the agency waiting to see what happens, alternating between bonding and sniping at each other-- hence, my "support group" characterization. Almost none of them or the short-term customers actually get married, because in Monster Town, Yuto has to overcome his "mama's boy" fixation, and that means that his deflection into work must be invalidated. Not too many of the individual monster-girl stories are symbolically complex, except as they bear on breaking down Yuto's defenses. 

Not until Episode 14 does Watashiya introduce a ticking clock: Yuto's situation loosely parallels that of folklore-hero Urashima Taro, who was (according to the author) unable to leave Fairyland until he had sex-- which is. of course, what Yuto's been avoiding in the real world, to maintain his connection to the mother he still loves. 

Meisa the Gorgon, the intellectual of the group, expands on Yuto's psychology with the concept of the "frog prince syndrome." Frog princes, rather than importuning princesses for kisses, are deeply conscious of being undesirable. Thus their poor self-image justifies pushing away anyone trying to get close.  

Harnis the Succubus comes up with her own theory of building up Yuto: enter his dreams and have dream-sex with him. However, the attempt triggers Yuto's defenses: even in his mind, Yuto thinks his mother is always watching. Yet at the same time, he resents his mother's control and transforms into a gorilla flinging poo at Mom.

Harnis, perceiving that Yuto has shifted his fixation to Ururu, convinces the dreamer to summon the wolf-girl. But here too the punishing mother intrudes, and Yuto conjures up a lupine dominatrix.       

However, Yuto's dream may have some effect in the human world, for no sooner has Yuto awakened and dressed than a giant version of Mommy Nikao intrudes on Monster Town and snatches up Yuto like he's Fay Wray. The monster-girls theorize that the giant is a psychic projection of the human Mrs. Nikao, and if so, this is the only time the character appears in the narrative's "real time." Both Yuto and Ururu try to reason with the giant, but when Mrs. Nikao tries to eliminate the competition, the monster-girls take her down, though Yuto shows his respect to the "mother" before she vanishes.

With the vanquishing of "Queen Kong," Yuto can at last express his feeling for Ururu-- and though she knows he may disappear, she can't stop herself from "wolfing out" and having sex with him-- though this time, he doesn't want abuse but trusts her not to harm him. Yuto does return to the human world, but with a twist: he, unlike Urashima Taro, returns to a time slightly before he departed. So now he has the chance to return to normal life, so will he do so?

Of course not: within one day he's back in the forest, looking for Monster Town. And though he finds his Fairyland, it's a reversal on the trope of the human who returns to a future-world that's forgotten him. This time. the denizens of Fairyland forget that their human visitor ever existed, even though Ururu (possibly) carries his seed. And this comprises Yuto's last hurdle: the guy who had no confidence in himself must tell all the monsters who've forgot him that he knows them all inside-out. And to judge from the last pages, Yuto succeeds in making his lupine lady love him again. The reader doesn't know how much time has passed: only that Camilla the Vampire and a wolf-boy are regarding a bridal picture of Yuto and Ururu, and speaking of Yuto in the past tense. It's a bittersweet touch to the overall happy ending, implying that a mortal can't endure in Yokai-ville as if he was one of them. But if Yuto pays a penalty for love, most readers would consider that a better fate than expiating his trauma in a devotion to the happiness of strangers.     

MYTHCOMICS: "MOON MADNESS" (THE UNSEEN #7, 1952)

 "Searchers after myth haunt strange far places. They climb to the zenith of the sky in the sun-god's chariot; they descend to the depths of the sea to marvel at pearls the size of houses. They visit islands swarming with prehistoric beasts, or with beasts that walk like men. The shadows of the minarets of Araby conceal for them a thousand treasures. Yet for the true epicure of the mythopoeic, there is no better breeding-ground for the combinatory power of archetypal phantasms than the pages of the humble comic book."-- Happily Phony Lovecraft.

      Just like last year I'm only managing to get one horror-story myth-analyzed this month of Halloween. But IMO this one's a doozy. This forgotten gem from Nedor Publishing has no credited writer, so as I've done in the past, I will impute for simplicity's sake full authorship to the credited artist, Jack Katz, later famous for a multi-issue fantasy I've not yet read, name of THE FIRST KINGDOM. After reading this short horror tale, maybe I'll give his fantasy-domain a closer look.

Katz starts off MADNESS with a bang and barely slows up thereafter. Protagonist Emil Jankow, identified in the opening caption as belonging to the class of "vagrants and hobos," is attacked by a mad dog belonging to a "witch-like creature named Agnes." As Emil faints from his wounds, Agnes uses a pistol to kill the dog, sparing Emil's life. The reader alone hears Agnes ruminate that she won't tell the hobo that her dog was rabid, though in due time it will become apparent that the pooch didn't have garden-variety rabies. Aside from naming her watchdog after the Prince of Darkness and having some allegedly "magic" salves on hand, Agnes doesn't seem especially witchy until she warns the recovered Emil to "stay out of the light of the new moon." That Katz departs from the usual werewolf trope re: the full moon shows that the artist was playing fast and loose with lycanthropic mythology.

The next departure is that Emil's wounds from the dog don't heal in the approved Larry Talbot fashion but instead give him a sort of "Phantom of the Opera" disfigurement. This development makes panhandling a little easier, and so does the very non-rabies effect of his injuries: that all dogs become Emil's friends. This also sets him on a fatal course when he runs across wealthy girl June and her dog Duke, and he instantly charms the bite out of the former member of the K-9 corps. (June doesn't quite say that Duke suffered PTSD because his experiences in the war, but it's a fair extrapolation.) June perhaps tosses out too much information when she goes on about how a local named Kirk Lamarr has been June's personal dog-hating Mrs. Gulch. But it's info the reader needs to know, just like learning that, within a week, Emil falls in love with June and resents her boyfriend Jim.

   Now the experienced horror-reader will expect poor Emil-- who at this point has done nothing bad, only had bad thoughts-- will have an unhappy encounter of the lunar kind. And the transformation of the lycanthropic (caninthropic?) victim is marked by an accidental killing before beginning his own killing spree. But the victim's victim is not of another shape-changer as in THE WOLF MAN, but by a member of the canine species that seemed to recognize Emil as a "big dog" of the pack. Emil accidentally shoots Duke dead, and he decides to conceal the dog's death to avoid blowback. (Katz was careful to show that Duke was not June's only dog, so the K-9's passing doesn't mean Emil would have been terminated.) However, Emil then transforms into a were-creature and immediately pounces on the first "smooth white throat" he comes across. But is he transformed by the moon, or by committing a sin against dog-kind?

Even though Emil wasn't bitten by a wolf (except in the general sense of dogs having evolved from wolves), he thinks of himself as a lycanthrope once he's returned to his human (albeit disfigured) form. Emil learns that that local pain Kirk Lamarr believes that Duke killed Emil's victim, and Emil's attempt to cover up his killing of the dog implicates the dead canine in Emil's crimes of the next few days. (It's interesting that June refers to Duke as a "watchdog," the same term Agnes used for her rabid pooch Satan.) The aggrieved dog-trainer seeks to quell his animal rage by chaining himself in his quarters and tossing away the key. I guess he didn't toss it far enough, because June finds it and unlocks his chains, which practically begs Emil to unleash his demon and attack both June and Jim.

  Improbably, Jim is able to drive off Emil with a mere club. Maybe it works because Emil didn't really want to kill either Jim or June? The couple can't convince dog-hater Lamarr that they witnessed a werewolf, though strangely, within the course of one day, some unnamed professor is able to talk the rest of the town into crediting the reality of werewolves. Said prof even convinces the polity that they don't need silver bullets, just ordinary torches, to kill a werewolf. Did Katz have a thing for all the cinematic scenes where Frankenstein's Monster got repelled by torches? Emil's near the end of his run now, because he didn't transform back this time. He decides to seek another victim in the unguarded town.

And who's one of the few people who didn't join the posse, because he didn't believe in werewolves? Why, it's skeptical smarty-pants Lamarr, though strangely he's not home when Emil invades his house, forcing the were-dog to cool his heels a bit. I assume Katz did this so that Lamarr would arrive at his house just as the posse just happened to return to town. It's surprising that Katz spared the dog-hater's life-- certainly no one who read the story then or now would cared if Lamarr had died. Indeed, killing the enemy of the woman Emil still loved would have given the doomed man one last, slightly altruistic deed before dying. But Jim bursts in and destroys the monster with nothing but a thrown torch. In death Emil not only does not look burned by the torch, his "rabies" disfigurement goes away too. I note in closing that Katz does keep drawing the moon in the sky, though technically a new moon should only last about three days, and it sounds like Emil was "wolfing out" longer than that. But I don't think Katz really cared about the moon-schtick popularized by Universal movies. I think he had a genuinely original take on lycanthropy, portraying it as a curse activated less because of the lunar satellite than because of the cursed man's sublimated failings and/or hostilities. And while MADNESS is not a masterpiece like THE WOLF MAN, Katz's tale seems to be playing with some of the same mythic concepts.           

NEAR MYTHS: LEGION OF MONSTERS (2011)

 

One positive aspect of having retired from regular reading of Marvel Comics is that long after the comics have come out, one can pick and choose from old projects completed a decade ago and evaluate them, apart from the ongoing continuity. One such project was a revival of the concept "Legion of Monsters." The phrase was first used as an umbrella-title for one issue of a black-and-white collection of unrelated monster-stories. Then one issue of MARVEL PREMIERE in 1976 was devoted to an ad hoc teamup of four Marvel creature features-- Morbius, the Werewolf, the Man-Thing and the Ghost Rider-- though this wasn't meant to be even a pilot for an ongoing series.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Apparently such an ongoing series was conceived in 2010, resulting in a four-issue LEGION OF MONSTERS series from 2011, written by Dennis Hopeless and penciled by Juan Doe. The concept was that a variety of Marvel monsters took refuge in the Morlock tunnels beneath New York City, and a new Legion arises to protect the "Monster Metropolis," comprised of Morbius, the Werewolf By Night, the Manphibian (a gill-man introduced in the b&w LEGION magazine), and the Living Mummy. These "monster cops" (given a waggish likeness to HILL STREET BLUES, thanks to the first issue is titled "Hell Street Blues") have their existence threatened by a "monster virus." They receive help from a creature-slayer who would normally be their enemy, Elsa Bloodstone (intro'd back in 2001). There's no depth to this romp, but it's a fun monster mash, including short appearances of such characters as the Son of Satan, Satannish (a road company Satan), and Helleyes, an old foe from the MORBIUS feature, who doesn't even cross paths with the Living Vampire.