Mr. Punch by Neil Gaiman & Dave McKean (No. 90)

Mr. Punch (1994)

by Neil Gaiman & Dave McKean

REVIEW BY LARRY RODMAN:

(from The 100 Best Comics of the Century! in The Comics Journal #210, 1999)

As an art object, Mr. Punch is a tightly focused, mad pageant of illustrative approaches and techniques. Its initial appeal is the cultural motifs which imply hidden, interior workings; composites of line, paint, photography and typography. Each page of this sensuous, beautiful book had to have been arrived at through different, partially experimental methods. Chromatic elements within each panel - paint and collage with a computer assist - play against a backdrop of black. 

A running symbol in the story is the spark which comes from a person physically manipulating an inanimate puppet or mask, creating a creature which is more than the sum of its parts; something potent with mystery. In the same way that the hand transforms the puppet, McKean's artwork is the life-spirit to Neil Gaiman's story.

It's the off-season in a neglected English seaside resort town, though it seems unlikely that the tide will ever come in again, figuratively. A boy, sent to board with his grandparents, tries to keep from being underfoot, amusing himself in exile. He watches and appraises the adult world; guessing at the substance of the tortured contracts among old men, and the rituals reserved for the diversion of children.

Grandfather is a would-be impresario, with an amusement arcade on its last legs - of less interest to the paying public than to his circle of misfits. The adults subtly correspond to the traditional cast members in the ubiquitous Punch and Judy shows which break the monotony, popping up like brightly coloured mushrooms against the gloom. The flamboyant, abusive spectre of Punch drives the action. Themes of abandonment, secrecy, peril and violence carry through, both in the recurrent puppet shows, and ultimately amongst the human players.

FUTHER READING:

Mr. Punch at DC Comics

Cages by Dave McKean (No. 46)

Cages (1990-1998)

by Dave McKean

REVIEW BY BART BEATY:

(from The 100 Best Comics of the Century! in The Comics Journal #210, 1999)

It took several years, two publishers and 500 pages to complete, but it was worth the wait in the end. Cages, Dave McKean's explosive graphic novel, is one of those artistic achievements that you're compelled to stand back from and just marvel at.

Really, it should be a total mess. What starts routinely enough as a tale about a small group of artists (a painter, a musician, a writer) all living in one London apartment building explodes into a vast canvass of dreams, stories, lies and hallucinations. As reality shifts and is shifted time and again, McKean similarly unleashes his prodigious artistic talents, pulling out all the stops - lifework, oils, photos, mixed media, full colour, duotone, you name it - in an effort to find new ways of communicating in the comics form. Seemingly building as he goes along McKean presents a densely structured narrative spiked with odd angles, baroque visual treatments and deceptively unmapped extensions. But you know what? In the end it all holds together.

More than that, it actually works. Sure it's wild and often out of control. But at the same time it's some of the smartest and most elegant cartooning of the decade. Some of it seems slapdash and rushed, while other parts seem coldly calculated and deliberate. And that's the way it should be. This is, after all, a book about creation and creation occurs in all sorts of ways from the spontaneous to the controlled. 

The success of Cages rests in the fact that McKean is one of the rare cartoonists with such a wide variety of tricks that he could pull off such a display. I can think of few cartoonists who could have pulled off a book as big and bold and brash as this one. But I'm certainly glad that I can think of one.

NEIL GAIMAN:
(from Neil Gaiman On Dave McKean)
I never minded Dave being an astonishing artist and visual designer. That never bothered me. That he's a world class keyboard player and composer bothers me only a little. That he drives amazing cars very fast down tiny Kentish backroads only bothers me if I'm a passenger after a full meal, and much of the time I keep my eyes shut anyway. He's now becoming a world class film and video director, that he can write comics as well as I can, if not better, that he subsidises his art (still uncompromised after all these years) with highly paid advertising work which still manages, despite being advertising work, to be witty and heartfelt and beautiful.... well, frankly, these things bother me. It seems somehow wrong for so much talent to be concentrated in one place, and I am fairly sure the only reason that no-one has yet risen up and done something about it is because he's modest, sensible and nice. If it was me, I'd be dead by now.

FURTHER READING:

Dave McKean Official Site

Dave McKean at Dark Horse Comics