The Warren Report Issue 82: February 1977

 

 

The Critical Guide to

the Warren Illustrated Magazines

1964-1983

by Uncle Jack

& Cousin Peter

Frazetta

Eerie #81

"Goodbye, Bambi Boone"★★

Story by Cary Bates

Art by Carmine Infantino & Dick Giordano

"Taking of Queen Bovine"★1/2

Story by Gerry Boudreau

Art by Ramon Torrents

"The Bride of Congo: The Untold Story!"★★

Story by Bill DuBay

Art by Carmine Infantino & Gonzalo Mayo

"You're a Big Girl Now"★★★★

Story by Bruce Jones

Art by Richard Corben

"Starchild"★1/2

Story by Louise Jones & David Michelinie

Art by Jose Ortiz

"The Giant Ape Suit"★1/2

Story by Roger McKenzie

Art by Luis Bermejo

"Golden Girl"★★

Story by Nicola Cuti

Art by Leopold Sanchez

A strategically placed word balloon!

Thirty-foot tall actress Bambi Boone is a hit as Gullivera in a movie, but when a producer suggests that she let camels mount her in a foreign legion flick, she tosses him in her swimming pool. Bambi is tired of being eye candy and wants to be taken seriously! After a humiliating appearance on a talk show, where she explains that silicone shots to enlarge her breasts resulted in giant mammaries and the doctors had no choice but to make the rest of her just as big, she films the concluding scene of Queenie Kong atop the Empire State Building. Unfortunately, her insistence on feeling real pain results in the planes shooting real bullets, so it's "Goodbye, Bambi Boone."

Oh no, a theme issue! These are deadly. We're not off to a very good start with Bambi Boone, though the Infantino/Giordano art looks nice. The story is ridiculous and not funny at all, though the sight of a nude, thirty-foot tall beauty is supposed to be entertaining. This time around, it was the airplanes.

A beautiful spy with the code name of Queen Bovine is assigned to protect Gnik Gnok, an alien military officer from a miniature world, in the year 2090. She meets the small, apelike alien, who is being trailed by the dangerous Ecurb Tobac, and protects him; this requires her to climb a miniature replica of the Empire State Building as it looked circa 1990, clutching a toy ape that fools the enemy. Queen Bovine is shot down, but Gnik Gnok is saved and lives a long and happy life.

Fairly good art from Torrents isn't enough to save this dreadful, muddled script. "Taking of Queen Bovine" may be eight pages long, but it felt like three times that. In the prior story, we saw a giant woman climb the real Empire State Building. In this one, we see a normal-sized woman climb a miniature Empire State Building. What could be next? And the reversing of King Kong and Bruce Cabot as Gnik Gnok and Ecurb Tobac is really dumb.

Back in 1933, after the giant ape named Congo had fallen from the top of the Empire State Building, Chuck Gauntlet married Amy Libido, only to discover that she had really loved the giant ape. He dons an ape suit in an attempt at seduction, but when Amy learns that a mad scientist has kept Congo alive, she rushes to his side. A botched blood transfusion between Amy and Congo results in her growing to giant size, after which she follows his lead and ends up at the top of you know where. This time, however, "The Bride of Congo" is not killed; instead, she and the big gorilla escape together back to his island and have a baby.

After the first two stories, anything with even a whisper of humor or creativity is a welcome relief. Surprisingly, Bill DuBay manages to provide both. I'm not saying this is good, just that it's not as bad as what preceded it. The idea of the blood transfusion recalls one or more of the Universal Frankenstein movies, and having Amy grow to giant size and repeat Congo's actions is clever. I especially liked her poor husband trying to seduce her by putting on an ape suit, and the panel where she reaches through a window and grabs him tickled me. Now that's a devoted hubby!

When astronauts land on a dead planet, they find a tape recorder that tells a strange story. Many years ago, a woman died in childbirth and her daughter was the largest baby on record. The baby's father was distraught, but the little girl, Rachel, grew at a rapid rate, soon becoming unusually large, though beautiful and perfectly proportioned. The only person to show her kindness is a reporter named Lowery, and when she grows to womanhood, she falls in love with him. When he rejects her due to their size disparity, she loses interest in everything, eventually starring in a movie where she stands atop the Empire State Building, etc. She continues to grow and becomes a threat to humanity. The astronauts on the dead planet are revealed to be aliens and the planet is Earth, which died when Rachel grew so large that she knocked the planet out of its orbit.

Leave it to Bruce Jones and Richard Corben to rescue this issue of Eerie! "You're a Big Girl Now" starts off with a clever transition from black and white to color, since its 10-page length required black and white opening and closing pages. Corben stages the fatal birth scene in shades of red and purple, and on page three the story turns to full color. The tale of poor Rachel (and her parents) is tragic, and Corben's 3-D art style emphasizes her size in contrast to everyone and everything around her. The fact that she develops into a gorgeous young woman makes the reader feel slightly uncomfortable for ogling her bikini-clad form, and the last pages, where she grows so large that she loses her mind, are no more far-fetched than anything else. It's no big surprise that the astronauts are aliens, but by the end it really doesn't matter, because this is such a satisfying story.

A beautiful, giant, female "Starchild" is born and raised in a lab before being sent into space, where she is put on a planet and given the task of building a replica of 1930s' New York City. When she becomes fond of the small, monkey-like creatures that inhabit the planet, she forgets to check in with Earth, and her brother is sent in a spaceship to retrieve or destroy her. She climbs a replica of the Empire State Building and battles her brother's spaceship but, in the end, he decides to report back that he killed her and the planet is uninhabitable. In truth, he left her alone to live out her days happily.

Unfortunately, we're back to the dregs with this mess. It's hard to believe it took two writers to finish this five-page waste of paper. Jose Ortiz can draw, and once again we have the sight of a beautiful, naked blonde up on the skyscraper, but the complicated way she ends up there is uninteresting.

When the big ape fell from the Empire State Building back in 1933, few realized that it was actually a robot with a man inside at the controls. Years later, two crooks kill to get the blueprints for the ape robot and locate the inventor's forgotten lab, where they find another robot in the shape of a giant, naked, beautiful blonde. One crook kills the other and climbs inside the robot, setting it off on a rampage that ends--you guessed it--atop the skyscraper.

Will this issue never end? "The Giant Ape Suit" is yet another example of twisting events around like a pretzel to come up with a way to get a giant, naked blonde on top of the Empire State Building. There's more funny business with names in this one, as the inventor of the robots is called Edgar Cooper, presumably after Edgar Wallace and Merian C. Cooper. Bermejo's art is fine, but the story is so uninvolving that there's not much for the artist to do.

A "Golden Girl" arrives on a distant planet in 2133 to investigate why the men sent there before her have found nothing of value. She is captivated by rumors of a lost island made of solid gold, but when she reaches it, it turns out to be a miniature replica of mid-twentieth century New York City. Forced to remove her clothing when it bursts into flames, the woman climbs the ESB in a desperate attempt to survive. She is killed and made into a replica of the Statue of Liberty.

The Sanchez art is not bad, but once again the story is nonsense. I wonder what Peter thought of this? The issue as a whole is terrible, with the exception of the Corben story. Honestly, I don't even like the cover, and I'm a fan of Frazetta. It's just ugly.-Jack

Peter-Whereas Warren's last experiment in building an issue based on a cover painting worked for the most part (that would have been way back in Creepy #64), the Kong-girl theme is a washout. I can't blame these guys though; how do you come up with seven fresh ideas based on such a vacuous image? Cary Bates almost strives to make "Goodbye, Bambi Boone" as dumb as humanly possible, while Boudreau's "Bovine" is like a really boring 1960s Italian spy flick with obvious Easter eggs (Ecurb Tobac? Gnillor Seyeym!), just to show how hip Gerry can be.

Good parodies are clever or funny, and "Bride of Congo" is neither. I mention below, in my Creepy coverage, that the best inkers only enhance Carmine's work, rather than make it their own. Mayo is not Infantino's best partner. The only funny thing in the entire story is the fact that dopey Chuck sleeps in his ape outfit. Sorry to say that Sir Bruce Jones doesn't do much better. "You're a Big Girl Now" is a slow-moving chore; our narrator carting his tape recorder off to his death and it magically surviving the end of the world provided the only smiles in my reading. 

"Starchild," the debut of Louise Jones as a writer, is mercifully short and, as is the case with most of the stories contained herein, struggles to manipulate itself in order to reach the cover image. That's definitely the case with "The Giant Ape Suit," a story whose plot could be politely described as "threadbare." Oddly enough, the name "Kong" is not used until the final page, as if it were being avoided and then was dropped in by accident. None of it makes any sense. Which is a perfect segue into our final story, the uber-ridiculous "Golden Girl." This one pinballs from ludicrosity to ludicrosity but my favorite bit has to be the way writer Nick Cuti gets his femme to shed her clothes. This entire "Special Issue" must have been an eleven-year-old boy's wet dream but, incredibly enough, it convinces me that Eerie should stick to the series format, as bad as those series might be!

Kelly

Creepy #86

"A Noggin at Mile End" ★★1/2

Story by Budd Lewis

Art by Leopold Sanchez

"Dick Swift and His Electric Power Ring!" ★★★

Story by Bill Dubay

Art by Carmine Infantino & Bernie Wrightson

"The Greatest Christmas of All" ★1/2

Story by Roger McKenzie

Art by Leopold Duranona

"Mother Knows Best" ★★★

Story by Bruce Jones

Art by Al Williamson

"Bloodstone Christmas" ★★★1/2

Story by Gerry Boudreau

Art by Carmine Infantino & John Severin

"Season's Grievings" ★1/2

Story by Bruce Jones

Art by Gonzalo Mayo

"A Gift for Mama" ★★

Story by Roger McKenzie

Art by Luis Bermejo

Checky Nuttwise, one of Santa's busiest elves, heads down a chimney and spies a mug of ale laid out for "Father Christmas." Believing himself to be the right-hand man, Checky grabs the mug and is about to glug down the frosty brew when the owner of the house enters, lugging a shotgun and demanding to know the meaning of the little man's trespassing. Before Checky can blurt out an answer, the man sighs and asks for a shilling, explaining he already knows what's what.

The man identifies himself as Elbod Crooken and beckons Checky to follow him to a curtained room. Crooken pulls back the curtain and shows Checky "Dinosaur Boy," a misshapen youngster sitting on a stool on a small stage. Crooken explains that the boy is the victim of a nasty condition and earns the man his money by public display. Disgusted, Checky tells Crooken that he'll give him his "magic bag," which can grant its owner any wish he desires in return for the boy's freedom.

Crooken scoffs until Checky tells the boy to make a wish and reach into the bag. The lad pulls out a mirror that transforms him into a normal boy and Checky offers the boy a job as an elf. Crooken takes the bag as the duo exit the building and board Checky's sleigh, but the bag proves to be empty and the mean old man screams vile obscenities at the sleigh and attempts to block its takeoff. Later, the neighbors discover Crooken's broken body, hoof prints all around it in the snow.

"A Noggin at Mile End" is a pleasant enough dark fairy tale, with a nice EC-style climax. Boy, those elves can be rough customers sometimes. I wonder if Checky had to fill out a report with the boss when he got back to the plant. Leopold Sanchez's art is just right for this, although "Dino-Boy" isn't really all that much of a "freak"; nothing a good bath couldn't wash away.

The only things that keep young, sickly Peter going are his friend, Mr. Music, and the Dick Swift adventures Music reads to him. Every week, "Dick Swift and His Electric Power Ring" beat the odds and save Pearl Pureheart from the dastardly Luigi, the Pasta-Pusher! Peter has sent away for his own Power Ring, but the damned thing is taking its time getting there and, as Doc Needles keeps reminding us, the kid's time is just about up. Sensing the Postal Service will once again let down one of its customers, Mr. Music saves the day by delivering a gen-u-wine Power Ring to his favorite youngster. 

Peter uses the ring to fly out the window to find adventure. Needles and Peter's aunt mourn the little boy, who has died in his bed, and wonder aloud if Mr. Music might just have been something more than an imaginary companion. For the first half of "Dick Swift," I was thinking DuBay had finally hit a home run. The tale was charming and fanciful and the funny little nuggets, such as Pearl meeting her bloody end tied to the train tracks, had me laughing out loud. But, in the end, Dube couldn't help but pour on the schmaltz. Peter's endless "Oh... but doctor... I'm so very tired..." vignettes in the midst of his excitement for Dick's latest adventure were a constant reminder that we were, in fact, dealing with a very serious subject.

The art by Infantino and Wrightson is aces, absolutely gorgeous. What I like so much about it is that it appears Bernie decided Carmine's pencils were pretty special and only gave them a light dusting of inks. Frequently, I feel as though an inker (especially one established as a lead artist) wants to leave his stamp on the work. Not so here. 

Louis Bay looks back on "The Greatest Christmas of All" and reveals to no one in particular how he came to be Santa Claus. One day, as a kid with a dying mother, Louis watched as a red sack fell from the sky. The amazed lad took a look inside the bag, only to discover a multitude of presents, all addressed properly. He ran home to show his momma (who was dying of asthma) and his two little sisters the present from the sky. When he got there, he was delighted to see a beautiful, green Christmas tree in the living room. Surely this was magic, as his sickly mother and dead-drunk father couldn't afford such a luxury.

Louis shows his mother the bag and its magical powers and Mom, despite being very sick, insists that she and her little urchins hit the pavement and deliver the goods. After spreading the joy in a snowstorm, poor Mama's lungs give out and she drops dead. Louis and his sisters return to their dingy apartment, where their father has returned from a long night of bar-hopping. He beats Louis and steals the bag, reaching far down to the bottom to see what he can use for whiskey dough. A giant snake is what the sod receives. Story told, the adult Louis freezes to death on a city street, buried under snow.

A cheery St. Nick story! Make no mistake, I like a sadistic, bloody Christmas story as much as the next guy (see "Bless Us, Father" in #59), but "The Greatest Christmas of All" is depressing, boring, and, worst of all, pointless. Would Santa's bag really contain a giant viper, even when opened by a drunken child-beater? I kept thinking, "If this bag is so magical, why doesn't Louis pull out an inhaler for his (all together now) dying mother?" And why does this story look like it takes place in the big city, but Louis speaks as though he's from Cripple Creek? Most of all, why does a good-hearted boy grow up to die so miserably? One too many magical bag stories for one issue. 

James and Valerie can't wait to see Santa Claus every Christmas and their "mother," a six-foot robot, does everything she can to oblige them. First up, she heads to the control room to fire up the manufacturing machine in order to craft gifts, then she thaws out Santa from his cryogenic sleep and awaits the glee.

This year is a little different in that the children have grown a bit older and Santa feels it's the right time to tell James the real story. They are the only survivors of a space expedition whose population was killed off by rogue robots. Now, Santa is hoping James will help him to take the ship back so that they can turn the ship around for Earth. Despite mother's protests, James blasts her and heads to the front of the ship with Santa. There, they discover the truth: the ship has crash landed on another planet. They are lost in space.

We've seen Warren tout "gorgeous, vivid, full color" on their cover before, but they somehow missed the boat this time, choosing not to advertise "Half-Assed Red and Black!" Seriously, this is a very good science fiction drama, something we all know was a rarity in the Warren funny books, but what's with the two-tone gloss? I believe this was the only time such a presentation was made (outside of those disposable inside cover vignettes). The color doesn't detract from a solid Christmas entry, though. Bruce Jones does a spectacular job not steering "Mother Knows Best" towards familiar territory (who needs another take on Colossus: The Forbin Project?), and instead delivers an entertaining read with a humdinger of a final panel. Why would this mechanical matron keep the kids alive after she and her metal mates had wiped out the rest of the crew? 

That's definitely Carmine!

Outlaw Jess Cade returns to Bloodstone, where he had robbed the town bank and shot its manager dead three years before. He returns for his fiance, Cora, but what he finds is the sheriff waiting for him. Years before, Sheriff Morgan Tucker had been living a good life: a peaceful town, a plentiful supply of hops, and the companionship of the wife of the town's banker. Though Sarah refused to leave town with Morgan, the lawman had held out hope she'd change her mind someday. 

Happiness came crashing to Earth when Cade and his gang decided to rob Bloodstone's sole bank on Christmas Eve and its manager surprised the robbers mid-haul. Cade cut the man in two with his shotgun, and his comrades were killed during the escape by Morgan. After the violent incident, Sarah refused the advances of her lover and blamed Morgan for her husband's death, adding that she would not forgive the sheriff until he brought her the head of Jess Cade. Three years later, with the return of the killer to Bloodstone, Morgan gives Sarah the payment she'd demanded.

Unmistakably Severin

"Bloodstone Christmas" has all the ingredients of a good oater: the dead-end town, the outlaws, the half-drunk lawman, the pretty maiden, and the gunfights. Boudreau tones down his poetic ramblings and just lets a Louis L'Amour-style western (albeit with quite a bit more bloodshed) unwind and reach its satisfying conclusion. I can't say enough about the job Severin does to enhance but not dissolve Infantino's pencils. Some pages look like Carmine, some like John, some a combination. The entirety looks painstakingly choreographed, as if the men were called in to storyboard a Budd Boetticher film. I want more Infantino/Severin!

Was Denise's psychiatrist husband really a mad-dog killer? A year before, Jason had been accused (and acquitted) of the Christmas Eve murder of his first wife. Now, Denise is having horrible dreams of Jason performing the same crime on her. She can't sleep and Jason is out on call, so she checks on her stepson, Pualo, but the boy is sleeping like a baby. Wet tracks in the hallway send the woman into a panic and, as she's searching the house for a mad killer, Pualo emerges from the shadows, gleaming blade in his hand and madness in his eyes.

Pualo chases his stepmother around the house for several panels until the woman remembers she's bought a shotgun (ostensibly for Jason) as a Christmas present. She discards the lovely wrapping and fancy bow and blows a hole in her stepson's midsection. Jason comes home to find his son dead and his wife in a trance. "Damn," he sighs, "the boys at work warned me that marrying a homicidal maniac could be trouble!"

That's right! It was Denise who was acquitted of murdering her spouse! Hoo boy, "Season's Grievings" is like a bad giallo with the subtitles turned off; a whole lot of running around from room to room, mad stalker at heels, and not a lot of sense to the proceedings. Jason's reaction to his son's corpse is priceless; what father would leave his child in the care of a possible lunatic? And talk about a whirlwind romance. Denise's dead hubby is barely cold when her psychiatrist pops the question. "Look, I know you might be a loony, and you stabbed your husband 150 times with a scalpel, and I've got a pre-teen kid at home, but I think we really got something special here! Will you marry me really quick?" For the most part, Mayo does his job, making Denise look pretty but there was a lot of action in the shadows I couldn't make out. Just like a giallo. More evidence that Bruce Jones is human after all.

Two boys search for the perfect Christmas tree to lift their momma's spirits. See, Mom was killed, beaten by their stepfather, and now she doesn't smile much, propped up in her rockin' chair in front of the window. But step-pop's not going to be hurtin' Ma much anymore, since he took an axe to the midsection while he was lying in a drunken stupor. If only their Pa was still alive; he died in that mine collapse the year before. Ta-da, Pop returns from his grave in the mine to take Ma to Heaven. The End.

The only talent on display in "A Gift for Mama" is Luis Bermejo's stark, stunning penciling. The script is bad, microwaved EC with the obligatory revived corpse cameo surprising absolutely no one ("Man, I wish Pop was here" "Man, I really wish Pop was here right now!" etc. etc.). The final panels, of Ma and Pop sauntering through the snow back to the mine, only confuse me. Does Ma's corpse rise from the rocking chair and exit the house, leaving her sons to die from starvation and the cold? Never mind, reasons Roger McKenzie in his final caption, "...it had been a pretty good Christmas after all." I'd say the same about this special issue of Creepy, the last Christmas issue until 1981.-Peter

Jack-It's certainly better than this month's Eerie! Ken Kelly's cover is excellent. Of the stories inside, I liked "Mother Knows Best" the most; despite the limited color (Christmas-themed red?), I thought Williamson's art was superb and the ending unusually subtle for a Warren tale. Next came "A Noggin at Mile End," which seemed to mix just enough sentiment and creepiness for a Christmas-themed issue. I gave everything else two stars, from "Dick Swift," whose ending surprised me but which featured too many of those annoying DuBay character names, to "The Greatest Christmas," which seemed like a revision of "Night of the Meek" with annoying dialect and way too many captions. The severed head at the end of "Bloodstone Christmas" made a fairly boring western more interesting, while "Season's Grievings" was one long slasher tale with a confusing last page. "A Gift for Momma" had some nice, wordless storytelling in the middle, which was a welcome relief from some overwriting in this issue.

Next Week...
Who (or what) lurks
in the Shadows?