HOUSE OF MYSTERY #187 August 1970
A group of young children lay on the ground at the edge of a wood. One of them comforts an exhausted fox. Another crawls towards a woman hiding in the trees. They all look frightened, the woman and the fox most of all. The woman's flame-coloured hair matches the fox's fur, there is clearly a link between them. The burning orange colour stands out brightly against the darker shades of the wood and the figures' clothing. Approaching them is the menacing figure of a man carrying a stick and what appears to be a sack. In front of him a bloodhound seems to have picked up the scent guiding the stern-faced man perilously closer.
The image courtesy of Neal Adams encapsulates the principal story in this issue of HOUSE OF MYSTERY, dated August 1970. Adams familiar use of a tilted angle from a ground-level perspective heightens the sense of menace. As indeed does his decision to include a yellow glowing sun, scarfed by ash-grey clouds, a ball of burning masculine energy, low in the sky but desperately trying to illuminate the dark, secret hiding places of the wild, mysterious wood.
The story itself MASK OF THE RED FOX is something rather special. Written by Robert Kanigher it is illustrated by Alex Toth, an artist I had previously only encountered in THE WITCHING HOUR #9 where his manic, cartoony style made such a positive impression on me. Here Toth's style is very different, clearly indicating his versatility in employing different techniques to suit the required tone of differing stories. His inking is much sparser, almost ligne-claire in places. The whole effect seems very European, reminding me of artists like Hugo Pratt (CORTO MALTESE) in its economy and confidence.
On the surface level, MASK OF THE RED FOX is an uncomplicated story of a man who hunts a fox, thereby fulfilling a witch's curse and causing his wife's untimely death. However if we are to scratch at the story's surface, we can reveal that it is far from being a strightforward story, but something dealing with a topic altogether more sinister. One which is especially surprising to find in the pages of a comic aimed principally at children. Fundamentally the story is concerned with the controlling and abuse of a man towards a woman.
The first page attempts to offer a logical explanation to the events of the story. We learn that a 'lovely' young woman called Sylvia is cursed by an 'ugly old witch' simply because she is jealous of her beauty. In two or three panels the entire story is laid out for us-- the girl will die when the fox that the witch seems to have conjured up dies.
I'm guessing that most of this story's original readers would have been only too aware of the tradition in fairy stories for ugly old crones to resent and crave the youth and beauty of other women (like the story of Snow White pictured below). Usually in these stories a handsome prince comes along, defeats the witch and rescues the girl, marrying her before she has a chance to recover from the trauma. While these stories endure almost as much as they did in 1970, we know they do little for their young female audiences in terms of presenting positive role models, still teaching that a woman's role is to be submissive to any man offering them security or a large white horse. There's also the added misogyny, now almost as much as then, in presenting the cause of the woman's unhappiness as a resentful old hag, an embittered older woman, possibly turned that way because she failed herself to find a handsome prince.
But there's a slight twist in MASK OF THE RED FOX. This witch has maybe read some of these fairy stories, and isn't going to fall into the same trap herself. She capitalises on the fact that the male 'rescuer' in this story is already an absolute bastard, ensuring that he himself will be the force bringing about Sylvia's demise. And when I say an absolute bastard it is with the knowledge that what brings this guy most pleasure is killing beautiful, frightened animals and mounting their heads on his wall as trophies.
It's all pretty unpleasant and has a suitably downbeat ending to rival other such stories in the horror anthologies of the day. The witch is (spoiler alert!) not defeated and the girl ends up dead.
But I have a real problem with the opening sequence. Let's look at it again-- or rather let's not. Because as I suggested earlier it's really nothing more than a tagged on introduction, it seems like it's there just to offer an excuse for what is to follow. Maybe to justify the story's more challenging message about male/female relationships in general. I would recommend reading the story again, ignoring the introductory page completely.
What we now read is transformed into a much darker tale in which the malevolent force is not an embittered older woman but an impotent, controlling man. A man overwhelmed by frustration and hatred. A hunter.
I recall a moment I believe in Grant Morrison's THE INVISIBLES where the bad guys are dressed as fox-hunters. Reading it some 20 or so years ago there was no doubt in my mind that depicting them in this way was appropriate and made an unambiguous statement about hunting itself. Hunters are bastards. But attitudes toward hunting back in the late 60's and early 70's were very different, at least amongst the larger part of the population.
Foxes in particular were seen almost universally as undesirables, and few questioned the rights and wrongs of hunting them on horseback with a pack of hounds. (Sadly in today's polarised world things seem to have gone backwards somewhat. Idiots with assault rifles post pictures of themselves grinning as they stand over animals they have slaughtered and seem to garner as much support from other like-minded idiots as they do vitriolic criticism from those of us who actually feel empathetic towards other species.) Within popular culture the huntsman was seen as a noble figure, usually an aristocrat supported by his forlock-tugging underlings. It was usually pretty jolly bugle-blasting 'tally-ho!' stuff, good fun, harmless.
Similarly in countless children's stories the fox is analagous to a sly, untrustworthy person. Think Pinnochio or the Uncle Remus stories (Disney's version of Brer Fox pictured below).
So, published as it was in 1970, MASK OF THE RED FOX can be seen already to be subverting its readers' expectations by making the huntsman the bad guy and the hunted fox a victim of cruelty. Artist Alex Toth employs a sensitive economy with his brush in his depictions of the fox, skillfully and unsentimentally capturing her movement and instinctive behaviour.
What kind of a man then is this Baron Stefan? Well, an aristocrat of course, rude and offensive to the character of Cain who he suspects of lying to him about the whereabouts of the red vixen he has become obsessed with. "No fox has ever escaped me before," he asserts, having threatened to kill Cain and "mount (his) hide on my trophy wall".
The splash page introducing the Baron oozes menace. Toth depicts the Baron's horse straining to chase its prey as its reins are tugged back. This animal is under this man's control and control is his defining characteristic. While the other huntsmen circle around the Baron's bloodhounds snarl and bark at Cain aggressively. The caption box describes them 'madly howling their bloodlust'. It is an image of inequality and suppression, the Baron surrounded by his minions -both human and animal- towering above a person he clearly feels superior to.
Cain, presented here as a kindly character, at odds with the way he is usually depicted in HOUSE OF MYSTERY, has of course been hiding the vixen. Toth draws the vixen highlighting her fear and vulnerability. The reader is compelled to feel compassionate especially once drawn in by her green frightened looking eyes.
Once the threat has passed he releases her and she makes her way towards the Baron's castle.
The Baron returns home later, his lust to kill only partially satisfied by the discovery of a different fox which his hounds have savaged. We see how killing has aroused him, his arm erect to suggest the sexual excitement he is now experiencing.
We also discover the nature of his relationship with Sylvia. He declares to his assembled men that he has two loves, hunting and his wife, and somewhat unashamedly kisses her openly before them. Toth ensures that her discomfort is clear, her open eyes express not just embarrassment but terror as the Baron's gloved hand presses her head closer to his and his men stare voyeuristically on.
He declares his wife to be his "prize", feeling that he has won her, that he owns her. And the mismatch in this relationship is signaled by the fact that he is so unashamedly obsessed with hunting whereas Sylvia declares her intense dislike for it. Also, he is drawn with his arm in frame, now lowered- his impotency has resumed. The grey fox he has seen slaughtered only brought him temporary vigour.
At the feast the extent of the Baron's obsession is revealed fully. The walls of the dining hall and lined with dozens of his trophies-- the mounted heads of foxes, a large empty plaque already hanging in expectation of the moment when he brings home the head of the red vixen which has been eluding him for so long.
The Baron tells the story of how he first met Sylvia, again showing his contempt for her wishes when he ignores her plea for him not to relate it. In the midst of hunting the red vixen he believed he had the animal trapped, but instead stumbles upon Sylvia apparently lost and injured.
Within his first few words to her he declares her a "beauty" and describes her as "so lovely a creature". He does not see her as a person, but as another animal which he has hunted and trapped and will take as a trophy. The fact that she is laying vulnerably on the ground at this moment heightens the element of domination, he helps her because he knows she never be free again.
He takes her back to his castle saying that he doesn't mind having lost the fox since he has gained her instead. Already he is feeling ownership over her. "You never rest until you get what you're after, do you?" she says, revealing that she has an insight into his character beyond what she might have picked up in such a short time of knowing him. His arms envelop her slight frame as he maintains control of the horse, clutching its reins in front of her.
The sinister panel in which, only moments after meeting Sylvia, he forces a kiss on her reveals him to be utterly controlling and hints at the fact that he has already in his own mind made the link between her and the vixen. He comments on her red hair and green eyes and his action in forcing himself onto her in an inappropriate sexual way also implies his underlying impotence. Her frightened eyes are the eyes of the frightened fox, aghast at the grim controlling, destructive force of this man
Baron Stefan, it appears, can only be aroused by destroying what he loves. Whether it is the fox or this woman. He destroys the foxes by hunting them and getting the vicarious thrill from witnessing his hounds tearing them to pieces. He destroys Sylvia by robbing her of her innocence, of her independence, of her will. Because he cannot sustain a relationship characterised by equality or respect for someone else's wishes. He has to assert his will. He has to control and when he cannot control he is frustrated. And the only way he can control is ultimately to destroy.
Toth takes care to depict the discrepancy in the characters' ages-- The Baron is elderly almost completely bald with grey hair hanging limply from the sides of his head. Sylvia is clearly very young, possibly only a child, her hair is long and vibrant and she is always dressed in virginal white.
We cut back to the present and witness Sylvia imploring her husband to give up his hunt for the vixen. His cold response reveals that she is trapped in this marriage against her will, as he says he would never allow Sylvia to "escape" from him. But even in this scene, some time into their marriage she remains dressed in symbolic virginal white, reinforcing the idea of his sexual impotence-- he has not yet been able to consummate their marriage any more than he has been able to catch and kill the red vixen. In a final attempt to cure his impotence he elects to go hunting the vixen one more time in the rain which he knows will give him even more advantage over the animal.
In the pelting rain he searches and searches. He is not only combating the vixen but nature itself. In other words his actions are against nature - unantural. The sense of menace presented by his pack of hounds throughout the story is stunningly captured by the way Toth fills entire panels with the sounds of their barking and baying,.
The moment when Stefan finally comes face to face with the vixen is truly awful. He refers to her "green eyes" as he has done to his wife a few pages earlier. Again Toth depicts the animal's eyes as wide and filled with terror, evoking the reader's empathy and emphasising Stefan's complete lack of the same facility. He spitefully refers to the fox "pleading" to be set free, and asserts cruelly as he did with Sylvia, that no amount of pleading will change his mind.
His own eyes peering out from the shadow cast by the brim of his helmet are the eyes of a controlling abusive man. This is the great moment for him of arousal and much desired release. As the sound of his hounds almost takes over the frame he tells the fox with the calmness and cold-heartedness of the truly abusive man that it will soon "drop into (his) hands" so that he can take it home and mount it in his trophy room.
On his return he is applauded by the other males, who look admiringly at what he has achieved-- yes, the elusive vixen is dead and in the sack "at last", but more importantly for him his arm is again outstretched- fully erect "at last".
Even on his return, having satisfied his twisted urges, he is cruelly insensitive to his wife's feelings. Knowing how she feels about his hunting habits he orders a servant to mount the vixen's head on its plaque, stating that he wants Sylvia to see it. It's the action of the abuser. It's willfully hurting her and disingenuously claiming to be acting with different intentions altogether.
What happened between the first meeting of Sylvia and Baron Stefan that in the time between the moment he "captured" her in the wood and her eventual death? What abuses did this woman suffer so that she was unable to "escape" his control any more than the trapped fox high in the tree was able to escape his bloodthirsty hounds? We are not told. But we are told the outcome of their marriage in the final panels as he comes to his bedroom, at last sufficiently aroused to consummate his marriage. However, in his "hour of triumph", Stefan looks down on the lifeless corpse of his victim, not yet fully comprehending that the only way he could "capture" her was to kill her.
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