SWAMP THING #1-13 Nov 1972 - Dec 1973
My interest in Bronze Age comics started just a few weeks ago when I read for the first time SWAMP THING - THE BRONZE AGE VOL. 1. I'd read the Alan Moore SWAMP THING on original publication but had never previously delved back to the series' origins.
There's an awful lot that can be said about these stories, written by Len Wein and drawn at first by Berni Wrightson and then by Nestor Redondo. But rather than attempt an analysis of a storyline which I'm sure has been analysed many times I thought I would offer up some 'moments' from these episodes that struck me in one way or another. Some are serious, some are not.
The splash page from the second page of #1 sets the tone for the entire series -- the grim-faced creature skulking in the shadows of the wood spying silently on the house. 'A new DC Comics concept!' reads the introductory panel.
Well, not quite so new, as an early version of the opening story had of course already been published in HOUSE OF SHADOWS just a year earlier.
This next splash page is a truly classic image. The pointing hand, club and X-shaped cross all point at the castle on the cliff-edge. These 'un-human' terrors transporting Swamp Thing may be the stuff of 70's horror comics, but their heritage is firmly in the gothic horror literature and movies that the teetering castle invokes in the reader's mind. And the unconscious Swamp Thing, chained in an upright position to the cross is powerless to prevent the hoard of un-men from taking him there. The X-shape of the cross also ensures that the diagonal lines point directly - and compellingly - to his lifeless face.
This splash is also wondrous, with Swamp Thing staring out of a moving train at the pair of wastrels he has just ejected from it. Despite the obvious sense of might the figure of the creature exudes, his thoughts reveal him not to be the 'monster' he appears to be. It's his inner thoughts that help drive the story issue after issue.
One of my favourite quirks of SWAMP THING is the way that in several issues the title is preceded by an introductory phrase. Here we read-- 'Again -- The Saga of the SWAMP THING!'
Or this one with the phrase 'Shockingly -- The Saga of the SWAMP THING!' I also like the way the story's title is incorporated by Wrightson into the picture, here as words on a digital clock.
One of my favourite introductory pages is this one from #8. Wrightson is employing the technique now of incorporating the SWAMP THING title into the image, something I noticed a lot during the Alan Moore run without realising it had originated here over a decade earlier.
Here's another example of the same thing.
Nestor Redondo continued the tradition when he took over illustrating the title. I was initially disappointed when I learnt Wrightson was not responsible for all the art, but I actually enjoyed Redondo's art just as much when I came to it.
He's given Swamp Thing's derriere a more flattering shape than Wrightson ever did!
This is an affecting scene. Swamp Thing discovers his human self and his wife Linda still alive and cannot of course believe his senses. That's a great last frame as he walks together with them holding their hands like a child! He wants so much for Linda to be alive and to return to being human that he drops his guard completely, prepared to accept anything if it gives him the merest sliver of hope.
This is a lovely chilling sequence, with a true cinematic quality to it. The 'camera' pulls back in the first three panels so that the bad guy gets increasingly smaller - and more vulnerable - in each frame. Conversely, the approaching Swamp Thing gets increasingly bigger giving a sense of his movement and menace. The fourth panel then snaps back to a close-up of the bad guy, but this time just his hand and the now empty pistol are in shot, as he cowers pathetically away. His screams of "Die! Die! Die! DIE!" are now replaced with a small voiced "Oh... my... God..." as Swamp Thing now huge in the frame looms over him.
I always like sequences like this in comics, where the artist draws pretty much the same thing across several panels but with slight changes. I'd always thought it was a fairly modern technique, so I was surprised to see Berni Wrightson employ it several times throughout this title.
This is an effective version of the technique, using no less than six panels in a row. The damaged robot version of Linda stays static while Swamp Thing moves slightly. His obsession with Linda overtakes his reason as he implores the robot to stop saying it loves 'Alec', desperately wanting it to love him instead. The last panel as he smashes it is especially disturbing. Unlike other key moments where the artists hide the character's mouth in shadow to help emphasise the emotion in his eyes, here it's the guilt-filled eyes which are hidden and the mouth is a rictus grin of rage.
Or what about this version where the alien laser-slices Swamp Thing's hand off. The effect of the succeeding panels is to present the regrowth of the hand in slow motion, the pacing of the frames dictated by our protagonist's thoughts. His raised arm is actually static across the centre three panels, but, it is possible to trace an invisible arc moving downwards through the frames starting at the smoking stump and ending with the whole hand crushing the alien's weapon. This creates the optical illusion of downward motion and creates a strong sense of Swamp Thing as an unstoppable force.
I found this sequence quite shocking. As the mechanical men advance on the bad guys the 'camera' starts to pull away, as if itself appalled by the 'atrocity' it is about to record. The carnage itself is really a case of 'less is more', the raised arm of the robot in the fourth panel and the shapeless mass into which it is pounding are drawn in the sketchiest way, not only suggesting the eye-blurring quickness of its movement but also forcing the reader to question exactly what is being represented here, so appalling is it. The simple colouring just adds further to the horror.
There's so much to love in this vision of the grotesque Un-men. Wrightson captures the terror on the face of Swamp Thing as he is surrounded by these 'countless un-human shapes', his hand grasping desperately for escape. Despite his huge stature compared to these creatures, most of which look decidedly puny, it is clear that they have the upper hand. And talking of hands, the creature that freaks me out more than any of the others is the freakish blob on top of a hand that is barking its orders.
Poor Abby. That beach is absolutely freezing! Setting the scene there just seems like an excuse to get her in that super-skimpy bikini.
This is a great moment-- Swamp Thing finally reveals his identity to Matt Cable in #13. Compare the 2nd and 3rd panels and you realise just how great Redondo is at conveying the emotions of his creation-- No mouth is visible in these drawings just a void of shadow. So the emotion is depicted purely through the eyes.
Cable and Bolt have a punch-up in the same issue. This frame reminds me so much of the techniques outlined in Stan Lee's HOW TO DRAW COMICS THE MARVEL WAY. It's so powerful. The artist doesn't need to draw the whole character when simply the clenched fist will suffice. I also love the way Bolt's focus is on the fist, not Cable's out of shot face.
I was quite taken with this sequence as the 'camera' starts above the coffin as it's about to be lowered into the grave. Then it's going down with it. Finally, as the grave-diggers fill in the grave, it's down in the grave looking up at the headstone and shovels. Again a great 'cinematic' series of frames.
As the mourners walk away from the grave Redondo treats us to the skewed angle of this frame. Not only does this give him freedom to cheat the perspective a bit, it creates a lovely sense of movement and the suggestion of things being wrong. Of course it's an economical way of drawing a scene where you need to include several characters in foreground and background and also include details such as the grave itself.
Issue 13 ends with one of those quiet, lyrical moments which characterise Len Wein's writing in this title and which Alan Moore went on to include to great effect a decade or so later. But the real magic here is the central panel in the final tryptich. Following a panel crammed with three wordy caption boxes, the main character's 'pause' is captured in a narrow wordless frame. As readers we pause too and gaze at the still, silent creature. Again Redondo enshrouds the area of Swamp Thing's mouth with darkness, allowing his eyes to convey all his emotions and to mesmerise the reader.
These early stories have more than their fair share of eccentric characters. Some are more successful than others. This guy, Professor Zachary Nail has his authority undermined, I feel, by his outfit -- do you think he chose the yellow boots to match the colour of his surgical appliance?
It's not the only unintentionally funny moment. I find this idea of SWAMP THING dressed in a raincoat and hat amusing. I'm not sure I'm meant to, but how can you not?
A lot of artists like drawing women, I'm sure that's not a secret. Nestor Redondo certainly seems to take advantage of having a character like Abby in the story to practise drawing poses which emphasise the subject's curves, somewhat akin to a fashion model. Here she is stretching coquettishly across a fallen tree trunk--
Here she is lying seductively on a bed--
And here she is dangling gamely from a creature's mouth--
At this point, I'd like to pay tribute to the character of Ruth. She only appears in one story and only gets to speak twice. When she is introduced I couldn't help noticing her incredible outfit. I am happy to admit to a rather dubious lifelong fascination with striped clothing. Ruth's crop-top I find especially appealing since I also find the yellow and orange stripes to be quite a beautiful combination of colours. Despite the fact that she's obviously owned it some time and it has shrunk several sizes in the wash, it still looks great on her. Ruth has even taken the care to match it with a pair of orange flares which she has accessorised with a large circular-buckled belt. This lady sure knows how to dress.
I think Nestor Redondo really enjoyed drawing Ruth, especially that bare midriff. As with Abby he draws her in the way a model might pose, accentuating her curves. These ladies could so easily be on a fashion shoot were it not for the unconscious body lying between them here.
Sadly, in the midst of uttering her second line Ruth is gunned down by Professor Hernia. Bolt declares her the only woman he ever loved. But before she gasps her last breath, Ruth manages to prop her body upwards by resting on one elbow, again in the manner of a posing model. With her long hair flowing behind her tilted back head, she might be relaxing on a beach or reclining on a chaisse longue. What a shame she wasn't and that this was to be her final scene.
The covers throughout the series are great. Here are two of my favourites, one from each artist. First Berni Wrightson's pure pulp image of Swamp Thing carrying off the unconscious Abby while pitchfork wielding villagers come chasing after him. The streaks of smoke cutting across the frame add an intense and dynamic element to the scene.
Finally the cover for #13 by Nestor Redondo. The inclusion of a flash of teeth emphasise that what we are looking at was once a human. It's a great bold image and brings this collection to a fitting close.
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