REVIEW: "Uncle Scrooge and the Horn of Plenty"

It's an unusual story I bring you this time, and one which I translated myself. Uncle Scrooge and the Horn of Plenty was written in 1982 by Osvaldo Pavese, and illustrated by something called the Francest Bargadà Studios. 

(The "F" flag refers to the old French currency, the Francs. In an official localization, this would have 

been changed to a $ sign, but I do what I can.)

We open at sea, with some prety darn decent art. This story has a very Barksian vibe, helped greatly by Donald's characterization. Seeing him at the steering wheel of a sailing ship naturally brings this oft-reproduced Barks painting to mind, too. Also, the mythical island they are looking for is called “Erinia”, which is the name of a real Greek island. It is hard to tell what Pavese was thinking — on the one hand, this shows he did his research, but on the other hand, well, Erinia exists and we're pretty sure it is not populated by centaurs, giants and co. Quid? 

Why the turnip-bashing? I like turnips. Involving disliked vegetables in a Greek-themed treasure quest may be a call-back to Barks's Golden Fleecing, although, unlike in the Barks tale, the turnips in Horn of Plenty never really tie into the main plot beyond the nephews intending to use the Cornucopia to eat something else at last.

The island as seen from the sky is a striking picture, though perhpas the island seems a bit small in comparison to the apparent size of Scrooge and co. I find the childish, petty conflict between Donald and Scrooge endearing, and Scrooge's likewise childlike enthusiasm about finding Greek Mythology creatures even moreso. (Also, you'd think Huey, Dewey and Louie would have learnt something from Golden Fleecing and not doubt the existence of the creatures so thoroughly, but ah well. Continuity was never the strong point of Disney comics before Don Rosa.)

So after being knocked out by rocks, they meet this Centaur fellow. His design is nothing special, but his dialogue (in the original Italian) is poetical and grandiloquent, which I tried to carry on to this version. Also, grumpfh. Prophecy. Why is there always a prophecy? And the hints dropped by the Centaurs and Co. (which fly right above Scrooge's head every time) about wanting to keep the Horn are all but obvious, but I couldn't really help it.

More obvious hints that everybody misses. Bah. Also, those duck-faced satyrs look very odd. I'm pretty sure something like the one in the bottom right panel would tumble over and fall. On the other hand, Scrooge's oblivious, dream-like happiness still amuses me.

…So on the one hand, Scrooge is moving away from “likable obliviousness” to “pretty damn thick” here. On the other hand, I don't know if that was Pavese's intention, but maybe Scrooge is being “too clever by half” here, because giving ceremonial weapons to new citizens actually was a thing in Ancient Athens, so…? (Also, this blacksmith looks like Fergus McDuck. …No reason.)

Ah yes, the Giant. I don't quite know what to make of him. From what develops later, it's clear he's based on Polyphemes in the Odyssey, but then, why isn't he a cyclops? Not to mention that as far as Giants go, he is a pretty bland Giant. Forget Willie — freakin' Gustav had more personality than this guy. The Francest Bargadà Studio folks also can't seem to keep his height straight from one panel to another, as you can see.

This sequence, on the other hand, is pretty nice and dynamic. You really get a sense of motion despite the image's actually being, well, just a static image. The Giant isn't anything special, but I like his confused expressions.

The reference to Barks's September Scrimmage in the second panel here is mine, of course. On the other hand, what does belong to the story is the design of that goat. I can't quite place why but I really like that goat. Very graceful. 

Also, will fiction stop portraying setting people's bottoms on fire as harmless slapstick? Seriously, it's fire. This sort of thing can lead to serious injury. It would be bad enough if the Giant's bouncing attempts to light it off succeeded, but the last panel here clearly shows they haven't, so the fire would have realistically long ago burnt through his clothing and started  consuming him, weren't this a children's comic.

Again the graceful goat. Either way, although the story naturally doesn't expound on it, I think we're meant to assume that the Giant dies (if not from getting a boulder twice the size of his head smashed into his skull, then from the subsequent rockslide). This is… unexpectedly dark — even Homer didn't kill Polyphemes off entirely.

Seriously, that goat. Look at its satisfied smile in the first panel as it parades Scrooge & Co. around. I want that goat as a pet. On the other hand… (sigh) Brigitis. 

Brigitis. Brigitis is a strange turn for the story to take, especially with nothing hinting at her existence previously. I mean, unexplained lookalikes are no strangers to Disney comics, but… why? This isn't a historical parody story, Pavese! The real Brigitta McBridge is presumably minding her own business back in Duckburg, even now! So… why? And why does Brigitis have to be in love with Scrooge just because she looks just like Brigitta, or the other way around? See, this would make sense if the story was actually All Just a Dream, but it's not. 

Also, in the original, Scrooge seems to be rejecting Brigits's proposal on the basis that she looks like Brigitta, and therefore must be just as insufferable. This is so overwhelmingly stupid that I broke my usual rule of not tampering with dialogue, and had Scrooge protest on the more reasonable grounds that madam, I've only just met you a minute ago, fercrissake!

That helpful Centaur also turns bloodthirsty pretty quickly. It's, again, surprisingly dark, but very mythological. Break not the Faerie's rules and all that. 

It was all just a dream, except, oh, it wasn't, blah blah blah. We have ourselves a conclusion. I'll admit, those final three panels are surprisingly moving, and Scrooge losing the last two jewels from Erinia without even noticing they were there at all is a nice touch. This particular “Dream… Or Not?” ending seems to be more about why Scrooge won't think to come back, than it is about leaving the actual facts ambiguous. Which, okay. Fine. I'm still sick of the trope, but fine.

Something odd is that it's clear the idea was that the Erinians were using the Corncupia as their primary source of food, hence their desperation to get it back. This made the Giant come across as all the more of a jerk, since with his goats and all, he could probably feed himself without the Horn. But such a plot point seems like it was setting up something — namely, Scrooge realizing he can't just waltz in and take away those islanders' livelihood just to get some more shinies. Only that never happens, because Scrooge gets the Horn taken away from him by Brigits Ex Machina before he even considers the morality of bringing it back to Duckburg. Blah.

So… that's Uncle Scrooge and the Horn of Plenty. Is it a masterpiece? No, by far. But it is nicely drawn (Giant proportions notwithstanding), creative, and evocative. The overall atmosphere is very Barksian, to me, especially the sequences with Donald at the beginning and end. It's a romp I wouldn't mind seeing IDW publish one of these days, unlikely though it may be. 

REVIEW: "The Inner-Earth Adventure"

    Having read a lot of post-Barks pre-Rosa old Uncle Scrooge issues, I have discovered that the amount of Barks reprints was absolutely, ludicrously overwhelming for a period, at least for the main story. Then somewhere near the #190 mark, I suddenly had a chunk of fresh air in the form of main stories written by honored Disney comic author "?" and drawn by the creative if somewhat glitchy Pete Alvarado. Alvarado was no Rosa or Bottaro, but his work was still quite enjoyable. One of the more notable stories I found was this:

     In Uncle Scrooge #194 lies undiscovered The Inner-Earth Adventure, first published in February of 1982. As I said, the art is by Pete Alvarado, and it is kinda weak in places; however, you can't blame him too much — he was 62 at the time, and looking at older efforts of his, he had used to have a higher amount of details. Anyway.

     We open with this lovely little opening narration. I like the idea, really; and it unintentionally foreshadows Don Rosa's Attack of the Hideous Space Varmints, which also has a similar opening. If there is a downside, though, it is, as I said, with the art. The "outer space" background, no offense meant, looks like it was drawn by a toddler. And sure, you can't expect everyone to be Don Rosa, but I can't help but make the comparison with Hideous Space Varmint's own opening star-lit splash panel, since the two openings are so alike, and that comparison is jarring:

        But let's not forget ourselves and begin nitpicking already. We've got a whole zany plot to go. So Scrooge has, we're told, always postponed his space voyage because the cost was too off-putting. However, he suddenly realizes that Gyro could help him (come on, you've known the guy since 1952, and just now you think of it?). Never mind that Gyro has already built several spaceships for Scrooge in past stories; it is a thing I find a little hard to swallow, but I won't press that point too much, since Barks himself couldn't remain self-consistent on that point either.

    Gyro Gearloose, it turns out, already has a spaceship ready (albeit an untested one), which works with a super-hot fuel. The unforeseen problem is that as soon as the thing is switched on, the superheat melts the ground, leading the machine to sink into the Earth. Also, the third and fourth panels look very much like Don Rosa's Universal Solvent story. There might be influence there.

    Though the plot itself has little in common, I must admit that the titular Inner-Earth was most likely inspired by Barks's Land Beneath the Ground. Underground world, they're aware of the upper earth but only barely, and there are two similar but competing peoples. The Togs are the hard-working root farmers (I like that this story makes the effort to explain how the underground beings sustain themselves, unlike Barks's Terries and Fermies), and the Krogs are the evil robbers who just steal the product of their work. The Krogs are not especially fearsome (they're just Togs with masks on), but they have a better knowledge of the underground geography: they know passages to Upper-Earth, and also ways to get Freez gems, which are found much deeper into the Earth's crust, the light of which can freeze anyone who looks at it (except them, the light being filtered by their masks).

     They figure out that sunglasses will protect them from the Freez's ray (Huh… they took sunglasses on a space expedition? That's lucky indeed.) There are also “gushes” in Inner-Earth, spontaneous geysers of molten gold that spring from the ground at random times; which interests Scrooge, obviously.

      Ladies and gentlemen, this is a terrible burning stream of glowing molten gold that is going to engulf Scrooge and Gyro (just so you know). It's unfortunate that Alvarado can't seem to render the direness of the situation, because in theory, it makes for a pretty good climax, but the stream appears so small and escape so easy that you hardly get any feeling of danger. Have Marco Rota redraw that story someday, and it'll become a classic.

     Would the stone floor be cool if there's molten gold streaming underneath all the time? Ah well. What is weirder is the Tog's “One good thing: Freez gem gone in golden gush!”. No Togs were speaking in caveman language earlier.

    The ending twist is funny, but why does Scrooge “wak” repeatedly? Were it Donald doing this, I wouldn't look twice, but though Scrooge has been known to utter this kind of exclamative "Wak!"s at the beginning, never has he said: "wak! wak! wak!" in annoyance.

     So, that's The Inner-Earth Adventure, a pretty good little story, in spite of inconsistent artwork. It's neither Barks nor Rosa or Bottaro or Carpi, but for a late pre-Gladstone western story, it's much better than you'd expect. It won't take up much time to read it, so I say give it a go.

REVIEW: "The Dime from Uncle"

    Back in the 60's, Disney was trying to launch comic books about less prominent characters who, they thought, could still have their own stories instead of remaining in the background. Thus, The Phantom Blot, Moby Duck, Ludwig von Drake, The Beagle Boys (and, a little later, The Aristokittens) were born. 

    When it comes to The Beagle Boys, they weren't exactly sure what to do with them. The obvious first choice was: have them rob Scrooge. Yeah, sure, but that would be awfully redundant with Uncle Scrooge; and more importantly, if the Beagle Boys were the antagonists, we'd rather find ourselves rooting for Scrooge than for the “bad guys”, even if the book was named after them. Now, what to do with the masked dogs?

     “Obvious enough, the authors said. Have them team-up with human witches”.

     …wait, what???

     Not that there's anything wrong with this concept. Amazingly enough, it works out pretty well. It's just… through what improbable way of thinking did the writers get this weird idea?

      And yet, so it was done. Issue One of the Beagle Boys' solo efforts was called The Beagle Boys and the Marvelous Mad Madam Mim (I like how they quadrupled the already-triple alliteration), and contained a myriad of stories which had little in common plot-wise, except that all started with the premise of Madam Mim living, more or less temporarily, as a guest in the Beagle-Boys' hideout, and interfering with the thugs' plans, for good or ill. It managed to get sold in large enough quantities that Gold Key (the publisher) ordered a second issue from the same team. They had already exploited Madam Mim to the bone, so they looked for another witch. Magica De Spell was too mean and not wacky enough, so they switched to Witch Hazel, and ta-da:

This is 1965's The Dime from Uncle, written by Vic Lockman, penciled by Tony Strobl and inked by Steve Steere. 

The first interesting thing to say here is that this is the introduction of Witch Hazel's “new” name, Wanda Witch. When she debuted in Trick or Treat (both the animated short and the comic story), she was named Hazel, as you know. However, there were a couple of other Witch Hazels around: Little Lulu comics had one, a Tom & Jerry short had had one as a memorable one-shot, and most importantly, the Looney Tunes had a much-beloved one. Theirs was actually a special case, since it was actually a rip-off of the Disney Trick or Treat Witch Hazel who progressively grew into her very own thing. At any rate, past Donald Duck and Witch Hazel, the Disney publishers could not afford to use the name again, for fear of either copyright problems or readers being confused. Meanwhile, Hazel had been repeatedly used in Italian comics, as Nocciolla (“Nutty”), a close enough translation, and there had been no problem. When she got back to the states, it was at first as The Witch. Then, Lockman thought up “Wanda Witch”, and it stuck for as long as the character kept being used (when she vanished along with the rest of the 60's introductions, she became only remembered by Barks's Trick or Treat, which is why she's once again Witch Hazel today).

So the idea is that Hazel (sorry -- Wanda) has opened a night school of witchcraft (although she seems to have ulterior motives), and the Beagle Boys decide to apply there because if they can become invisible or fly a broomstick, it will naturally improve their criminal careers. Art-wise, Tony Strobl is absolutely excellent here, especially on Witch Hazel. He could be shaky at times, but this is one of his peaks. I can't help but think that Strobl was more fit to draw these kinds of angular human characters, rather than rotund designs like the Ducks or Mickey.

Witch Hazel is at her best when she does this kind of Ludwig-von-Drake-style verbal wackiness out of nowhere. Ala Ka Zam, Bala Ka Zam, Calico Sam -- why not? It's hilarious because it's unexpected. Also unexpected is the Beagle Boys' dramatic reaction (does Calico Sam sound all that fearful a name, really?), and Tony Strobl, once more, sells it perfectly. 

Back to the plot, the Beagle Boys graduate and decide to go rob Scrooge. But what could Hazel's ulterior motive be? Try to guess. Just try.

Looking for Calico Sam. Selling the Lucky Dime to look for Calico Sam. This is just so over-the-top. Vic Lockman was bad at doing serious plots, but when he lets of the steam and goes Alice in Wonderland, he's irresistible. I mean, you'd have thought the Calico Sam digression was just an irrelevant bit of kookiness, but no, it's actually one of the battiest Chekhov's Guns in history.

So yes, this story uses McDuck Manor, and no, it wasn't a purely DuckTales thing. You actually really can't blame Lockman there for the apparent inconsistency: Barks himself did it first in Bear Mountain and Voodoo Hoodoo, after all. And the notion that Scrooge actually lived in the Bin wasn't firmly established until Don Rosa; the odd Italian story had him sleeping in his vault, on a money bag, but it was not prominent. Until Beagle Boys Vs Money Bin, you could easily argue that Scrooge just worked and spent most of his leisure time in the Bin, but lived in his own house, be it McDuck Manor or something else. Actually, if we're speaking continuity, take a look at 1950's Trail Blazer by Bob Moore.

The stairs are apparently longer, but the two columns supporting the pediment are there in both. We'll never know if it was intentional, but at least we can rejoice, as this isn't the kind of continuity you often see between two minor stories, especially if these two stories are by different authors, and none of those two authors is Carl Barks. Back to the story…

…Scrooge is very well-rendered here, too. At one point of his career, Tony Strobl drew him with a much-too-short, much-too-angular beak, but here he is entirely on-model. His eye rings are a nice touch (he was woken in the middle of the night, after all). The Lucky Dime's protective glass is shorter than usual, but it's okay (although putting a glass globe under one's head is still not a very careful thing to do).

Shenanigans ensue as Huey, Dewey and Louie, Scrooge, Hazel and the Beagle-Boys lead a battle of quiproquos, magics and wits throughout the Manor. The “magic” part is a little underwhelming, but it's very okay. And then, there's this. Calico Sam rides again! Ta-da!!! This crazy running gag really gets me every time. 

And there is the Beagle-centric punchline. I'd still like to point out some heavy furry confusion here. “I could have turned you into a police dog”… er, isn't this guy already an anthropomorphic dog? Additionally, isn't the Beagle Boy himself a dog, too? And that's emphasized by Scrooge's referring to them as “Beagles” instead of just “Beagle Boys”, something he does pretty rarely.

REVIEW: "Shiver Me Timbers"

Joe Torcivia (go check his awesome blog, by the way) once asked me if I'd review one of his “scripted stories”. This prompted me to finally get my hands on an American IDW Uncle Scrooge issue, Uncle Scrooge #406. Since all three stories in there are pretty good, I'll review them all, but before that, non-American readers are going to ask what I mean by “scripted stories” (don't all stories have script, after all ?). 

Well. Nowadays, American readers will never get their hands on European stories as their readers first discovered them, except through scanlations. Why is that ? Well, all the foreign stories printed in American comics are not only translated, but rescripted by another author (the most illustrious being Geoffrey Blum, David Gerstein, Joe Torvicia, Jonathan Gray and the late Chris Barat). I have had numerous arguments on the Internet on this matter, because I don't really support this method, first because it stops the readers from having a clear opinion of the original author's work (a good rescripter can make a piece of junk into an okay story… which is nice and all, but then we're going to believe the original author was much better than he actually is). And also, there is a continuity problem. I'm very set on continuity, as you may know, and it really bothers me that we have two slightly different, overlapping versions of the same events. It's Donrosatian attention for details, of course, but it is a fact that through no plausible contortion of Time can Donald have both said on day X “Hello, uncle Scrooge” and “Nice G weather today”. I chose an inconsequential example because I wanted to ridicule myself a little, since I'll admit all this is pretty over-the-top. But sometimes it's a little bit more important. Like this, from The Eternal Knot, which GeoX already reviewed: 

I am told that Scrooge citing examples from his family is the translator's idea, whereas in the original he was just talking “in general”. Well, assuming I'm a Don Rosa clone who wants to make a Duck family tree, except not just from Barks stories… what do I do ? Do Aunt Molly and Cousin Clem exist, or not ? Since this is their only mention ever and they only exist in one of the two possible things Scrooge said (and that the version where Scrooge didn't cite them is, since it's the oldest one, the most likely to be canon) ? Gah ! And it's not just a thought experiment, because I did attempt once or twice to build such a tree. 

On the other hand… after repeated exposure to them, I kinda warmed up to these rescripting because often, they are damn good ! As I said before too, my idea solution would be that all those talented authors that are busy doing the rescripting be instead hired to write script to new Disney stories. 

At any rate…

This is 2003's Shiver Me Timbers, written by Jan Kruse and drawn by Bas Heymans, and here rescripted by Jonathan Gray. The story opens as the Ducks (including Scrooge) travel to Codfish Cove for a fishing weekend. This feels more like a Donald thing to do, obviously, so the opening dialogues are about justifying why Scrooge tags along too, since we'll need him later when this turns into a treasure hunt. The justification (fishing fish is free, buying fish costs).

Bas Heymans's distinctive art is excellent at this atmospheric stuff with the realistic-looking ship an the old sailor. However, though a three-master would be kinda original, describing it as a "ship out o'time" seems odd. For us it would be, but for the fantasy world of Donald Duck & Co., it appears it wouldn't. Moby Duck sails a similar, wooden, sail ship on a daily basis, and both Donald Duck finds Pirate Gold and its sequel South Sea Shenanigans feature the Ducks and Yellow Beak traveling aboard such a ship. I can admit that it would still get a few odd looks, but it wouldn't be enough spookiness to chase an entire crew of sailors out of town !

This reminds me of Barks's Let Sleeping Bones Lie where Scrooge tries to convert a giant dinosaur fossil into a fast-food restaurant. I'm not sure it's intentional, but it is quite similar.

What the…? You can be sure of one thing, this is one piece of dialogue that Jonathan Gray can be held responsible for. Aside from the weird “ain't” and “o'” that I feel would belong more in Pete's mouth than in Donald's, space-kidettes ? What on Earth is that supposed to mean ? 

Similarly, I'm 90 percents sure that Donald calling Super Goof is Gray's idea. And aside from the fact that I'm naturally unsympathetic towards it because continuity blah blah blah… there is a clear logical fallacy here. Because whereas Donald just yelling "HELP" would justify Scrooge's answer, any Super Goof fan knows that his super-hearing allows him to hear cries for help from absurdly long distances.  Which means that Donald was perfectly justified in trying to yell HELP, and Scrooge is wrong to tell him to stop.

That image of the island and the ship, and its colorization, are both flawless. Congratulations. 

Bas Heymans really knows how to make striking perspective. Bravo again, quite loudly.

Turns out the ghost is just a hand/glove. “Well, I can safely say that I am currently terrified beyond all reason.” might be a rescripting line, but I find it delightfully hilarious in its nonsensicality. It's lines like that that make me reconsider my opinions about these things.

Hilarious allusion, too (for those who don't know, Scrooge is quoting the Donald Duck theme song in the left panel), even though I am once more quite sure that it wasn't there in the original. On the right, wha Scrooge says rhymes, so I wonder if he's still singing or not. Perhaps.

It's weird how in the comics, the other characters pick up on the weirdness of Donald Duck's voice much less often than in cartoons. I guess it's because, since you don't really hear his voice in the comics, we have it less on our minds, and thus allusions are considered harder to get. The point being, this one allusion to his quacking tendencies is welcome !

I like the Moby Duck allusion, though why does he say “our pal” ? Moby Duck is his uncle, not his friend. As for the “Gravity Falls” allusion… other than the fact that it's a very weird pun since it's a pun on a pun… It can be taken three way. Either:

• There just happens to be a location in the Duck universe known as Gravity Falls (it's possible, I guess);
• Donald is referring to the TV series, in which case sorry, no, not possible, because the TV series premiered in 2012, which means that in 2003 Donald couldn't have heard about it;
• This is a hint that the TV series takes place in the same universe as the usual Disney comics… which is possible too, but it's weird because if there's any Disney property whose style wouldn't mash up well with Disney comics, it's Gravity Falls. 

And the thing is, if it's either #1 or #3, we are faced the continuity problem, since this is all a rescripting thing. Is there a location named Gravity Falls in the Duck Universe, or not ?!?

Well, anyway. The Ducks discover that an evil wizard is behind the whole thing, and that to lift the curse they have to find him. Anyways, things spiral into madness from there. It's often hilarious and always engaging, but I can't help but wonder what went through Kruse's mind. Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman and the Knights of the Round Table and an evil sorcerer and blah blah blah ? What's all that doing in a pirate ghost story ?!? There's not much more to review here aside from that, except that the Headless Horseman is very dissimilar to his standard Disney portrayal.

I do wonder one last thing: how does the chef know the name of the pirates-turned-seagulls ? I don't think those are supposed to be anthropomorphic seagulls, so they can't have told him…

Well, anyway, good art and a delightfully wacky plot make this story a very enjoyable read. As for Gray's localization, it has its ups (very up) and its downs (mindscrews).