And so with the reservations of my previous post noted, on to Marvel Studios and Parmanount Pictures' Marvel's Avengers Assemble, hereafter Avengers, written by Zak Penn & Joss Whedon and directed by Whedon. The following contains plot spoilers.

In theory this film should appeal only to a minority of a minority, collapsing under its own weight, strangled by backstory, buried under ennui. Despite experiencing something of a renaissance in recent years the various Avengers books are still that breed of comic most impenetrable to the outsider, the "clubhouse" title. Pick any given major superhero character and you will find depending from it a cast of villains, sidekicks and miscellaneous secondary characters numbering in the hundreds. Throw a dozen or more together and that cast increases by orders of magnitude. Add to that the internal politics of the group, the rivalries, betrayals, romances and deaths and you have backstory enough to rival the world's longest running soap operas. Where to begin?

Joss Whedon makes some assumptions and eliminations. In coming to Avengers he's going to assume we've already sat through around 12 hours of filmed material but not necessarily screeds of comics. He doesn't want to waste time on recaps or retelling anyone's origin. With all but the most fleeting of nods he acknowledges what's come before. He doesn't even have time for geek-baiting in-jokes or teasers; only the now mandatory Stan Lee cameo and post-credits sting could count as fan service. He assumes we want to see what's been promised since Samuel L Jackson first donned Nick Fury's eye patch and confronted Robert Downey, Jr's Tony Stark. He assumes that the principal attraction of this movie is the pleasing interconnectedness of "The Marvel Universe", finally realised on screen. And he also assumes we want to have some fun.

So he builds a story structure that meets all the basic expectations an audience would have; superheroes fight each other, help each other, rescue each other, bicker and commiserate with each other before working together to achieve victory. Crucially these Avengers are given something and someone to avenge. On that structure he layers a surprising amount of humour and the well-judged moments of character revelation and development that have become Whedon's trademark.

The result is best typified by a wonderful sequence toward the middle of the final act, as Whedon's camera sours around Manhattan, under attack from aliens, and catches the various members of the Avengers in combat; drawing fire away from and driving targets toward one another, switching from offence to defence, using their abilites in unexpected combinations, and ending with a killer bit of visual comedy. It's the kind of escalating action a comicbook can only hope to represent in scattershot freeze-frames. Exactly what makers of these movies should aspire to do.

Inevitably Avengers lacks the drive and economy of something like Jon Faverau's first Iron Man and doesn't approach the meaty depth of Christopher Nolan's version of Batman. We all knew from the trailers and posters the general direction this film would go in - explosions and buildings falling down - but the joy of it is in the little touches. The common ground found between Stark and Mark Ruffalo's Bruce Banner, two men of science carrying wounds for their hubris. The ongoing relationship between Chris Hemsworth's Thor and Tom Hiddleston's Loki, the former still unwilling to completely condemn his errant brother, the latter still seeking approval even as he spits venom at all and sundry. The struggle of Chris Evan's Steve Rogers, grieving the loss of the nation he once fought for, so eager to bury himself in another war. The strange ambiguity revealed in Nick Fury and his S.H.I.E.L.D agents, occupying a moral quagmire that makes the existence of the Avengers necessary.

Despite Whedon's feminist credentials Scarlett Johanssen's Natasha Romanov isn't quite as well served. Her (re)introduction to the audience is a highlight of the film and she's given plenty to do throughout but she and Jeremy Renner's Clint Barton/Hawkeye seem mis-matched with the more imposing characters. Renner gets the rawest deal; having just been seen as a quasi-compromised agent in Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol and about to play another in the next of the Bourne franchise, here he is again playing the heel. Barton is in Loki's thrall for much of the movie so we're denied the traditional smart-alec egotist take on his charcter and/or the cool uber-assassin of Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch's revision in The Ultimates. One has to assume these two are being primed for fuller parts in subsequent films. Likewise Cobie Smulders as Maria Hill, lined up as an obvious replacement for Clark Gregg's Phil Coulson whose fate will likely be the most hotly debated plot point in fan circles.

The USP of Avengers comics has always been their changing roster and so some churn is to be expected. But Avengers the movie works so well, entertains so consistently, that it may be hard for cinema audiences to accept seeing any of Marvel's characters again on a solo basis. Marvel's writers are already faced with the challenge of telling a third credible Iron Man tale in which he doesn't simply call for help. Marvel Studios have played a long game and this is the pay-off. It's hard to see exactly how they can hit the reset button. Surely from this point on it has to be more Avengers, even if not in name?

Among a few specific gripes:
- I really, really dislike the idea of an American public divided in their opinion of the Avengers. Let the X-Men do the reviled and misunderstood stuff and leave the Avengers be as unambiguous heroes.
- I miss the Pym/Van Dyne axis. It is to me is the very centre of the Avengers. Leaving out those two means leaving out Ultron (always my favourite, and something I hoped would be the upshot of all the dark muttering at S.H.I.E.L.D about "phase 2 prototypes"), which means no Wonder Man/Vision, which means no great trauma for the Scarlet Witch, the most tragic character in the whole sprawling canon.
- I would have liked, even as a joke, to have heard the "tesseract" called the Cosmic Cube at least once.
- Their huge, writhing air-whale attack craft excepted, the Chitauri are fairly standard cgi cannon fodder. While I accept that in a film juggling six or seven arcs a secondary villain is overkill, it wouldn't have hurt to give some of them a touch more personality or go with something more visually distinct.
- Composer Alan Silvestri makes the presence of a full orchestra felt on all the big action moments, but we're left without an instantly hummable Avengers tune, nor do we have a clear set of motifs for the different characters. Henry Jackman created two instantly memorable themes for X-Men: First Class last year and structured his whole score around their reiteration and interplay. I'd have welcomed more of that, or even the chutzpah Silvesti himself brought to Captain America: The First Avenger.

And what I loved:
- Third time's the charm; this is by far the best version of the Hulk seen on film, Banner and beast. Ruffalo strikes just the right chord and the design and animation on the green fellow are excellent. Who'd have thought body hair would make such a difference? Some may complain that this slightly smarter and smaller Hulk doesn't gel with the uncontrollable monster of the last film. I must admit I thought a Hulk rampage might have been the crisis that precipitates the Avengers' formation, just as in the the afore-mentioned Ultimates. In the end I think Penn and Whedon made the right choice. The Hulk has exhibited every level of intelligence in decades of comics, from full mindlessness to true genius. If anything this version harks back to the beloved tv series; noisy, violent and blunt for sure but capable of discerning friend from foe.
- Maybe the Chitauri look like techo-organic wallpaper but all the production design on the good guys was great. Cap's upgraded uniform, the Mark VII Iron Man armour, Hawkeye's quiver, Black Widow's gauntlets, the S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier... Good work.
- Hiddleston as Loki is now giving Ian McKellen's Magneto a run for his money as the best Marvel villain on screen. He's even better here than in Kenneth Branagh's Thor, giving Loki the loquacious touch required as well as the conniving, malicious jealousy. Not sure a Norse god would use Anglo Saxon swearwords though.
- And Downey, Jr continues to impress as the man born to play Tony Stark. His is the most interesting arc among the heroes. In the closing seconds we get a hint that he's ready to become a global-scale benefactor. But the loftier the ambition the harder the potential fall...
- The post-credits reveal of the Loki and the Chitauri's patron suprised me, simply in terms of relative obscurity. Admittedly the Avengers have very few major adversaries uniquely their own but the idea that a movie may portray so lurid a villain with as bizarre a gimmick and unpleasant a demeanour fills me with a strange itchy feeling. But I felt the same way last year about Arnim Zola.

On balance, this was a huge task for any director and Whedon has done admirably. It's about time he was given a project with this sort of mass appeal. I can't wait to see what he does next.

It's Avengers day in the UK. Or Marvel's Avengers Assemble day. Apparently the (wrong-headed) people at Marvel/Disney are worried British kids will see a poster or bus livery featuring Iron Man, Hulk, Captain America and Thor but expect a film with John Steed, Mrs Peel, Purdey and Gambit.

One gets a sense that a watershed or sorts has occurred. Movies based on superhero comics are hardly anything new. The response to Avengers could easily be boredom if not hostility. And yet it's got glowing critical write-ups and charmingly geeky praise from the editors of grown-up newspapers. Could Avengers be all things to all audiences; for the comics devotees a film made with an appreciation of the characters' long history in print, snatching plot points and visual cues from a variety of sources, mixed in with a witty screenplay; for the returning movie lover a pay-off for all the nods and winks littered through Marvel's films over the last several years; and for the casual punter a mash-up of seventies disaster movie mega cast with modern special effects, 3-D guns blazing?

Just as Avengers appears to have fully tipped "superhero" into the list of accepted and perennial cinematic (sub)genres alongside slasher movies, costume drama or mumblecore, so begins a back-lash from within the comics community itself. A boycott is gathering pace.

The largest of DC and Marvel's superhero properties are now owned in whole or in part by huge corporations seeking as never before to exploit them across multiple media. But they occupy an almost unique position in popular culture, shared perhaps only by the back-catalogues of certain rock and roll recording artists. Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman pre-date the Second World War. Captain America appeared mid-conflict. Iron Man, Thor and Hulk showed up in the early Sixties. Under ordinary circumstances these would be pieces of intellectual property rolling toward public domain status. As the financial stakes spiral upward so the window of time in which to claim them narrows and these big businesses are going to have to set legal precedent in order to retain exclusivity. Sensing a sea change, the families of the creators are mounting law suits in what might be their last opportunity to claim lost or withheld income.

It seems to me there are three different kinds of alleged transgression against the artists who created these characters; legal, moral and ethical.

Legally, what is to be done with money made from the exploitation of intellectual property created under poorly worded or inadequate contracts and in circumstances that are scarcely documented; material that has been reinterpreted and per mutated so often that it may contain only trace elements of the work as originally conceived; property that has been adapted into media that did not exist, indeed could not be imagined, at the time of the original undertaking? This is the challenge facing the family of the late Jack Kirby as they continue to attempt to terminate the copyrights held by Marvel/Disney and claim a percentage of the profit garnered from them. The case was lost last year and is now at the appeal stage.

Virtually every character Kirby drew while working at Marvel in the Sixties is still in use to this day. Did Kirby think of himself as an artist, creating work for the ages, or a jobbing cartoonist, filling the pages of cheap funny books that would be the next day's fish wrapper? When handing him vaguely worded plot synopses to be fleshed out, was Stan Lee seeking to steal Kirby's ideas or was he an over-worked and lazy writer trying to spin multiple plates against tight deadlines? I can't be convinced either man entertained the notion that Avengers #1, dated September '63 , would be followed by some 500 further issues, much less form the basis of a live action film released by Disney four decades later. Interview after interview with Western cartoonists and writers indicate that comics weren't considered of any lasting worth by their makers until the seventies at the very earliest. A generation who'd read them as children had to take over before creator owned comics were ever even considered.

The fact that Marvel fell ass-backwards into the position it now occupies at the top of a multimedia empire, via a convoluted series of by-outs, bankruptcy and corporate reinvention is not an excuse for the treatment meted out to Kirby in his lifetime (as well as Steve Ditko and a host of others). But it's true that when people make work thought of in the moment as ephemeral and wholly commercial none will be greatly inclined to protect it. To prove otherwise, and in the absence of written documentation, we must use second-hand information (all too easily characterised as supposition and hearsay). Revisionist self-aggrandisers like Stan Lee hold the upper hand. Corporations like Disney have effectively unlimited resources. Meanwhile the Kirbys have the burden of proof to shoulder. The dedicated goodwill of a passionate fan base won't help. Harsh as it may be I think Marvel/Disney have little to fear in court.

Morally, should an artist or an artist's estate have indefinite control over the artist's work and expect to derive income from it in perpetuity? What we think of as classical music, literature and visual art where all "pop" culture in their time. At what point should it be accepted that a piece of work is now everyone's, not someone's? The families of Jerry Siegel and Joel Shuster continue in their efforts to claim recompense from DC/Time Warner over Superman. At this late stage we are witnessing an increasingly twisted war of attrition. Again, I do not excuse the treatment of Siegel and Shuster in their professional lives. But it's crazy to believe that when they banked their meagre cheque they thought they'd been bumped for as yet unrealised millions. DC went some way to redress the damage, perhaps not far enough and only after great acrimony. But they acknowledged the whole regrettable business. My question is how long can this argument be entertained in a court without rewriting the law? Isn't the more pertinent point that while there's no doubt in anyone's mind whose idea Superman was, originally, it's getting to the stage where so many hands have touched it that picking it apart is a fool's errand? Doesn't Superman now belong to culture? All that can be argued about now is the rights pertaining to any specific works of fiction featuring Superman?

What makes these arguments so troubling and distasteful is that the central figures are invariably deceased. In the creators absence their representative is compelled to portray them as grievously wronged. Those speaking against are likewise forced to colour them as having been ignorant or naive. Feelings run high, as well they might. We're talking about a lot of money and very old wounds.

But there are exceptions. When a living artist, who made work under an explicit and fully realised contract, foregoes the rights and credit to his work and the income from it but states very publicly and often that he'd rather his work simply be left alone, what are we to make of the company, the readership and, most importantly, the fellow artists and writers that pointedly ignore that request? Such are the worrying ethical questions thrown up by Alan Moore's objection to Before Watchmen.

The Watchmen certainly don't have the cultural cache of the Avengers. Dr Manhattan and Rorschach clearly don't belong in the same category as Superman and Batman. Moore's work is a critical response to superhero characters and the ideas behind them, not a substitute for them. Nevertheless DC Comics have relentlessly pursued the commercial exploitation of Watchmen in a wholly legal but utterly unethical fashion that borders on satire. I like many of the names attached to the various Before Watchmen books. Some of these people are among the keenest minds in comics. I would have thought they know their history. Are aware of the cases mentioned above. Were part of the generation that took great strides to ensure such horrible incidents as the recent Ghost Rider debacle will not be repeated in the decades to come. They're most certainly aware of what Alan Moore thinks of the whole exercise. Yet they wish it all away. Puzzling doesn't begin to cover it.

I'm not a copyright expert and it's entirely possible I'm wrong in my interpretation of these ongoing disputes. But they certainly make me very unhappy. As Rob Bricken wrote recently, it would be nice to enjoy this period of redoubled popularity for superheroes without being made to feel like a complicit arsehole.

2011- Aprés la pluie, le beau temps

How was your year? Last time I wrote I was waiting for another shoe to drop. Well it did, albeit gradually, followed by a sharp shock from an unexpected third. I'll come to these in due course. The powers that be tell us that 2011 was a remarkably busy year in terms of world events and it certainly felt tumultuous and positively bleak at times. Never the less Y and I made the best of things and above all efforts to enjoy time together. I'm going to try and reserve the maudlin and mushy stuff for my final paragraphs, but the short version is this; if you have a loved one near you hug them immediately, repeat immediately, and if not make a phone call, send a message, spread love.

Spring
As is often the case, the first part of the year - more specifically, the fourth financial quarter - was the busiest in terms of work. I was buried in an expansive public sector project that saw me travelling hither and yon, caricaturing and visual minuting at a number of events as well as listening to a whole lot of consultants, motivational speakers, management and education experts and so on. This kind of stuff can drive you round the twist and it certainly became impenetrable at times. Myself and the amazing James Gibson - known to clubbers as Thriftshop XL - were charged with the hard task of emulating Cognitive Media's astonishing cartoon videos for the RSA. This culminated in a long Saturday at my place, me drawing like mad on a wall under Jim's arc lights and he filming the lot. Whether we were successful or not I cannot say. Like so many projects of its kind the final outcomes are known to only a few.

Y and co headed down to Newcastle for her sister's 30th birthday weekend. My understanding is that some alcohol was consumed.


In the weeks up to the Scottish election and AV referendum I tried to produce a political caricature a day. Broadly speaking I managed it and indeed came up with some favourites in the process. I went to a hustings organised by the Scottish Artists Union and was disappointed to find the SNP, arguably the party with the strongest credentials in Scottish art, were absent; typical I fear of the new sense of entitlement and arrogance that has becomes their trademark in the face of virtually no opposition.

After a friend of a friend found herself unable to go due to an unexpected baby - long story - we found ourselves taking an unplanned week on Corfu. The season was barely underway in Pyrgi and elsewhere on the east coast of the island but the quiet suited us. At times it was a positive advantage, such as when having a ship virtually to ourselves on a jaunt north to Kassiopi. We're not beach people by nature but the warmth was welcome and has encouraged us to look for something similar in the coming year.






Summer
We were in and out of performance venues throughout the summer: finally catching Avenue Q at the Kings in Glasgow; the astonishing Batman Live at the SECC; and Josie Long, Richard Herring, Robin Ince & Michael Legge and Stewart Lee during the Edinburgh Festival. The Fringe is becoming a fixture in our year; I just wish it was easier to get back from Edinburgh late at night. The lack of night buses or trains after twelve meant we had to forego Adam Buxton's BUG, something I'm dying to see.

In and out of hospital waiting rooms too. Converse had to have teeth out, necessitating a day in surgery. My grandfather had a pacemaker fitted after a series of frightening fainting episodes. And Y was in for a laparoscopy. All made full recoveries from their operations. But we'd be back in some of the same old places in a matter of weeks.

I had an excellent day at the Scottish Parliament in August, caricaturing and workshopping with Youth Parliament delegates from all over Scotland. The day was part of the Festival of Politics, itself tied in with the Edinburgh Festival. I'd welcome more of the same in the future.

Autumn
I was asked to judge at a number of Secret Wars street art battles. I really enjoy these nights - even if I'm sometimes the oldest hand in attendance - and greatly admire the brio of the artists, drawing at a huge scale with no preparatory marks allowed. Difficult enough without hot lights, incredibly loud music and a baying crowd at your back.


We returned to Paris for the first time since our honeymoon. Naturally old haunts were high on of our to do list: Pigalle, suddenly a trendy enclave for young media types despite a stubborn grubbiness; Île de la Cité with its flower and bird market; the Jardin des Plantes menagerie, home of the redoubtable Nénette and her family; and our beloved Montmartre, now the site for a nightly street party around the Sacré-Cœur.








We also time for things previously missed. The bewildering art mall that is the Pompidou Centre overwhelmed as much as the Louvre. We hadn't a hope of taking it all in but glad to see an Edvard Munch show. Claude Monet's house and garden at Giverny are achingly picturesque in the September sunshine but I can't help but wonder what the old man would make of the crowds of pilgrims dutifully shuffling around his pond, much less the use of his airy atelier as a shop selling finger puppets bearing his likeness.




An overdue return visit to St-Just-le-Martel followed, to see the opening of their permanent centre for cartooning during the 30th Salon International de la Caricature, du Dessin de Presse et d'Humour. Our first visit had been to the 20th Salon, in the difficult days immediately after 9/11. And my colleague and I had been there for the laying of the foundation stone of the centre in 2006. Missing this year's event was unthinkable. As ever the hospitality, food and even the weather were perfect. The work on display was of the usual high standard - main preoccupations, the beleaguered DSK and the ongoing problem of matters Islamic in cartooning - but it was clear there were a few teething problems in the new venue. It's a huge achievement and doubly so in the difficult economic conditions that have followed its inception but the centre has arrived more a multipurpose civic space than a fully realised cartoon centre. I trust in time it will become so. Top priority for the 2012 event should be more seating and tables; space was at a premium and consequently I barely drew a thing all weekend.






Straight after return it was time to put Converse under the knife for a second time. He had been suffering from puzzling skin lesions and one had turned into a florid and ever-growing lump. This was removed and identified as at least malignant if not fully cancerous. After a miserable few weeks in a collar the scar healed well, fur grew back and weight regained. All signs were good.

Winter
Time again for the Club Noir Hallowe'en party at the O2 Academy. Don't ask me what I went as; Venetian masquerade-going vampire wizard I suppose. Doesn't really matter when you stand beside someone in an incredible and entirely hand-made Tron costume.


Computers loomed large throughout the winter. The botched migration of HBOS's online system to Lloyds' meant that I had no access to my business account for two months. Despite a generous compensatory offer my confidence in this bank has been finally, utterly shattered. The last lingering link will be severed in the new year. But my confidence in my IT guy has redoubled; John got me through a complete meltdown and loss of data from my hard drive in November and was ready to return my machine, effectively a new computer, within 48 hours over a weekend. With the Mac back online I thought I was ready to finish a secret project of long standing. It would have been easier without interment broadband failures (BT, you too are out of my life in 2012) but at long last the Scottish Cartoon Art Studio's website was relaunched in December.

Christmas came round in a flash and as usual we spent it with family. Peaceful, quiet, thoroughly lovely.



The New Normal
About a year ago, while looking at unrelated health issues, Y was told that she was "pre-diabetic". Like many people of her ethnicity there is a family history of the illness and we were told it was a virtual certainty in her middle age as it has proved to be with her parents. Regular screening became part of our routine and a pattern of unusually rapid progress emerged. Tests were conducted, experts consulted, terms such as "MODY" bandied about. But in the end we seem to be looking at type "one and half" diabetes that has emerged relatively late in life and as of December we are getting used to the daily injections of insulin. The difference was almost immediate. Y is brighter, happier, sleeps better and doesn't have to avoid any particular foods. Friends, family and key colleagues of work have been hugely understanding during some difficult and perplexing months. The learning curve has been steep but we now know what we're dealing with and that gives us great cause to be optimistic.

Time for Sleep
Just over four years ago a timid bundle of black and white fur came into our home. We could never be certain but we assumed he'd been through a decade of less than stable life elsewhere. It took a while for him to fully unwind but when he did a genuine personality emerged. Stubborn, at times outright insolent, but affectionate and sensitive to our moods. Fond of his food and his bed, determined to lap water from the least logical sources (condensation from windows, puddles from the bottom of a bath, discarded drinking vessels narrower than his head), prone to sudden bursts of frantic nocturnal activity, a fearless hunter of all winged insects. And always, always chatting, more like a bird.



There's never an ideal time to say goodbye to a companion. I don't mind that it had to happen now, the end of the year is always bittersweet at best. What hurts most is that, because of the season, the days that proved to be his last he spent largely alone. But on Wednesday, having discovered signs of liver and heart problems as well as his ongoing skin complaint, with mention of cancer in his recent history, refusing food and most of all lacking his usual spirit it was time to be realistic and make a hard decision. I don't know how far he'd have made it into next year but I do know all he had to look forward to was a painful decline. Better to let go while he was still himself. We are very grateful to Una McLean and her staff for all the care they gave Converse in his last months and the peaceful end they offered our dear pet. If you've ever been in a similar situation I don't need to elaborate. I hope we can stop crying soon and simply remember him for what he was, a source of delight.

Happy New Year one and all. Let's hope for better times to come.

The notion that the 10th anniversary of 9/11 might pass with the man held primarily responsible still at large must have loomed over President Obama like a scabrous vulture. What a rhetorical gift that would have been to whoever proves to be his electoral opponent next year.

In the event the sudden, decisive incursion into Pakistan was legally questionable, the circumstances of his living quarters pathetic, the details of his burial frankly disgusting, and the whole thing as far from justice - yet as utterly perfect a piece of narrative - as can be imagined. Are we safer with him gone? Not a whit. Have further atrocities been encouraged? Undoubtedly. Could it have played out any other way? Not really.

Another year pretty much in the bag. Have a good Christmas, folks.

He was our enemy, our friend, a monster, a joke, within the fold and then suddenly very much out of it.

Suddenly the "Third World" enters a period wherein its full potential might be realised. As the recent strife in Europe proves, there's no reason to believe that nations that are geographically proximate can easily accept a monoculture. Yet we have found a common thread running through virtually all peoples on the planet this year, a palpable level of discontent. In places where people have laboured for years under supposed emancipators who delivered instead decades of poverty, that dissatisfaction was explosive and bloody. In others, where inequality is the result of a less manifestly brutal form of governance, there have been strikes, protests, even riots.

The year ahead is foreshadowed by grim economic forecasts. But is it too much to hope that the outlook for human dignity and suffrage is a touch brighter?