Written by Archie Goodwin, Michael Golden, and Various
Art by John Severin, John Buscema, and Various
Published by Fantagraphics
I liked Marvel’s black and white Savage Tales magazine quite a bit in the 1970s, with some of the best Conan and Ka-Zar stories ever. In retrospect, despite more of an adult approach than the color comic books, these were appealing to the macho fantasies of teenage boys.
In contrast, I really DIS-liked Marvel’s 1985 Savage Tales magazine revival, which hit the reader over the head with an unapologetic macho atmosphere every step of the way. I bought it, though, because I was still a bit of a Marvel Zombie in the ‘80s, but when I began selling my collection in the ‘90s, that 8 issue run was among the first to go.
Assuming you missed it then, the latest Lost Marvels volume re-presents all of the issues for your perusal, or, in my case, my RE-perusal. What I discovered when revisiting all of these stories is that, taken on their own, some of the art and stories are amazing!
Before we get to those stories, though, let me mention the covers—some of which are among the worst Marvel has ever published, in my opinion. They’re all reprinted here, in color, and the first issue is the worst offender. Immediately, it appeals to the mag’s target audience, with big-haired, large-chested women in leather and cool shades, firing large weapons and riding a hot motorcycle with a stripped little Beta-male strapped to its front over a skeleton-laden landscape. Sad to say, this painting comes from fan-favorite Michael Golden!
The other covers are by Art Suydam, Bob Camp, my FB friend Mitch O’Connell, Pepe Moreno, and several by Joe Jusko. They have more motorcycles, trucks, dead bodies, airplanes, great big guys with crewcuts, barely dressed women, soldiers, knives, and guns, guns, and more guns! Even a little girl with a gun on one! That one even gets an actual story inside.
The mag’s title is drawn to mimic riveted steel and the corner box for every issue shows a smiley button with multiple bullet holes. Larry Hama was in charge of the project and, despite his almost disgustingly over-the-top editorials, he managed to give us some impressive stories.
Doug Murray and Michael Golden offer a number of stories that clearly lead to their successful color comic, The ‘Nam. Herb Trimpe, forever known as the great Hulk artist, here gets to indulge his well-known love of biplanes in a number of stories he writes as well as draws, and the talented Will Jungkuntz started a violent and comedic post-apocalyptic series called Blood & Gutz before his untimely death that same year.
The true gems here, though, are regular stories written by Archie Goodwin and drawn by John Severin. The former, a beloved figure among comics writers and editors, had been behind warren’s Blazing Combat magazine in the ‘60s and the latter had been one of the main artists for—and later editor of—EC’s Two-Fisted Tales in the 1950s! Goodwin’s stories, no matter what their plots, were always better written than most other comics stories, and Severin was one of those artists who lived to a ripe old age and got better and better every year. Their stories here are requisitely dark and violent but, as expected, a cut above the rest.
Right behind them, we get a series of beautifully drawn tales from the great comics illustrator Gray Morrow and his longtime collaborator Don Kraar. Kraar also works with one of the newer contributors, Vincent Waller. Other notable folks who come and go include Ralph Reese, Chuck Dixon. Dick Ayers, Bill Wray, James O’Barr (The Crow), Paul Kirchner, Denny O’Neil, Ken Steacy, Sam Glanzman, John Buscema, Steve Skeates, and even DC’s old warhorse, Robert Kanigher.
While some of the stories do come across like Quentin Tarantino’s wet dreams, and others like episodes of the old TV series Combat, I was wrong to group them all as pointlessly violent throwaways. Nothing here is a classic, but more than half of them are solidly written and drawn graphic stories, and these savage tales do actually deserve to be collected.
Booksteve recommends.
