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[Author's Note: The following was originally published in The Jack Kirby Collector #59.]

While Captain America was not the first patriotic superhero, he quickly became the most popular. The cover of Captain America Comics #1 expressed a widely held, but largely unspoken, sentiment in the U.S. at the time -- recall that the issue debuted months before the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the country’s formal entry into World War II. But while the original design for Captain America was by Joe Simon, Jack Kirby became more associated with the character and returned to detailing his exploits several times throughout his career. Jack remained remarkably (for him) consistent in how he drew Cap, but he did make several design changes to the iconic shield, most of which have gone unnoticed.

The original shield design, by Simon, was largely triangular in shape, with a scalloped top. It featured three stars and seven red, white and blue stripes. The splash page of that first issue sports what is basically just a somewhat tighter version of Simon’s original sketch. Though the number of stripes varies a bit throughout the first issue, Jack generally kept things consistent.

The first issue of Captain America Comics was wildly popular and garnered a lot of attention. Including from John Goldwater, the dominant partner in MLJ Publications (now known as Archie Comics) whose own patriotic hero, The Shield, had debuted a year earlier. Simon notes in his autobiography that Goldwater was “admittedly upset that Captain America had far surpassed his hero” and he objected to the shape of Cap’s shield because he felt it was too similar to The Shield’s chest insignia. Martin Goodman, who published Captain America Comics, was leary of legal action. Simon quotes him as saying, “... lawsuits are expensive and we’d better go over there to talk to him.” To avoid a lawsuit, they agreed to change the shield to a circular design.

(Interestingly, they found themselves in Goldwater’s offices again the following year when he threatened file suit over a villain in Captain America Comics #6 called The Hangman, feeling it infringed on the MLJ character of the same name. That Goodman backed down a second time and promised to never use the character again speaks volumes to the relationship between the two publishers.)

What seems to go unnoticed by many fans, however, is that the convex circular shield that debuted in Captain America Comics #2 is not the same design they’re familiar with. Throughout Jack’s work on the stories in the 1940s, he drew Cap’s shield with two red bands and two white bands. All of the shield artwork after the company became formally known as Marvel in the 1960s displays two red bands and only a single white band. A minor distinction, perhaps, but it does have an impact on the overall visual.

The round shield became more of an offensive weapon as well. Cap does backhand one crook with the triangular shield in his first issue, but the shield was largely incidental in that fight; Cap’s fist would have been there if the shield wasn’t. With the round shield, he begins to use it as a battering ram and large, blunt object eventually throwing it for the first time in Captain America Comics #4. It’s thrown a second time in #6, and becomes something of a regular tactic beginning in #8.

Jack came back to Captain America in the 1960s in the pages of Strange Tales. In issue 114, a villain called The Acrobat poses as Cap using a three color band shield. As noted at the end of the story, it was a test to see if fans wanted a return of the original character, who later made his famous return in Avengers #4. In both Strange Tales and Avengers, while readers see a three color band shield for the first time, it’s still not what they’re likely most familiar with. Unlike the four color band shield from the 1940s, in the early 1960s Jack largely drew Cap’s shield as completely flat, not convex.

This seemed to change in Avengers #7. Although there are few instances of a convex shield in #6, it seems to increasingly become the norm beginning in following issue. Chic Stone inked both stories, so this doesn’t seem to be an instance in Jack making alterations to his drawings based on what the inker was doing as was the case with Joe Sinnott inking the Thing over in Fantastic Four. I suspect that Jack had simply drawn the convex shield almost accidentally and editor-slash-defacto-art-director Stan Lee liked it, asking Jack to draw the shield in that manner more regularly. That would explain why it switches from flat to convex and back to flat again throughout the next several of Captain America’s appearances, as Jack may have needed repeated reminders. He took a short break from the character in late 1965, his last Cap story appearing in Tales of Suspense #68 with more than a couple flat-looking shields.

When Jack returned to full pencilling duties in Tales of Suspense #78, the convex shield had become the norm and it only appears flat from a few odd angles. It should be noted, too, that the convex shield became Jack’s default ultimately. Certainly when he returned to Marvel and Captain America in the 1970s, his pencils clearly show he was regularly drawing a convex shield instead of a flat one, and even his sketches for fans from that period and later show that Jack embraced the idea of a convex shield.

Despite seeming like the single, most iconic element of Captain America’s character since his second appearance, his shield actually spent roughly a quarter of a century undergoing modifications and adjustments by Jack himself. Not sweeping changes, but noticeable ones that enhanced the very image of the shield. Jack’s final design on this has remain in place for decades since, even when the shield is passed from one character to another. And it’s worth noting, too, that even Hollywood hasn’t sought to tamper with the iconography that Jack came up with here. It might be a fairly simple design, but that it hasn’t changed since Jack touched it last says how powerful those nuances were.
As a rule, I don't care for superhero origin stories. It's not so much that I don't want to know how they got their powers but rather, there's a general tendency to focus so intently on how they got their powers that there's no "why" attached to it. As in, why does this person decide they're going to take up superheroing? We get all this exposition on some bullcrap "science" to explain how someone shoot electricity out of their hands, but precious little on why they choose to then zap bad guys instead of anything else. As a counter-example, that's the beauty of Spider-Man's origin: he starts off by using his powers to try to earn some money and it's only after the death of his Uncle Ben -- a death that he could have prevented but actively chose not to -- that we understand the persistent guilt that drives him to be a superhero. That's not to say motivations are entirely ignored, but they're often pretty weak and feel more like a writer's excuse to get to the superheroing part of the story. If you don't have a good motivation story and just want to do the superheroing part, that's fine -- just skip right to that then. As I've pointed out repeatedly in the past, one of the best superhero movies produced to date leaves the audience with zero indication on how any of the characters got their powers.*

Midlife (Or How to Hero at Fifty) by writer Brian Buccellato and artist Stefano Simeone takes a different tact. Ruben is a fifty-year-old firefighter, experiencing something of a mid-life crisis. While the whole mid-life crisis idea itself is an overly used trope, it does seem to be explored relatively reasonably here. He doesn't go off to buy a sports car or cheat on his wife with a younger woman or any of the usual go-to cliches. Instead, Ruben is just wrestling with the "what have I been doing with my life" idea. And you might ask, "the dude's a firefighter -- how do you question yourself like that if you've been saving lives for the past quarter century?" And that's precisely where he's coming from -- he's not the guy to go running into a burning building, he's on the administrative side of things, dealing with HR related crap from behind a desk. Necessary work, but not of the "putting his life on the line" variety like his father, who had been a firefighter before him.

Of course, it's not just a fifty-year-old man moping about 100-some pages! They do address why he suddenly manifests powers later in life, and there's a plot around some government agents trying to capture him once he does start exhibiting powers. So there's a decent amount of action scenes as well. Not to mention some family drama rolling around in the background, some of which does directly tie in with how he got his powers. So there's clearly a lot on Ruben's plate.

Having hit fifty a couple years ago myself, I thought the premise sounded interesting. Most hero stories start with the character somewhere between their teens and around thirty, so seeing a quinquagenarian in that role could offer some perspectives and considerations that wouldn't occur to someone younger. Ruben does indeed have that outlook of an older man, but we see enough of his backstory to understand that the superpowers themselves are acting in something of the same role as that sports car or younger girlfriend. While he doesn't seem to carry much geek cred as an adult, his youth was spent on comic books and sci-fi movies, so taking the role of a superhero is as much about trying to recapture his youth as it is helping people.

Weirdly, though, things didn't quite click for me. I mean, I get where Ruben's coming from and the story was executed ably enough -- some elements of it are quite smart, in fact -- but it didn't register as emotionally as I would've thought it might. The story opens with a flashback with Ruben and his friends coming out of the theater, complaining about how bad Batman & Robin was; most of the flashbacks had cultural touchstones like that that were very easy for me to identify with. But Ruben's current situation -- tired of his day job, considering retirement, trying to co-parent two kids with his drug-addled ex-wife, finding out his current wife is pregnant, even just regular contact with friends he had in high school... -- was different enough that it didn't really click. My fiftieth birthday came and went with nothing even remotely like any of that.

Which isn't to invalidate the story, mind you! I'm just saying that my experience turning fifty was different enough that I didn't relate to Ruben as the story premise and, even the flashbacks in the story, suggest I would.

Overall, it was a decent and interesting take on the superhero origin, and a different enough one that it stands out from most others. The sixth issue came out from Image last month, and a trade paperback collection of all six issues comes out in June. The monthly issues (with a cover price of $3.99 US each) are recent enough that they shouldn't be too difficult to find, but the TPB has an MSRP of only $9.99 US so if you're interested, you coud save a few bucks by waiting a bit longer before trying to pick it up.

* It can probably be safely assumed that Violet, Dash, and Jack-Jack were born with mutant genes thanks to their parents, but Mr. Incredible's, Elastigirl's, and Frozone's origins aren't even hinted at in either of The Incredibles movies. We have literally no backstory whatsoever on any of them prior to their first appearances on screen, and they're all established heroes "at the top of their game" already.
Late last week, Brian Hibbs published his annual review of the year's Bookscan numbers. Comprehensive and powerful stuff, as always. But also as always, there is a crap-ton of data to unpack, so even Hibbs' nearly-30,000-word analysis skims past a fair amount. As I did last year (that was a year ago?!?) I'd like to make a few call-outs.

Hibbs calls out the new-to-the-Top-750-list publisher Webtoons Unscrolled...
New this year to the Manga charts is another new publisher: Webtoon Unscrolled – they formed right at the very end of 2021, and Bobbie Chase is (was?) the EIC, but they’re already regularly placing books in the Top 750, and they are thus the #7 manga publisher according to BookScan 2023 reporters. They place five books in, all Korean Webtoons, for 92k copies and $1.8m in sales.

Their best-seller is True Beauty where v1 (#1) sells 29k, and v2 (#3) sells 19k. This is followed by Cursed Princess Club, where v1 is #2 (22k) and v2 is #4 (12k), and Doom Breaker where v1 is just a hair under 10k.
Hibbs is comparing them (justifiably) to other manga, but I'm curious how they compare to other web-first comics...
Clarion/Etch was a formerly Houghton Mifflin Harcourt middle-grade imprint. Clarion places a dozen titles within the Top 750, led by the success of the web-first Hooky by Miriam Bonastre Tur – v1 (#2 overall for HarperCollins) leads with almost 77k copies, while v2 (#4) comes in at 75k sold, while v3 (#5) sells 73k – that’s a remarkably consistent sales pattern.
... and...
I was also a little surprised to see a fairly low number for the webtoon-originated Batman: Wayne Family Adventures where v1 only trickled in about 6700 copies. And let’s maybe try to forget the other webtoon titles Zatanna and the House of Secrets or Vixen NYC where v1 of those didn’t even sell enough copies to pay for the printing costs – 757 and 302 respectively.
And I suppose I should make the semi-obligatory reminder that Raina Telegemeir's Smile was a webcomic before it became a perennial best-seller. Hibbs reports that book came in at 103,000. That's something of an outlier for what I want to compare, so let's set that aside.

So what does the above look like in a somewhat-easier-to-digest presentment?
 
Book Publisher Sales
Hooky vol. 1 Clarion/Etch 77,000
Hooky vol. 2 Clarion/Etch 75,000
Hooky vol. 3 Clarion/Etch 73,000
True Beauty vol. 1 Webtoon Unscrolled 29,000
Cursed Princess Club vol. 1 Webtoon Unscrolled 22,000
True Beauty vol. 2 Webtoon Unscrolled 19,000
Cursed Princess Club vol. 2 Webtoon Unscrolled 12,000
Doom Breaker Webtoon Unscrolled   10,000
Batman: Wayne Family Adventures   DC 6,700
Zatanna and the House of Secrets DC 757
Vixen NYC DC 302

I think it's worth looking at in this format to see the breakdown more readily. First, each publisher has its own ballpark that it's playing in, sales-wise. You can probably chalk that up, in part at least, to the fact they've got on their physical distribution methods and varying degrees of expertise there. Webtoon Unscrolled is, after all, a newer publisher here in the States, so that an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt wildly outsells them should be no surprise. But the chart, I think, even further highlights just how piss-poor a job DC is doing. Hibbs expresses his surprise at this as well, but I'd like to add that DC has ALWAYS done a phenomenally bad job at digital. Over a decade ago, when DC shuttered their first digital comics initiative, I wrote...
Frankly, I'm not at all surprised Zuda has closed. It was almost inevitable. Not because Zuda was doing anything so wrong, but because office politics and "this is the way we've always done it" stood in its way. Zuda was always "not-DC" within the DC offices, and it's likely that DC Comics getting folded into DC Entertainment and Diane Nelson's subsequent appointment as President last year is what's kept Zuda alive this long. (Not infrequently, an incoming leader likes to take some time to survey the status quo before making significant changes.)
Several years later, when DC closed their ReadDC.com website, I posted this...
That obliquely points to one of DC's problems: they still don't know what they're doing online, despite running a company website of some sort since 1994. Back in 2014, I talked about how they seemed to approach their whole online presence with no sense of strategy, like they were just copying what other companies are doing without understanding why. But even so, they seem to be deliberately holding one hand behind their back in their approach to digital comics...

Digital comics aren't part of "DC-proper" and they're given the short shrift. Which is mind-boggling to me! I can almost guarantee that Marvel is making tons more money than DC when it comes to digital comics, because they've given digital comics some measure of consideration and have a strategy around them. They don't have an also-ran "well, we've got the files digitally to send to the printer anyway" approach...

You'd think somebody in the publishing division wouldn't continue to approach the web as if it's some strange new thing that no one has figured out how to monetize yet. DC's management has changed several times since 1994 but they don't seem to have altered their thinking about the web since then.
Decades later, DC continues trying to half-ass their online efforts, offering no support to the people producing them, and then using the inevitably poor showing as "proof" why the web doesn't work. When the world wide web was only a couple years old in the mid-90s, that was maybe a valid excuse. EVERYBODY was still trying to figure out what the web was back then. But thirty years on, after multiple publishers have proven what can be done with it? That's just sad and pitiable, DC.

Hibbs still remains surprised that Marvel is doing a worse job than other publishers at selling their own material. I pointed out last year that this is precisely part of Marvel's long-term plan in order, I think, to get out of publishing altogether. DC's spent the past several years trying to copy Marvel's franchise success in movie theaters; maybe they should try copying their publishing plan too. Even if they do as bad a job imitating that as they do Marvel's movies, that'd still almost certainly be better than paltry 302 copies of Vixen NYC!
Today is the day that federal income tax filings in the US are due. I did a quick scan of the funny pages and found the following comics published today that are tax-related.


Here are this week's links to what I've had published recently...

Kleefeld on Comics: On Tatsuya Ishida
https://ift.tt/nYdaWJx

Kleefeld on Comics: The First Indiana Jones Comic... From 1950
https://ift.tt/mFzQk4j

Kleefeld on Comics: Whatever Happened to Cousin Bones?
https://ift.tt/KUwGac7

Kleefeld on Comics: Who Is Enki Bilal?
https://ift.tt/iZIXhg9

Kleefeld on Comics: The Third Fantastic Four Script
https://ift.tt/3uXaB9M


Jack Kirby and Stan Lee perhaps most famously collaborated on Fantastic Four for the most extended period. That title, then, is often held up as an example of their evolving working relationship, and researchers scour margin notes to tease out how much of each story Jack was contributing. What has not been attempted, to my knowledge, is a joint analysis of all three surviving Fantastic Four “scripts” from that period where we can see what Jack actually drew compared with precisely what Stan had originally intended. (Unlike, say, with John Romita’s account of FF #30 being “written” in a car ride on the way to lunch. While I don’t doubt John’s story, we don’t have any concrete details of what was actually said.) The surviving scripts are radically different in form and highlight how much Jack really began to drive the creative effort.

The first script, of course, is that of Fantastic Four #1. Stan had somehow managed to hold on to it long enough to realize its significance and it’s become relatively well-circulated at this point; Marvel ran a re-typed version in FF #358 and Roy Thomas presented a copy of the original in Alter Ego vol. 2 #2. It’s not so much a script, though, as an outline for the team’s origin. The two pages provide an overview of the characters, touching on key traits and powers. Stan also notes editorial concerns he has over Comics Code issues. The document clearly indicates this as only half of the issue with their “first case” to follow, and includes a note specifically to Jack to talk with Stan for some further clarification.

Stan is clearly taking the company in a different direction with this, not only from the perspective of the genre, but that he’s switching their overall storytelling format. Previous books were a series of short, unrelated stories, and Stan clearly indicates that this one Fantastic Four tale which includes the origin is supposed to take up an entire issue. As it’s helping to redefine how comics get made on top of explaining the issue’s plot, it stands a little apart somewhat from the who-did-what debate. It can’t really be used as an example of how Stan and Jack “typically” worked because the document itself alludes to its uncommon nature.

The second script comes exactly one year after FF #1. Probably in answer to a written request, Stan sent Jerry Bails a page of his script for Fantastic Four #8, which was subsequently published in the apazine Kappa-Alpha #2. While still fairly broad, as far as scripts go, it has a more solid breakdown of the action; three to five page chunks instead of half an issue. Stan was clearly giving Jack a fair degree of latitude with the stories, despite having the ideas and vision of how the stories should roll out. Jack changed some pacing a bit and added in a few personal touches, but the issue reads more or less how Stan wrote it.

At this point, they had been working on the Fantastic Four for a year. They certainly had started getting into a rhythm, both with how the stories should work as well as how they would work together on them. They both had a pretty good handle on the characters, and Stan was starting to get feedback from fans on what they liked. But they would continue on the book for the better part of a decade, and they and their working relationship would continue to evolve.

The third surviving script comes from 1966 with Fantastic Four #55. It’s on the heels of the Galactus Trilogy where Stan allegedly just told Jack to “Have the FF fight God” leaving Jack to work out the details of those three issues. By this point, though, Stan was no longer writing scripts down for Jack; they would just talk over the plot and Jack would work from that. This particular script, though, survives because there were two notable witnesses to it. The first witness, the one who actually captured what Stan and Jack discussed, was Nat Freedland. He wrote the famous “Super-Heroes with Super Problems” story that appeared in the New York Herald-Tribune. Towards the end of that piece, he recounts sitting in on a weekly story conference with the two creators where Stan extemporaneously blurts out thirteen sentences and sentence fragments that are the entirety of his “script” for FF #55.

The issue itself only bears a passing resemblance to what Stan says. There is indeed a fight between the Thing and the Silver Surfer over a misunderstanding with Alicia, but that’s effectively where the similarities end. Alicia was never in trouble, just lonely. It’s Mr. Fantastic, not Alicia, who corrects his friend. The Thing doesn’t wind up brokenhearted and leave on his own; he never really loses control or fails his teammates. Not to mention that Dr. Doom doesn’t make an appearance anywhere, much less capture the others. Jack took only the barest nugget of an idea from Stan, and largely created the issue himself, and even thought to add in a page about the Human Torch’s solo adventure that was running as a sub-plot at the time. (Though I suppose this could have been added later at Stan’s request.)

Now, the particular Tribune article where Stan’s script appears is generally remembered more for exemplifying the big rift between Jack and Stan. Jack felt insulted by how he was portrayed and blamed Stan. To be fair, Jack felt slighted because of how he was depicted by the reporter and one can’t help but wonder if the writer had an agenda of some sort. Which in turn brings into question the accuracy of anything that was printed from that story session.

However, we have a second witness to that meeting. Although he remained silent throughout, having only been with Marvel a few months at that point, Roy Thomas was sitting in as well. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was brought in (“... to be a witness or whatever, because I certainly took no part in it”) he saw and heard the whole exchange. He’s never publicly questioned the authenticity of what was in that article, and when I questioned Roy directly on this point a few years ago, he said that it was accurate, adding the caveat “that the relationship of Stan and Jack, and everything else, was funneled through the reporter’s POV, so that Jack came off more poorly because he wasn't as outgoing as Stan.”

So the script we see in the Tribune piece is an accurate representation of how Stan delivered his stories to Jack, and we can clearly see what Jack did with them on the printed page. Jack took Stan’s thirteen sentences and essentially walked out only remembering, “Thing fights Surfer over misunderstanding with Alicia.” He effectively wrote the actual story himself, based on that short synopsis.

That suggests two things. First, Stan was generally okay with that process of Jack largely doing his own thing with the stories. Jack clearly knew what he was doing, so Stan didn’t have any reason to alter that arrangement. Stan would just set Jack off in a general direction and he’d come back with great stories, regardless of what they actually discussed previously. (Stan has since noted that he rarely remembered what he said in those story conferences anyway.) Second, that “Have the FF fight God” anecdote might not actually be too far off from what actually happened. It would have been about the sum total Jack might have remembered from their story conference at any rate, and is lent credence by Stan’s oft-told remembrance of how he was completely surprised by Jack’s introduction of the Silver Surfer.

In 1961, Stan wrote a two page outline explaining half of an issue. In 1962, he took two pages to outline an entire issue. In 1966, for a complete issue, Stan rattled off thirteen sentences. Of which Jack only remembered one.

The question that really remains is: when did this switch from written to verbal outlines occur? Obviously, after #8 and, if we take the anecdote about #30 into account, sometime before then. I have a hunch the change occurred with Fantastic Four #11, the only issue of their run to have two distinct stories but, admittedly, that’s mostly a guess. So until we’re able to uncover another script, either written or verbal, we’re left wondering when that change took place. Because certainly by 1966, as shown with the Tribune article, Jack was writing the stories himself with only the barest directions provided from Stan.
Enki Bilal is probably best known in the United States for The Nikopol Trilogy, the English translation of which was first serialized in Heavy Metal in the 1980s. However, while some of his other works also appeared in that magazine around the same time, and Humanoids Publishing reprinted several of his other stories between 2000 and 2004, Bilal and his art are rarely discussed among American comic fans.

Enes (“Enki” for short) Bilalović was born in Belgrade, Yugoslavia in 1951. Though emigration was forbidden at the time, his family was able to move to Paris in 1960, thanks to an administration official with some clout. Bilal claims that he had told his teacher that his family was going to move and, wanting their apartment for herself, the teacher was able to convince her government official husband to pull some strings to allow the exception.

Not long after moving to France, Bilal got to know RenĂ© Goscinny who encouraged him into comics. Bilal has shown an early aptitude for drawing and was desperate to not become locked in a job he didn’t like. He took to the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury.

By the time Bilal was 20, he was producing political cartoons for Goscinny’s Pilote. After only a year, he submitted Le Bal Maudit (The Cursed Bowl) to Goscinny, who was impressed enough to run the story in the magazine, making it Bilal’s first published story. Though visably lighter than his later works, this is in part because it’s only in black and white; however, it already shows a heavy uses of cross-hatching, a style Bilal continues to use frequently.

While producing work for Pilote, Bilal met writer Pierre Christin. The two began collaborating and created several stories throughout the 1970s. As their collaborations continued into the 1980s, Bilal took some of his time to create La Foire aux immortels (The Carnival of Immortals) which was to become the first chapter of Nikopol, a work he would not see completed until 1992.

Bilal’s work frequently comes across as dark, both thematically as well as visually. He adds a lot of texture to his drawings in the inking and coloring stages. Heavy cross-hatching, as noted earlier, and layering oil paints and colored pencils add levels of depth that make his illustrations wonderful to pour over on their own merits, irrespective of the storytelling. This also provides a visual weight to even the lightest of pages, and serves to emphasize the darker tone of his stories, which themselves are heavily influenced by the Yugoslavian civil wars of his childhood.

In 1980, Bilal caught the attention of director Alain Resnais, who had him create the poster for Mon oncle d'Amérique (My American Uncle), a movie which went on to win awards at the Cannes Film Festival, the David di Donatello Awards, Fotogramas de Plata, French Syndicate of Cinema Critics, the New York Film Critics Circle Awards and the Sant Jordi Awards. Resnais would come back to Bilal in 1982 with more work for La vie est un roman (Life Is a Bed of Roses). Bilal not only did the poster this time, but also did some of the costume design and produced eight glass paintings that were used on camera to help create a more darkly surreal atmosphere for some of the scenes. These were created utilizing several layering techniques, which are similarly incorporated into his print work.

Bilal has noted that he prefers “tough” and “hard” images that almost aggressively grab the reader. Despite often tackling futuristic dsytopias, he tries to portray things in a realistic sense and doesn’t feel his work is overly pessimistic. Though he certainly doesn’t try to claim it’s optimistic either! By treating his subjects roughly, aging and dilapidating them, he feels it gives them more depth. And the stories themselves are merely echoes of the past.

Bilal continued working on comics throughtout the 1980s, working alone on Nikopol but in conjunction with other writers like Christin and Patrick Cauvin. Bilal and Christin soon began looking at other avenues of expression, and started working together on a film that was eventually titled Bunker Palace HĂ´tel. Bilal had expressed some interest in directing movies in interviews as early as 1985, so he and Chirstin co-wrote the script and Bilal himself made his directorial debut, though he did not contribute to any of the art production here. Nonetheless, many of his stylistically dark themes and visuals were ever-present.

Though seemingly busy with movie, opera and ballet projects, Bilal managed to finish his Nikopol triology. It was a critical success, to no one’s surprise, and Lire voted it Book of the Year in 1993, the first time a comics work had won the award. Bilal continued producing comics like Bleu Sang (Blue Blood) and MĂ©moires d'autre temps (Memories From Other Times).


He returned to film-making briefly in 1996 to write and direct Tykho Moon, co-written with Dan Frank. Ironically opening the film under Brigitte Bardot’s rendition of “Mister Sun” the movie’s initially serene imagery still contain dark undercurrents before eventually showing a dystopic-looking Paris. Never leaving comics for long, though, Bilal began publishing what’s become known as the Hatzfeld Tetralogy in 1998, which takes more direct, if futuristic, look at the break-up of his native Yugoslavia.

He returned to his most famous work in creating the 2004 film Immortel (Immortal), based on the first part of his Nikopol trilogy. Interestingly, Bilal begins incorporating computer generated sets and characters (though the leads are portrayed by live actors Thomas Kretschmann and Linda Hardy). While there is something of a visual disconnect between the actors and their animated co-stars, the darkness and weight of everything help to smooth the transition somewhat. Somewhat surprisingly, too, the computer generated elements, particularly Horus, bear many of Bilal’s textual hallmarks seen in the original comic stories.

Bilal’s influence is world-wide. The character Viral from the anime Gurren Lagann is named for him (“Viral” and “Bilal” are pronounced the same in Japanese) and the character’s mecha is called the Enki. The sport of chess boxing was created by Iepe Rubingh in direct response to Bilal’s depiction of the then-fictional sport in Froid Équateur (Equator Cold) and significant bouts have taken place in Los Angeles, ReykjavĂ­k, Amsterdam, Berlin and London. His Nikopol trilogy was licensed by Got Game Entertainment for the video game format in the United States, being released under the title Nikopol: Secrets of the Immortals in 2008. He even had a solo exhibition at The Louvre in 2012-2013 entitled "The Ghosts of the Louvre."

Bilal still resides in Paris and continues working in multiple media. He released the graphic albums Animal´Z in 2009 and Julia & Roem in 2011. Though many of his works have been translated into English and published in the United States, relatively small print runs have made them difficult to find, which likely contributes to his relative lack of recognition in this country.