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While his author photos (
1,
2) and
new video commercial may not convince you, it only takes one meeting to realize how closely Benjamin Marra resembles Santa Claus, albeit a younger, fitter variety. It's not the beard, although the beard is a definite prerequisite, but the eyes. Adrift in thought, laughing at a private joke, eagerly describing the Vince Flynn novel he's currently engrossed in--"
it's a Bill O'Reilly terrorist fantasy, great right-wing stuff"--the cartoonist's eyes twinkle throughout. Lighting upon a chance to describe the things he loves--Rambo, John Carpenter, Italy, heavy metal, Nathan Fox--there's a constant spark beneath all that facial hair, one that confirms what his anecdotes describe: this is an artist enjoying himself, a man in love with the possibility of creation, a guy, knee deep, doing exactly what he wants.
As of January 2010, Marra has released four comic books through his
Traditional Comics publishing company--one issue of
Gangsta Rap Posse, three issues of
Night Business. While the comics aren't currently distributed by Diamond, they've managed a strong appearance on the blogosphere, getting attention from websites like
Vice,
Comics Comics,
Comic Book Resources and the
Groovy Age of Horror. Some of the attention is controversial--Night Business is an aggressive, violent comic set in a Reagan-era 1983, with strippers, serial killers, rapists and pimps populating its varied cast--and some of it was laden with a bit of bewilderment as well, with variations on the phrase "Is this guy for real?" coming up every so often.
The answer's yes.
"
Nathan Fox and I were in grad school together. He was in the second year when I was in the first year, and he was the MAN. There were forty students total, but Nathan was already on top of it. I think that he and I started to connect after we got out of the school setting, but he was already doing some really wild stuff. A really insane silkscreened book, this series of really crazy illustrations set in this frame of a sideshow carnival. It was totally out of control. I think he only made one copy of it, and that served as his portfolio. He was just getting work constantly. He wanted to move into comics--I was doing some weird stuff. I was collecting comics, but I never thought that I could do comics, you know? When you're young, you're trying to think of what you want to apply your art towards, and we were just in school for illustration, so it was always 'what can I do to make better illustrations.' But I remember, I was standing there with this Master of Kung-Fu, Gulacy comic, and I remember the exact panel, he and I were looking at it, and he said 'Don't you want to quit all this school shit and draw this type of stuff?' Yeah! That was..it's such a moment. I remember that moment. It all hinged around that time, when I was like--wait a second. Do I have to try so hard to MAKE something, FOR something, so hard, try and be an illustrator? Why not make stuff that I want to?"
While
Gangsta Rap Posse is exactly what it sounds like, an educated-by-N.W.A trip through a terrified parent's idea of what South Central must be like, you know, ALL THE TIME,
Night Business is a different kettle of fish entirely. Opening with the brutal slaughter of a stripper, set to the sort of narration that Chris Claremont used to produce when he described Jean Grey's mutant powers, the comic's plot follows the actions of Johnny Timothy--an agent cum bodyguard, with the requisite dark past--as he attempts to get revenge. The only things blocking his path? Merely the women who want him, a monstrous pimp with an army of henchmen, and all the violence in the world. Easy enough. Even upon first glance, the comic doesn't appear to have any contemporary connections, looking like an 80's video cassette box drawn by a particular committed fan of Paul Gulacy and Miami Vice, and after diving in for the read, those feelings begin to cement. It's funny, exciting, and weird. And for every person who asks "What's the deal with this thing?", there's another who sees it, breaks into a shit-eating grin and says "There isn't anything on this cover I can't get behind".
Marra read an article a few years back about the differences between the films
Road To Perdition and
L.A. Confidential, and it's stuck with him. "
What the article was saying, at least what I remember what the article was saying, was that [director of L.A. Confidential] Curtis Hanson tried for authenticity of that ERA, Hollywood in the 50s, in the production design of the film and the direction. And where he misses in accuracy in the depiction is where the style, or look of the film is formed unintentionally. It's not that he was trying to replicate the Noir genre as much as trying to accurately depict the time period. Road to Perdition wasn't going for accuracy in depicting the time period it was set in, but rather going for a hyper-stylized depiction of Chicago and the Midwest of that era. It was unconcerned with accuracy and just focused on/completely self-aware of the style it was constructing."
To Marra's mind, it's in that "miss" where Hanson succeeded, and coming up with one of his own has become an obsession. "
I am definitely trying to replicate a specific genre, Giallo, or 80's action movies like Death Wish, Invasion USA or Action Jackson, but [I'm] doing so from the perspective of an obsessive fan, full of conviction and totally lacking in self-awareness, someone who is MISSING the point completely...Man, this is really postmodern. I hate that, but that's what it is! I can't help it!"
Calling upon his buried teenager, down through to an art-school bruised id, Night Business is that attempt--not just to create a dead serious exploitation thriller, but done in the same fashion that a crazed, untrained comics obsessive would have. It's aimed at a mark, but it's not supposed to hit it directly, and it might read as a joke, but mostly because it isn't.
"
I do not enforce any structures on myself creatively in order to achieve my goals with regards to content, narrative tone, or formal style. Night Business and Gangsta Rap Posse are the results of me subtracting any structures or set of rules to which I had to abide by while making something. I think Night Business and GRP come from a place inside my mind that is still in touch with my teenage self and instead of suppressing that source to base creative decisions upon, I embrace it. It has become the well from which my creative ideas emerge. So I think that whatever success I have in hitting the proper chord with Night Business is based on how closely I listen to or how strongly I connect with that side of myself, the side of myself that loves all the things Night Business pays homage to."
Ambition is a subject that Marra has some strong feelings about, although he admits that they're amorphous thoughts, changing with the time. Attempting to describe a disdain for "perfect" music, he initially describes the Beatles, a band he respects but doesn't really care for, before deciding that Radiohead fits his argument better. Examples aside, his meaning--a desire for an honest depiction of what he truly enjoys, delivered by way of a fictional character that he plays himself--is clear. And while he admits to having a vast amount of respect for things like
Optic Nerve ("it's an incredible comic book"), Chris Ware, and David Mazzuchelli's
Asterios Polyp, he's very clear about how little he strives to emulate them. "It's too perfect" isn't meant as an indictment of those three, but it is a criticism, one that calls back to what seems to be his primary driver: honesty.
"
I'm really serious about not being serious, whereas guys like Spiegelman, Seth, Ware and Mazzucchelli are trying to be really serious about comics being serious...well, maybe not Ware. His work has some inherent humor in it. Albeit, pitch-black, bleak, American existential humor. I've always been attracted to art never seemed to achieve the heights it hoped to reach. Art work that didn't have the necessary artistic facility to be what it wanted to be. For instance, when I look at Giotto's stuff, what I see is that he's struggling with accuracy in perspective and anatomy, struggling to communicate human emotional expressions, and even though he's probably the best painter of his time he just doesn't have the knowledge or abilities to replicate reality. But he's injecting so much emotional intensity. I feel a stronger connection to it than something that might better replicate reality. I guess I'm more interested in something that's going to be based on emotional intensity over a formal demonstration of the artists abilities."
The mistake with Night Business--if there is one--might be in Benjamin's commitment to telling the truth. (He admits that his few attempts to "play the role" depicted in his author photos has never really panned out.) But after finding out how much thought has gone into its creation, there's a temptation to want to praise Night Business with caveats, to focus one's attention on how much work has been put in to create an end result that's so base, so raw. Because it can't just be an exploitation comic, right? It's got to have a bigger point, it's got to be a critical take on art comics, a rebuke to independent angst, a reclamation of sleazy action, or else it's just a comic about dead strippers and badasses who wear pleated pants. It's got to be faked, or it doesn't count.
That's where the mistake comes in. Night Business might be laden with funny screw-ups, and some of those might be planned, but it's not kidding around about what it cares about--beautiful women, awesome action, crazy weirdo art. Those pieces of gore aren't being delivered as a statement on gore, and those women aren't hot as a criticism of Star Sapphire's costume. That stuff is there because those things are wonderful, wonderful things, and the world can never have too many of them.
So what is this, then? Another chunk of writing fired out in praise of low art, another "you should really watch Gamer" missive to add to the Kael/Klosterman school of trash worship? Maybe it is. But it's worth questioning whether anybody really does trash anymore without winking, it's worth asking if, in comics' obsessive desire to spend the last decade moving towards a mainstream audience, they've left behind the immediate pleasures that used to be their stock and trade. Comics seem to be selling in more places. They've gotten more attention. But are they dangerous? Are they still taking chances? Or has the ground--the same ground that once gave former unknowns like Ware, Seth, Spiegelman something to create against, to innovate and attack--become fallow?
"
Tom Scioli was a big inspiration for me, with all that self-published stuff he did. I ordered all of those issues when I was living in Philly, and it really knocked me out. This was a guy who didn't care, he was just doing it. He didn't care if it wasn't going to 'reinvent the wheel' or anything like that, he just wanted to make a comic so much, and he wanted to make a comic book THIS WAY, so much. It was a real inspirational thing, mentally, that devotion to making a comic, just making it happen."
Primarily selling his work through his website and a few supportive comic shops--"
It's all very grassroots"--Marra's goals seem at first too low, an almost quaint optimism that the world will just eventually find him. But underneath his good humor, there's a clear sense of purpose. Unwilling to allow any aspect of his projects to go unstudied, he's just returned from picking up the copies of the third issue, proud to have gotten a good deal from a "mom and pop printer". It's a lot of work, but it doesn't come across as another case of stereotypical creative obsession. If anything, it's just common sense--this is his baby, his idea. Why shouldn't he control every portion of it, from creation to printing to the eventual sale? If you've watched that video, then you're already aware of the tactile pleasures that Marra's self-published comics promise--they're all printed on newsprint. That's a definite choice, one that falls under one of Marra's other obsessions--when you're making your own stuff, "
everything matters. You have to care about what the finished product appears like." There's a moment of shyness when he describes his hopes for the future of
Night Business, that the comic will find its way into a fan's collection by chance, and the experience will be one of pure enjoyment. No questions of its integrity or design, just the same kind of pure, visceral pleasure that can be found in "really great trash". That fabled future reader won't know anything about Marra beyond what the back page photo depicts, a madman artist who smokes, and drinks, in love with beautiful women and heavy metal.
It sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.
Tucker Stone's writing can be found in print from time to time. He currently blogs about comics at The Factual Opinion and Savage Critics.
This Ship Is Totally Sinking is © Tucker Stone, 2010
