I read - and loved - the first five issues of PUBLIC DOMAIN this week. The comic, written and illustrated by Chip Zdarsky, is a complicated (and often biting) look at one family’s struggles to regain ownership of a comic book character that was seemingly created in a work-for-hire situation decades ago. Echoing the true-life court battles that saw Jack Kirby’s estate try to regain ownership of the Marvel Comics characters the artist co-created (as well as other, similar legal cases), the comic book explores the murky world of idea ownership in a superhero-saturated world.
Unlike the real-life cases, the family at the center of PUBLIC DOMAIN is able to find irrefutable proof that artist Syd Dallas has protected ownership of his creation The Domain. The publisher behind the comic book, though, has no interest in parting with their cash cow, considering how The Domain is a massive money farm through movie and merchandising deals. Syd’s grown sons, though, are adamant that their father take back what belongs to him - for both selfish and slightly-more-idealistic reasons.
The comic book is funny, clever and - most importantly - filled with nuanced and flawed characters. In other words, it’s exactly the kind of book I love reading. It reminds me a lot of another favorite comic book I hold near and dear to my heart - BOX OFFICE POISON. Both books - despite being released decades apart - deal with the struggles of artists to find financial restitution after being exploited by the industry they called home.
Only time will tell whether or not we are currently living in the twilight of the comic book movie boom. Even as we look down the barrel of a summer with no shortage of comic book adaptations scheduled to hit the big screen, we have already seen the last several superhero releases struggle at the box office. Is this due to a waning interest in superheroes? An oversaturation of options for fans of the genre? Or just a streak of bad luck from movies that didn’t quite deliver the goods? Even if this is the end of the red hot streak comic book movies have been experiencing for the last decade, don’t expect the adaptations to suddenly disappear completely from movie theater screens. There will always be comic book movies released, just as there will always be creators to exploit.
With the Writers Guild of America currently on strike and a week spent at CinemaCon, listening to studios throw around jargon like “Diverse portfolios of IP” and “Integrated Marketing Campaigns,” I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about my own relationship with art.
First off, I hate the term IP.
IP, short for “intellectual property,” feels like a sanitized, scrubbed-out vision of art. It’s a story stripped down to nothing but the plot, the elevator pitch. Don’t get me wrong - I love a good high-concept, but the thing that really makes me fall in love with a book or comic or movie is not the plot - it’s the writing. It’s the life breathed into the characters and the magic trick that happens when audiences stop remembering that they are spending time with fictional characters.
I watched James Gunn’s GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY, VOL. 3 last night and it’s a perfect example of art that transcends “IP.” Despite being based on comic book characters that have been around for decades, James Gunn has transcribed so much of his own soul and outlook on life into the film’s cast of oddball aliens and misfits that I spent the entire movie on the precipice of dread, fearful for this self-proclaimed franchise finale had in store for the Guardians’ fate. I wasn’t watching highly-paid actors or computer-generated bits and bleeps on screen - at least when the movie was really hitting its high notes - I was spending time with friends I had grown to really love over the last decade. That’s true movie magic.
Stripping the movie down to just “IP,” to me, is doing a disservice to the artistic fingerprints that are all over the movie. Not just Gunn’s fingerprints either - the work of the cast and crew and behind-the-scenes wizards that spent years toiling away to bring this film to life. The work of the comic book creators who developed those characters over decades, passing the baton to new generations of writers and artists. The work of a fandom that have kept the characters alive during the famine years - filling in the gaps of continuity with shared dreamscape.
“IP” is art’s skeleton and I’m as in love with a piece of art’s skeleton as I would be the bones of a beloved pet who passed away.
All that said, it’s sobering to read stories like PUBLIC DOMAIN and BOX OFFICE POISON and the real-life tales of comic book and film writers who have poured their heart and soul into a project - only to have that project take on a life beyond that of the creators. On one hand, any writer dreams of their creations living on long past their own mortal life - a true lasting literary legacy is hard to achieve. On the other hand, bills can’t be paid with legacy bucks. PUBLIC DOMAIN does a great job exploring why a family is deserving of financial rewards for a creation they were not directly responsible for themselves. In the comic, Syd Dallas spent his sons’ childhood toiling away at the studio. He did not just lose out on money thanks to a bad contract, he lost out on time with his family.
Here’s the deal - IP is a dirty word, but it’s also a necessary one. I never want to get so callus in my dealings with entertainment that I ignore the art in my art - but I also want to know that the artists are being cared for too. IP is a dirty word, but IP ownership is an important concept*.
In a world obsessed with superheroes and the quest for justice and the concept of “right,” it’s unjust and downright wrong that the superheros’ creators are broke and have to launch GoFundMe to pay for their medical bills.
Remember the art. Remember the artist.
* As a quick aside, I turned down some really nice publishing offers for WHERE WOLF because the companies wanted a stake in the comic’s “IP” (shudder) without being willing to put a significant financial stake in the game. Don’t offer to move in with me without offering to pay your share of the rent.