Review by Ian Keogh
At its simplest Giant Monsters Amok is a very funny pastiche of Marvel’s 1950s monster comics as if drawn by Jack Kirby, yet the joke moves well beyond, extending to the curation as if a rediscovered rarity. At first glance they also seem to be overwritten in the style of Stan Lee, but there’s a constant self-awareness about the characters unconcerned with narrative priorities. When confronted with a giant humanoid monster in underpants in the opening story, the featured soldier’s thoughts are not of how its rampage can be stopped, but where the underpants came from. Buy into that and you’ll love the remainder.
Homages and parodies of this material are plentiful, but Chris Wisnia takes it a giant step further by contextualising the masterfully constructed pages with explanatory articles and having the ‘rare’ pages reproduced from the best available sources. This can be the only copy available, on which 1950s kid Brad has scribbled in crayon. Other strips are prefaced by articles explaining the assorted incompetences of Taploia Comics varying from the dialogue applied to the wrong pages to the messianic trumpeting of remastered pages with new digital colour. There are also scurrilous biographies of collectors from whom pages were acquired, and letters pages in which the letter writers are obsessed with minor errors. One Lt. Bert Furdy is driven to expletive-laden rage by the persistent use of “airforce” instead of “Air Force” and the pedantic editorial justifications.
The conceit running throughout is the quest of intrepid reporter Doris Danger to prove the existence of rumoured giant monsters. Also seen are her days beforehand, these equally effectively presented as romance stories with Wisnia adopting the style of Steve Ditko. No matter the story, certain hilarious repetitions occur. Splash pages feature a monster never seen in the story; dialogue balloons almost squash their speaker; characters have ludicrous conversations not moving anything forward; there are labyrinthine allusions to the practices of the secret services, and beware the dangers of chapped lips. A notable writing influence is the style of Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker film parodies (Airplane, Top Secret!, The Naked Gun).
Attention to detail makes this an immensely dense collection, and one where the connections are extraordinarily well planned, meaning you’re unlikely to find anything starting with similar intentions achieving those aims so satisfyingly. However, the very reasons that make it work so well also mean Doris Danger is best read in small chunks as the repetition dilutes the effect. Take that on board, and expectations will be gloriously fulfilled.
