Review by Roy Boyd

Rin Tin Can, the name of our canine hero, is a pun on Rin Tin Tin, a German Shepherd dog that appeared in a series of hugely popular 1920’s movies. So it’s a joke that’s not likely to be understood by anyone born after the moon landing. It’s not likely to be appreciated much more by anyone born before then either, as it’s not terribly funny.

First appearing in the pages of Lucky Luke, Rin Tin Can gets his own spin-off series, kicking off with The Mascot. Our tale begins with a few dates and facts, just to let us know writers Xavier Fauche and Jean Léturgie have done their research. We’re in Dances With Wolves territory, though this series isn’t concerned quite so much with the poor treatment of the Native Americans. While many modern creators might shy away from such subject matter for fear of giving offence, there’s not really any evidence of out-dated thinking in these stories, as the natives are no more or less stupid than the more recently arrived Americans. In fact, with a star that’s called “the dog dumber than his own shadow” or “the stupidest dog in the universe”, it’d be fair to say that everyone, man and animal, being spectacularly stupid is the USP of this series.

Rin Tin Can’s particular brand of stupidity is to go through the story blissfully unaware of what’s going on most of the time. Much like another couple of more famous canine sidekicks, Tintin’s Snowy and Asterix’s Dogmatix, our protagonist speaks mostly to himself, and seems to live in a world of his own, something which inevitably leads to much confusion.

Our plot involves Rin Tin Can, in his new role of official mascot of the 7th Cavalry being mistaken for the son of an Indian god, a visit from President Garfield, fights between the natives and the cavalry, crooked traders and much, much more. The creators don’t let any opportunity for a gag go by, and the book is jam packed with jokes of varying degrees of sophistication, everything from broad slapstick to puns. Their method seems to be to throw everything they can at the wall in the hope that something sticks, and the hit rate isn’t bad.

The lettering is noteworthy for all the wrong reasons, and the same can be said of the colouring, which usually involves flat colours, especially in the backgrounds, which are often sparse in the extreme, or completely blank. This minimalist approach is taken throughout, with most elements looking like they’ve been drawn in a hurry. Morris (aka Belgian artist Maurice de Bevere) can obviously draw, it just looks like he’s tried to expend as little effort as possible on these pages.

Although this is moderately amusing, we’d recommend steering young readers towards Asterix, where the jokes are funnier, and the art is miles ahead of what’s on display here. However, Lucky Luke fans are sure to enjoy these stories. Lastly, the lack of any back cover blurb is surprising. Surely this is a publisher’s best opportunity to persuade anyone who picks up the book that they might actually want to read it, or purchase it for someone else. The next book in the series, The Godfather, is already available, with more to follow.