I was very sorry to hear about the passing of director-actor Rob Reiner and his wife, particularly given the tragic circumstances involving their troubled son.
Like a lot of people in my age group, I first encountered Reiner on All in the Family. Though he was the son of a comedy legend, Carl Reiner, he was universally admired in Hollywood for being grounded and a mensch, which he also used to advance causes that were important to him.
As his filmography shows, Reiner was a versatile director, from This is Spinal Tap, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Misery, A Few Good Men. Just this year, we watched his documentary, Albert Brooks: Defending My Life, and, in the theater, Spinal Tap II: The End Continues (see my review here).
I had the fortune to once see Reiner in person—my now wife and I had snagged tickets to see a test screening of A Few Good Men that he was present at. As one can imagine, it was very well received by the screening audience, and the film remains very watchable and a personal favorite.
I was sorry to hear about the passing of comics writer, creator and editor Jim Shooter. Though I never met him personally, he loomed large in comics during a period I became serious about entering the industry. To say that he was polarizing would be an understatement. His tenure and influence as editor in chief of Marvel Comics from 1978–87 was both legendary and notorious. He got the company back on track and oversaw some great series and ushered in new talent (encompassing Chris Claremont's run on X-Men, John Byrne on the Fantastic Four, and Frank Miller's Daredevil) and implemented a royalty program. Shooter would occasionally go on to found and/or start several other companies, such as Valiant and Defiant, neither of which lasted long.
But during this time, Shooter also emerged as a "villain" in the industry. These included defending Marvel's indefensible position of not returning Jack Kirby's artwork in order to leverage a promise that he not ever attempt to claim ownership of the characters he had a big hand in creating for the company (they didn't call it "The House that Jack Built" for nothing), and issuing edicts on the creator side that people chafed under so much that many left.
Starting around that time, I became as interested in the business of comics as much as the comics themselves and, during these days before the Internet, much of this was covered breathlessly in the weekly and monthly comics media press. So though much of my impression of Shooter was shaped by comics industry media coverage (particularly that of the Comics Journal), since I had no real skin in the game—and given the insular nature of the industry—I tended to read such reports with a grain of salt and almost solely for the entertainment value in a soapy sort of way. (There's an old adage about academia that probably applies to comics at this time—the politics are so vicious because the stakes are so low.)
In any case, I have to admit it's been touching to read so many fascinating stories and personal anecdotes at his passing, which provide a warmer and more rounded view of the man. Despite some of his notoriety, he clearly could be warm and generous, and clearly did much to benefit and protect creators, and it's good to know that he was nevertheless respected and appreciated by many of his peers, many of whom found opportunities to share their sentiments with him over the years. At the end of the day, he leaves behind a solid legacy, so it's nice to hear so many remembering him fondly.
I was saddened—and like most people, a bit shocked—to hear of the passing of cartoonist and podcaster Ed Piskor on April 1.
Though Piskor has been an active and prolific professional cartoonist for many years, I only stumbled across him during the pandemic, through his podcast/YouTube channel, Cartoonist Kayfabe, produced with his partner and fellow cartoonist Jim Rugg. I didn't think I'd cotton to what initially felt like a "bro vibe" on the show, but I soon came to appreciate their deep and broad knowledge, love and respect for comics and cartooning history and a wide array of comics genres and styles, from Robert Crumb, to Image, to Moebius/Jean Girard, Dick Tracy and more. Their podcasts were diverse, ranging from appreciations and overviews of specific comics and magazines, comics history and of cartoonists and characters. They also conducted interviews of many great figures from comics, such as Todd McFarlane and Gary Groth. While Rugg seemed the more genial and diplomatic of the two (and a family man), Piskor came off as more of a blue collar bad boy/rebel with a strong Hip Hop vibe. But though it was certainly part of his authentic and genuine self, his enthusiasm and passion always came through, and even when citing work he didn't necessarily like, he never came off as rude or mean-spirited. They were very prolific podcasters—although I didn't listen to them religiously, their channel was a go-to when I was looking for something to listen to and watch while drawing.
What I partly admired about the show was what started as an exercise for the two friends and fellow pros to talk about comics as they no doubt did all the time in private, it clearly turned into a great promotional tool. Their subscriber base was very devoted and they were successful in mobilizing them to support and order their comics through traditional comic book stores and online. More power to them! In fact, in 2023, I even sent both a sample of my comics to put me on their radar.
Piskor particularly seemed to be incredibly hard working and prolific. A Kubert School for Cartooning alum, I appreciated that he made no bones about the fact that he may not have been the most naturally gifted artist and cartoonist, but he certainly worked hard on his craft, showing that commitment and discipline can go a long way (the fact that he did this while also producing a podcast on a regular schedule was particularly admirable).
When news emerged of the allegations of misconduct and grooming came to light, I was saddened and disappointed. But, of course, not having any personal connection or familiarity with Piskor or the situation, I felt no need to weigh in or express an opinion and, like I would with any developing news story, waited to see how it would play out as more information emerged.
On April 1, when I first heard news of his death, my initial thought was that it might be some kind of sick April Fool's joke. But quick verification proved it was not.
Regardless of the truth, of course, Piskor and no one else deserved this kind of end or the kind of social media (and traditional media) pressure he received. I do agree that, ultimately, it was Piskor's decision and actions that led to his passing...but it may also have been a reflection of personal mental health issues as well as the fact that his self-identity was so wrapped up and defined by his profession.
In recent days, just by chance, some of their shows looking at the work of French cartoonist Moebius popped up on my feed recently, which I watched. Listening to them express their appreciation of Moebius was a joy and informative—though not much of what they observed was new to me, they helped me look at the work with fresh eyes, with a level of admiration and enthusiasm that was infectious. It's not clear whether Rugg plans to continue the channel in some way on his own, but Piskor, and his chemistry with Piskor, will be greatly missed.
Though I don’t have a particularly strong opinion about Great Britain’s monarchy, as someone with an interest in history and political intrigue, as well as tradition and pomp and circumstance, I must admit an appreciation for Queen Elizabeth as a historical figure and fodder for some great drama (and comedy).
Elizabeth’s passing put me in mind to recently re-watch the film, the Queen and the Crown series on Netflix. I’ve watched both before (the former multiple times) and find them immensely watchable—they're very well done. They provide glimpses into tradition, protocol and backroom politics (both institutional and personal) of not just a monarch but a constitutional head of state who of course wields great influence but not absolute power—and must inspire and earn fealty from his or her subjects for legitimacy and to remain in power.
That said, I felt one of the best tributes to Elizabeth was the observation that she remained on the throne not for power but rather duty. She served her country with great dignity through transition and crisis, from a World War when she was still a princess and a Cold War as Queen, and the continued evolution of Great Britain as a colonial power to a commonwealth. As the longest-reigning English monarch, she leaves behind a strong legacy—and big shoes to fill.
