Here (graphic novel)

"Here" by Richard McGuire
Pantheon Books, 2014

While at school, I was introduced to alternative comics and the then-emerging concept of the “graphic novel.” I’d been into superhero comic books since I was ten, I was even a hanger-on in a specific comic book store (dramatized in The Negative Zone) but in the late 1980s I was beginning to be exposed to works by artists like Harvey Pekar and also Art Spiegelman.

Before the publication of Spiegelman’s award-winning novel Maus, this telling of his father’s experiences during the Holocaust were serialized in Raw, a more-or-less-annual anthology of works from comics artists around the globe, a magazine that was edited by Spiegelman and Françoise Mouly.

Raw vol. 2 issue 1 (1989) included Here, a six-page story by Richard McGuire. Using simple black and white line drawings, McGuire depicts one American living room from one vantage point, the reader witnessing relatively banal events from the present, the past (both recent and distant) and even into the future.

"Here" by Richard McGuire
RAW vol. 2 issue 1, 1989

Perhaps you have played such a game of imagination – what used to be here? Right here? Before there was a house, or Europeans or even people? When this space was occupied by ice, or members of the Iroquois, or those bougie folks I bought this house from over thirty years ago?

McGuire eventually – twenty-five years later, in fact – expanded upon this work into a full-length graphic novel. Also called Here (2014) the images are now in color and the moments more expansive, but only just. There are no grand narratives to follow, no clearly defined characters, no real story, except for the place itself. What it was, what it is, what it will be.

Last year, TriStar Pictures released a film adaptation of Here, directed by Robert Zemeckis, with Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, his stars from Forrest Gump. A box office and critical failure, audiences were in part put off by the grand narrative that had been created for it; namely, that aging white Baby Boomers feel disappointed and that if we live long enough, we get old and die. These are not the themes of McGuire’s short story, nor his book.

"Here" directed by
Robert Zemeckis (2024)

Part of McGuire’s conceit (which Zemeckis, always the technically crafty storyteller, faithfully emulates on screen) is the use of panels that either divide the viewed space – again, always the same corner of the same living room, viewed from the same angle – or more often frames that are like windows peering from the established time (labeled in the upper left corner as 1953 say, or 1989, 2014, 2111) and into other eras.

The original short story (1989) included a small panel of a cat in 1999 (the future) walking placidly through the room. This same cat makes an appearance in the novel (2014) and she is still in 1999 (the past). She was always going to cross that room, she always has crossed that room. That’s time.

One performance which has more successfully drafted a grand narrative onto a single, static space is the Olivier Award-winning musical Standing a the Sky’s Edge in which three generations of Sheffielders occupy the same flat in the same housing estate at three different points in history. In one scene, all three timeframes play out simultaneously, dialogue overlapping, the characters from the different years unaware of each other (though the audience certainly is) as they share the space, even unwittingly sharing a single bottle of Henderson’s Relish.

Recently my aunt found a cache of home movies in her basement, from the 1950s and early 1960s, and my cousins had them transferred to video files. These films capture those moments one might expect; vacations, Christmas mornings, they even include my mother’s college commencement. And birthdays. So many birthdays. I could (and who knows, I still may) make a supercut of my Aunt Dede coming through the door to the dining room, bearing a large frosted cake festooned with burning little candles, to be placed before a delighted child.

 

Through the door, with a cake, placed before a child. Through the door, with a cake, placed before a child. In 1955, 1956, 1957, 1958, 1959, 1960, 1961 ... The only thing that changes are the hairstyles.

Several of my plays have taken place over the course of many generations, On the Dark Side of Twilight or The Great Globe Itself. Recently, I have been creating a new piece inspired by recent revelations in my family tree, and I have been inspired to create something which also attempts to present windows through time to tell the story. More on that, hopefully, soon.

UPDATE: BorderLight Theater Festival presents The Right Room, a new play by David Hansen and directed by Jasmine Renee, July 16 - 19, 2025. Help support our production by dropping a donation on our GoFundMe campaign! 

On Comedians

"I should be drinking a toast to absent friends
Instead of these comedians."
Elvis Costello
My junior year was the year of comedy. Stand-up comedy. One of the main stage productions that fall at the Ohio University School of Theatre was Comedians by British playwright Trevor Griffiths. In brief, the play is about an older man who teaches an after-hours course in stand-up to working class guys in Manchester. The final exam is a five-minute routine at a local pub.

However, when the instructor’s old partner shows up, a very successful British comedian and talent agent, and announces he is scouting for new talent and will be attending that night’s event, well, that raises the stakes considerably, doesn’t it?

These two men of a certain age have differing opinions about comedy, and its uses. Morecambe and Wise vs. Angry Young Men, don’t you know. The guy in downtrodden, 1970s era Manchester, scraping his living, thinks of comedy as a time-honored art form best employed to divine difficult truths. The other gentleman is about entertainment and money -- If you can get everyone in the room to laugh at the fat kid in the front row, you win!

Also in 1988, when Tom Hanks was still willing to risk playing an asshole, he starred in the film Punchline, which might be my favorite role he’s played. A middle-aged housewife (Sally Field) is having a midlife crisis and wants to try out stand-up. Hanks' character is a moderately successful, workaday comedian, kind of a dick troubled character, and takes her under his wing.

"But doctor ... I am Pagliacci."

Comedians, it turns out, are not happy people. They are bitter, angry people. The best ones can be charming, lose themselves in the content of their “character” and who can cleverly cut down everyone around them but remain adored. Caustic, scorched earth comedians offend everyone and most often flame-out. I don't need to name them. The ones with the longest self-life are beloved, unknowable clowns. Who is Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, Johnny Carson? Who cares, they’re funny.

That school year was also my year of graphic novels. The daily comic strip I had written during my sophomore year had been cancelled, but as a result of that experience I had begun delving beyond strips and books, and into what Art Spiegelman called “comix.”

Junior year was when I began reading Harevy Pekar, Spiegelman’s Maus and Raw, and Watchmen, an underground comic posing as a superhero book. Watchmen famously features a character called The Comedian, an psychopathic mercenary who plays the American system to the hilt, G. Gordon Liddy with the expertise, style and strength of Batman. He wears the iconic “smiley face” button that is the signature gaphic for Watchmen. It’s also his blood that gets splattered on it.

He's the Comedian. He gets the joke.

The second act of Comedians features all of the younger performers presenting their shtick. To the playwright’s credit (and the ability of the actors) the routines actually do make the audience, the actual theater audience, laugh -- or not, if they are supposed to be lackluster. All the student had been instructed carefully to look into themselves, to find the humor within. When one comedian’s work begins to flag, he starts making racist jokes which are unfortunately hilarious. Win! A team of brothers have a melt-down onstage, however, when one of them tries to pull the same thing in the middle of their act, and the other refuses to.

The final comedian, Gethin Price, is entirely balls-out bizarre. It’s more like performance art, it isn’t "funny", it’s a grotesque lashing out against the upper class. It is COMEDY. I wasn’t in this production, but I was very interested by it, read the script in advance. I had made acquaintance of the guy playing Price -- he was an O.U. Alum, a visiting artist -- and gave him a Watchmen pin I had gotten from the Uptown Mini Maul. He was thrilled, and got permission from the costumer to pin it on costume.

I like comedy. I like funny. I do not like comedians. In general, I find them to be misanthropic, mean-spirited people. And the only thing worse than a comedian is an improv comedian.

To be continued.