Festival (Not Convention) Report, Part 2: Sunday

By Regie Rigby

The story so far…
Your foolish hero has travelled the length (and pretty much the breadth) of England to get from his North Yorkshire home to the West Coast port of Bristol. I have spent one full day at the U.K.’s only dedicated Comics Festival. (Not at a convention as was reported last week. Since publication of the last Fool Britannia, the event organisers have made it clear that as far as they are concerned conventions are the sole province of “shower curtain salesmen in Ohio”, while “Festivals are for International art forms that want to be taken seriously.” I consider myself well and truly told.)

Whilest at this event I have met up with some old friends (like Budgie – the man who is to accountancy what Indiana Jones is to Archaeology…) and some new ones (like Sarah and Phil, moderators of the Comics International e-group). I have been recognised several times (which is freaky but gratifying) and attended a number of entertaining events.

I also stayed up very late, consumed a very unwise quantity of alcohol and damaged my foot by falling off a curb. I would emphasise that I was sober at the time, but on reflection that just makes the whole thing even more embarrassing, so I won’t.

Now, read on, as we embark on the adventure that is

DAY TWO - SUNDAY…



07.45
I wake up, curse my head (which currently seems to be providing a home for a psychotic person with a jack hammer) and go back to sleep.


08.55
I wake up again – this time feeling refreshed and fantastic. I have no idea why this works, considering the amount I drank last night I should be in pain for the rest of the day. Still I’m not going to argue…


08.56
Get out of bed and fall over. Remember damaged foot from previous evening. Swear a lot. Scramble to my feet and hobble to the shower.


09.15
Hobble downstairs to breakfast. One or two other bleary eyed festival attendees are present. I wave at a guy I think might be Steve Pugh, but he either doesn’t see me or doesn’t know who I am (or does know who I am and is avoiding me…)

The restaurant at the Marriott Hotel is stunning, all high ceilings, stained glass and neo classical sculpture. I reflect again that this place is far too posh to hold a comics con (sorry, Festival) in. Still, if the food is going to be this good, I’m not going to complain too loudly. Besides, this is all about getting the medium taken seriously – why shouldn’t we have a little luxury?


09.45
Sling my bags in my car and hobble to reception to check out and settle my bill. Am astonished at how cheap it is.

Now, I wouldn’t normally make a big deal about something like this, but I was so impressed I feel I ought to. At previous comics events, hotel staff have made me feel a little second rate. The Marriott however gave me exemplary service, no matter how scruffy looking I was – even when I hopped through reception in bare feet after the falling off the curb incident.

My room was big, well equipped and comfortable. I was still buying drinks at the bar at three in the morning. Breakfast was good and I was able to have as much as I wanted. For all this they charged me £45.00. That’s less than the advertised “special convention rate”, and it’s less than I paid last year. It’s even less than some of my friends were paying in the motel down the road.

So, kudos to the organisers for choosing the Marriott as the main festival hotel this year, and kudos to the Marriott for being so great. If I sound like a happy customer, it’s because I am.

10.30 hrs
Having mooched (well, limped…) around Bristol for a bit I wander into the Watershed venue (open earlier than advertised, not that I’m complaining) and have a look around the comics stalls and the DC (only US publisher prepared to fork out the money for an actual stand this year) booth. Meet up with Sarah from the CI list again. As we are looking through some back issues I am engaged in conversation by a young kid (boy of about nine years) in a wheelchair (that he uses a chair is not particularly relevant information, except that he has difficulty seeing into the boxes on the table, which might be something to think about). The conversation runs something like this:


Kid:
Are you a Spider-Man freak then? (I am looking through some Spidey back issues at this point)

Me: (Nodding sagely)
I used to be, a long time ago. (This is true. I gave up about eight years ago.)

Kid:
I’ve just started!


At this point the kid’s attention is caught by a copy of Amazing Fantasy #15 on display behind the counter. He is absolutely awestruck that he is in the same room as the first ever appearance of his hero.

For a second I’m a little jealous. I used to feel like that about things, back in the days before I turned into a jaded old hack. Then I am pleased that not only are there kids in the hall, but kids who are enthusiastic and even passionate about comics. After all of the doom mongering I’ve been doing about the future of the industry (and indeed, I could still be persuaded to do some more since only one US publisher could afford to make the trip to Bristol this year) it is gratifying to now that there is a new generation of comics readers out there.

Attracting kids back into comics is one of the stated aims of festival organiser Kev F. Sutherland. I hope he’s had time to notice that it’s working. (Although it seems unlikely. I’ve seen Kev several times over the weekend, but I have only seen him stationary once – every other time he’s been running.)

11.30 hrs
I limp back across the road to the Marriott and take my seat for a theatrical adaptation of the Alan Moore / Ian Gibson classic The Ballad of Halo Jones.

The director apologises at the start because he had been intending to bring the cast of his recent production to the festival, but they all turned out to have other commitments. Instead we have a motley line up of people he cornered in the bar the night before, who are seeing the script for only the second time.

Now, this sounds like a recipe for disaster. Far from it. They present the script in “radio play” style. It doesn’t matter that the person playing Rodice (an eighteen year old girl) is a big bloke called Barny. The script adaptation is faithful to the original, and as anyone who ever read the original when it first came out in 2000AD will tell you, it’s a damn good story. (Which incidentally is about to be republished as “The Complete Ballad of Halo Jones” – keep an eye out for it)

As a long time fan of Halo, I can picture Ian Gibson’s wonderful art as the words wash over me, and I pass an hour in a haze of nostalgia which ends all too soon. (At the end of book one in fact. Perhaps we’ll get books two and three next year…)


12.30 hrs
Hobble back to the Watershed venue, and meet up with mt best mate Burge in the bar. We have time for a brief conversation (bearing in mind we’ve been so busy over the weekend we’ve hardly seen each other) before I scoot off to the 2000AD panel.

13.00 hrs
As I approach the auditorium, I pass Rich Johnston heading in the opposite direction at a dead run. Make a mental note to ask him where he was going in such a hurry, then forget all about it.

The panel consists of Andy Diggle (the current real life occupant of Tharg’s throne) and the chief executive of Rebellion (the games software company who now publish 2000AD, who Diggle introduces as “The man who was so impressed he bought the company”.

Diggle takes questions, while his boss plays with his laptop and tries in vain to get the PowerPoint presentation to work.

Questioning centres mainly on the upcoming release of some collected volumes of reprints from the 2000AD back catalogue. The much missed Ballad of Halo Jones (from this morning, remember?) is confirmed for a summer release, as is Grant Morrison’s excellent superhero work Zenith. The strategy seems to be to release a mix of cult fan favourites (to keep the dies hard fans happy) and early work by big name creators (Garth Ennis, Grant Morrison, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman et al) so that they can actually shift some units overseas and make a bit of money for a change.

I wish them well. Particularly if they can get Moore to write another Halo Jones book.

The Rebellion guy finally gives up on the PowerPoint show, as his laptop is steadfastly refusing to cooperate. Instead he boots up the demo of the new Judge Dredd video game and projects that onto the thirty foot screen.

I give you advance warning. In fourteen months time when this baby (provisionally titled Dredd vs. Death) hits the shelves, you must rush out and buy it. It is truly a beautiful thing. The guys at Rebellion are obviously fans – forget the travesty that is the Stallone movie. This game finally lets you see Meg-City One. Dredd himself has been texture mapped from original Carlos Ezquerra artwork and looks the business (although due to Esquire’s tendency to elongate thighs at the moment the Dredd figure has a tendency to mince a little. I’m assuming this is one of the things they will be sorting out before release.)

There is also some discussion about future 2000AD movie projects. The rights to all the characters are now back in house, and we are told that a number of projects either in development or under consideration. Rebellion are emphatic that they will respect creators rights and insist on the integrity of their characters if any films are made, which means the possibility that a decent Dredd movie might one day get made still exists! (This counts as the best news I’ve had all weekend…)

14.30 hrs
After a lightning fast lunch, and a brief stop at the Com.X stand to pick up the latest issue of the (surprisingly) excellent Bazooka Jules (a comic I fully expected to hate, but don’t) I meet up with Burge again and hobble over the road to see another play – ’Till Darth us do part. Basically, imagine the gang from Friends doing Star Wars.

Evil Landlord of the Sith Darth Vader wants to evict Han Solo and Luke Skywalker from their flat. Luke and Han need to enlist the help of their attractive new neighbour Princess Leia. Vader meanwhile is working a new nightclub called The Death Star, but someone has stolen the plans to the bar and seating area. He must get them back, and thinks Leia might know something about it. (He also has a plan for a shopping center – he could call it “Darth’s Mall”!)

The jokes (like the one above), puns and pop culture references come thick and fast. The cast is just on the right side of self-parody and I laugh myself stupid. This play went down a storm at last year’s Edinburgh festival, and if you ever get a chance to see it I can’t recommend it highly enough.




And that’s that. We look in on the costume parade, which this year involves Elaine Mace and Doug Oliver (two long standing British Con attendees famed for their costumes) grabbing people from the audience and transforming them into comic book characters. As we arrive some poor bloke is being wrapped in Bacofoil as the transform him into the Silver Surfer. As we leave they are wrapping a small child in black plastic. We never do find out what she was going to be…

Nothing else remains except drinking (non-alcoholic beverages for me sadly, as I’m driving straight back to Yorkshire) talking and the long drive home.

Comics 2001 was a brilliant festival. This has been the third time comics UK fandom has descended on Bristol, and the city is getting used to us.
I’ll remember the heat. (the Watershed has no air-conditioning. With three thousand plus sweaty fanboys trooping around, it needs it!)

I’ll remember the plays, the people, the beer…

What did I miss? I regret not going to the Com.X launch. I’m ashamed to say that I had dismissed Britains newest comics company having seen promo art for Bazooka Jules, which I dismissed as another soft porn comic. Marcia, the Editor in Chief of Sequential Tart forced me to buy a copy, and I soon saw the error of my ways. Having spoken to them briefly, I can see that Com.X could very easily be the future, and if they are, the future looks bright. (Expect more on this subject in later columns…)

I’m also sorry I missed the awards. I know we didn’t win, but winning isn’t everything, and they were presented this year by Hattie Hayridge (Holly from Red Dwarf). That would’ve been fun!

And of course, I’m sorry that I missed Raptus. Beer! Flatbread! Salt meat! (I missed ‘em last year too!)

Ah well – The party moves to the Galleries of Justice in Nottingham in September for the 2000AD themed DreddCon 2, and then it’s all back to Bristol next year for Comics 2002. I for one can’t wait!