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“Archie 1955” #2

By | November 1st, 2019
Posted in Reviews | % Comments

Like a garage band’s earliest work, there are a few gems buried inside “Archie 1955” #2, but you’re going to have to wade through a lot of filler to find them. (May contain minor spoilers.)

Cover by Derek Charm
Written by Brian Augustyn
& Mark Waid
Illustrated by Tom Grummett, Rick Burchett and Bob Smith
Colored by Glenn Whitmore
Lettered by Jack Morelli

BRAND NEW SERIES from the writing team that brought you ARCHIE: 1941! Archie Andrews’ rise to music superstardom begins to take form and all of Riverdale is captivated with their new crowned prince of rock and roll—but the cost of fame is already starting to add up.

The birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll is a messy, complex, multilayered story. Historians and pop culture critics generally agree that disc jockey Alan Freed first popularized the term on radio station WJW in Cleveland, Ohio in 1951. The story of the music itself, however, isn’t quite so neat and tidy.

For some, the relatively sudden emergence of this quintessentially American sound was both a harbinger of things to come and a catalyst for change – an inclusive art form that bridged the gap between physically and culturally segregated black and white youth, ultimately laying the foundation for the Civil Rights Movement. For others, the story of Rock ‘n’ Roll is merely a high profile version of a painfully familiar dynamic that continues to this day: artists from non-dominant cultures create and innovate, pushing the envelope in new and exciting ways, only to have white hep-cats swoop in to steal the spot light, take most of the credit, and monetize the excitement.

Gentrification, anyone…?

Either way, unless your protagonist is named Marty McFly, it’s impossible to tell even the most basic version of how Rock ‘n’ Roll exploded onto the scene without also reflecting on and discussing the segregated black experience. To their credit, writers Brian Augustyn and Mark Waid try to tell a nuanced story that grapples with some segregation issues – albeit pretty gently – and for the most part they succeed, managing to mix in a fair amount of humor and heart.

In the debut issue, Archie’s black friend Chuck took to him to “the other side of the tracks” to see Big Earl Dixon, the hottest and biggest new star on Checkers Records. Archie was blown away and we were left with a splash page of Archie sitting on his bed, obsessively learning the chords to one of Big Earl’s songs.

As the second issue begins, we see Archie and his band laying ‘em flat at Pop’s. Caught up in the excitement and under the spell of a slick DJ who promises to play his new demo, Archie lays down a track that – as he later admits – was not really his to record. Chuck hears the song on the air, confronts Archie about it and takes him to Big Earl’s to make amends. The ensuing scene runs the gamut, featuring some of the funniest, some of the most tender and heartfelt, and some of the most frankly clichéd dialogue of the series so far.

After an appropriately standoffish introduction in which Big Earl addresses Archie flatly as “White Friend” to comedic effect, we’re forced to endure the obligatory invitation to sweet tea – because that’s what people drink on the other side of the tracks – as well as a hackneyed comment from Big Earl’s mother about how Archie “might could stand a little time in the sun.”

Cue the record-scratch-car-crash effect.

Yikes. It’s not only a comment that sounds tin-eared and out of step with the rest of the book, it doesn’t serve any real purpose and nearly derails the scene. Only a few panels later, Archie delivers a wonderfully self-aware, authentic apology to Big Earl for the mistake he’s made, but you have to slog your way through some more tepid narration first.

As much as the dialogue is occasionally uneven, however, the book is visually packed, consistently, from beginning to end. To begin with, there’s a whole ton of words, mostly in the form of dialogue and narration, but there are also lines and lines of lyrics. Not to mention claps, honks, beeps, and musical notes. Certainly, some of the lyrics are central to the plot, but most feel pretty redundant and seem to consume what little white space is left after everything else is jammed in. From the perspective off both panels and page layouts, there’s no real visual rhythm or groove. Instead, it’s just a mosh pit.

Continued below

Generally, the characterizations are fine, but most Archie books tend to feature at least occasional panels with blank backgrounds, allowing us to connect more deeply with the characters and share their inner emotions. Here, we don’t really get a break. It feels like every panel features a bunch of detail and background elements that seem extraneous. And in one panel at Pop’s, at least, I sweat Jughead looks like he’s aged at least a decade since he graduated high school, theoretically one year before.

Glen Whitmore’s colors feel bright and pretty heavily saturated, keeping it in line with a lot of contemporary Archie books, which simultaneously makes sense, but seems to do very little to create a retro, 50s feel. Maybe I’m simply conditioned from seeing the 50s portrayed in old, faded movies on TV and visual art that’s lost its luster over the decades, but much of it simply feels too bright and colorful overall.

Ultimately, I think there’s a very good core story here, buried somewhere inside. Needless to say, The Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll is exactly the kind of story and major historical event in which we should find Archie and the rest of the gang. Unfortunately, it feels like there’s not a coherent, compelling vision that ties the whole series together. Instead, it just feels like a hodgepodge, narratively and visually.

Final Verdict: 6.7 “Archie 1955” #2 is a potentially well balanced story that staggers under the weight of too much visual information and uneven dialogue.


John Schaidler

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