The Forbidden Planet International Blog Log

It would seem these days that every other week, another luminary in what could be called Franco-Belgian comics celebrates some kind of anniversary. Last year we had Toppfer and especially Hergé, while this year promises to be blue as a Smurf until we are sick of it. 50 years of Smurfdom will probably generate more publicity; still there is another anniversary that might be more interesting for the true comics enthusiast. Seventy years ago a magazine that would later go on to spawn the Smurfs (amongst others), saw the light of day. Like that other important comics magazine that would be founded after World War II, it bore the name of the main characters of one of its strips. Unlike Tintin, however, this guy didn’t wear plus-fours, but rather a bell-hop’s uniform: Rob Vel’s Spirou.

(the first issue of Le Journal de Spirou, 1938)

The importance of Spirou for the development of that typical form of comics that is the Franco-Belgian Bandes Dessinées can hardly be overstated. As is the case for its most direct competitor, Tintin Magazine, Spirou offered whole generations of comics artists and writers a platform where they could develop their talent and craft, and where new titles and series could grow and attract a steady public. Their names will be familiar for anybody who was raised on a steady BD diet: Spirou Et Fantasio, Jerry Spring, Tif Et Tondu, Johan Et Pirlouit, Les Tuniques Blueues, Lucky Luke, Buck Dany, La Bande Des Castors and many, many more (about 500 titles debuted in the magazine). By the same token, creators like André Franquin, Peyo, Jijé, Charlier et Hubinon, Michel Tacq and others will forever be associated with the Spirou stable.

Spirou‘s offering has always consisted of longer stories of new or established series, typically 46 to 64 pages, split into chunks of 2 to 4 pages a week. It was this formula that allowed Spirou‘s publisher, Dupuis, to try out new characters and titles without being faced with the enormous costs of launching a new series of actual comic books (or “albums” as they are called in this context). Quite remarkably, Spirou’s menu offered stories in all styles and genres, from romance through (mild) horror to adventure, espionage, historical stories and humour. And equally remarkable, each and every title was home grown and original – Spirou rarely reprinted foreign comics.

(the popular Tif Et Tondu as drawn by by Will for Spirou)

Next to this, the magazine offered a seemingly never-ending stream of humorous one-pager comics, often running for years at a time. Two of the most famous examples are Roba’s Boule Et Bill, which chronicles the adventures of a small boy and his dog and ran for decades, and Franquin’s own Gaston Lagaffe. As one of the most important BD’s ever created, it provided a look into the goings-on at the Spirou offices (a look that, as legend has it, was quite often too close for comfort for those involved), but also offered a rare mainstream platform for rock music, environmental activism, the questioning of authority and other examples of alternative or (then) countercultural thinking.

This, in a sense, was what set Spirou apart from Tintin. Whereas Tintin was as upper middle class, as profound and as relentlessly quality-driven as the creator of its title character, Spirou was clearly more working class, more devious and anarchic. This was visible in the story material, which could be more explosive than in the case of Tintin (where stories tended to verge on the bland, albeit a blandness of a quite aesthetically pleasing kind). Most clearly however, this is shown in the art styles that were used. Both Tintin and Spirou featured stories in the “cartoony” as well as the realistic style, but Spirou‘s lines were always more flexible, more dynamic than Tintin‘s rather static, straight and concrete lines.

(Yoko Tsuno by Roger Leloup, now being reprinted in English by Cinebook)

In the range of the realistic art styles, this opposed people like Victor Hubinon or more particularly Jijé (at Spirou’s side) with Bob De Moor and Jacques Martin (in Tintin). On the cartoon side of the spectrum, it opposes the likes of Peyo, Roba and Morris with Hergé himself, Tibet and Macherot. Obvious exceptions are Roger Leloup, who was formed in the studios Hergé but would later go to create Yoko Tsuno for Spirou, and Greg, whose Achille Tallon was even more cartoony than anything Spirou had to offer.

In recent years, the importance of comics magazines has diminished dramatically, to such an extent that the Dutch versions of the magazines ceased publication some years ago. Albums have become the standard form of publication, resulting in a much more conservative publishing practice and in new forms of promotion and pre-publication (most notably in newspapers and online). Also, the introduction of newer forms of comics on the European market, with manga the most important among them, has generally shaken up the comics spectrum in a big way. These books are fairly cheap to make (thanks to a cheaper production method in black and white on lower grade paper, but also because they consistently offer older, imported material), are offered at affordable prices, and completely fit within a newer youth culture of video games and television cartoons.

(the recent cover for Spirou issues#3645, published February 2008 and borrowed from the official website)
To celebrate, or perhaps commemorate, Spirou‘s 70 years of great comics, the Brussels Centre for Comic Art has put together a retrospective exhibition, showcasing the history of the magazine, its most important creators and characters using photographs, artefacts and a collage of 500 covers, showing the magazine’s evolution over the years. Well worth the visit, if you’re in town.