From Our Continental Correspondent – Translation, please: M Le Magicien | The Forbidden Planet International Blog Log

From Our Continental Correspondent – Translation, please: M Le Magicien

Mon, Jun 30, 2008

Comics and cartoons, From our Continental Correspondent, Translation please

I don’t want to sound posh or anything, but whenever I find a wonderful comic in French, or German, or any language besides English, I feel like I can hype it all I want, if it doesn’t get translated, most of you Brits and Usonians will probably never get a chance to read it. That’s why the Forbidden Planet Blog Log and myself start a new series today, in which we will try to spotlight wonderful comics and graphic novels that simply scream out to be translated. In each case, it’s simply mind-boggling that American or British publishers haven’t picked up these gems already, and I can only hope that these little jottings will help pushing them a little.

Mattioli M le magicien.jpg

(cover to Mattioli ’s M le Magicien, published L’Association)

First up today is a book called “M Le Magicien”, which was published by French alternative powerhouse L’Association in 2004. It’s a big, fat book collecting all the strips that Italian cartoonist Massimo Mattioli (or simply M.M., as he signed his strip) published in the French comics magazine Pif, between 1968 and 1973. It tells the adventures of a little wizard who lives in a colourful world full of talking plants, precocious fish and hot-tempered anteaters (among others). It would seem that Matioli initially envisioned M Le Magicien as a typical single-strip newspaper comic, and the weekly Pif printed one page of them every week: six strips of tiny square drawings in a heart-warming style. As the series continues, Mattioli starts using this page as a whole, and starts experimenting with full-page cartoons or longer, more elaborate gags.

During the revolt of May 1968, students wrote on the walls of Paris “il est défendu de défendre” (it is forbidden to forbid), and this sense of liberation is everywhere in this book. Mattioli didn’t write a story or pick a particular theme, but seemed to let his stories wander off on their own. No subject was too zany or far-fetched and, literally, everything is possible. The moon likes a drink, flowers, ants and clouds all can have a temper at times, and why can’t fish fly? Although the first stories are rather traditional strip gags, very soon Mattioli starts experimenting with the format of his strips as well, and the very elements that make up his art, start playing a part in the story. Dialogue falls from the sky, the background gets smashed to pieces and when an alarm clock makes too much noise, the Wizard simply rubs it out. Along with the rest of the page, which remains quite calmly, completely white.

(Le calendrier Pif, art by Mattioli, borrowed from BDoubliees)

This freedom also translates in Mattioli’s style. Here too, everything is possible. Colour can be naturalistic (with a blue sky and green grass, so to speak), or surreal, or even experimental. Or it can be left out altogether. The initial strips were drawn in a quite consistent, seemingly naive style, which is immediately recognisable. Gradually, though, Matiolli breaks out of the confines of this style, and starts experimenting with other styles, quite often referring to older sources of inspiration, of which Krazy Kat is the most obvious one.

The longer the series runs, the more it seems that all brakes are off. Mattioli draws strips within strips; he creates comics in the shape of a checker board or tells a story in a series of very narrow, page-wide single-panel strips. He sends his reader criss-cross across the page at a dizzying pace and includes very expressive and very predominant typography.

The strip may be zany, and even a bit out-dated at times, but it never fails to actually make you happy. And that is a rare treat in comics these days. This book will doubtlessly appeal to fans of George Herriman’s Krazy Kat or, more recently, James Kochalka’s American Elf and Patrick McDonnell’s Mutts. So, start writing to your favourite publisher and demand that this book gets translated!

Wim Lockefeer lives in Belgium and when not thinking about the significance of finding a waffle shaped like Tintin’s head on his breakfast plate writes extensively on comics culture and art; you can read more of his work on his own Ephemerist blog.