By André Franquin with Delporte & Jidéhem and translated by Jerome Saincantin (Cinebook)
ISBN: 978-1-84918-358-1
Like so much in Franco-Belgian comics, it all starts with Spirou. In 1943 publishing giant Dupuis purchased all rights to anthology comic Le Journal de Spirou and its eponymous star, after which comic-strip prodigy Joseph Gillain (“Jijéâ€) took the helm.
In 1946 Jijé’s assistant and legend-in-waiting André Franquin assumed the creative reins, gradually side-lining the well-established short gag vignettes in favour of extended adventure serials, introducing a broad, engaging cast of regulars and eventually creating phenomenally popular magic animal Marsupilami (first seen in Spirou et les héritiers in 1952 and eventually a spin-off star of screen, plush toy store, console games and albums in his own right) to the mix.
Franquin continued crafting increasingly fantastic tales and absorbing Spirou sagas until his resignation in 1969. During that period the creator was deeply involved in the production of the weekly comic.
Franquin was born in Etterbeek, Belgium on January 3rd 1924. Drawing from an early age, the lad only began formal art training at École Saint-Luc in 1943 and, when the war forced the school’s closure a year later, he found work at Compagnie Belge d’Animation in Brussels where he met Maurice de Bévère (AKA Lucky Luke creator “Morrisâ€), Pierre Culliford (Peyo, creator of The Smurfs and Benny Breakiron) and Eddy Paape (Valhardi, Luc Orient).
In 1945 all but Peyo signed on with Dupuis and Franquin began his career as a jobbing cartoonist/illustrator, generating covers for Le Moustique and scouting magazine Plein Jeu. During those early days Franquin and Morris were being tutored by Jijé, who was the main illustrator at Spirou. He turned the youngsters and fellow neophyte Willy Maltaite AKA “Will†(Tif et Tondu, Isabelle, Le jardin des désirs) into a smooth creative bullpen known as the La bande des quatre or “Gang of Fourâ€.
They would later reshape and revolutionise Belgian comics with their prolific and engaging “Marcinelle school†style of graphic storytelling…
Jijé handed Franquin all responsibilities for the flagship strip part-way through Spirou et la maison préfabriquée (Spirou #427, June 20th 1946), who ran with it for two decades; enlarging the scope and horizons until it became purely his own. Almost every week fans would meet startling new characters such as comrade/rival Fantasio or crackpot inventor and Merlin of mushroom mechanics the Count of Champignac.
Spirou & Fantasio became globe-trotting journalists, travelling to exotic places, uncovering crimes, exploring the fantastic and clashing with a coterie of exotic arch-enemies. But throughout all that time Fantasio was still a reporter and had to pop into the office. And lurking there was an accident-prone, big-headed junior in charge of minor jobs and dogs-bodying. His name was Gaston Lagaffe…
There’s a long history of fictitiously personalising the mysterious creatives and the arcane processes they indulge in to make our favourite comics, whether its Stan Lee’s fabled Marvel Bullpen or DC Thomson’s lugubrious Editor and underlings at the Beano and Dandy. Let me assure you that it’s a truly international practise and the occasional asides on text pages featuring junior office gofer and well-meaning foul-up Gaston (who debuted in #985, February 28th 1957) grew to be one of the most popular and perennial components of Le Journal de Spirou.
I’d argue, however, that current iteration Gomer Goof (taken from an earlier abortive attempt to bring the character to American audiences) is an unnecessary step. The quintessentially Franco-Belgian tone and humour doesn’t translate particularly well (la gaffe translates as “the blunderâ€) and contributes nothing. When the big idiot appeared in a 1970s Thunderbirds annual he was redubbed Cranky Franky. Perhaps they should have kept the original title…
In terms of delivery older readers will recognise beats of Jacques Tati and timeless elements of well-meaning self-delusion Brits might recognise in Frank Spencer from Some Mothers Do Have ‘Em…
It’s slapstick, paralysing puns, pomposity lampooned and no good deed going noticed, rewarded or unpunished…
This premier compilation consists of half-page shorts and comedic text story “reports†from the comic’s editorial page and ultimately full episodes of madcap buffoonery. As previously stated Gomer is employed (let’s not dignify his position by calling it “workâ€) at the Spirou office, reporting to go-getting hero journalist Fantasio and in charge of minor design jobs like paste-up and reading readers’ letters (the official reason why fans requests and suggestions are never answered).
He’s lazy, opinionated, forgetful and eternally hungry. Many of his most catastrophic actions revolve around cutting corners and caching illicit food in the office…
These characteristics frequently lead to clashes with police officer Longsnoot and fireman Captain Morwater, but the office oaf remains eternally easygoing and incorrigible.
The real question is why Fantasio keeps giving him one last chance…
Following 26 short, sharp two-tier gag episodes – involving Gomer’s office innovations, his hunt for food, assorted pets and livestock, sporting snafus and his appallingly decrepit and dilapidated Fiat 509 auto(barely)mobile – the first of numerous prose vignettes ‘On the Line’ exposes the fool’s many delusional attempts to become an inventor…
Other text forays – punctuated by more pint-sized gag-strips – follow. These comedy briefs include ‘More Than One String to his Bow’, ‘Police Report’, ‘Open Letter to Mr De Mesmaeker’ (Jean De Mesmaeker being the real name of collaborator and background artist Jidéhem and taken for the self-important businessman who became Gomer’s ultimate arch enemy and foil), ‘Winter Stalactites’, ‘Red vs Blue’, ‘Noise Pollution’, ‘Presence of Mind’, ‘Gomer’s stethoscope’, ‘The Firebug Fireman’, ‘Gas-powered bicycle’ and ‘Definitely-not-surreptitious advertising’. The print then gives way to a long-running procession of half-page strips with the editorial idiot causing a cataclysm of cartoon chaos.
Further prose pieces slip into extended continuity when Fantasio embargoes all canned food (potentially explosive and always a bio-hazard) and Gomer applies all his dubious ingenuity to beating the ban in ‘The tin wars’, ‘Ticking tin bombs’, ‘Diary of a War correspondent’ and ‘Blockade’ before one final flurry of strips brings the hilarity to a temporary pause…
Far better enjoyed than précised or described, these strips allowed Franquin, his fellow scenarist Yvan Delporte and Jidéhem to flex their whimsical muscles and even subversively sneak in some satirical support for their political beliefs in pacifism and environmentalism, but at their core remain supreme examples of all-ages comedy: wholesome, barbed, daft and incrementally funnier with every re-reading.
So why not start now?
© Dupuis, Dargaud-Lombard s.a. 2017 by Franquin. All rights reserved. English translation © 2017 Cinebook Ltd.