By Franquin, Jidéhem & Delporte, translated by Jerome Saincantin (Cinebook)
ISBN: 978-1-84918-409-0 (PB Album/Digital edition)
Like so much in Franco-Belgian comics, it started with Le Journal de Spirou. The magazine had debuted on April 2nd 1938, with its engaging lead strip created by Rob-Vel (François Robert Velter). In 1943, publishing house Dupuis purchased all rights to the comic and its titular star, after which comic-strip prodigy Joseph Gillain (Jijé) took the helm for the redheaded kid’s exploits.
In 1946 Jijé’s assistant André Franquin was handed creative control. He gradually abandoned short gag vignettes in favour of extended adventure serials. Franquin introduced a broad, engaging cast of regulars and created phenomenally popular magical beast the Marsupilami. Debuting in 1952 (Spirou et les héritiers) the critter eventually became a spin-off star of screen, plush toy stores, console games and albums in his own right. Franquin continued crafting increasingly fantastic tales and absorbing Spirou sagas until his resignation in 1969.
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. When the war forced the school’s closure a year later, he found work at Compagnie Belge d’Animation in Brussels and met Maurice de Bévére (AKA Lucky Luke creator “Morris”), 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 and illustrator, producing 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 LJdS. He turned the youngsters – and fellow neophyte Willy Maltaite (AKA “Will” – Tif et Tondu, Isabelle, Le jardin des désirs) – into a smoothly functioning creative bullpen known as La bande des quatre or “Gang of Four”. They would ultimately 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 préfabriqué (#427, June 20th 1946). He ran with it for two decades; enlarging the scope and horizons of the feature 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 globetrotting journalists, visiting exotic places, exposing crimes, exploring the fantastic and clashing with a coterie of bizarre and exotic arch-enemies. Throughout it all, Fantasio was still a full-fledged reporter for Le Journal de Spirou and had to pop into the office all the time. Sadly, lurking there was an accident-prone, smugly big-headed junior in charge of minor jobs and dogs-bodying. He was called Gaston Lagaffe…
There’s a long history of fictitiously personalising the mysterious creatives and all those arcane processes they indulge in to make our favourite comics, whether its Stan Lee’s 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 well-meaning foul-up/office gofer Gaston – who debuted in #985, February 28th 1957 – grew to be one of the most popular and perennial components of the comic, whether as short illustrated strips or in faux editorial reports in text form.
On a strictly personal note, I still think current designation Gomer Goof (this name comes from an earlier, abortive attempt to introduce the character to American audiences) is unwarranted. The quintessentially Franco-Belgian tone and humour doesn’t translate particularly well (la gaffe translates as “blunder” not “idiot”) and the connotation contributes nothing here. When he surprisingly appeared in a 1970s UK Thunderbirds annual as part of an earlier syndication attempt, Gaston was rechristened Cranky Franky. Perhaps they should have kept that one or even his original designation…
In terms of actual schtick and delivery, older readers will recognise favourite beats of Benny Hill and Jacques Tati timeless elements of well-meaning self-delusion, whilst Britons will recognise recurring situations from Some Mothers Do Have ‘Em or Mr Bean. It’s slapstick, paralysing puns, infernal ingenuity and invention, pomposity lampooned and no good deed going noticed, rewarded or unpunished…
As previously stated, Gomer is employed (let’s not dignify or mis-categorise what he does as “work”) at the Spirou editorial offices: reporting to go-getting journalist Fantasio and generally ignoring the minor design jobs like paste-up he’s paid to handle. There’s also editing readers’ letters… the official reason why fans requests and suggestions are never answered…
Gomer is lazy, peckish, opinionated, ever-ravenous, impetuous, underfed, forgetful and eternally hungry, with his most manic moments all stemming from cutting work corners and stashing or illicitly consuming contraband food in the office…
This leads to constant clashes with police officer Longsnoot and fireman Captain Morwater, yet the office oaf remains eternally easy-going and incorrigible. Only two questions are really important here: why does Fantasio keep giving him one last chance, and what can gentle, lovelorn Miss Jeanne possible see in the self-opinionated idiot?
Originally released in 1987 as Gaston – Rafales de gaffes, this third compilation eschews longer cartoon tales and comedic text “reports” from the comic’s editorial page to deliver non-stop all-Franquin comics gags in single-page bursts. Here the office hindrance – as ever – invents stuff that makes life harder for everyone; sets driving records no one can believe; breaks laws physicists consider sacrosanct, upsets cops, firemen and clients and always, in all ways, lets down his colleagues and employers…
Many strips involve his manic efforts to modify the motorised atrocity he calls his car: an appallingly decrepit and dilapidated Fiat 509 auto(barely)mobile desperately in need of his many well-meant attempts to counter its lethal road pollution…
The remainder of the volume’s picture strip pandemonium encapsulates the imbecile’s attempts at getting rid of minor illnesses, ailments and new office innovations. Much is made of his latest musical invention in the recurrent saga of his truly terrifying Brontosaurophone/ Goofophone as well the woes of automotive engineering Good Samaritanism; a distinctly novel approach to babysitting and work crèches; new lows in animal husbandry; an approach to cookery bordering on criminal perversity and fresh – if somewhat illegal – methods of advertising the magazine…
Far better enjoyed than précised or described, these strips allowed Franquin and occasional co-scenarists Yvan Delporte & Jidéhem (in reality, Jean De Mesmaeker: his analogue is a regular in the strips as an explosively irate and unfortunate foil for the Goof) to flex their whimsical muscles and even subversively sneak in some satirical support for their beliefs in pacifism and environmentalism. However, at their core the gags remain supreme examples of all-ages comedy: wholesome, barbed, daft and incrementally funnier with every re-reading.
Why aren’t you Goofing off yet?
© Dupuis, Dargaud-Lombard s.a. 2009 by Franquin. All rights reserved. English translation © 2018 Cinebook Ltd.