Expressionist film is incredibly high concept, and trying to mix that with the over-the-top nature of superhero characters is like trying to perform heart surgery with a chainsaw–technically possible, but you’re more likely to end up with a gross mess and a mountain of lawsuits.
Author: Henrik Magnusson
What the hell was up with that single nipple spike? He looks like a kid trying to piss off his suburban parents rather than a supervillain on a rampage.
Villains in the 1960s were so bad at covering their tracks that a group of suburban brats regularly just stumbled across their schemes while hula-hooping and drinking malt shakes and enforcing segregation or whatever the hell kids did in those days.
There’s only so many ways you can make compressed wheat taste like mediocre Halloween candy.
As a result of essentially being tasked with writing 22-minute toy commercials with censored laser guns, the cartoon writers of our childhoods tended to recycle a lot of plot ideas.
Coming up with a recurring enemy for Wolverine is harder than it sounds, because he has a habit of gutting them from throat to crotch like a misbehaving catfish, which is sort of understandable when your power is mostly indestructible claws and mood swings.
I mean, what kid wouldn’t want to play with a plastic sack with a dead-eyed clown painted on it? This thing looked like Tim Curry should play it in a disappointing miniseries.
A few enterprising writers realized that these comically outmatched losers could be repurposed and present an actual threat to our favorite heroes.
It wasn’t always easy to fill 22 pages worth of Comic Code-friendly stories and adventures, especially not since anything good you came up with would just get stolen by Stan Lee anyway. Combine that with deadline panic, and you end up with a few characters who didn’t think their personas through very well.