Broken Frontier

It's a pretty bad comic, you blockhead.

There's a duality to Peanuts. On one hand, chances are the creative crew on this book are true diehard fans of the works of Charles M. Schulz, and are trying their best to recapture the magic that was contained in the earlier strips (some included in the book) and the television specials that brought them to the masses. On the other hand, there's the general report that Schulz didn't want any more Peanuts to be made after his death, as the Schulz museum would tell you.

Possibly the oddest comparison can be made, and that's to the swirling vortex of rumors and near-confirmations of DC's summer return to Watchmen. Alan Moore wants nothing to do with DC nowadays, had his name removed from the rather-successful movie, and yet DC owns the characters and can do what they want. The creative crews on board might be the biggest fans doing what they think is best for the characters in an attempt to continue the story, but when the original creator doesn't want more productions (or honestly appear to care if there are, as they've forsaken them), it begins to blur the line of importance. Do you possibly taint a legendary work with your own; even if it's critically and commercially successful, is the sheer existence degrading the intent behind the original?

Watchmen's relaunch will be a wait and see approach. As of the beginning of this year, comic strip fans can return to Peanuts though, and the proof is in your hands; sometimes, just leave well enough alone.

Peanuts has never been a high watermark of creative genius. It had moments, of course, and has laid an unforgettable mark on pop culture. Anyone wearing a shirt with a zig-zag on it is nicknamed Charlie Brown. Snoopy is more known for selling insurance and flying his dog house than being the dog of the main character.

DC Comics did, in one of their Halloween Specials years ago, a hilariously-horrifying look at Peanuts, in which two characters, clearly aged versions of the children here, sacrificed a certain beagle to spawn a Great Pumpkin demon. Robot Chicken has likewise tackled the animated specials, going so far as claiming that all the adults in the franchise are deaf, explaining their unique (un)speech patterns.

This version of Peanuts is just not fun. Visually, it largely replicates Schulz's style, only occasionally breaking free and seeing what the wonders of a larger page format and less-restrictive panel breakdowns can do. Writing, on the other side, is banal and pedestrian; one story focuses on Lucy trying to get a song out of her head, and the other is her scamming money from someone who's lost their cat. A final, breaking-the-wall comic about how to draw Charlie Brown has her flat-out insulting the character, repeatedly pointing out his fat head, big nose, stupid look, fat neck, with a head as big as his torso, with sausage fingers and big feet.

With all admiration to his acting career, based on the way Lucy has described Charlie Brown, he could only be played by Danny DeVito.

Maybe this is why Schulz didn't want any more work to be done with his characters in print; they become caricatures of themselves. Most of the cast get a few lines in this issue, but Lucy takes the starring role in multiple segments, and comes off as a child that you'd want to use as a human shield, should the need/opportunity arise. As in the tale of the Monkey's Paw, something we loved has been resurrected, but it's a fearful beast that we shouldn't open the door for.