Future Shock! the Story of 2000AD

Dir Paul Goodwin, UK 2015

Metrodome, £9.99 (DVD + limited cinema release from 4 Dec)

First, I must declare a bit of bias, in that I crop up in this film a couple of times.

When I was asked to be in it, I was excited. I grew up with DR and Quinch as role models, and Halo Jones as my super-cool, welltravelled big sister. The artwork of Dave Gibbons, Kevin O’Neill and Brian Bolland was as familiar to me as the Paddington Bear curtains that hung in my childhood bedroom.

Future Shock! isn’t a fan film, though, nor just a behind-thescenes documentary for discerning comic readers. It is an even-handed look at the people and forces that shaped not just 2000AD itself but the whole comics industry as we know it today, the careers and ideas of the creators who brought so much life to it and whose lives were in turn affected by its success.

Watching Pat Mills and John Wagner talk about what went into creating Judge Dredd or Rogue Trooper or Nemesis the Warlock, you really see the motivations behind the magazine: they weren’t simply creating stories they wanted to tell, those stories were

62 deeply rooted in a desire to push back against the twee children’s comics of the 1960s and create something that reflected the times they lived in. Watching a newly elected Tory government crush the power to protest in both industry and politics, 2000AD gave them a place to vent their dissatisfaction under the cover of a supposedly ****** genre.

One of the glories of this film is that the interviewees, while pulling no punches and being completely candid, all clearly have a huge affection for the title and its characters that goes beyond their own personal experiences. Even those creators who left under a cloud are still enthused when they are talking about the stories they loved.

The film leads you from the golden age of Alan Grant, John Wagner and Pat Mills to the heady heights of 1980s popularity, when careers, friendships and partnerships were forged that would stand the test of time. It also continues the story beyond the boom years and into the doldrums, the mistakes and tough calls, the decisions that cost 2000AD dearly.

It ought to get dull at some point – like eavesdropping on a works reunion you find yourself stuck next to in the pub – but it doesn’t. The fortunes of 2000AD, its characters and creators, are so intrinsi- cally tied to the fortunes of comics as an industry and a medium that watching the film becomes a journey into the very belly of the beast.

When you hear from the creators that they were forced to sign away their rights at the moment they cashed their pay cheques, and that Kevin O’Neill was employed to erase signatures from artwork, and then you hear the huge numbers that ‘Prog 1’ sold in its first week, it all paints a pretty grim picture of the British comics establishment of the time.

The world the creators lived in fired their rebellious side, and challenged them to shake things up. They clearly revelled in being able to comment on the politics of the day or create absurd characters that could represent a whole state or country. The science fiction angle meant the artists could run riot with the visuals of the characters and the worlds they inhabited, and the final product was done with so much imagination and wit, it could not help but succeed. The film shows us how the magazine grew exponentially, with the contributor list being a who’s-who of comics. 2000AD was clearly a victim of its own success, and the ensuing stampede towards American publishers was inevitable given the gulf between the working conditions on offer and the promise of unheard-of rewards. Royalties and repeat fees, the foundation of the book and record industries, were unheard of in comics.

I have always known that many see my dad (Alan Moore – I know, more bias!) as a grumpy upstart, marching off at the first sign of something he doesn’t approve of. Many a comment thread paints him as a bitter old crank shaking his fist at Hollywood and publishers alike, a loon with insanely naive expectations of how he should be treated. This film shows that not only was it not just him, but that he was reacting to an ideology shared across the board and born out of the very fabric of British comics itself.

British comics professionals were unimpressed with their working conditions and the way their employers treated their art (Dave Gibbons talking about full-colour painted art pages being used as cutting mats is enough to make you cry). Much as they loved their medium, and their work, they did not feel valued as creators. The shift to the US was not just about money; it was about self-respect.

Future Shock! argues that the anarchy, innovation and dark humour that was the lifeblood of 2000AD went on to populate first theVertigo imprint, and then the whole comics industry. So 1970s Britain begat 2000AD, which begat 1980sVertigo, which coloured the medium thereafter, raising the bar for what a comic could and should be. British comics creators also raised the bar for how writers and artists in the industry were remunerated, their contracts, their integrity, and their self-esteem. Clearly, the industry still has some way to go, even now, but the film provides us with the context of the attitude and behaviour of that first wave of talent that was headhunted and whisked off to America, and thus much of the resulting fallout and controversy of the last 30 years.

Future Shock! is not to be missed. A glowing encomium and a searing indictment, a comprehensive history of the medium and a glorious celebration of one of Britain’s most wonderful exports, its imagination, and its punk rock spirit.