The Thing About Comic-Con…
A n00bular perspective
“Hey man, cool shirt!”
I spin around from the print rack that I’ve been thumbing through in the Small Press section of the exhibitor hall (movie poster versions of superhero origins; interesting but done before — I didn’t purchase any). There’s a short, shaggy haired convention-goer standing there with his finger aimed at my red tee. His friend stands about a foot away with his iPhone held up in an obvious I’m-recording-this stance.
I should’ve scanned with my eyes before I committed to an about-face.
“Thanks,” I mutter under a hesitant but friendly grin. He shifts his weight. “Target, right? I’ve gotta get one of these.” The boyish character looks over his shoulder to the cameraman and flashes a sarcastic expression to his viewers.
I realize that he and his sidekick are compiling a video of everyone at Comic-Con this year who’s wearing my same exact t-shirt. The three of us are fully aware that Target is the only store who sells this particular design, and their project ostensibly mocks — they should hope — the mainstream Con attendee who doesn’t deserve to have the sort of fun reserved for geeks who belong.
Sure I was annoyed, but that feeling was quickly eclipsed by amusement as the two instigators scamper back into the wild. I turn to my date and reenact everything that just occurred. She rolls her eyes in my defense, and as we continue down the neat labyrinth of vendor tables and giant rotating logos at the San Diego Convention Center on this sunny July afternoon, I can’t help but analyze the moment as a matte shard of the overall event experience.
Whatever humble beginnings it may boast, the current iteration of Comic-Con is divisive and leaking life force from the bottom corners of its proverbial polypropylene bag.
SDCC 2015 marks my first ever foray into the mother of comic book conventions. The art gallery I currently work for sets up annual shop at the Con, so obtaining an exhibitor pass and getting an essentially comped ticket is in the very least a job perk, if not a duty for the gentleman in charge of marketing. After delivering a batch of freshly produced art prints to our booth, I relish the opportunity of being at Comic-Con and proceed to roam the building for the rest of the day…
Here’s the takeaway:
The exhibitor hall feels like a cyclic semblance of its former glory.
The drone of impersonal hellos and Con-exclusive pitches drowns out any buzz of excitement which you may have brought with you from the realm of the Outside, tucked safely inside a duct tape-reinforced swag bag leftover from that expo you attended beneath a hotel ballroom chandelier in 2014. Recycling is responsible. I won’t pretend to know of this former glory which I speak of, but — judging from everyone who’s commented on Comic-Con’s chaotic growth and subsequent decline in character — it’s probably a safe assumption that SDCC has lost some of its, well… swag.
Cosplay participation is weak. Product, even weaker.
Being at Comic-Con sort of grooms one to expect hordes of cosplayers showing off the colorful costumes which undoubtedly required a costly transaction of effort to create. Perhaps it’s the pictures that lie, as pictures do. SDCC doesn’t feel nearly as inundated with superhero doppelgangers as, say, Stan Lee’s Comikaze.
As for the product, I’m left wanting. Genuinely interesting art prints steal a backseat to prioritized and unmistakably rushed Con-exclusives; you need a keen eye and inhuman patience to dig for and discover the real gems, hidden away behind SDCC 2015 variant bundles and cardboard “sold out” signs. The only apparel I gravitated toward was out of stock and even the FREE stuff was far and few between. Now I’m all for spending hours in my local comic shop sifting through boxes upon boxes of back issues for the good stuff, but doing it in a convention setting is far less of an intimate experience.
I’ll head home without a single comic book or graphic novel, speaking volumes about the kind of merchandise presence that is available to the mainstream or even slightly fanatic attendee.
(Shout-out to the steampunk vendor who sold us those neat, frosted antique vials of fantasy creature poison!)
With exception to Hall H, lines aren’t the formidable obstacles I anticipated they would be (not including shuttle stops right outside the convention center doors).
There is light at the end of the Batcave, however. Lines aren’t really a problem at Comic-Con. On its busiest day, we haven’t had to line up for anything for more than 5 minutes, if that. Of course I purposefully exclude Hall H, reason being my own avoidance of the hallowed space. It’s where the EPIC happens: hype-infused blockbuster movie panels, canon-busting comic book universe announcements, celebrity group selfies and more. There’s a line to get into the line waiting for the Hall H line to get in.
In comparison, vendor lines are virtually non-existent. What you end up dealing with is actually more of a clump of sweaty bodies floating gently within confined parameters, not unlike a chunk of funnel cake in the deep frier. The largest funnel cake we’ve endeavored to swim through is renowned comic artist Jim Lee’s live sketch demo at the DC Comics booth, and that isn’t bad at all.
Other notable positives: there’s tons to do just outside of the Con. Highly accessible outdoor setups such as the Assassin’s Creed Experience keep visitors entertained even if they didn’t shell out hundreds of dollars for a Comic-Con badge.
Not to mention a lightsaber-filled Star Wars concert with J.J. Abrams and crew.
The thing about Comic-Con is that enjoying it comes in the anticipatory and preparatory stages during the days leading up to the event and the post-Con wind down involving villain-themed beer flight promotions and nostalgia-peppered conversations during the long drive home. The before and after.
SDCC itself?
I picture Anthony Hopkins as Odin. A mythical legend whose armor has become too heavy a weight on his aged and battered shoulders. Ultimately, I look forward to attending Comikaze and Designer Con with greater anticipation than I would Comic-Con for their comparatively affordable admission prices and arguably more enjoyable communities.
The Con, as it were, is terminal. Long live the Con.
P.S. – If anyone comes across a video compilation about all the SDCC ’15 attendees who wore that red Millennium Falcon graphic tee from Target, please share it with me! As much as the “filmmaker” hoisted the piñata, I do see his point and find the project’s statement rather humorous.
