Frank Frazetta Tribute by El-Grimlock

I always knew it was going to happen. Frank Frazetta was going to die, it would happen fairly soon, and being a Scot without the funds or opportunity to take the flight to the Frazetta museum, I would probably never get a chance to meet him. I’m a latecomer to Frazetta fandom, so I can’t share some of the memories of other Frazetta fans. I never picked up one of the Lancers when they came out, to be wowed by Conan the Adventurer or Conan of Cimmeria. I never saw a Frazetta picture on the side of a van, or on somebody’s wall, or in the shops. I never saw a Molly Hatchet album cover hot off the record shelves. Nonetheless, the power of Frazetta means that his presence is felt even now: it’s just in different ways.

I only discovered Frazetta about the same time I discovered Conan–the real Conan, that is–and though I got around to them for different reasons, it was through the same source: family. My mother was a great Frank Frazetta fan, and for my 16th birthday, she got me a copy of Legacy. To say it was a revelation would be an understatement. The front cover grabbed my attention. Like most teenage boys, my eye was drawn to the girl, who I later learned was Luana. Like any boy I was interested in the female figure, but coming from a family raised in classical art, the naked woman didn’t seem to hold quite the same level of allure as it did my contemporaries. So, in addition to the typical boy reasons, I found Luana fascinating for other, more personal reasons.

Growing up, I loved Ray Harryhausen films (there’s another influential giant depressingly close to the final curtain), especially those that featured dinosaurs. Preeminent among them for me was One Million Years B.C., with the infamous Raquel Welch that graced a million adolescent bedrom walls. However, I was never enamoured with her Loana, or her people, the blond Shell Tribe either. Even as a young ‘un, I found her and the Shell Tribe’s paradise vaguely irritating. They had culture, art, feasted on fish and fruit, but seemingly free from predation or hardship of any form. When danger came to them in a comparatively small carnosaur, it took an outsider (John Richardson’s Tumak) to save them, and even he couldn’t protect them from pterosaurs. In comparison, the Rock Tribe, a tribe of brunettes from which Tumak hailed, fought for their lives and sustenance daily in a savage struggle for survival. Accordingly, even the women were tough, especially Martine Beswick’s Nupondi (pictured below.)

Despite being clearly ill-equipped to defend themselves, the Shell Tribe lived in an idyllic seaside haven, with plentiful food and shelter. The Rock Tribe, though savage and wild, fought and earned their daily meat. Yet the audience is apparently meant to sympathize with the weak, “more advanced” Shell Tribe by virtue of their dumb luck. When Tumak returned with Loana, I was with Nupondi all the way: who was this bimbo, and what did she do to deserve the love of a strong warrior mate like her man? For the crime of being his spurned love interest, Nupondi ends up defeated in combat (clearly fixed) in order to show “superior” Loana’s “civilized” mercy, but even that wasn’t enough punishment. Nupondi ends up a casualty of earthquake at the end of the film.

So what does all this have to do with Frazetta? Well, looking at Frazetta’s Luana, I knew that this was no fragile, pretty Shell Tribe doll, who was only tough in comparison to modern wall-flowers: this was Nupondi, the way Nupondi deserved to be depicted. Here was a woman who could fight, in a world where it was necessary to survive. Plus, being a fan of all things prehistoric, I can’t fail to note that there’s a freaking sabertooth cat next to her, which appears to be her companion. She has a sabertooth cat as a pet. That is awesome.

What’s more, every Frazetta warrior girl–be it a cavewoman, jungle princess, shield-maiden, or any variation of nubile savage–looked like a fighter. They had the mass, poise and attitude that came with self-assured confidence in their abilities. Too often, it was the villainesses in films who worked with this paradigm–as in One Million Years B.C.–which led to frustration in my precociously feminist soul. Frazetta got that rare balance: his women were most assuredly women, but without the feebleness of so many heroines.

I haven’t touched on Frazetta’s heroes, and frankly, it just seems redundant, since I’d only be repeating what everyone else would say. So I’ll just mention an aspect of Frazetta’s work that might not get as much attention as his mightily muscled warriors, divinely defined women, terrifyingly ferocious monsters, or vigorously composed scenes. For me, one of the best things about Frazetta was his dinosaurs.

At first glance, Frazetta’s dinosaurs seem fully in the tradition perpetuated by early palaeontology: lethargic, ectothermic, threatening without being alarming. Yet as one studies them more, one might find a subtle difference from those venerable early illustrations: these creatures aren’t slow, they’re keeping still. It’s an important distinction. Nearly all Frazetta’s dinosaurs are positioned for a pounce, like a crocodile or snake, and any second they could explode into a tornado of rending teeth and claws. In addition, the dinosaurs–while by no means anatomically accurate–have that glimmer of horrendous, inhuman malevolence. Robert E. Howard’s description of the uncanny intelligence of snakes seems grimly appropriate for Frazetta’s saurians:

That they have hypnotic power is well known. Squirrels, prairie dogs and birds are unable to flee when transfixed by the basilisk power of the serpent’s stare, though they may leap up and down, flutter wings or limbs, and give vent to the most pitiable outcries. I hate snakes; they are possessed of a cold, utterly merciless cynicism and sophistication, and sense of super-ego that puts them outside the pale of warm-blooded creatures.
–Letter to H.P. Lovecraft, ca. February 1931

Yet like anyone who can’t get enough of a good thing, my mind wanders to possibilities, imagining Frank’s incomparable take on art. We’ve seen his Conan and Bran Mak Morn: what about giving Solomon Kane, Kull, Red Sonya, Dark Agnes, Steve Costigan, El Borak, Kirby O’Donnell, the many James Allison incarnations, and my man Cormac Fitzgeoffrey the Frazetta treatment? What about Breckenridge Elkins done in the style of the Flashman, allowing Frazetta’s famed love of humour to shine through? What about other authors–C.L. Moore, H.P. Lovecraft, A. Merritt, Charles R. Saunders, even those one might not immediately consider like Terry Pratchett, Ursula le Guin, Lloyd Alexander or George R. R. Martin?

Then there’s Tolkien… We’ve seen a tantalizing glimpse of Frazetta’s Middle-earth in a few select pictures–his dynamic Gandalf, fierce Eowyn, menacing Witch-King, classic Gollum (pictured right), imposing orcs, and heroic Bilbo. Imagine Frazetta’s depiction of Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Theoden, Legolas, Balrog, Shelob, Sauron. By Eru, what of Frank Frazetta’s Silmarillion? The Kinslaying, the oath of Fëanor, Fingolfin’s duel with Morgoth, the dance of Lúthien before Morgoth, Húrin at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Echthelion and Gothmog’s fateful battle, Túrin’s slaying of Glaurung…

It is impossible to overstate Frazetta’s influence on art in the 20th Century, not just fantasy, science fiction or comics, but cinema, advertising, music and beyond. Other illustrators such as Boris Vallejo, Ken Kelly, Jeff Jones, Gerald Brom and more count him as an inspiration. Comic artists like John Buscema, Simon Bisley, Joe Jusko, Steve Ellis, Joe & Andy Kubert and Rob Leifeld are indebted to him. The visual world of heavy metal culture formed by Black Sabbath, Dio, Manowar and Metallica was practically wrought from his paintings, and the likes of Molly Hatchet, Ywengie Malmsteen, Wolfmother and Nazareth sport Frazetta paintings on their album covers. Filmmakers like Ralph Bakshi, Guillermo del Toro, John Milius, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Clint Eastwood & Sylvester Stallone are professed fans of his work, and echoes of Frazetta can be seen in their films. Even video game franchises–Golden Axe, Castlevania, Diablo, Warcraft, Brütal Legend, God of War, even The Legend of Zelda–have the unmistakable mark of Frazetta’s brush strokes.

What Frank left with us is more than enough to make up for the “what-ifs.” Death Dealer. Vampirella. John Carter. Tarzan. Conan. I’m just glad he chose not to go for the New York Giants: though in that parallel universe where choices are different he may well have gone on to be one of the greatest baseball players of all time, the world of fantasy, science fiction, horror, comics, movies, television and music would be unfathomably poorer for it.