Regular readers will know that I can't get enough of dinosaur pop-up books, having reviewed several over the years, and 1991's Dinosaur Skeletons is a worthy addition to the canon. Intriguingly, the book's concept is remarkably similar to that of 1984's Dinosaurs - a Lost World in Three Dimensions, only with considerably more up-to-date artwork - the titular skeletons are the pop-ups, while fleshed-out dinos are confined to the 2D illustrations. Not to worry - even a skeleton can threaten to take your eye out, especially when there's a mouth full of pointy teeth thrust in one's general direction.
The cover features a quite Sibbickian Torosaurus alongside a slightly iffy rendition of its skull (orbit's too big), which still works to get our attention. Note the fetching borders and decoration, which will be put to good use inside. All of the illustrations are by Bob Cremins.
The first animal to feature is Apatosaurus, and while hardly looking all thrusting and Paulian, it's nevertheless notable for holding its tail straight out behind it (except where curled to fit the page) - and that's without mentioning that glorious colour scheme. It's refreshing to see a sauropod of any era, never mind the early '90s, decked out in such a striking striped-and-spotted livery. While the animal is depicted simply standing around eating (rather than engaged in Brontosmash or whatever is fashionable among the kids these days), the single partially raised foot adds a subtle sense of motion that was always lacking in older kids' book palaeoart. (Mostly 'cos sauropods' legs were normally hidden by a good ten feet of water, but still.)
Unlike its fleshy counterpart, the skeletal Apatosaurus is still dragging its tail along - although it was probably based on an old skeletal mount. For the most part the pop-up skeletons in this book, while being necessarily simplified, are really rather good - just check out Apatosaurus' wacky-looking cervical vertebrae, there. (The 'creation and design' credit goes to Keith Moseley.) The background, with its evocative stony texture and lovely borders (which help emphasise the skeleton without distracting from it), features a number of pleasing touches. Chief among these is the remarkably creepy human skeleton, which looks as if it was walled into the backdrop and recently exhumed. If you're going to have a scale bar, make it a good 'un.
Of course, you can't have Apatosaurus in your book without introducing its erstwhile nemesis, Allosaurus. Or in this case, ALLOSAURUS!!! Having been quite classily understated so far, bringing in a giant theropod allows the book to introduce lightning, blood, leering shiny-toothed grins and jaws that go all the way, baby (you want more teeth? Well, I'm sure we could afford to lose some muscles, no biggy). It's only missing a sound recording of maniacal laughter.
Captain Evilsaurus is accompanied by a well-observed pop-up torso of, er, T. rex. It's especially baffling precisely because it is so well made - any dinosaur fan will instantly recognise that skull, sagittal crest and all. Still, neat mechanism (the whole thing appears to lunge forward and the jaws open as the pages are opened).
Parasaurolophus is next and, thankfully, the skeleton matches the illustration. The pop-up here is similar to that in Dinosaurs - a Lost World in Three Dimensions, only rather more detailed, and was likely based on the Parasaurolophus walkeri type specimen. It's a nice piece (and there's that human skeleton again).
The illustration's quite pretty too, and appears to show animals of different growth stages (or else sexual dimorphism, although that isn't mentioned in the text). We're certainly a long way from the retrosaurs depicted in Lost World in 3D. Interestingly, the foreground animal appears to be a better match for the skeleton, while the one in the background has a touch of the John McLoughlin 'leggy hadrosaur' look about it (although only a touch). Again, the colour schemes are very attractive (mmm, stripy) and the background birds are a welcome addition.
The backs of some of the flaps are occupied by animals that, sadly, don't get their own pop-up (I'd love to see an attempt at a Stegosaurus skeleton!). Cremins' Stego is something of a victim of a perspective fudge, although it is at least interestingly coloured and 'modern' in overall aspect. Great border, too (look! Amber! Before Jurassic Park!). Meanwhile, some sort of feathered maniraptor (presumably Archaeopteryx) scampers along the bottom. It's yet another victim of an artist taking 'clawed fingers' rather the wrong way (and it's always amusing given how hugely long the animal's fingers really were), although at least having the upper toothrow extend below the eye is keeping things consistent.
Remember Torosaurus? It's back, and this time, it wants to stick its horns in your face! And the orbit's shrunk.
The accompanying illustration is much better than the one on the cover, certainly in terms of getting the perspective right and keeping the eyes, horns etc. in their correct places. I also like the tunnel effect created by the trees in the background - there's a strong sense that the animal's rushing inexorably towards us. I'm sure it's also reminiscent of a Bakker piece, but I can't quit put my finger on it...
Much like Stegosaurus, Pachycephalosaurus appears as a 'supplementary dinosaur'. Disappointingly, this seems to be the one instance where Cremins just cribbed from the Normanpedia. Boo! We're also given the customary illustration of two pachycephalosaurs clashing heads, although in this case they look more like they're bowing. Polite pachycephalosaurs.
Thankfully, Sibbick's faintly terrifying probe-fingered, saggy-necked monstrosity of a Deinonychus from the Normanpedia does not put it an appearance here. Instead, we are treated to these none-more-'80s curly-armed fellows, mouths agog, no doubt ready to start tearing apart a doe-eyed ornithopod with a long tail. A little predictable, but that's OK, because the pop-up is awesome!
No, I don't know what's going on with that foot. Shut up. It all looks really cool when you have the page spread out in front of you, believe me.
What an excellent impression of a lean, fleet-footed predator. I'm especially fond of the way the neck and jaws protrude from the page - it's ready to snap your clammy fingers off. Great stuff.
Showing posts with label pop-up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop-up. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Vintage Dinosaur Art: The Mighty Giants
Welcome back to the wonderful world of old-school dinosaur books - hey, it's been a while. The Mighty Giants - part of the Dinosaur World Pop-Up Books series (which ran to at least two books, apparently) - was published in 1988, but for all its scientific infidelity, it might as well have been published in 1978...or 1968. Yes, it's one of those. Hold on to your pear-shaped tyrannosaurs and oddly uniform teeth, everyone!
Long-term readers of the blog - who are so committed that we should probably all gather together for a cult-like mass marriage ceremony, before downing a fittingly toxic cocktail - may well remember that I am very fond of pop-up books. Sadly, there's nothing particularly inventive about the paper engineering in The Mighty Giants - some parts of the scene are raised up above others, and that's about it. In other words, it feels like an unnecessary gimmick, rather than genuinely adding to the enjoyment of turning the pages. This being so, it is left to the illustrations to entertain on their own merits. The cover, with its ever-so-shy tyrannosaur coyly sidestepping an extremely shiny-beaked Triceratops, is a good start, but there's much better inside.
The Mighty Giants doesn't waste any time in the rubbish Triassic, when dinosaurs were forced to elbow aside freakish psuedosuchians and the like for attention. Instead, we're immediately presented with a full-spread Apatosaurus - which, let's not forget, was also known as Brontosaurus (mostly thanks to books like this) - being accosted by four-toes-forward Allosaurus. I like the wartiness of Allosaurus, and at least there's a hint of a horn there. Still, this is seriously retro stuff for 1988, helped in no small part by the blatant Burian nod in the upper right.
Among the onlookers are this pair of rather man-in-suit Ceratosaurus, who as usual are loitering around on the sidelines while Allosaurus does all the hard work. Poor Ceratosaurus - its pop culture reputation has hardly improved since.
Then there's this thing. Good grief. I think this was intended to represent Ornitholestes, in which case it's still bloody odd-looking, if not so anachronistic. Its peculiar, no-neck appearance reminds me of the equally bizarre Coelophysis present in the first book I ever reviewed for this blog. Ah, those were the days.
Following this single Jurassic scene, The Mighty Giants moves on to the Late Cretaceous, by far the best part of the Mesozoic because, well, tyrannosaurs. In spite of this ostensibly being a scene of predatory chase, the animals here appear oddly static. The landscape is quite beautifully painted, but the dinosaurs are rather dreadfully retro, perhaps none more so than the foreground hadrosaurs.
While both follow the 'gangly dork' and toothy-beaked tropes, the "Trachodon" (read Edmontosaurus) gains an edge by further sporting webbed fingers. Both hadrosaurs look quite disgusted at the prospect of having to wade further into the water, which actually looks quite inviting, if I dare say so myself. Meanwhile, Polacanthus is just happy to be alive. Blimey, it's been hanging around for a while. I'm sure that suffering the indignity of being referred to as a 'giant lizard' was quite worth it.
The inevitable T. rex-and-foes spread is a little underwhelming, with assorted Hell Creek herbivores appearing understandably unconcerned by the presence of an ineffective, doddery, wrinkly, monarchical lurker, the dinosaur equivalent of Prince Charles. With a colour scheme that harkens back to (superior) Bernard Robinson illustrations and a misplaced earhole reminiscent of poorly-researched '70s crapness, Rexy is rather less than Sexy here. Still, I do enjoy the painterly foliage, moody sky and effective composition. The quality of the painting adds to my overall impression that illustrator Mike Peterkin probably produced some much better work, and that this dinosaur thing was just a job. Sorry for dragging it up again, Mike.
What Pachycephalosaurus thinks it's doing is anyone's guess. Perhaps it's trying to attack Rexy, in which case it's fatally misjudged just how far into the background it is. That's what you get for closing your eyes when you aim at people.
The background of the scene is occupied by a gaggle of Parasaurolophus in curiously John McLoughlin mode; check out the pins on the running individual to the right.
And to cap off what has, admittedly, been a rather brief post...marine reptiles. Meh. These ain't no dinosaurs! Still, there are plenty of memes to be had here, from the crested mosasaur to the craning, pterosaur-grabbing elasmosaur. Kronosaurus resembles a hollow plastic toy crocodile, while there's a fish for every Pteranodon in this utopian vision. Wonderful stuff.
Coming up next time: something far more substantial!
Long-term readers of the blog - who are so committed that we should probably all gather together for a cult-like mass marriage ceremony, before downing a fittingly toxic cocktail - may well remember that I am very fond of pop-up books. Sadly, there's nothing particularly inventive about the paper engineering in The Mighty Giants - some parts of the scene are raised up above others, and that's about it. In other words, it feels like an unnecessary gimmick, rather than genuinely adding to the enjoyment of turning the pages. This being so, it is left to the illustrations to entertain on their own merits. The cover, with its ever-so-shy tyrannosaur coyly sidestepping an extremely shiny-beaked Triceratops, is a good start, but there's much better inside.
The Mighty Giants doesn't waste any time in the rubbish Triassic, when dinosaurs were forced to elbow aside freakish psuedosuchians and the like for attention. Instead, we're immediately presented with a full-spread Apatosaurus - which, let's not forget, was also known as Brontosaurus (mostly thanks to books like this) - being accosted by four-toes-forward Allosaurus. I like the wartiness of Allosaurus, and at least there's a hint of a horn there. Still, this is seriously retro stuff for 1988, helped in no small part by the blatant Burian nod in the upper right.
Among the onlookers are this pair of rather man-in-suit Ceratosaurus, who as usual are loitering around on the sidelines while Allosaurus does all the hard work. Poor Ceratosaurus - its pop culture reputation has hardly improved since.
Then there's this thing. Good grief. I think this was intended to represent Ornitholestes, in which case it's still bloody odd-looking, if not so anachronistic. Its peculiar, no-neck appearance reminds me of the equally bizarre Coelophysis present in the first book I ever reviewed for this blog. Ah, those were the days.
Following this single Jurassic scene, The Mighty Giants moves on to the Late Cretaceous, by far the best part of the Mesozoic because, well, tyrannosaurs. In spite of this ostensibly being a scene of predatory chase, the animals here appear oddly static. The landscape is quite beautifully painted, but the dinosaurs are rather dreadfully retro, perhaps none more so than the foreground hadrosaurs.
While both follow the 'gangly dork' and toothy-beaked tropes, the "Trachodon" (read Edmontosaurus) gains an edge by further sporting webbed fingers. Both hadrosaurs look quite disgusted at the prospect of having to wade further into the water, which actually looks quite inviting, if I dare say so myself. Meanwhile, Polacanthus is just happy to be alive. Blimey, it's been hanging around for a while. I'm sure that suffering the indignity of being referred to as a 'giant lizard' was quite worth it.
The inevitable T. rex-and-foes spread is a little underwhelming, with assorted Hell Creek herbivores appearing understandably unconcerned by the presence of an ineffective, doddery, wrinkly, monarchical lurker, the dinosaur equivalent of Prince Charles. With a colour scheme that harkens back to (superior) Bernard Robinson illustrations and a misplaced earhole reminiscent of poorly-researched '70s crapness, Rexy is rather less than Sexy here. Still, I do enjoy the painterly foliage, moody sky and effective composition. The quality of the painting adds to my overall impression that illustrator Mike Peterkin probably produced some much better work, and that this dinosaur thing was just a job. Sorry for dragging it up again, Mike.
What Pachycephalosaurus thinks it's doing is anyone's guess. Perhaps it's trying to attack Rexy, in which case it's fatally misjudged just how far into the background it is. That's what you get for closing your eyes when you aim at people.
The background of the scene is occupied by a gaggle of Parasaurolophus in curiously John McLoughlin mode; check out the pins on the running individual to the right.
And to cap off what has, admittedly, been a rather brief post...marine reptiles. Meh. These ain't no dinosaurs! Still, there are plenty of memes to be had here, from the crested mosasaur to the craning, pterosaur-grabbing elasmosaur. Kronosaurus resembles a hollow plastic toy crocodile, while there's a fish for every Pteranodon in this utopian vision. Wonderful stuff.
Coming up next time: something far more substantial!
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