Bill Watterson doesn't talk to the press. The creator of Calvin and Hobbes has always shunned the spotlight, one that could still be his even after 19 years of silence, even as the world of comic strips fragments and mutates beyond any semblance of its former self. He was even named one of the "Top 10 Most Reclusive Celebrities" by Time. Yet, with the possible exception of late Peanuts creator Charles Schulz, Watterson more than anyone holds the throne as the form's post-WWII paragon and leading light.

It is thus only natural that Stripped, a new documentary about comic strips by filmmakers Frederick Schroeder and Dave Kellett, which has its premiere today and will be available soon on iTunes, has garnered the lion's share of its press because Watterson is not only interviewed in the film, but also designed its poster, his first published cartoon in 19 years. In the world of newspaper comics, this is not unlike having a chat with Howard Hughes, then getting him to star in a commercial.

"When we started this project, we made a short list of cartoonists we would love to be a part of the movie, and Watterson was on the top of that list," Schroeder said recently in an e-mail, "but we never imagined that he'd participate. After talking with many of his friends and colleagues, I think word got back to him that we were treating the medium of comic strips in a way that hadn't been seen before, and I think that was appreciated.

"I think he really took to the fact that... we allowed cartoonists to use their own words to describe their own chosen art form. We didn't impose an authorial voice, and that was an important aspect for him."

"In all honesty, it was five percent us reaching out to him, and 95 percent him being a really kind guy," Kellett says. "He has been exceedingly generous throughout the project. Having him create the poster was just the icing on the cake. We owe him a great deal of thanks."

Indeed, they do: It's a hell of a hook, and hearing Watterson speak on an art form which he both epitomized and transcended is undeniably remarkable, if not quite revelatory. It's only an audio interview, peppered carefully throughout the film, but it remains well worth the cost of admission.

However, to praise Stripped for this feature alone sells it short. Without even looking at the film as a whole, there's another major feat that Stripped pulls off that is equally impressive: It makes Cathy Guisewite, creator of the comic strip Cathy, seem groundbreaking, even cool. Cathy has been heavily criticized and satirized for its whiny tone and reinforcement of heteronormative stereotypes, but this sadly overshadows the fact that Guisewite was actually a trailblazer, the first honest female voice to gain footing in the sausage party that was/is the funny pages. In Stripped, Guisewite is warm, funny, self-deprecating, and very likable. You walk away at the end of the film feeling guilty for all the rude and dismissive things you've said about her work (well, anyway, I did).

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"Cathy was one of the big surprises for me personally when we were researching the movie," says Schroeder. "I had no idea just how groundbreaking and important her strip was when she first appeared in newspapers back in the late 1970s. Her early work is still especially relevant and important culturally. We really wanted to emphasize this in the movie, precisely because we really wanted people to know and rediscover her in the same way we did."

Of course, as the Internet's self-distribution model has made it much easier for people to find an audience regardless of gender, ethnicity, sexuality, or belief set (indeed, in the current climate these factors often become an asset), this earlier pioneering has become easy to overlook. The greatest strength of Stripped, though, is how it maintains a keen understanding of and sympathy for the history of the form, even as it keeps an eye to the future. So, in the name of objectivity, the snarky pro-tech nerds of Penny Arcade butt up against old-guard syndicate-boosters like Beetle Bailey'sMort Walker, and younger (but no less stodgy) creators like Stephan Pastis of Pearls Before Swine. Kellett, a web comic creator who even co-wrote a on the subject, says that Pastis was one of his favorite interviews "solely because we argued for three hours about art, commerce, the Internet, and how things should work."

Schroeder expounds: "It's important to note that Pastis used to be a lawyer, so he has an argumentative streak. He also loved the final movie and said he thought 'it made him look like a rock star.'"

Still, as deftly as the film maintains objectivity regarding the state of comics, much is made of the fact that comics are changing. The old guard, those who were both nurtured and exploited by the long-standing syndicate system, are having a hard time keeping up with the times as print newspapers become an endangered species. Many of the web comic creators scoff openly at the syndicate system, largely viewing it as paternal and corporate. This, of course, conveniently ignores the degree to which this "new wave" is dependent upon corporate entities like Facebook, Tumblr, and Reddit for their success. "There's a great quote in the film from [Understanding Comics author and comics theorist] Scott McCloud where he says, 'Every new incarnation of technology looks back at the previous incarnation as barbaric,'" Schroeder says. "I think there is a little of that going on with the web cartoonist's view of the syndicate system, but there's also a sense of envy of what that system was like to be a part of in its heyday. It's a bit like looking back at the studio system in film and seeing it as a golden age, but also a prison."

Despite this inherent acrimony, Stripped manages to capture something that unifies all cartoonists: Even in the form's golden age, when the funny pages created superstars out of Charles Schulz, Winsor McCay, and Al Capp (and later, Guisewite and Garfield's Jim Davis), comic strips were still the dominion of quiet, solitary people who could accept the work's antisocial demands and grueling workload. "What we found, more than anything else, was just how much in common cartoonists have, whether they be from print or web," Kellett says. "They are like-minded souls, crafting these little magical worlds, alone at their desks, for decades on end."

It is this dedication to the form among its adherents that allows Stripped to maintain a hopeful tone even in its most bitter moments. In one of the film's more uplifting segments, Watterson states that he has "great faith in the versatility of the art form. I don't worry at all about the comics' ability to stay lively and relevant."

The revolution in communications technology that has allowed so many otherwise-stifled creators to find a voice has also posed challenges. Unfortunately for those who prefer the old ways, though, it is wholly unrealistic to expect tech to stop evolving in the name of "saving" the comic strip. For better and for worse, the only constant is change. But a form of the comic strip remains, albeit one decidedly different from Little Nemo in Slumberland, or even Calvin and Hobbes.

Where will it be eighty years from now? When I posed this same question to Schroeder, his response was simple and prescient.

"Lasers. Comics will all be lasers."

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