But there's something else, too. ELEGANCE. I look at all these boob-thrusting, hip-cocking, floss-wearing characters that populate comics these days, and I wonder if the artists have (a) ever seen a real woman, and (b) ever seen a real woman who did not dress strictly out of the Frederick's of Hollywood catalog.

Part of the problem is the title "How to Draw Great-Looking Comic Book Women."

Should be "How to Draw Women."  Period.

I think I know what you mean. Kirby's stuff comes to mind as well as John Buscema on Silver Surfer.

I believe the grandeur came in part from the skillful leveraging of the strengths inherent in the medium. Much of todays comics looks like motion picture breakdowns to me. I remember a single Eisner panel of a truck in motion with flapping canopy, near impossible angle, etc, etc, etc that conveyed the equivalent of 2 minutes of motion picture time.

Then, there is also the characterization. The Marvel gave gave us bigger-than life characters, not just people who won the superhero power lottery. Sure they were neurotic but they didn't wallow in their frailties.

Sue Storm didn't actually have sex with Namor, she heroically fought her impulses. Today, that would be cornay as hell, the Twilight Saga notwithstanding.

But the biggest difference is the loss of the sense of wonderment. I see that still in Spielberg films, that innocent suspension of disbelief that enables us to see the world with the fresh eyes of a child.

Imposing the eyes of a pessismistic adult, in the grip of ennui, would have made it impossible for Captain America to defeat a Cosmic-Cube wiielding Red Skull.

I submit to you that, that is the same outlook with which to enjoy Romeo & Juliet or Hamlet.

By today's standards, Hamlet would not have hesitated. He would have put a cap in his uncle's ass as soon as the spook of his father has spilled the beans. Forget that Conscience of the King ringamarole.