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King country P H OTO G R A P H BY A N N A B R I G G S
Sarah Lang talks to “film and comics maker” Jonathan King about his graphic novel, Tintin, and being the son of the late historian Michael King.
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ore than a decade on, Jonathan King still feels “bruised” from his 2009 feature film Under The Mountain, an adaptation of Maurice Gee’s sci-fi classic about telepathic twins who battle against alien creatures stirring from centuries of sleep. The film didn’t run for long (partly because blockbuster Avatar opened) and didn’t get great reviews. As its writer, director, and producer, Jonathan was gutted. “It was a very expensive, very challenging film. A bit of a disaster, really – a nightmare to make – and it did disappointingly for how much it cost.” He winces at the recollection. “Being disappointed by what you achieve is horrible. It left me demoralised about making films.” Jonathan turned to his other great love: comics. Whether they’re classified as comic strips, comic books, or graphic novels, comics are formed from panels that present sequential scenes in a story, often with text in speech bubbles. Jonathan started drawing comics aged six: “They were all about superheroes at that stage.” The comics he’s written in adulthood have largely been “surreal and oblique mysteries.” He’s published them on his Facebook page and his website, and some have ended up in anthologies. “I’d always storyboarded my films. After film, comics let me be creative without anyone breathing down my neck. They weren’t expensive, literally or mentally. I could make something up, draw it, and put it into the world.” In 2016, he discussed a proposed graphic novel with Wellington publisher Gecko Press, something involving adventure and mystery, and “slightly fantastical”. Demonstrating a film-maker’s skill for dramatic narrative, The Inkberg Enigma sees Miro, a bespectacled, book-obsessed teenage boy in a small town, get swept up in an adventure involving mysterious fishermen. Gecko publishes it in New Zealand, Australia, and the UK in August, and in
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the USA and Canada in September. It’s targeting readers aged eight to 10, but my six-year-old and I both enjoyed it. Expect humour: a man tells his pooping dog “I’m not angry, Kenny, just disappointed”, and a scientist who sees a serpent says “I think I just got my research grant’”. The book’s easy to read, but Jonathan isn’t. Somehow, he seems chatty and cheerful, but also introverted and intense. We’re talking at the Kilbirnie home he shares with wife Rebecca Priestley (a science writer/academic), their “sniffy beagle,” and their 13-year-old twins (a girl and a boy). Their 18-year-old daughter is away at university. Jonathan and Rebecca met as children, as their parents were friends. “We didn’t meet again until we were 29, when I visited Wellington for a function.” Jonathan moved here to live with Rebecca at 30, and he’s now 52. He had previously lived in Auckland since he was 10, mostly with his mother and stepfather – publishers Ros Henry and David Elworthy – but also seeing a lot of his famous father. Jonathan is the son of late historian Michael King, and the brother of novelist/literary-festival director Rachael King. In 2004, Michael and second wife Maria Jungowska died in a car crash. Jonathan doesn’t want to talk about that, but he was always aware of his father’s mana. “As kids, wherever we went, someone would stop and talk to Dad, and he was interested in other people, so we just stood there.” After his father died, Jonathan was often called “Michael King’s son”. On top of the loss of a parent, he found the public attention “tiring.” His family gravitated to creative pursuits. There was never any expectation to be creative, but nature and nurture intermingled predictably. “As kids we made comics, and put on plays. I always wanted to be a film-maker, Rachael always wanted to be a novelist, and no one ever said ‘don’t be ridiculous’.”