The Red Sea Sharks – Hergé, 1956-1958 ★★★★

Sail Away with Tintin

If I could give a person one Tintin book to explain my love for the series, it would probably be The Black Island. But if pressed which volume best showcases the classic Tintin formula, I might pick this instead.

The classic ingredients are here in force: Active support from Captain Haddock and Snowy, slapstick, intrigue, globetrotting – all held together by a smoothly-functioning engine of a plot. Some supporting players are underrepresented, but to be fair, you won’t find a broader range of recognizable characters in any other Tintin book.

All this, and a total charmer to boot.

About the only major headscratcher is that title. What does it mean? There is only one shark in the entire story, who has nothing to do with any major characters and comes to a sorry end all by itself. Ominous, yes; but as it turns out, pointless, too.

The opening image of The Red Sea Sharks establishes its playful tone. A shot of a horse's hindquarters along with the misleading words underneath. Trust me, though, it's just the beginning. Image from http://en.tintin.com/albums/show/id/43/page/0/0/the-red-sea-sharks.

The story is a bit of a misdirection play itself: While exiting a cinema, Tintin and Haddock bump into General Alcazar from The Broken Ear, accidentally causing him to drop his wallet. While trying to return it, Tintin and Haddock stumble upon an arms-sale scheme involving both the emir of Khemed from Land Of Black Gold and a slave trade overseen by the evilest of all Tintin villains, Rastapopoulos.

How much trouble can a boy reporter get into?

We open ironically enough on a conversation between Tintin and Haddock about the far-fetched nature of movies these days. Whimsically, it seems, Haddock mentions Alcazar:

“Well, d’you suppose, if I just think about him he’ll pop up on the street corner, like that, bingo!? – Look here, you misguided missile, you! Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

“It’s GENERAL ALCAZAR!”

“Carumba!”

Yes, it's Alcazar alright! He's apparently travelling incognito but should probably grow out that signature mustache of his if he wants to avoid being recognized like this. Image from https://twitter.com/heronxdave/status/661652359534223360.

That sets the pace for the rest of the story, a series of improbable meetings and dramatic turns that do push the credulity envelope but keep the reader invested and entertained.

The original title of the work when published in Hergé’s native Belgium was Coke en stock, literally “Coke in stock,” coke being coal residue used for fuel and also in this story a code word for slaves. Whether for trademark-infringement concerns with the soda people, or association with a dangerous narcotic deemed unwholesome for a children’s comic, the title was overhauled and replaced with the intriguing but misleading moniker we English-speaking fans of the series have today.

It may be the most random-seeming title, more so even than The Crab With The Golden Claws. There is a bit of explanation, a throwaway line from Haddock’s old mate and nemesis Allan: “Don’t forget we’re in the Red Sea, and there’s no shortage of sharks.” So perhaps a double meaning, the “sharks” in question being Allan and other slave traders.

Not an ideal ending for a plane flight, but it beats the alternative: There's a bomb ticking in the baggage section. Image from https://them0vieblog.com/2011/10/19/tintin-the-red-sea-sharks-review/.

Human trafficking is a heavy subject, yet it is incorporated well into a loose, fun narrative. Tintins seem to fall into two categories, broad comedy-adventures like Cigars Of The Pharaoh and more serious adventures like The Blue Lotus and The Seven Crystal Balls. The Red Sea Sharks splits it down the middle. Even the most suspenseful moment is played with humor, yet silliness never overwhelms the plot.

For example, we learn how corporate interests led by an airline conspired to toss Tintin’s friend the Emir of Khemed from power and install a more pliable ruler in his place. But there was another reason for deposing the Emir: his obnoxious son Abdullah wanted passenger planes to perform loop-de-loops over the airport for his amusement. “…And it would have given my lambkin such pleasure!” the Emir sighs.

A spy lurks in the Emir’s exiled court, but while plotting his betrayal steps on the tail of the Emir’s pet cheetah, who is in a foul mood after losing a fight to Snowy. A lot of sudden reverses in this story, but what can be overused in another Tintin story has an authentic flow here. Maybe I just liked the story more, but the plot twists seem better integrated here, and more thought-out.

Tintin and Haddock are pursued by land and air in Khemed. How will they escape? Image from https://theslingsandarrows.com/the-adventures-of-tintin-red-sea-sharks/.

And the art! Bold perspectives, impressive vistas, clever use of borders, word bubbles that literally bubble when a person is underwater. The color pops and the contrast of light and shadow shows off art design that has reached a new level of maturity. By this time Hergé had plenty of help in the studio, but he puts it all to good use.

Just check out that cover. Did you ever see one that made you want to dive into a story more? Three guys on a makeshift raft in a choppy sea, yelling out to…what? There’s a mystery waiting to be explored.

Also a mystery: Who’s the guy with the eyepatch? His name is Skut, and he’s an Estonian pilot working for the bad guys who Tintin and Haddock rescue after he sinks their boat. Won over by this, Skut becomes their ally, a nicely subtle redemptive character arc that points up the humanism which always underscored the series.

Skut (on the right) takes his place alongside his new friends Haddock and Tintin. Mostly supercargo for the story, Skut does provide some help in a pinch getting a ship radio to work (with some help from a clumsy Tintin). Image from http://bathtubadmiral.co.uk/about-us/.

Or maybe Skut represents Hergé’s commitment to never let an interesting character design go to waste. Many faces from past Tintin books pop up; it almost feels like the 1963 film It’s A Mad Mad Mad Mad World for all the spot-the-cameos. Yet what might seem self-indulgent in another book plays up your investment here.

There is Rastapopoulos, amusingly in disguise as a foppishly-attired devil as he throws a masquerade party on his yacht. One of the other guests is Bianca Castafiore, which leads to an amusing reunion with the gun-shy Haddock. Also showing up are sinister Dawson from The Blue Lotus, ever-helpful Oliveira de Figueira from Cigars Of The Pharaoh, and even Müller, Tintin’s adversary from The Black Island and Land Of Black Gold, whom you might miss as I did because he’s disguised and called “Mull Pasha.” Only one panel exposes his bald pate.

A lot of criticism about The Red Sea Sharks centers on race. It's valid, but less so under the circumstances as these black men are being liberated by Tintin and Haddock. Still, the sequence was reworked somewhat in the English translation to avoid overt stereotyping. Image from https://ampton.wordpress.com/2019/09/26/ampton-reads-the-red-sea-sharks/. 

Back at Haddock’s Marlinspike home, Prince Abdullah is giving Nestor the butler quite a workout. Professor Calculus is busy inventing motor-propelled roller skates, while Thompson and Thomson are used sparingly if well. They even put Tintin on the right scent for once:

“You forget, my friend, in our job there’s nothing we don’t know.”

“To be precise: we know nothing in our job.”

In short, The Red Sea Sharks is the sort of late-period Tintin adventure you often hope for but usually don’t get, where all the advances in visual design and precision draftsmanship – not to mention a less-innocent view of how the world works – are matched by a fun story that builds more and more on its momentum as it goes along.

A final splash panel, and the same two words at the bottom on which we began. Like I say, a smooth ride. Image from http://alienexplorations.blogspot.com/2017/11/the-adventures-of-tintin-redsea-sharks.html.

I go back and forth on the ending, though. The wrap-up comes very suddenly, and Tintin and Haddock actually manage to accomplish little themselves beyond surviving. But that’s no small feat while dodging torpedoes on a rusty scow. As an American, it’s nice to see our boys lend a hand, which they do here in rousing fashion.

Overall, this is one of Hergé’s smoothest rides, a delightful addition to a series that was already well-enough-established not to need more reason for loving it. But it’s here all the same, and it’s terrific stuff, so one can only be grateful that Hergé was still motivated enough to keep on trucking at least a little longer.