The new Asterix adventure lacks magic

These can’t be overlooked, but as  Krishnadev Calamur once wrote in The Atlantic: “There were things that I loved about Tintin that made it easier to reject those things I did not—without ignoring them altogether”. The same can be said of Asterix: it’s an uneasy balancing act.

The Tintin series came to an end with Tintin and the Picaros in 1976, followed years later by the incomplete Tintin and Alph-Art. As for Asterix, when René Goscinny died in 1977, Albert Uderzo continued solo until Asterix and the Falling Sky, after which the team of writer Jean-Yves Ferri and artist Didier Conrad were handed the reins.

The new Asterix and the Griffin is their fifth outing. Unfortunately, it does little to offset the impression that the later versions aren’t as good as the rest.

The tale is set, once again, in 50 BC. The small village in Gaul is still holding out against the invaders and life is still not easy for the Roman legionaries in their fortified camps.

In Rome, Julius Caesar’s geographer Cartographus informs him of a beast known as the Griffin, half-eagle and half-lion. Caesar decides that he wants to exhibit it at the Roman circus to boost his popularity, and orders an expedition to capture the creature with the help of Kalashnikova, a Samartian hostage.

As a historical aside, the Samartians were thought to be a part of the Scythians residing on the Eurasian steppes. They were known for their female warriors who may have inspired Greek tales of the Amazons, and this is reflected in the pages of Ferri and Conrad’s work.

Returning to the tale, our heroes Asterix and Obelix, accompanied by the druid Getafix, set out on an expedition to deliver a keg of magic potion to a Samartian shaman. They travel across frozen wastes – shades of Tintin in Tibet – venturing deep into territories known to the Roman Empire as Barbaricum.

Naturally, they decide to ally with the Samartian village to fend off the Roman expedition and retrieve the hostage. High jinks ensue, many of them revolving around reversed roles: the women fight to protect the community and the men stay back to tend to the village. This is handled much more carefully than the earlier Asterix and the Secret Weapon, with its sometimes bumptious tone.

Asterix and the Griffin does have its pleasures, many of them harking back to earlier times. For a start, there are the idiosyncratic names, including Centurion Intrepedus and Gladiator Vainglorius. A nod to the present comes in the form of another Roman legionary called Fakenius and a potion-maker known as Viraloadov.

Much of this, one assumes, is the work of translator Adriana Hunter. In the French original, for instance, Cartographus is known as Terinconus – who, by the way, bears a marked resemblance to writer Michel Houellebecq. (He understands the map and the territory.)

It wouldn’t be Asterix without the puns and wordplay, and there’s a valiant effort to include them here. A running gag conflates the multinational Amazon with the warrior women, from “free Amazon delivery” to “the Amazons don’t have a monopoly”. These are fun to begin with, but lose steam as they go on.

Along the way, the potion freezes and loses its efficacy; Obelix struggles with offerings of fermented mare’s milk and cheese; Dogmatix discovers his inner wolf; and Roman foot-soldiers gossip among themselves, as always. With a mixture of pluck and luck, the Samartians and Gauls manage to save the day.

For all that, the adventure is thin on the ground. The artwork continues to be striking, but there’s a lack of energy in the narrative with some plot points unnecessarily dwelt upon, such as the safety of the hostage, the lack of the potion, and the need to attack the Romans.

Those coming to Asterix for the first time may wonder what the fuss is all about; long-time Asterix fans will find Asterix and the Griffin a little more than pleasant. Some more magic potion would have helped.

Also read: What if Pegasus had spied on Tintin?