Whatever Happened To The World Of Tomorrow?

Brian Fies' 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' is this gorgeous, bittersweet love letter to mid-century futurism—the kind of comic that makes you nostalgic for a future that never arrived. It blends memoir, history, and sci-fi into this unique graphic novel that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable. The way Fies contrasts childhood optimism with adult disillusionment hit me hard, especially when he juxtaposes vintage comics with modern realism.

What really stuck with me was how it made me reflect on my own childhood dreams about space travel and robot butlers. The art shifts styles deliberately, mirroring different eras of comic book history, which adds layers to the storytelling. If you've ever felt that ache for lost futures—whether it's World's Fair utopias or '2001: A Space Odyssey' predictions—this book will resonate. I finished it in one sitting and immediately called my dad to talk about Apollo missions.

Ever stumbled upon a comic that feels like a love letter to retro futurism? 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' by Brian Fies is exactly that—a bittersweet ode to the optimism and disillusionment of mid-20th-century space-age dreams. The story follows a boy and his dad through decades of imagined futures, from the 1939 World’s Fair to the Apollo era, all framed by a fictional comic-within-a-comic called 'Captain Cap.' The ending? It’s a quiet punch to the gut. The grown-up protagonist, now a father himself, visits a modern space exhibit with his son, realizing how far we’ve strayed from those grand visions of moon colonies and jetpacks. But there’s hope: his kid’s wide-eyed wonder mirrors his own childhood excitement, suggesting that the dream isn’t dead—just different. Fies doesn’t spoon-feed answers; instead, he leaves you nostalgic yet oddly uplifted, like finding an old rocket toy in the attic and remembering how it made you feel.

What sticks with me is how Fies contrasts the shiny, corporate-driven future we got with the communal idealism of the past. The final pages show the protagonist’s son playing with a homemade spaceship, a nod to the idea that curiosity and creativity keep the spirit of 'tomorrow' alive, even if it’s not the Tomorrowland we expected. It’s a meditation on generational change—how each era redefines progress, and how longing for the past can blind us to the magic of the present. The book’s mixed-media art (vintage ads, photos, and comics) amplifies this theme, making the ending feel like flipping through a family album where the future is always just out of reach.

I reread 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' recently, and it hit me differently this time. The graphic novel by Brian Fies is this gorgeous blend of nostalgia and disillusionment, framed through the lens of a father and son visiting the 1939 World's Fair. The dad’s obsessed with the futuristic promises of the era—rockets, flying cars, all that Jetsons-style optimism. But as the story jumps ahead to the '60s and '70s, the shine wears off. The Apollo program ends, the Space Age fizzles, and the dad’s dreams of a glittering future collapse into corporate mundanity. The son grows up in this gap between what was promised and what actually arrived.

What’s heartbreaking is how Fies parallels this with the comic industry itself—early issues are drawn in a vintage '40s style, but the art evolves as the timeline progresses, mirroring the loss of innocence. By the end, there’s no grand finale, just quiet resignation. The son, now an adult, builds a model rocket with his own kid, passing on the wonder but also the weight of unmet expectations. It’s a love letter and a eulogy for the future we thought we’d have.

I was just browsing through some indie comics the other day, and 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' caught my eye because of its retro-futuristic vibe. From what I know, it's not officially free to read online—most of Brian Fies' work is available through traditional publishing or digital stores like Amazon. But if you're curious, some libraries might have digital copies you can borrow. I ended up buying it because I love how it blends nostalgia with sci-fi, and the artwork is just gorgeous. It’s one of those books that makes you think about how past generations imagined the future, and honestly, it’s worth the price.

If you’re tight on cash, keep an eye out for sales or check if your local comic shop has a used copy. Sometimes, indie creators also share excerpts or older works on their websites, so it’s worth digging around. I remember stumbling upon a free preview once, but the full experience really comes from holding the physical book—the way it’s designed feels like a time capsule.

I adored 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' for its nostalgic yet bittersweet take on futurism. The story revolves around two central figures: a wide-eyed kid nicknamed "Bud" and his unnamed father figure, who’s this gruff but lovable engineer type. Bud’s the perfect stand-in for that mid-20th-century optimism—always dreaming of rocket ships and jet packs—while his older companion represents the practical, sometimes jaded side of progress. Their dynamic carries the emotional weight, especially as the timeline jumps forward and you see how their relationship evolves alongside society’s fading space-age dreams.

What’s brilliant is how Brian Fies uses these two to anchor bigger themes. The comic isn’t just about characters; it’s a love letter to the 1939 World’s Fair, Apollo-era ambition, and even the disillusionment of the 1970s. You really feel Bud’s heartbreak when reality doesn’t match his childhood comics. And that silent panel where the older man stares at a discarded Space Race newspaper? Chills. Makes me dig out my old 'Popular Science' mags every time.

If you loved 'Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?' for its nostalgic look at futuristic dreams, you might enjoy 'The Rocketeer: The Complete Adventures' by Dave Stevens. It captures that same retro-futurism vibe, blending pulp adventure with sleek 1930s aesthetics. Another great pick is 'Astro City' by Kurt Busiek—it’s a love letter to classic superhero comics but with a reflective twist on how society’s hopes change over time.

For something more grounded but equally wistful, 'Here' by Richard McGuire explores a single space across millennia, making you ponder how visions of the future evolve. I also recommend 'Moonshot: The Indigenous Comics Collection'—it reimagines sci-fi through Indigenous perspectives, offering a fresh take on how different cultures dream of tomorrow. There’s something magical about seeing how optimism and reality collide in these stories.

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow' wraps up with a mix of nostalgia and sci-fi grandeur. After battling Totenkopf's robot army and uncovering his twisted plan to save humanity by destroying it, Polly and Joe finally confront the villain in his hidden Arctic base. The twist? Totenkopf has been dead the whole time, and his AI was running the show. The climax feels like a love letter to serial adventures, with our heroes escaping just as the base self-destructs.

The ending leaves room for imagination—Polly’s photo of Joe hints at more adventures, and the film’s sepia-toned aesthetic lingers like a dream. It’s bittersweet; the world is saved, but the mystery of Totenkopf’s legacy lingers. I always wondered if that final shot of the rockets was setting up a sequel we never got. The retro-futurism makes it feel timeless, though.

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow' feels like a love letter to the pulp serials and sci-fi magazines of the 1930s and 40s. The retro-futuristic theme isn't just a stylistic choice—it's a deliberate homage to that era's boundless optimism about technology. Back then, people imagined flying cars and robot armies as if they were just around the corner, and the film captures that wide-eyed wonder perfectly. The sepia tones, the art deco designs, even the clunky yet charming gadgets all scream 'future as imagined by the past.'

What really gets me is how the film leans into the aesthetics of old-school adventure stories. The dirigibles, the ray guns, the mad scientist lairs—it's all ripped straight from the covers of 'Amazing Stories' or 'Weird Tales.' There's something magical about how the movie blends nostalgia with creativity, making the world feel both familiar and fantastical. It's not trying to predict the future; it's celebrating how people once dreamed it would be.