Batman - W - Z
Batman: Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? 2009 (HC & SC TPB) 128 pages
Written by Neil Gaiman. Pencils by Andy Kubert. Inks by Scott Williams.
Colours: Alex Sinclair. Letters: Jared K. Fletcher. Editor: Mike Marts, Janelle Siegel.
Reprinting: Batman #686, Detective Comics #853, and selected stories from Batman Black & White #2, Secret Origins #36, Secret Origins Special #1
Rating: * * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Back when DC Comics was overhauling and re-booting its fictional universe in the wake of its Crisis on Infinite Earths, they commissioned an imaginary "last Superman" story to say good-bye to the Silver Age Superman who was, essentially, being erased from continuity -- "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?", written by rising star, British writer Alan Moore.
Jump ahead two decades and DC has decided to do the same for Batman. In this case, there has been no reality altering event (or maybe there has -- I dunno), but in the comics Batman/Bruce Wayne had been supposedly killed off and DC was preparing to unveil a "new" Batman (Dick Grayson, the original Robin, assumed the pointy-eared cowl...though unlike some changes, no one is necessarily suggesting Bruce won't be back eventually). Giving the nod to Neil Gaiman, another British writer whose rise to fame occurred around the same time as Moore's, and serialized across Batman's two flagship series (Batman and Detective Comics -- just as the Superman story was serialized over Superman and Action Comics), we are presented with a "last Batman" story. And wisely, Gaiman keeps it isolated from continuity (even if Bruce Wayne does come back in a few months, this story has a timelessness about it).
This collection also includes a few short Batman pieces Gaiman has written over the years, only one of which I've read...but it was an amusing, self-reflective one from Batman Black and White.
The "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" story is a surreal affair as Batman finds himself looking down upon a bizarre funeral for himself -- staged in back of a dingy bar, where all his old friends and foes have assembled to pay tribute. Batman isn't sure what's going on, whether he's dead or what -- and is further perplexed when the stories people tell about his life -- and death -- don't match up with each other. The first issue features two longer tales, relating the lives and deaths of two different Bruce Waynes/Batmen, but once we get into the second issue, they're shorthand snippets, generally focusing on different ways Batman died. It's a little as if we're seeing a bunch of unused story ideas for various Batman Elseworlds comics that Gaiman never got to write.
It's a moody, quirky affair, beautifully illustrated by Andy Kubert who eschews much of the sketchy lines or cartooniness I sometimes associate with the Kubert clan, for a richly detailed and modelled style, nicely embellished by the inks and colours. The faces are realistic, while also being expressive. After all these years, Batman doesn't have a signature artist that should've been tagged for the gig (the way Curt Swan was an obvious choice to pencil the Superman story), so Kubert proves a nice choice. He even quirks his style here and there for certain scenes and characters, to deliberately evoke the style of other key Bat-artists, or to present different variations on the Bat-costume, without the changes being too obvious or distracting.
And throughout, the dialogue and phrasing is quite good, the lines clever, quirky, yet not self-consciously so. And I say this as someone with no particular affinity for Gaiman in general.
It's interesting to contrast the Batman and Superman stories. With Moore's Superman -- involving a final showdown with all of Supes foes, in which many friends and enemies were dead by the end -- a violent, "big fight" tale wasn't exactly my idea of the appropriate cap for the Superman legend. Yet Gaiman takes Batman, the prowler of the mean streets and battler of killers and psychos...and presents a strangely gentle, lyrical tale that, in a way, is meant to present a sublime acceptance of mortality -- ala The Death of Captain Marvel -- rather than a bloody final battle with an arch foe. That might seem a strange thing to say in a story presenting multiple deaths of Batman...but it never feels gratuitous or graphic. In fact, given how many writers like to perceive Batman as the dark, grim, even brutal avenger, when Gaiman has Batman reflect on his self-imposed mission, it's: "I protect the city. I rescue people. I investigate crimes. I guard the innocent. I correct the guilty." Nothing about "vengeance" or "punishment".
The story itself may be intended to evoke a 1970s Batman multi-issue arc, in which various villains recounted conflicting tales of having killed Batman. And one of the reasons Gaiman may have avoided the "Batman vs. all his foes" plot is simply because it's already been done, often, and often quite effectively (albeit, with Batman surviving) -- in Detective Comics #526, Batman #400, and Batman: Hush among others. And of course, over the years there have probably been more than a few "imaginary" Last Batman stories, so it's hard for Gaiman to come up with anything that isn't just one more variation on a sub-sub-genre.
I have some mixed reactions to the story. As often happens, the intriguing hook of the beginning (what's happening? what is the explanation for this surreal scenario?) is inevitably kind of let down by the explanation. And the two longer "what if...?" stories told in the first issue are the more developed (even if Gaiman confuses the -- very good -- 1976 movie "Robin and Marion" with the actual Robin Hood legend). Once we get into the second half, the stories are brief snippets, before we segue into the final act of the story as Batman learns the answers and confronts a mysterious woman who had been accompanying him. It can seem a bit protracted. Ironically, I had remarked that in Moore's Superman tale he was maybe hamstrung by his limited amount of pages...Gaiman may have been hindered by having too many pages to fill (56 all told).
But there is a genuine power to Gaiman's tale -- even flipping through the pages, I find myself curiously misty eyed. Gaiman walks a fine line between sentimentality and saccharine. And he gives one of comicdoms grimmest heroes a bittersweet send off that is hopeful and sad at the same time, providing the character something he rarely had in life...a sense of peace ~ "Home is the sailor, home from the sea...and the hunter, home from the hill". And in the end, the point of the various tales, the different versions and faces of the Batman with which we are presented, is to nonetheless expose a core truth of the man, and his character -- no matter the superficial changes in the legend.
It tells us why he is, and always was, THE Batman.
(This is a review of the version originally serialized
in the monthly comics)
Hard cover price: $__ CDN./$24.95 USA
Batman: Year One 1988 (SC TPB), 89 pgs.
Written by Frank Miller. Art by David Mazzuccelli.
Colours: Richmond Lewis. Letters: Todd Klein. Editor:
Denny O'Neil.
Reprinting: Batman #404-407 (1987)
Rating: * * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 3
In the mid-1980s, hot, critically acclaimed writer-artist, Frank Miller, who had won accolades for his work at Marvel Comics on Daredevil, came over to DC Comics to write The Dark Knight Returns, a mini-series set in the near future chronicling a dark, gritty, "what if...?" future for the Batman. Coming out around the same time as The Watchmen, it was one of the most significant comics works of the decade. Around this time, DC Comics had also decided to overhaul and re-boot its entire line (claiming continuity had just become too complicated and muddled to follow). Various characters were re-introduced with revised origins, and Miller was tapped to do Batman, with Year One forming a kind of bookend with The Dark Knight Returns -- the Alpha and the Omega of the character (not that The Dark Knight Returns was necessarily meant to be canonical).
Not only was Batman: Year One a seminal work, influencing many a creative team to come (sometimes with unfortunate results) -- but it still stands as a brilliant, powerful, richly textured piece of work.
For those only familiar with Miller of the last decade or so, whether it be his over-the-top pulp noir homage, the Sin City stories, or his recent return to the world of Batman with his sequel to The Dark Knight Returns, The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, and the retro series, All-Star Batman & Robin, it might be hard to reconcile "brilliant" and "richly textured" with Miller. But in the 1980s, Miller really was an extraordinary talent, capable of nuanced characterization and provocative themes, with a great sense of pacing and a knack for the "cool" scene. Miller's a writer whose work actually seems to get less mature as he gets older, his recent stuff seeming more the product of a 14 year old's mind set -- a talented 14 year old,
in the case of Sin City, but a 14 year old nonetheless.
In Batman: Year One, Miller basically skips over the "origin" origin (a one page flashback to his parents murder) and focuses instead on the origin of the Batman persona. It begins with Bruce Wayne returning to Gotham City after years abroad, determined to begin his war on crime, initially not yet settled on the best method. Miller's take on Batman is a slightly unstable, obsessive man -- though still heroic and compassionate -- and the story is as much about police lieutenant James Gordon as it is Bruce Wayne. Both characters arrive in Gotham simultaneously, and the saga remains filtered through them, each narrating and, at times, is almost more about Gordon than it is Batman. Gordon is an honest cop in the corrupt Gotham, where every one up to the Commissioner is on the take. How Gordon tries to maintain his honour, and fight the forces of corruption, is as much a part of the drama as Batman finding his own way. And the evolution of how the two men realize they need each other to survive...and to triumph...is the core character arc. Along the way, Miller also throws in the origin of Catwoman -- not an equal character to Gordon and Batman, but omnipresent nonetheless. And by intertwining the origins of the three characters, it makes the relationships we know lie in the future more resonant.
And by setting the story against a backdrop of a corrupt Gotham, Miller creates a more intriguing, more plausible impetus for a vigilante, as Batman is fighting not just street crime and mobsters, but the system itself -- at one point likened to Robin Hood.
As I said, this is Miller very near the top of his game, a Miller capable of some great, clever turns of phrase -- sometimes pointed, sometimes very witty -- yet also real, nuanced dialogue that can make even minor walk on characters seem like three dimensional people. The story is very talky, very character oriented, yet never lags or drags. Miller's talent for characters in the 1980s was that he let the characters be people -- Gordon has perhaps never been portrayed, before or since, as a more compelling, sympathetic figure; a hero in his own right, yet also a flawed man with feet of clay. He's also an apologetic Liberal -- something I doubt Miller would write today. And the action scenes are striking and dramatic, Miller knowing how to stage a dramatic rescue or what have you. A sequence where Batman is cornered in a bombed out building by a rogue SWAT team is one of the most exciting in Batman's history, with a truly memorable escape -- so memorable, it was ripped off in the movie "Batman Begins"...and wasn't nearly as effectively staged in the film!
Perhaps the most intriguing stylistic thing about Year One is that it lives up to its name: it chronicles an entire year, and perhaps utilizes the comic book format in a way that no movie or novel could quite mimic. Miller tells a coherent narrative, yet skipping weeks between scenes (the scenes are labelled with dates) but without making it seem choppy or confusing as it would in a movie or novel. As such, though only about 90 pages, you come away feeling as though you've read a grand epic.
Miller also chooses to eschew much of the fantasy feel, utilizing, not super villains, but crooks and corrupt cops, giving the thing an edgy realism, without loosing the fantasy heroism. There are some big, dramatic "action sequences", yet the climax is a more intimate affair, the danger more personal -- and as exciting as any movie spectacle climax! In fact the story cleverly manages to play both sides at once. Batman is a man -- a guy in a suit, capable of being drop kicked and surprised, who "stages" dramatic appearances with his own spot lights -- yet also a super human figure, capable of dramatic rescues and awesome feats.
I've gone on and on about the story and plot and Miller's writing, but I shouldn't ignore the art by David Mazzucchelli. Mazzucchelli worked with Miller on his later Daredevil stories (notably the critically acclaimed Born Again story arc), where his style evolved rapidly into a dynamic stark realism, where everything is meant to look real, no heroic exaggerations for Mazzucchelli, but often rendered in a shadowy minimalism. The work suits the tone of the script brilliantly, capturing the dual tones of gritty reality and dramatic super heroism.
There is a slight "mature readers" undercurrent in themes, such as having Catwoman be a prostitute before she dons the cat-suit.
The only downside to Batman: Year One is that it's almost too good. Really! When I first read it two decades ago, I quickly found myself losing interest in comics, finding other stories just paled beside it, none offering the same mix of intellectual stimulation, emotional pull, and old fashioned adventure. It was many years before I slipped back into reading comics -- not necessarily because I found things to rival it, but more because I readjusted my expectations. At the same time, I realize that as compelling, as brilliant as this is, Miller's take on the Batman might not have been sustainable -- he's a little too off kilter (hence why Gordon emerges as a co-lead). It's a compelling characterization for this story...but might have got old in a monthly series. Though it does gel with Miller's Dark Knight Returns -- though this is a kinder, gentler take on that persona, more unimpeachably a hero.
As a work-unto-itself, Batman: Year One stands as one of the best Bat-sagas, building to suitably final finale. But, of course, as a "year one" story, it doesn't tie everything up tidily (Catwoman remains a peripheral character, never fully intregrated into the main plot), as it is supposed to be setting things up for the future. Not that it is directly continued into anything (although there have been subsequent attempts to do follow up stories, such as The Long Halloween or Prey, none really make you feel that, oh, this was the sequel Miller envisioned). As such, it remains a "stand alone" read, albeit within the context of the Batman mythos.
It's a classic of the medium that remains classic.
Though originally published without Comics Code approval,
and containing some "mature" material, Batman: Year One ultimately
contains nothing that couldn't be portrayed in a prime time TV show.
(This is a review of the version originally serialized in Batman comics)
Original soft cover price: $14.95 CDN./$9.95 USA
Batman:
Year Two 1990 (SC TPB), 100 pgs.
Written by Mike W. Barr. Art by Alan Davis / Paul Neary;
Todd McFarlane / Alfredo Alcala; Todd McFarlane.
Colours: Steve Oliff, Gloria Vasquez. Letters: various.
Editor: Denny O'Neil.
Reprinting: Detective Comics #475-478 (1987)
Rating: * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 3
Additional notes: This has been re-released in 2002 with extra pages to include its sequel, Batman: Full Circle (which is reviewed here).
Year Two chronicles Batman's attempt to bring down
a sickle-wielding vigilante, The Reaper, who kills criminals...and any
police who get in his way. Concluding that the only way to stop the heavily
armoured Reaper is by upping his own non-lethal arsenal, Batman starts
carrying a gun. And since The Reaper targets the underworld, Batman allies
himself with the mob to set a trap. This puts him at odds with newly appointed
Police Commissioner Gordon...and partners him with hitman Joe Chill, who,
twenty years before, murdered Batman's parents. Batman plots to kill Chill
(who's ignorant of their past history) once the Reaper business is over.
When the climax comes, involving Chill, The Reaper, and the whole question
of violence, it concludes with Bruce burying his gun, and (presumably)
vowing never to carry one again.
Batman: Year Two is, on the surface, an admirably ambitious effort, rich in themes, trying to tell a tale that is complete unto itself...even throwing in a romantic sub-plot (when most comics are concerned solely with the hero vs. the villain). The love interest, Rachel Caspian, is torn between Bruce...and becoming a nun, and is also the daughter of The Reaper (though neither she nor Bruce know that) -- definitely a character overflowing with narrative potential. But Year Two reminds me of a flaw I've noticed in a few other "ambitious" comics sagas I've read (or re-read) recently -- including a few by Barr. And that is it has all these ideas, this desire to be smart and sophisticated...and almost no idea how to realize its ideas. So the creators just press on, forcing round pegs into square holes, pushing plot points for the sake of the themes that make no sense on their own. Throughout the story characters behave inconsistently, motives are muddled if not outright incoherent, and plans and actions frequently make little sense. Admittedly, some of that can be forgiven -- after all, in a comic book world of guys who dress like bats, "realistic" and "unrealistic" are debateable concepts, and even the best super hero comics often suffer from lapses in logic -- but the problem is when the lapses seem to out number the logical bits.
The whole core idea of Batman wielding a gun seems more like a story gimmick than a logical action. I mean, why would Batman think a simple pistol would be at all effective...against a villain who can wade unharmed through police and mobsters armed with assault rifles? For that matter, in the end, Batman hardly uses it at all in his scuffles with The Reaper! Instead, he mainly uses it in fights with other crooks -- and then only to shoot weapons out of their hands, Lone Ranger style. In other words, this doesn't really seem like a callow Batman who hasn't figured out the line between justified and unjustified force. Rather it's his plan to murder Chill that seems unconvincing. As for The Reaper...it's never really explained why he pursues his vendetta with such ruthlessness, why he quit 20 years before, or why he's resuming his activities now. At one point Batman suggests there's a leak in the police department which is supplying The Reaper with his info...yet that's never followed up on, as we never see The Reaper acting as anything more than a lone operator. The Reaper himself remains a plot point -- a thematic beat -- more than a character. And if, in my opinion, neither Batman or The Reaper are that convincingly portrayed, then likewise, we can't really get any convincing debate going about violence, vigilantism, and what lines can't be crossed.
As I say, the whole story is full of scenes and actions that seem to exist because Barr wanted to include them, not because the story and characters justify them. So Gordon and Batman end up on the outs -- for reasons that don't seem particularly clear (certainly not justifying Gordon's venom). Why Batman feels an alliance with the underworld would be the best way to capture The Reaper is not really clear...particularly as the operations they do stage seem poorly planned and end up as fiascos (as the characters even acknowledge).
In
his introduction to the original TPB, Mike Barr claims he wanted to deal with why
Batman doesn't carry a gun. But does a hero have to justify his non-lethal
approach to crime fighting? Barr doesn't see a need to explain The Reaper's
brutality; why then the need to justify Batman's mercy? For that matter, relating to my point about themes-versus-execution...Barr doesn't really deal with it, at least to my satisfaction. It's not really clear why Batman starts carrying it...nor is it clear what epiphany he's achieved by the end. I mean, it's not like Batman has any ambivalence toward The Reaper, or needs a few issues to decide he's a bad guy -- he pegs him as a villain right from the beginning.
And let me just stick in my two-bits of pop-psychology
for a moment. For years comic folks have claimed that Batman is the most
psychologically complex of superheroes, the one whose actions are most
driven by his traumatic origin. So how come no one (I'm aware of) has ever postulated
the obvious: Batman doesn't carry a gun because Batman hates guns
-- hates them with an almost pathologiccal aversion. Consider: if he was
so traumatized by his parents' murder that he'd spend the rest of his life
dressing up as a bat and fighting crime, doesn't it seem likely he'd have
been just a wee bit scarred by staring down the barrel of a pistol as it
robbed him of the only stability he had in his life? Wouldn't that explain
why Batman, the supposed champion of law and order, didn't simply become
a police officer (he'd be expected to carry a gun)? O.K., I know no one
at DC comics would ever have the courage to write that into the character
-- the National Rifle Association wouldd stage comic burnings from Long
Island to Hawaii -- but it's a more plausible take on the character than
having him cavalierly wield the very gun that killed his parents.
But, as they say, I digress.
Anyway, perhaps Mike Barr isn't the one to tackle the
issue of violence. He often seems a bit ambivalent about the whole violence-thing
in many of his stories. In fact, at one point Gordon leads a police raid
on a mob stronghold where the police assassinate look-outs and shoot people
in the back -- how are the police any different than The Reaper?
Artwise, this is (relatively) early work from both Davis and McFarlane. The Alan Davis/Paul Neary combo of the first
issue is pretty good, showing solid technique and a good sense of composition. But McFarlane,
the Canadian wunderkind who's practically a God among his fans, struck
me as a real weakness. His technical craftsmanship is uneven, and his sense
of composition the same -- I found some scenes actually incoherent! Alfredo
Alcala's inks (on two of the three Todd McFarlane issues) help a little,
but not quite enough. Todd McFarlane also seems to revel in violence more
than Alan Davis, and his issues are conspicuously more gory. Though I'll give him credit: he has a nice way with flaring Batman's cape!
Batman: Year Two was part of a rewriting of history
that went on at DC comics in the mid-'80s and contains some rewriting of
earlier Batman lore (some of it detailed in The Untold
Legend of the Batman). Prior to this, when Batman caught up with Joe
Chill, Chill was a low level mob boss, and Batman intended to hand him over
to the authorities. But Chill was angrily gunned down by his own men when
they learned he was responsible for creating the Batman. Likewise, Leslie
Thompkins, a social worker who had comforted young Bruce the night of his
parents' murder, and who was never sure why the mysterious Batman took
such an interest in her, is here reinvented as a younger, harder-edged
figure, all tight-lips and power suits, and is privy to Bruce's secret
identity.
Though Mike Barr doubtless had the best of intentions,
something is lost.
The irony that Chill, a largely untouchable criminal who
probably hadn't pulled a trigger in years, is brought down by an almost forgotten murder
he committed decades before, is replaced by Chill-as-killer-for-hire. The change also impacts on Batman's motives: funnily, you could've almost justified Batman planning to murder Chill in the original precisely because Batman had little evidence against him. But with the modern Chill as a still active mob hitman, it probably wouldn't have been hard for Batman to find some crime to pin on him, even if not the murder of his parents. Likewise,
Barr's curter writing of the confrontation scene is actually less emotionally
charged than the one penned by Bill Finger back in '48. And this new Leslie Thompkins
lacks the simple humanity of the original -- she's a nagging harridan rather than an angel of mercy. Mike Barr subsequently expanded
on this new Thompkins in his "Faith" story line that appeared in Batman:
Legends of the Dark Knight (#21-23)...again, with detrimental effect.
Shortly after this story line was first published, yet another
mythos-shaking took place, and I don't think Batman: Year Two
is really considered canonical anymore.
I don't think this was intended as a "mature reader" piece,
but some of the violence in the Todd McFarlane-drawn issues is a bit off-putting.
Ultimately, I have mixed reactions to this. Definitely
flawed, but the bare bones of the thing are certainly intriguing (I've
read it a few times over the years). Barr and Davis later reunited for a sequel,
Batman: Full Circle. Cover price: $12.95 CDN./$9.95 USA
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