Detective Comics 853, part 2 of Neil Gaiman's "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" is exactly the conclusion I was expecting, and nothing like it at all. The funeral, the parade of Batman's friends and foes telling contradictory versions of his life and death, does indeed turn out to be a near-death experience. Bruce Wayne may not yet be deceased, but "very close," and it's not just his life flashing before his eyes, but all the lives he could've lived. Together, the stories show him that no matter what else may change, the Batman will always be fighting the same fight, and the only way he'll ever quit is to die, which was the same theme I picked out in my review of part 1. The woman heard talking to Bruce in the story's first half, it turns out, is Bruce's mother. She's shows him one more life he lived, for far too short a time: the life of an unusually happy child (Bruce Wayne? Who'da thunk it?), taking great joy in a simple picture book. And she hints that he's about to live that life all over again, to enjoy those too-few happy years once more, as the cycle begins anew.
Is Bat-continuity headed for another reboot or retcon? Is Bruce Wayne somehow being reincarnated into his own former life? Or is it all just a story being told and retold? In the end, as Mrs. Wayne encourages her son to tell the tale himself in the form of the classic children's book "Goodnight Moon," I realize that "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" is less of a plot and more of a graphic poem. And it all leads up to a truly stunning transmogrification of the Bat-Signal, a two-page spread that alone is worth the price of admission.
When I closed the comic, I thought all that was missing was a punchline for the gag in part 1 about the kid who parked the Joker's car. And then things got interesting.
I put the comic aside to take a nap. And as I slept, I dreamt that I flipped back through the comic again, certain a master like Gaiman wouldn't have set up such a great gag in part 1 and failed to follow it through in the finale, sure that I must simply have missed that page or panel. And sure enough, in my dream, I found it: a page where that kid grows up with that fear of the Joker, that certainty that death is waiting for him around every corner, and the fear turns him into Joe Chill. He murders Bruce's parents, becoming part of the endless cycle. Was this page somehow real? Could there be a secret piece of "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" that can only be read between falling asleep and waking? If any comic creator could craft such an experience, it would be Gaiman, wouldn't it?
- JC
Showing posts with label batman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label batman. Show all posts
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Batman #686
In part 1 of "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?" Neil Gaiman examines Batman as a myth to get at the essence of the man.
Typical, really. Whether he's finding the humanity in the Dream King (the Sandman epic) or using mythic plots as metaphors for universal issues between children and parents (Coraline, Mirrormask), Gaiman stories always seem to exist at that intersection between our stories and ourselves. They remind us that life really is larger than life. And who is larger than life than the Batman, a hero without super powers who nonetheless can defeat every other hero and villain in the DC Universe?
Of course, "Whatever Happened..." opens with Batman at last beaten - dead as a result of some convoluted storyline I haven't actually followed. But the how doesn't matter, and the circumstances presented here are strange in any case. Batman's friends and foes are gathered for his funeral, an open-casket affair with Batman (not Bruce Wayne) on display. Their ages and costumes keep shifting, and there's an unseen man - Bruce's ghost? - talking to an unseen woman in the caption boxes, insisting none of this can be real. Will the story turn out to be a dream? Is this what the world looks like when Bruce Wayne is crossing to the other side - in the company of Sandman's Death, perhaps? (Though I suspect the latter is a little too obvious, a little too 'fanwank' for a writer of Gaiman's subleties.)
What matters are the stories being told. Here, in the first half of the two part adventure, Selina Kyle and Alfred the Butler each stand up before the crowd, telling their versions of the Life and Death of the Batman.
Selina tells how as Catwoman, the Batman convinced her to go straight, to use her guile and cunning and sheer bad-@$$ery to help clean up Gotham, only to wind up a lonely old woman running a cat shelter. When Batman comes to her for help, years after their last encounter, she allows him to die, telling him it's because she loves him. "But that's Robin Hood's death..." the ghost of Bruce says.
Alfred tells how Batman's famed rogues gallery, all those colorful, maniacal villains he fought, were nothing but thespian flim-flam. Alfred saw his master going quietly mad, and having been an actor before he buttled, he called on his old theatrical troupe to create wild foes for the Batman to vanquish, to make Bruce Wayne feel like his life mattered. But when Alfred at last confesses the truth to master Bruce, the Batman doesn't turn in his cape and cowl. Even if all the evil's he's fought has been a lie, there's still evil out there that needs fighting. "Somewhere the joke is much worse than this one, and it's on everybody, not just me," he says. And he rides quixotically back out into the night - and is immediately shot in the face by one of his "fake" villains. What we pretend to be, we become, for better and for worse.
Selina and Alfred's tales may conflict, yet both are tragedies about a man who can't quit. The mission is all for Batman, and no matter how hard the people who care about him most may try, he will not be diverted. Love can't make him turn away, nor can lies, nor can reason.
Only death might stop him, and I do say might. I suspect we'll find out in Part 2.
- JC
Typical, really. Whether he's finding the humanity in the Dream King (the Sandman epic) or using mythic plots as metaphors for universal issues between children and parents (Coraline, Mirrormask), Gaiman stories always seem to exist at that intersection between our stories and ourselves. They remind us that life really is larger than life. And who is larger than life than the Batman, a hero without super powers who nonetheless can defeat every other hero and villain in the DC Universe?
Of course, "Whatever Happened..." opens with Batman at last beaten - dead as a result of some convoluted storyline I haven't actually followed. But the how doesn't matter, and the circumstances presented here are strange in any case. Batman's friends and foes are gathered for his funeral, an open-casket affair with Batman (not Bruce Wayne) on display. Their ages and costumes keep shifting, and there's an unseen man - Bruce's ghost? - talking to an unseen woman in the caption boxes, insisting none of this can be real. Will the story turn out to be a dream? Is this what the world looks like when Bruce Wayne is crossing to the other side - in the company of Sandman's Death, perhaps? (Though I suspect the latter is a little too obvious, a little too 'fanwank' for a writer of Gaiman's subleties.)
What matters are the stories being told. Here, in the first half of the two part adventure, Selina Kyle and Alfred the Butler each stand up before the crowd, telling their versions of the Life and Death of the Batman.
Selina tells how as Catwoman, the Batman convinced her to go straight, to use her guile and cunning and sheer bad-@$$ery to help clean up Gotham, only to wind up a lonely old woman running a cat shelter. When Batman comes to her for help, years after their last encounter, she allows him to die, telling him it's because she loves him. "But that's Robin Hood's death..." the ghost of Bruce says.
Alfred tells how Batman's famed rogues gallery, all those colorful, maniacal villains he fought, were nothing but thespian flim-flam. Alfred saw his master going quietly mad, and having been an actor before he buttled, he called on his old theatrical troupe to create wild foes for the Batman to vanquish, to make Bruce Wayne feel like his life mattered. But when Alfred at last confesses the truth to master Bruce, the Batman doesn't turn in his cape and cowl. Even if all the evil's he's fought has been a lie, there's still evil out there that needs fighting. "Somewhere the joke is much worse than this one, and it's on everybody, not just me," he says. And he rides quixotically back out into the night - and is immediately shot in the face by one of his "fake" villains. What we pretend to be, we become, for better and for worse.
Selina and Alfred's tales may conflict, yet both are tragedies about a man who can't quit. The mission is all for Batman, and no matter how hard the people who care about him most may try, he will not be diverted. Love can't make him turn away, nor can lies, nor can reason.
Only death might stop him, and I do say might. I suspect we'll find out in Part 2.
- JC
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Marvel vs. DC
I like my stories to be, like, interesting, which is why I'm not into DC Comics.
I grew up watching classic comic movies, like Batman and Superman, but even then I was disappointed in the static characterizations they tended to have. Also, really lame "secret" identities. Bruce Wayne's chiseled jaw was pretty distinct, even under a cowl, but a pair of glasses? Really? That's all you could come up with? And then you're photographed all the time in the newspaper you work for and they STILL don't know it's you? Are they putting stupid in the Metropolis water supply? And these guys are totally badass, why are they keeping it a secret? Bruce is a billionaire; if he came out, he'd just be seen as eccentric and he'd be asked to throw benefit parties in costume. Superman is freaking SUPERMAN. What's the point of hiding?
I used to watch the X-Men after school and I really dug it. For one thing, it was easier to play on the playground - you got your Cyclops (the bossy kid) and your Jean Grey (the prissy girl) and your Wolverine (the slightly aggressive kid who grinned a lot) and your Jubilee (whoever was wearing a yellow raincoat that day). Seriously, try to play Superman and you get a lot of fights over who's Clark and who's Lois and everyone else sort of stands around shouting for help and then you get in trouble with the teachers. For another thing, they were a family. Not just a team or an ensemble, but they had relationships like we understood - Scott and Jean were a couple, Logan and Jubilee had this parent/kid thing going on, it wasn't the vague unresolved tension between Clark and Lois. And they weren't really hiding who they were. They were mutants, and sometimes they got crap for it, but everyone knew that they were different.
But it was Spider-Man (JC forced me to correct this from "Spiderman," which is WHAT STAN LEE CALLED HIM I HAVE SEEN THE PAGE SCANS) who got me into real comics, because Bendis, as previously stated, rocks. I read Ultimate Spidey #1 through #115 in three days as JC bagged and alphabetized his collection last spring break. Peter is, above all else, a relationships man - and Bendis makes that very personal. Then I had to read some New Avengers, some Ultimate X-Men, Pulse, Runaways, Y the Last Man, Power Pack, Buffy season 8... yeah.
I haven't bothered to get into the subtleties of recent DC canon, though JC assures me they've gotten more complex, because I can't shake that childhood impression of super powers in the form of men. I like to read about men who just so happen to be super.
- RD
I grew up watching classic comic movies, like Batman and Superman, but even then I was disappointed in the static characterizations they tended to have. Also, really lame "secret" identities. Bruce Wayne's chiseled jaw was pretty distinct, even under a cowl, but a pair of glasses? Really? That's all you could come up with? And then you're photographed all the time in the newspaper you work for and they STILL don't know it's you? Are they putting stupid in the Metropolis water supply? And these guys are totally badass, why are they keeping it a secret? Bruce is a billionaire; if he came out, he'd just be seen as eccentric and he'd be asked to throw benefit parties in costume. Superman is freaking SUPERMAN. What's the point of hiding?
I used to watch the X-Men after school and I really dug it. For one thing, it was easier to play on the playground - you got your Cyclops (the bossy kid) and your Jean Grey (the prissy girl) and your Wolverine (the slightly aggressive kid who grinned a lot) and your Jubilee (whoever was wearing a yellow raincoat that day). Seriously, try to play Superman and you get a lot of fights over who's Clark and who's Lois and everyone else sort of stands around shouting for help and then you get in trouble with the teachers. For another thing, they were a family. Not just a team or an ensemble, but they had relationships like we understood - Scott and Jean were a couple, Logan and Jubilee had this parent/kid thing going on, it wasn't the vague unresolved tension between Clark and Lois. And they weren't really hiding who they were. They were mutants, and sometimes they got crap for it, but everyone knew that they were different.
But it was Spider-Man (JC forced me to correct this from "Spiderman," which is WHAT STAN LEE CALLED HIM I HAVE SEEN THE PAGE SCANS) who got me into real comics, because Bendis, as previously stated, rocks. I read Ultimate Spidey #1 through #115 in three days as JC bagged and alphabetized his collection last spring break. Peter is, above all else, a relationships man - and Bendis makes that very personal. Then I had to read some New Avengers, some Ultimate X-Men, Pulse, Runaways, Y the Last Man, Power Pack, Buffy season 8... yeah.
I haven't bothered to get into the subtleties of recent DC canon, though JC assures me they've gotten more complex, because I can't shake that childhood impression of super powers in the form of men. I like to read about men who just so happen to be super.
- RD
Ultimate Origins
The story of Captain America is that he was a scrawny kid with a gimpy leg who desperately wanted to enlist during WWII, but couldn't, so they let him test a super soldier serum so he could get big and buff and go kick Nazi ass.
In Ultimate Origins #2 (Brian Michael Bendis) there's a scene right after Steve Rogers has become Captain America where FDR comes to him and says something like, "We need you. It's not just about kicking Nazi ass; if we don't have you, we're going to have to use a bomb, a really big bomb, and cause genocide." And then Cap gets frozen in ice and even in the Marvel universe they end up using the bomb anyway.
Superheros first appeared in the 1930s, as the Nazis were coming to power. Bendis exposes the entire genre as an imaginary solution to the world wars - powerful men with moral judgment and discernment who could kick bad guy ass without damaging civilians. And he puts them in that context by comparing them to the bomb we got instead.
It's indicative of why we still find superheros important today. We see it in in Iron Man when his targeting scope picks out the bad guys so he can blast them with pinpoint shots. He's actually able to separate the terrorists from the civilians, which is something we struggle with. We want Superman rather than a smart bomb, because the smart bombs aren't smart enough.
I haven't read it, but I've been spoiled on the latest issue of Final Crisis, where Batman, the well-known hater of guns, shoots Darkseid with a gun. This seems to relate to the same idea, in that the purpose for superheros is to stand in contrast to our real-world methods of crime-fighting and war. Grant Morrison may be trying to tap into the War on Terror zeitgeist, in which people want their heroes to be willing to put personal qualms aside and pick up a gun, but it's more likely that the writer missed that essential element of superheros - they are meant to have better ways of dealing with issues. We want to see Batman winning with his wits, his batarangs, and possibly the awesome power of Legos.
- JC
In Ultimate Origins #2 (Brian Michael Bendis) there's a scene right after Steve Rogers has become Captain America where FDR comes to him and says something like, "We need you. It's not just about kicking Nazi ass; if we don't have you, we're going to have to use a bomb, a really big bomb, and cause genocide." And then Cap gets frozen in ice and even in the Marvel universe they end up using the bomb anyway.
Superheros first appeared in the 1930s, as the Nazis were coming to power. Bendis exposes the entire genre as an imaginary solution to the world wars - powerful men with moral judgment and discernment who could kick bad guy ass without damaging civilians. And he puts them in that context by comparing them to the bomb we got instead.
It's indicative of why we still find superheros important today. We see it in in Iron Man when his targeting scope picks out the bad guys so he can blast them with pinpoint shots. He's actually able to separate the terrorists from the civilians, which is something we struggle with. We want Superman rather than a smart bomb, because the smart bombs aren't smart enough.
I haven't read it, but I've been spoiled on the latest issue of Final Crisis, where Batman, the well-known hater of guns, shoots Darkseid with a gun. This seems to relate to the same idea, in that the purpose for superheros is to stand in contrast to our real-world methods of crime-fighting and war. Grant Morrison may be trying to tap into the War on Terror zeitgeist, in which people want their heroes to be willing to put personal qualms aside and pick up a gun, but it's more likely that the writer missed that essential element of superheros - they are meant to have better ways of dealing with issues. We want to see Batman winning with his wits, his batarangs, and possibly the awesome power of Legos.
- JC
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