Written
by Dennis O'Neil. Layouts by Trevor Von Eeden. Pencils by Russell Braun. Finishes by Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez.
Colours: . Letters: . Editors: .
Batman - Page Seven
Batman: Venom 1992 (SC TPB) 132 pages
Written
by Dennis O'Neil. Layouts by Trevor Von Eeden. Pencils by Russell Braun. Finishes by Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez.
Colours: . Letters: . Editors: .
Reprinting: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #15-20 (1992)
Rating: * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Distraught by his failure to save a little girl's life, Batman begins using super-steroids designed by her father -- which prove addictive and make Batman overly aggressive and unstable. After shaking off the effects, Batman pursues the scientist -- and a rogue general -- who are using the drugs as part of an unsanctioned experiment to create super soldiers.
The art for Venom is an unusual tag team, with two of the greats -- Trevor Von Eeden and Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez providing layouts and finishes, respectively, and the (to my mind) lesser known Braun the pencils. The result is striking, realist art, though Von Eeden's layouts are maybe not as eclectic as you might expect from him. It's the sort of art that in service of a great, down-to-earth tale would really enhance it. This is a "human" Batman -- who looks like a guy in a suit, more than a mysterious creature of the night.
Unfortunately, the story doesn't quite live up to the art.
Denny O'Neil is, to my mind, a problematic figure in comics. He's definitely something of a giant, generally respected --I believe -- both by peers and fans. And I'll admit, I've read some memorable stuff by him (mainly Green Lantern comics)...but my visceral reaction to seeing his by-line is a certain unenthusiasm. Too often his plots tend to be simplistic, his dialogue unmemorable, and his characterization one-dimensional. And Venom falls squarely into that category.
The premise has potential: Batman developing and then overcoming an addiction. In fact, I had some vague feeling I'd read that O'Neil himself had had a drinking problem at one point. If true, you might expect a penetrating insight into the mind of the dependent. But I just didn't really feel we got that. In fact, O'Neil might've been better to have spared a few pages to showing us Batman as a genuinely more effective crimefighter with the drugs -- so that we can understand why he might rationalize their use. Instead, he starts taking the pills...and then we jump three months to when he's basically an uncontrolled vigilante, hassling thugs for no reason.
As in his inaugural LOTDK story arc, Shaman, O'Neil seems to like playing around with time in a way that, in one of the regular titles, it would probably mess up continuity. The downside is, the numbers don't always add up. At one point there seems to be a five month gap where it's unclear what Batman was doing all that time. Or, even more peculiar, when faced with an obligatory death trap, the stated time frame seems to go from 24 hours to three days in the space of a few panels!
But the problem with Venom -- and, indeed, many of the longer LOTDK story arcs -- is it just doesn't really justify the length. The Batman-addiction thing only takes up the first half of the story, and the overall plot is pretty simple and straightforward. And the villains are basically one-dimensional, so-evil-they-ooze, bad guys. Maybe O'Neil's sense of morality means he can't bring himself to try and humanize villains, but in a 126 page saga where the villains take up an awful lot of page time, we need something more than just constantly cutting to them being evil and sleazy. It's not like mad schemes to create super soldiers are exactly a radical concept in fiction (even Alfred refers to it as "trite" at one point). Nor are the occasional supporting characters any better fleshed out.
In fact, the whole thing seems just a touch...tired. Admittedly, maybe it was fresher at the time (though I doubt it), but it seems you can scarcely pick up a Batman story without it involving Bats being driven "out of control", becoming a more brutal, undisciplined crimefighter. That's the problem -- as I've alluded to before -- with the current vision of Batman as a kind of limited personality type...there's only so many things you can do with him. Perhaps more disturbing, is that, even though it's meant as a "criticism" of his actions, they do it so often, one can't help thinking writers kind of like writing Batman this way. As well, the basic story is pretty humdrum. After Batman shakes off the drugs, and we're moving into the final confrontation, there's little to really intrigue or excite. There are no twists or turns we're anticipating.
And there's a looseness and implausibility to the plotting. The very catalyst for the story -- Batman's failure to save the girl -- itself isn't really explained. Why did the scientist arrange the kidnapping and murder of his own daughter? Simply to ensnare Batman in his plans? But that itself involves too many leaps of logic (how could he know Batman would fail, or that Batman would come to him afterward, or be so emotionally distraught he'd take the drugs -- and why, if you're trying to test super soldier drugs, would you use a guy who's already the most fit guy in Gotham?) In fact, there's a kind of narrative weakness when part of the story is showing how Batman loses his judgement when he takes the drugs...but in order to have him take the drugs, he has to act like a complete dork to begin with, not apparently noticing how odd the father is behaving!
There's a kind of emotional vacuum in Venom -- and, indeed, a lot of modern Batman stories. So determined to write Batman as this one-note obsessive, writers like O'Neil fail to really give us a complex human being. And O'Neil's bled much of the warmth out of the surrounding relationships -- Alfred now makes a lot of tart wisecracks (that aren't that funny), rather than seeming like he has a real relationship with Batman, and James Gordon insists that Batman keeps their relationship purely business. And, as noted, for a story that (at least at first) is very much intended as a character study -- I didn't feel we got any real convincing insight into Batman or addictions.
Still, I'll give O'Neil props for the climactic death trap -- ludicrously elaborate deathtraps are a staple of comics, but here, O'Neil both justifies it (the villains have a goal in mind) and comes up with a reasonably clever solution as Batman has to think his way out of it (you could almost use it in school textbook: Billy has to apply 800 pounds of pressure to point A, but...).
For continuity buffs, this also introduces the drug that would later fuel the villain, Bane, though strangely, the name Venom is used nowhere but in the title!
This is a review of the story as it was originally serialized in the mini-series.
Cover price: $__ CDN./$12.95 USA
Batman vs. Predator II: Bloodmatch 1995 (SC TPB) 144 pages
Written
by Doug Moench. Pencils by Paul Gulacy. Inks by Terry Austin.
Colours: Carla Feeny, Lovern Kindzierski. Letters: Todd Klein. Editors:
Michael Eury, Scott Peterson.
Reprinting: Batman vs. Predator II #1-4 (1994 mini-series)
Co-published by Dark Horse Comics
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Mature Readers
For more Predator see Predator vs. Magnus Robort Fighter
While a slew of hitmen are gunning for him, Batman, reluctantly teamed with the Huntress, must also face an alien Predator looking to put his head on its trophy shelf.
This is the second of what would end up being three different Batman vs. Predator mini-series (the Predators being alien big game hunters that like to hunt plucky humans, originating in a hit motion picture, and a not-so successful sequel -- but you knew that, right?). Surprisingly, with their outting, Moench and Gulacy manage to deliver a close approximation of a big budget Hollywood action movie.
I mean, I luv comics (that goes without saying) and I dig action-adventure superhero comics, but the reason I tend to focus more on story and character when evaluating what I read is because comics, being a static medium of panels and word balloons, rarely capture that kind of visceral adrenalin rush a motion picture can. That's not a criticism of comics folks, it's merely a limitation of the medium (just as movie rarely captures the same spirit, the same grandeur, the same introspection, that a good comicbook can). Yet here Moench and Gulacy come darn close, crafting action scenes that are breathless in their pacing, unnerving in their depiction of the unstoppable Predator -- even a little scary -- and generating tension within scenes and building to an exciting climax. Good stuff.
Monech throws in so many elements running about at cross purposes -- Predators (there's more n' one), various colourful hitmen, a government Task Force -- that it can make you dizzy, with the result that the action only occasionally lags. All the while he stays focused on Bats and the Huntress, remembering they're the stars. Huntress is depicted rather more scantily clad than I've seen her in other stories, but I don't know if that was Gulacy's decision, or whether I'm just not sufficiently familiar with her "look".
Gulacy's detailed, realist art is always great to look at and with his cinematographer's eye for panel composition, it's not too surprising that the story can evoke a movie at times.
Of course, this is just mindless action. Again, mimicking a Hollywood blockbuster (call me naive, but the better superhero stories usually have some depth to them). There are attempts at character bits, like Batman's conflicts with the Huntress over her more ruthless style -- conflicts that would have more weight if Batman wasn't often depicted as a guy who can be pretty rough himself. Even in this issue he does things like yanking a guy off a moving motorcycle -- by his neck. That's a move that would kill a man in real life, folks. It's an ideological debate between the two that is more style than substance.
Still, if you liked the first Predator movie, or just want lots of running about and thrashing things, this delivers the goods. It's also worth noting that it's a bit gorier than the average Batman comic, though probably not as much so as the Predator movies.
This is a review of the story as it was originally serialized in the mini-series.
Cover price: $__ CDN./$7.95 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 Batman: 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!
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 minamalism. 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! After first reading 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 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 tying 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, none really make you feel that, oh, this was the sequel Miller envisioned). As such, it remains intended as 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: 2
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.
Like a lot of Mike Barr's work, Batman: Year Two is full of big ideas, but also like a lot of his work, it fails to live up to them. The romance between Bruce and the would-be nun Rachel Caspian is kind of perfunctory, and precious little background is given to the Reaper. Why has he pursued his vendetta with such ruthlessness? Why did he disappear for 20 years? Where was he?
But the biggest weakness comes with Batman himself. In his introduction to the 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?
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 has ever postulated the obvious: Batman doesn't carry a gun because Batman hates guns -- hates them with an almost pathological avversion. 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 would stagge 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 some 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?
Furthermore, Batman doesn't seem all that unsure: Batman immediately identifies the Reaper as a villain, and uses his gun Lone Ranger-style simply to shoot the weapons out of his opponent's hands. In other words, this is the familiar, good-guy Batman, not a callow Batman who hasn't figured out where the line is between justified and unjustified violence. It's his planning to avenge himself on Chill that seems out of character...as well as his alliance with the underworld. These are the most crucial elements of the story, technically, motivationally and thematically, and they never seem convincing. Too much times is wasted on fight scenes that should have been turned over to delineating the characters and their thinking.
Artwise, the Alan Davis/Paul Neary combo of the first issue is pretty good, showing solid technique and a good sense of composition (when to use close-ups, long shots, the proper angles, etc.). Todd 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.
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 mobster, 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 a murder he committed decades before, is replaced by Chill-as-killer-for-hire. Likewise, Barr's curter writing of the confrontation scene is actually less emotionally charged than the one penned back in '48. And this new Leslie Thompkins lacks the simple humanity of the original. 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, another mythos-shaking took place, and I don't know if Batman: Year Two is part of the current Batman lore anymore itself.
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 couple of times). Barr and Davis later reunited for a sequel, Batman: Full Circle.
Cover price: $12.95 CDN./$9.95 USA
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