Batman and Robin: Arcs #2 and #3

Do you like puzzles? If you follow the adventures of the world's greatest detective, then you probably do.

A story I read a long time ago (in Reader's Digest, of all places) said that a woman was walking down the hallway of her all-female dorm after taking a shower and suddenly realized that a man heading the other way was going to see her naked, and her towel was too small to cover her body. So she covered -- her face. Clever strategy to avoid being exposed. At least in one sense.

I think creators often do much the same thing in interviews, covering part of the mystery of their upcoming stories while giving away clues that don't say too much. But they "move the towel", so to speak, from one interview to another, and if you compare interviews from months apart you sometimes get to match the face with the body. So to speak.

I have been reading all of the public information on Grant Morrison's plans for Batman and Robin and found a lot of pieces of information that fit together -- or nearly so. He is quite forthright that the first year will consist of four arcs of about three issues each (in one place, he says that there were 13 issues plotted, so maybe one arc is longer, or maybe the 12 issues are followed by 1).

A lot of the details of what is to come are out there to be pieced together. In general terms, we can say what the set up is likely to be for the remaining issue of the first arc, plus the second and third arcs.

The fourth arc sounds like it will be extremely important, and full of connections to things we've seen in the past. To keep this post manageable, I will discuss the next eight issues of Batman and Robin and defer the analysis of the fourth arc for another post. It's well off in the future, anyway.

We have most of the first arc in our hands already: Dick and Damian are contending with the Circus of the Strange of Professor Pyg, and also with one another. We know that this will conclude in the next issue. It may work the Joker into the art, if not the story. (The circus carefully matches the one from Alan Moore's memorable The Killing Joke. Morrison also said that he would like to see Frank Quitely's rendition of the Joker, and Quitely is going on hiatus for the next six issues, although he'll be back later.) We know that Batman and Robin #3 will have a lot of interesting loose ends to tie up: Batman has to get his Robin back while confronting the dangerous psychotic Professor Pyg.

But there's more. A number of telling phrases tie the first arc to the second. Morrison says that the story has "a"bigger mystery, involving a character called the Domino Killer." Given that we've see dominoes already (one found on a dead man, or toad), this Domino Killer is behind the scenes. The solicit for #3 refers to a "mysterious red-hooded vigilante". Now watch the puzzle pieces fit together:

The second preview panel seen on the last page of #1 shows a man in a red hood. So does the art accompanying the solicit for #4, which states that "the Red Hood and his sidekick Scarlet" are "Gotham City's vicious new 'protectors'".

In an interview, Morrison says that the main villain of the second arc is "a character I've wanted to work with for a long time and I think we've come up with a cool new take on his M.O."

In an entirely different interview, Morrison says of his upcoming run "we’ll being seeing Jason Todd in a different role than we’ve seen him before. But it’s a continuation of the Battle for the Cowl story..." Note that Jason Todd did not appear in Morrison's earlier work on Batman, except in extremely brief mentions. So he is a character that Morrison has not worked with before, matching the earlier quotation.

Any questions? Clearly all of these pieces fit together if the second arc is about Jason Todd taking up the role of the Red Hood (which he already did during Under The Hood) and is a vigilante killing criminals, and who already did so by killing Toad in #2, off-camera. Given the modest amount that we already know about the third and fourth arcs of Batman and Robin, it's highly likely -- but I can't say certain -- that these pieces will fit together.

Another tidbit: dominoes as a clue? Toad's suitcase that he collected after a drug deal was full of them. But he asked, in circus slang for money ("dinari", a word which reminds me personally of the Book of Revelation 6:6, which uses the word "denarius" for money; and Revelation was referenced in Batman #666. Hmmm.). Translation: He thought the briefcase was full of money and the dominoes were a double-cross. By the same vigilante who left the domino in his hand before killing him in #2. Is the significance possibly that the vigilante used to wear a domino mask? Former Robin, hint hint? Or that he's calling out the current Batman for belonging in a domino mask? Robins everywhere here.

All of these clues do point to one thing, but that said, the same thing could be revealed in one panel and it still leaves us with 2.95 issues worth of unspoiled mystery as the second arc pits Dick Grayson against Jason Todd.

The third arc also has clues pointing to the involvement of a spotlight "guest" character from the Batman Family, so upfront they maybe aren't clues. The third preview panel on the last page of #1 shows the new version of Batwoman, and Morrison has said "I want to do a Batman/Batwoman team-up. That’s something I’ve been wanting for a long time." Looks like he's going to get what he wants. But the action in that preview panel is hard to interpret. It seems like Dick and Kathy are fighting, but then heroes often fight for a page before teaming up. It's just the way they are. A ghostly Batman (Bruce leaps to mind as a suspect) is watching. It's also interesting that Morrison has said "Greg [Rucka]'s doing Batwoman over in Detective Comics, and her story doesn't really touch on what we're doing here." I'll believe my eyes, though -- maybe the Detective story doesn't touch on this third arc, but she sure the heck is going to be in it.

Dick and Batwoman have some history: They fought side by side in 52, with Dick in his Nightwing identity. But there's also the ambiguous history of the original Batwoman with the same secret identity of Kathy Kane (but a different Kathy Kane!). The original (first seen in Detective #233) was a circus performer (like Dick) who later became wealthy (as, though a different means, did Dick). Note also that in Batman #682, Morrison uses a flashback to show us young Dick reflecting on his heartbroken mentor's situation, "I was a circus kid. I knew about Katy Kane, but what was I supposed to say to Bruce?" Given the old history, this line may mean that he knew Katy Kane personally (and know something less than good about her character), not just that he knows circus people in general. Anyway, this is all so pregnant with possibility as the new Batwoman and Dick meet, and maybe the old Batwoman is somehow reconciled with the new one. At the very least, if two superheroes had the same hero name and real name and one other person knows both of them, you'd expect him to at least mention it.

So it appears that Jason Todd and Kathy Kane (at least one of her) will provide the guest-star focus for the next two story arcs in Morrison's bat-saga. There will be much more to say (or speculate) about the fourth arc, because it is likely going to bring back two characters who each have a tremendous past to live up to: Doctor Hurt, the villain of Batman RIP (and depending upon how you look at it, the main villain of all time), and one other character who has been known to impact Batman stories over the years -- Bruce Wayne.

Original interviews:

Comic Book Resources

IGN

Wizard Universe

Golden Age Review

Even though the first run of the Justice Society finished before my Dad entered high school, some of the earliest comics I bought featured the JSA. DC enthusiastically reprinted Golden Age stories in the Seventies, and though I often found the art to be smudgier and less fun than Silver Age artwork, I was familiar with the Justice Society, and yet I felt like an outsider to their world. With new Justice League comics coming out every month, I knew the names, home cities, and powers of the JLA members by heart, while the limited volume of JSA stories coming my way left many of the Golden Agers a bit foreign to me.

Newer stories of the JSA (Seventies Revival and onward, including many Elseworlds of high quality) gave me more and more to read about them, but the original was still strange to me -- until lately. In the last few months, I have read the great proportion of all DC superhero stories from the very beginning up through early 1941. Armed with this new familiarity, I'd like to review the original JSAers, from their debuts up through the first two JSA stories.

Sandman: With a debut barely after Batman's, millionaire Wesley Dodds was one of the original masked crimefighters in comic books. The Sandman character obviously did not have the endurance that Batman has enjoyed (no billion-dollar movies lately). With the benefit of hindsight, it is probable that the awkward suits worn by the Sandman and the even-earlier Crimson Avenger were a creative mistake in the eyes of readers. Indeed, both the Crimson and Sandman switched to colorful tights a few years later, but by that time, there was no catching up to the popularity of the Caped Crusader. And yet, the early Sandman stories were marked by a cinematic flair, with the last panel often showing panache and humor not easy to find in comics of the era. Another part of the winning formula of Batman that was not utilized by Sandman was the character-flawed secret identity. While Bruce Wayne was famously vapid and without focus in life, Wesley Dodds was gallant in his own skin, and often began or finished cases out of costume. His galpal Dian Belmont was a fixture in his stories, creating a Girl Friday formula that never caught on for the most successful superheroes, but added style to the Sandman. His adventures started off as standard detective fare, but soon after he became the oldest charter member of the JSA (debuting 6 months before any of the rest), he was involved in science fiction plots, in one story saving the planet from destruction, a feat that neither Superman nor Batman had on their resumes at that point in time.

The Flash: DC's second superhero with science-based powers was the first to be revived when Barry Allen visited him in 1961. Jay Garrick was also the third-most popular DC character in the early going, winning a solo title that ran over 100 issues. The Flash's stories were more light-hearted than that of most superheroes -- if one sets aside the pure slapstick of the Red Tornado and Johnny Thunder. And yet, many early Flash villains die at story's end, and Jay Garrick is not always without blame. Ironically, the Flash is the first superhero to be regarded as law-abiding, buddying up with the police when his four antecedents were all vigilantes who often (but easily) evaded arrest. Barry Allen's costume fixed the conceptual flaw of giving a character that runs really fast a loose helmet.

Hawkman: The combination of reincarnation, anti-gravity, shirtlessness, and ancient weapons are four facets I might never have thought to combine. But Hawkman, arguably the first flying superhero, got the job done with brutal efficiency. Executing his opponents left and right, Carter Hall differed from Batman in always setting out on a case with just one weapon instead of a beltful, and yet he always chose correctly. (If you're going to get a good whack at an opponent's head, a scimitar does just as good a job as a mace, I think.) The suggestion of a sex life with Shiera was pretty close to the surface, so overall, Hawkman was a pretty raucous series featuring a lot of action and drama with very little humor.

Johnny Thunder: Although he was possibly the most powerful "hero" to date, Johnny Thunder was pure comic relief, because he didn't know that he had power at first, and didn't know how to control it when he figured it out. While he fights crime at times, he more often is trying to win over his erstwhile girlfriend Daisy Darling, and wins a boxing championship along the way. The slapstick tone would arguably disqualify him (as well as Ma Hunkel's Red Tornado) from consideration as a superhero, but by landing a spot on the JSA (which thereby acquired his slapstick nature, at first), he is remembered that way.

Spectre: It's worth noting that Jerry Siegel followed up Superman by creating, less than two years later, a character who was even more powerful! When a policeman was killed and returned to life (yes, this was before Will Eisner's Spirit) comics got a hero so powerful that they hardly knew what to do with him. His stories usually lack drama as to whether or not he will succeed and more about taking you into the psychological terror of the criminals who earn his unstoppable wrath. I was as pleasantly shocked as any contemporary reader when one of his cases facing mortal mobsters suddenly threw him face to face with Zor, a wizard who was nearly his equal (and much more comfortable with his powers). I knew Zor from the opposite end of DC history, Grant Morrison's Seven Soldiers, which banishes Zor to an unenviable fate after he'd earlier tangled with Zatanna. When the Spectre encounters yet more supernatural foes who give him a challenge, he acquires (from God?) the Ring of Life, and easily one-ups them. As an indication of the weak sense of continuity of the time, he actually acquires the Ring of Life in two different stories, both times as though it were for the first time. Oddly enough, Jim Corrigan tailored his "uniform" with physical materials in its first appearance although it was later shown that he was easily capable of doing just about anything at will.

Hourman: I always thought Hourman was a great concept, especially the look of the character. Indeed, he was one of the spotlight characters in the JSA revival decades later. But he was unheralded in his first run and essentially kicked off the team (given a "leave of absence") for one simple, regretable reason: The early Hourman stories weren't very good. The continuity was jaw-droppingly inconsistent (Rex Tyler's own boss was revealed as a master criminal in one issue, but was back as though nothing had happened in the next). The sense of aesthetics, aside from the art, was terribly flawed: Hourman called himself publicly the incredibly un-heroic name 'Tick Tock Tyler' even though it was supposed to be a secret that he was Rex Tyler. I cannot explain the logic of revealing one's last name while trying to maintain a secret identity. Of course, it's even less logical that you would choose a name that reveals your one weakness. And as what was likely the death blow for the character, he became the head of an army of boy assistants, the Minute Men of America. Sounded like a good idea at the time? Hourman debuted the same month as Robin, the Boy Wonder, so sidekicks were in vogue. But he lost popularity quickly, and I think it's for the reasons I have listed.

Doctor Fate: Although a cool concept, Doctor Fate started off as a poor man's Spectre, appearing in the same magazine (More Fun Comics) with fewer pages per issue. Although he was a magician, he often used magic to produce science (eg, nuclear radiation). Unlike the Spectre, he always matched up against enemies whose power rivaled his own, who usually attacked him first and put him on the defensive. Every story involved his platonic female associate Inza, who was defined as the embodiment of real-world existence countering Doctor Fate's purely aethereal operations out of a tower in Salem, Massachusetts. While the Kent Nelson identity came later, he was said early on to be "not human... never a child", having been a creation of the elder gods. I'm glad the elder gods liked primary color uniforms.

Green Lantern: Alan Scott, soon to be the fourth hero to win a solo title, launched a concept that has stood the test of time. The atrocious costume (justified in his first story as something no one could forget) was an inevitable casualty of the Silver Age reboot. But the Green Lantern, whose power came mysteriously from outer space by way of China and an insane asylum definitely looked powerful. Charging into fights with his broad chest and throwing punches that were apparently powered by the ring, the first Green Lantern didn't create artistic constructs to fight with -- he just blasted injustice away. He also vied with Hourman as the first hero to have his signature weakness overused as a plot device. I don't know how many gangsters in the real world would try to use a wooden club on the head of a guy who was bullet-proof, but in GL's world, the idea seemed to come naturally. He was the first superhero to appear unambiguously by name ("a superman" may be a common noun) in the pages of another's story (providing the inspiration for the Red Tornado, who appeared in the same title, All American Comics).

Atom: There's never been a faster track to the top. Al Pratt only appeared in costume the month before he was included in the first meeting of the Justice Society. The first Atom story is not in any sense a superhero story: It is simply the story of a small college student who trains his physique and is rewarded by humiliating those who teased him. In summary, the Charles Atlas ad drawn out to six pages. But he begins to fight crime with a mask one issue later and goes about his task with determination -- after all, he's trying to impress a girl.

I always hated to come into a story late. Getting to know the JSA from their original stories gives me the feeling of at last being an insider to a great lineup of heroes who appeared in some of the first comics I ever owned.

A fan's not a fan if he's not giving opinions, so to list my favorite JSAers, on the basis of these original stories alone, I would name the Spectre, Green Lantern, Hawkman, and Sandman -- probably in that order. While Green Lantern is perhaps the most like modern superheroes in his manner of operating, the other three capture some of the cinematic elements of their time -- noir, adventure, romance. These stories can come alive today and take the reader on a trip back in time to the era that first needed, and therefore created, superheroes -- and lots of them.

Wicked

This weekend, I saw the musical Wicked, which creates a backstory for the good and wicked witches in The Wizard of Oz, which eventually turns into a sidestory that runs parallel to the events in the movie, with many scenes that take place at the same time as events in the original film (and story) without duplicating any of the original in a strict sense. I have no reason to give away the plot here, but I will note that while the original Wizard ends up revealing that the "Oz" portion of the story was just a dream, Wicked is set in a world where the Oz story is real, but it provides more detail (and some surprises) regarding events in Oz. It never touches upon the "just a dream" aspect.

This musical theatre offering may seem utterly off-topic for a blog about superhero comic books, and it's possible that quite few of the people who like one would like the other, but there is a fundamental connection in subject matter (beings with amazing powers interacting with normal people). The stronger reason for me mentioning it is that like some of the best products of the superhero genre, it is a relatively well-developed, popular, and highly profitable work of art based upon an original work that is much thinner than the derivative. Look at the witches plot of The Wizard of Oz (stripping aside the other more elaborate plots and parables that are not utilized; Dorothy is not seen except in brief silhouette in Wicked) and you see nothing but the barest of precepts for Wicked -- much as if you read the six-page Batman story in Detective #27 and tried to discern the basis for the billion-dollar grossing Dark Knight film that came seventy years later.

The two cases are far from identical: Batman's debut launched a decades-long serial that had thousands of installments in various media before The Dark Knight came along. Clearly, the Nolan Batman films were not drawn simply from Detective #27 -- there is more influence from The Long Halloween, Batman Year One, The Dark Knight Returns and other landmark works in the original genre. The Wizard of Oz is not a serial, so Wicked had only the original to draw upon (in fact, there is reference, much of it for laughs, to such outlying topics as The War on Terror that date the musical according to its 2003 premiere).

But the better Batman works such as The Dark Knight Returns and The Dark Knight also draw upon real-world, grown-up, real life to fill the pages and the frames, and are interesting, certainly to a broad audience, precisely because they speak to those concerns. If they are comic-booky, they are comic-booky not greatly more so than The Godfather or a Martin Scorsese film, providing a fictional and only-so-realistic narrative to make us think about, or at least thrill to, real issues. Wicked does this, too, bringing in philosophic food -- or snack food -- that isn't to be found anywhere in the original, and the relative nature of goodness merges our childhood experience of rooting for Dorothy and against the witch with a credible tale of how the Wicked Witch is actually the best person around, with flaws and crimes that are easy to understand; certainly no worse a person than the good witch, and certainly less flawed except in being green. Wicked also adds a layer of logic to the original, doing something with the visually obvious fact from the original, that the witch is the same color as the city of dreams, and not by coincidence.

When I have contemplated The Dark Knight Returns, and in general all graphic novels that made the superhero genre seem worth serious thought, I have wondered if the exercise, besides being fun, is really warranted. Yes, it is possible to add depth to those stories, but what is it about the original that seems to call for such a treatment? A great story could be written around Dennis the Menace or Humpty Dumpty, but it would only be great by taking a great story and stapling it onto the very thin premise of the original. Giving the Frank Miller touch to something as light as Peanuts is possible, but is (perhaps inevitably) laughable: See this brilliant parody for a demonstration. A social critic might ask why see any benefit in having a great story be grounded in childhood stories. Arguably, The Dark Knight Returns would be just as relevant -- or more so -- if it followed a retired cop who got fed up with the world and returned to his duty though he had never worn a pointy-eared mask in his youth.

That's a philosophical question. In terms of hard cold cash, we have to observe that The Dark Knight was a great material success, far beyond just about any movie that was ever made about any non-comic-book characters. Wicked has been similarly successful in its world, winning Tony Awards and rolling up impressive totals, including some all-time records, in ticket sales. This doesn't make them the best film and musical of all time. There are those who will jeer and say that they aren't even particularly good. Opinions will differ. But there does appear to be a demand to see a story from our childhood come alive in adult terms when we are adults. Little wonder -- that's in general the story of life.