Lower Decks

One of the truly interesting things about being around for this era of comic books, either its first hundred years or during a really interesting fad, is that you get to see just how the iconic characters are handled. Everyone knows what ended up happening to such fictional figures as King Arthur and Robin Hood, how they ended up standing the test of time and formed certain standard tales around themselves. Greek myth is filled with that sort of thing, too, with the most famous example, ‘The Iliad’ and its sequel ‘The Odyssey’ either based, like Arthur, in historic fact, or filled with an cast of characters forever frozen in a sequence that’s helped serve as the basis of modern storytelling. It makes you wonder just what might happen to superheroes like Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and Captain America. Batman seems to have the leg up on his contemporaries, if you don’t mind my saying.

The Dark Knight Detective certainly has his share of ancestor archetypes, but has at this point proven to be an entirely viable legacy all his own, famous as much for his legacy as for one of the most enduring “reputation” characters yet created. As a boy Bruce Wayne saw his parents murdered, and forever became motivated to fight the criminal element that shattered his world. He adopted an outlandish identity that has never exactly been deemed ridiculous, even though only the movies have ever routinely gone with a color scheme that might in real life make it really work (there was a brief period in the 1990s where black replaced the blue and gray). He took on a series of teenage partners, the most famous example of a trend that eventually birthed the standalone hero type exemplified by Spider-Man, in an effort by creators to help young readers better identify with what they were spending all their money on. Instead of evolving into a standard, Robin eventually became an entirely working phenomenon of its own, a succession of characters carrying on the role, sometimes moving on to new identities, sometimes even replacing Wayne as Batman.

That’s the thing about reading comics, though. Fans seldom realize just what they’re really dealing with. When death proves an elusive conclusion, it may have less to do with creators who can’t let go of the past and more to do with characters and stories that really are keeping something fresh, ensuring a legacy. Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Sherlock Holmes years before many of his most famous stories were told. If he hadn’t followed the whims and desires of his fans, it’s likely we wouldn’t know about Holmes today. Death is an impermanent thing because the ideal is to tell stories that don’t depend on a single continuity. Whether repeating the same stories (which is why Batman’s famous origin is among his most enduring) or screwing around with continuity and timeline, that’s what creators do to keep the Dark Knight relevant. When Frank Miller had a look into Batman’s future, he actually made his past that much more important. Establishing a crusty old man who refused to give up the fight, he made readers wonder just how fatally dedicated Wayne really was to his mission.

One of the things the comics avoid but the movies frequently focus on is the odd (though common) twist of the character, that Batman really is Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy. It’s not just an origin that explains why someone who seems to have every reason to ignore the real world in almost every sense would submerge himself so completely in the dirty details. Whether Tim Burton envisions a remote Wayne who’s only truly interested when he’s (admittedly still quite silently) cracking heads under the cowl, forever haunted by the violent deaths of his parents, or Christopher Nolan explaining how Wayne’s fortune in practical ways helps make the evolution of Batman possible, the movies are forced in singular ways to reconcile both halves of the character in ways the comics can forever dance around, with readers who are more interested in following the Caped Crusader on his never-ending quest for justice in a world populated by a variety of foes who have become almost as famous as he is.

The Joker has been featured quite prominently in two of these films, and the extreme contrast and interpretations of Jack Nicholson and the late Heath Ledger are a testament to the appeal of the psychopathic clown still lacking a definitive origin, a testament to his prominence in comics since the 1980s, when he killed the second Robin and crippled the first Batgirl. It’s this ability to craft a true mythology around himself that has helped Batman become so continuously important to comics and modern culture, a mythology that refuses to remain stagnant. If it was only ever the origin that seemed important, or just the reputation that he enjoys among his fictional peers (few writers have ever truly tried to capture what affect Batman truly has among the ordinary citizens of Gotham City), the Dark Knight might be subject to the same whims as Blue Beetle or the Question, a succession of incarnations and perennial supporting character status. This isn’t to say there’s something wrong with Blue Beetle or the Question, only that they cannot reasonably be compared, at this point, to the lasting appeal of Batman.

I read a review recently of the ‘Watchmen’ film that said its story was one that adopted the central conceit of Batman, not of comics in general but Batman, and whether that was something that can be explained by a lack of depth in the critic or an opinion that might actually matter, is irrelevant. ‘Watchmen’ as a graphic novel was called by ‘Time’ magazine one of the hundred best pieces of literature from the twentieth century. It was derived from a desire to take familiar characters and tell a complete story, which basically makes it Miller’s ‘Dark Knight Returns’ and ‘Batman: Year One’ rolled into one (perhaps with ‘All Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder,’ still maddeningly incomplete at this point, thrown in as well). In fact, Alan Moore had intended to use the Question and Blue Beetle in his cast, and Captain Atom, and other characters derived from a dead company (much as Alex Ross has been doing with ‘Project Superpowers,’ or J. Michael Straczynski with Marvel’s seemingly permanently interrupted ‘The Twelve’), but ended up thinly replaced them with surrogate characters, so that the Question became Rorschach, Blue Beetle became Night Owl, and Captain Atom became Dr. Manhattan, for example. Now that ‘Watchmen’ has been enshrined as a classic, it’s become increasingly unlikely that Rorschach or Dr. Manhattan will be revisited, certainly not by Moore, or anyone else while Moore is alive, but imagine the day coming when the taboo is lifted, and an entire world of heroes like Batman can be explored as a continuing story. (Incidentally, DC is now in the midst of producing ‘First Wave,’ a comic that is going to feature that sort of concept, Batman sharing the stage with other characters much like him, the Spirit and Doc Savage among them.)

What sets Batman apart from even other superheroes who lack powers is his constant ingenuity, the fact that he has to rely on his own resources, whether material or mental, in his adventures. That’s where some of that formidable reputation comes into play, how he crafted himself to cause fear or even in a group of his peers remain distinct. Bruce Wayne became an embodiment of what he thought was necessary to change the world, and whether it was a personal sacrifice or an example of a modern renaissance man, it hardly seems to matter to him. Grant Morrison is a writer who seems to completely understand what it means to integrate both what it means to be Batman and the effect he has on the world, which certainly wouldn’t be as much possible with all the history the writer continually draws on, but doesn’t hurt that he’s able to tap into it so casually. Morrison and Miller are two of Batman’s modern creators who’ve helped make it look easy to craft a working, living example of what makes the character so iconic, so enduring, what keeps him so relentlessly relevant. Maybe in another hundred years because of their efforts Batman’s origin won’t be the single most important story. Who knows? But they might be the reasons he’s still around, still remembered, perhaps still very active.

It’s hard to be a fan of comics and remain objective, because this is a medium that evokes and demands a lot of passion, what basically keeps the whole show running. There’s a lot of pressure just to admit how silly the whole thing is, even with examples of how much appeal there really is to it. It’s still considered “low culture,” even though it taps into elements that’ve been accepted as “high culture” for centuries, millennia even. How does a character like Batman become as lasting as Hercules? By building and sustaining an audience, and a mythology all his own. From Crime Alley to Commissioner Gordon to “Knightfall,” the Dark Knight, famous for his detective skills and attaining the peak physical and fighting condition, has been hard at work at his own labors for decades now.

For everything that drives fans crazy today, for all the characters they follow, the companies they support and the creators they hold in high esteem, the end result is immortality. Batman stands poised for that sort of thing.