Building a Better Batman: Grant Morrison's First Year on Batman

Grant Morrison has been the writer on Batman for a little over a year now and, soon, the Bat-books will launch into a two-month crossover concerning the resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul. So, that begs the question, how was Morrison's first year (11 issues) on the book?

Batman & Son (#655-658)

Seven of the 11 issues so far have been drawn by Andy Kubert and all I've got to say is "meh." He's wildly inconsistent in that some panels look amazing and others look like something my friends and I churned out in the seventh grade. Besides specific criticisms/comments, that's all I really feel I need to mention about Kubert's art.

Actually, I should also add that it does fit the book. Normally, I would demand a higher class of artist for a Morrison book, but Morrison's approach here is much more traditional than his work elsewhere, so Kubert's art isn't entirely out of place. On my first read of these issues, I was much more put off than my reread these past couple of days, especially in this first arc.

It begins with a bang--quite literally, as Batman shoots in the Joker in the face. But, before that, Morrison gives the Joker a fantastic line: "I DID IT! / I FINALLY KILLED BATMAN! / IN FRONT OF A BUNCH OF VULNERABLE, DISABLED KIDS!!!!" While we don't know it quite yet, this is Morrison's last hurrah for the Joker we currently know and love.

We don't realise that this isn't really Batman lying beaten and bloody until he draws a gun and says "DIE." only to shoot the Joker with the real Batman a few seconds too late to stop it from happening. However, this fits with the larger arc of Batman here as he is ineffectual at times, often resulting in the (seeming) deaths of characters. Except the Joker isn't dead here (somehow). And, thus, Batman throws him in a dumpster.

This issue is devoted to Morrison bringing back the playboy millionaire Bruce Wayne as Alfred insists he relearn that role and Commissioner Gordan suggests he leave his "comfort zone" of Gotham. Meaning, let's head to London for some African charity thing. The charity event is interesting as it takes place at an art gallery where the exhibition is devoted to comic book pop art, which is used magnificantly in part two of the story where the pieces of art in the background often work with or comment on what's happening in the comic.

The first page of issue 656 has Jezebel Jet, a beautiful model approaching Bruce Wayne with the piece of art behind her depicting a wide-eyed person and a thought balloon that says "WOW!" When the ninja Man-Bats attack, Bruce looks up at them and a piece of art has a frightened person yelling "YIKES!" Batman enters the fray, jumping at a Man-Bat with a picture of a city much like Gotham behind him, symbolically leaving his home to fight here, almost like it were a teleporation window or something similarly comic booky. Batman punches a Man-Bat and the woman in the picture yells "OUCH!" He fires his grappling hook with a giant "BLAM!" right behind him. When more Man-Bats arrive from above, there's a picture of a man shouting "LOOK! UP IN THE SKY..." Right before the Man-Bats hit Batman, an army man yelling "INCOMING!" Batman's inner monologue says "FROM TWO STORIES BELOW ME COMES A SOUND LIKE A 21-GUN SALUTE." with a piece of art that just has RATATATRATATAT repeated.

I'm sure I missed a couple of references, but it adds a whole other dimension to the action and I'm not sure if that was Morrison or Kubert's idea. I'm inclined to give credit to Morrison just because he chose the location, but, either way, Kubert lays it out in such a manner as to accentuate these background pictures. As well, if there's one thing Kubert can do, it's action, which this entire issue is pretty much.

An interesting technique used by Morrison is the narration by Batman, which is something he had avoided in his previous work with the character (excluding some JLA moment) as Timothy Callahan points out in his book on Morrison when discussing Arkham Asylum and Gothic. (Callahan's book, by the way, is Grant Morrison: The Early Years. I got it last week and read all of it except for the Doom Patrol section as I want to get the rest of Morrison's run on that book before reading Callahan's thoughts on it. The book itself is a fantastic read and a thought-provoking, in-depth look at Morrison's five well-known early works Zenith, Arkham Asylum, Animal Man, Doom Patrol and Gothic. You should definitely get a copy and I'll probably wind up referencing Callahan a lot as a result of his discussion of Morrison's early Batman work, as well as the three columns he spent discussing issue 663-665 of this run over at Sequart.) The narration doesn't actually begin until the Man-Bats attack, signifying the shift from Bruce Wayne to Batman. Callahan argues that Morrison avoided the technique in the past as, at the time (late '80s), it was such a cliched and overused technique because of Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns. However, its inclusion here relates to Morrison's current take on Batman, which is the inclusion of all past incarnations of the character. As Callahan points out by quoting Geoff Klock, Morrison doesn't use continuity in a traditional sense where writers often focus on making sure characters are portrayed in-line with recent depictions (such as post-Crisis), he utilises every depiction of the character, which is why nearly every story in his year on the book so far relies on or alludes to past, usually pre-Crisis or seemingly out-of-continuity stories. In a way, despite 52's creation of a new multiverse, Morrison's take on the character relates strongly to his concept of Hypertime where every story ever told actually happened--even stuff like the bleak '80s that Morrison seemed to dislike so much at the time, which means the Batmonologue is back.

The main thrust of this opening arc is the reintroduction of Batman and Talia's son, Damian, who Batman is given at the end of issue 656. The couple's child originally appeared in a seemingly out-of-continuity graphic novel where the two had sex and the child was put up for adoption. Ever since, DC has denied it as being part of the character's official history. But, as I just said, everything is in play as far as Morrison is concerned. And, as we find out here and in issue 666, Morrison alters Damian's past to make it so he was grown in an artificial womb and then trained by the League of Assassins. So, while everything is in play, Morrison still recognises the need to make sure it all works together as a cohesive whole.

With issue 657, Morrison begins to play with an old theme of his while writing Batman: fatherhood. In Arkham Asylum, he was concerned primarily with mothers, but fathers played a role there as when Batman does a word association, his reponse to "father" is "death." In Gothic, fathers are referenced much more as Thomas Wayne actually speaks to him in a recording, which helps him. Or, even in JLA: Earth 2, the relationship between Owlman and the Thomas Wayne of the alternate Earth is contrasted when Batman and the rest of the JLA cross over. Here, Morrison pushes that theme further and does something new by still using fatherhood as a major theme, but with Batman/Bruce Wayne in the father role. Actually, it first pops in #655 with some small interplay between Bruce and Tim, who he adopted as his own son in the previous arc under James Robinson, I believe.

In 657, the question of what kind of father Batman is becomes more prevelent with the inclusion of Damian at the mansion. Damian and Tim immediately becomes rivals as Damian sees Tim as a threat for his father's legacy and, most likely, love. Tim also feels threatened as he questions Batman about their relationship, which Batman says won't change, but Tim rushes off in a huff nonetheless.

The first test of his fatherhood ends with Batman at his most frightening and angry, which is the also the first time we see Damian not insolent and challenging. However, we soon learn that Damian escaped from his room and beheaded a mediocre supervillain only to return to the Batcave to challenge Tim. Initially, Tim makes an effort with Damian, reflecting the way Batman wants him to act, while Damian is aggressive and attacks Tim. The defing moment of why Tim is obviously the true heir to the Batman mantle comes when he saves Damian from being eaten by the giant dinosaur in the Batcave only to have Damian knock him off the dinosaur and send him crashing down to the bottom of the cave. The issue ends with Damian in a Robin costume with the addition of a white ninja hood and Tim in a broken heap on the floor of the Batcave, in between glass display cases of costumes. While the cases at the end of the issue don't depict it, the panel where Tim falls has the top of the case containing Jason Todd's costume (I assume--as we can only see the domino mask), which would have made for a much stronger final image, alluding to the fate of Tim's predecessor and the idea that Damian may, in fact, replace Tim as Robin--semingly by killing him.

While this is the first time Morrison has played with the idea of Batman as a father figure, it isn't the first time Batman has been as such, obviously. Of particular interest, though, is the relationship between Tim and his other "brother," Dick Grayson. I'm not familiar with their entire relationship, but, from what I know, his relationship with Damian here is quite different. Namely, Tim plays the role of the older brother, most likely acting in a similar manner to Dick. While he expresses signs of jealousy to Batman in private, when dealing with Damian directly, he is nothing but friendly and encouraging, trying to make Damian feel at home as much as possible. But, unlike the way Tim no doubt responded to Dick, Damian reacts with violence and sees Tim as a threat rather than a big brother. Tim is the adopted son, while Damian is the biological and was raised on the stories of his father and his greatness. The adopted/biological difference is also a big one as when Dick and Tim first met, Tim still had a father and Dick is not Bruce's biological son, so both were in much more similar positions than Tim and Damian here. Or something like that.

The final issue of "Batman & Son" is entitled "Absent Fathers," referring to Batman not being in Damian's life until recently, the fact that Ra's Al Ghul is dead which prompts Talia's actions at the end of the issue, Bruce's dead father (who is mentioned) and even Tim's dead father who Batman now replaces albeit not in this issue as he leaves Tim at the mansion to recover while going off to fight Talia with Damian in tow, symbolically chosing Damian as his son over Tim in this instance.

The plot is basically, Talia has kidnapped the wife of the British PM in an effort to extort him into turning over Gibraltar to her, and Batman must stop her. The issue begins with Batman and Alfred tending to Tim as Damian does his best to ingratiate himself with his father by pleading to help, revealing Talia's plan.

Batman and Damian arrive, beat up a bunch of ninja Man-Bats and Talia tells Batman that what she really wants is the three of them to be a family. She will give up her legacy as the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul and devote all of her resources to helping Batman's war on crime. He refuses and she blows up the submarine they are on. The issue ends with Batman on the shore and holding the ninja cowl Damian was wearing, which washed up on the shore.

This introductary arc does a couple of things:

1) It introduces the idea that everything we've ever known about Batman is now in-play no matter when it happened.

2) It sets the tone of Morrison's run as much more traditional and action-oriented than one would expect. His work here is more in line with Gothic than Arkham Asylum, which is interesting as the latter is much more known than the former.

That is, until the next issue...

The Clown at Midnight (#663)

First off, here is Tim Callahan's analysis of this issue. I'm trying my best not to steal any of my ideas from him, so forgive me if things get repeated.

When I first read this issue, I wasn't that impressed. I thought it was decent, but nothing special. Like most of the run, this second reading turned things around.

"The Clown at Midnight" is a complete left turn from the sort of stories contained in the first arc and seems a conscious attempt on Morrison's part to recognise Arkhama Asylum and, at the same time, move past it. The issue is told entirely in prose with odd drawings by John Van Fleet that are partially computer generated, specifically the people. It is reminiscent of Dave McKean's art, but also distinct because of the obvious computer elements.

Morrison's choice of prose is interesting. As Callahan points out, it allows him to tell this story in a single issue instead of over several, which I think is purposeful in the allusion to Arkham as it was also a single book. But, also, it seems a response to the current state of comics and suggesting that things just move too damn slow. Let's be honest, all Morrison does here is reinvent the Joker, which seems like a one-issue idea, but the plot points to get there would require more.

The prose itself is very stylised, which was one of the reasons I didn't like this issue on initial reading. This time, it worked for me. Maybe it was the contrast to the morning paper, which I read before it. Maybe it was the bright lights of my office. Maybe I just didn't appreciate it the first time around.

However, I do think the prose is a weakness in one regard: I'm still unconvinced we are given a clear idea of who this new Joker identity is. Yes, there is some interesting stuff on the relationship between Batman and the Joker; yes, he is willing to sacrifice Harley Quinn, thus sacrificing his former lighthearted mirth; yes, he seems more evil almost--but how is this DIFFERENT REALLY? That's still the gaping flaw of this issue: I don't know what makes this Joker different from previous incarnations really. Especially as I'm fairly certain the character has shown up elsewhere since this issue and I'm willing to bet the writers there ignored this issue completely.

Of course, is this issue supposed to matter, or is it an effort for Morrison to further integrate as much of Batman's past as possible? Callahan points out that this issue alludes to another Batman prose story from the '70s; as well, the little psycho midgets from The Killing Joke show up; lists of nicknames for the Joker at various stages are given; Harley Quinn representing a specific era.

Hmm, I wonder--is the idea to kill Harley Quinn a jab at fellow Bat-writer Paul Dini, the creator of the character? Is Morrison drawing a line in the sand that says this is where he is and that's where Dini is? And to what purpose? Harley is left alive and unscarred--although, she is willing to let the Joker cut her face up like his. But, that doesn't happen. Is Morrison attempting to set up a duality between the Joker and Harley? The fact that Harley is the one that takes the Joker down at the end by shooting him suggests that she ultimately makes the break. She recognises that he was progressed, that he's changed and she leaves him, in a sense.

I do like the idea that Batman is the one person that the Joker won't kill. It makes sense in a twisted way. In his mind, there is only the two of them, everyone else is not real. Morrison harkens back to the relationship between Professor Xavier and Cassandra Nova, but here, the two are siblings in a more twisted, psychological sense. Two sides of the same coin as it were.

And what of Batman's personality changes? While Morrison directly addresses the changes the Joker goes through, even arguing (once again) a concept of supersanity as the reason, Batman's various personas remain unaddressed, at least explicitly. But, more on that later with the "Club of Heroes" story.

Hopefully, Morrison will get a chance to do more with this Joker as I am curious to see how this one is different. In the past, the Joker has always been very slapsticky and outgoing, but I wonder if you could push him in the direction of other types of humour. I wonder if a more subtle, dark-humoured Joker could work as well. Really push him into some uncomfortable areas. Is that the Joker here?

And then we return to the Batman we know and love from "Batman & Son"...

"The Ghosts of Batman/The Black Casebook" #664-665

Again, Callahan's analyses of these issues are here and here.

With these issues, Morrison continues his work to reestablish Bruce Wayne as a playboy millionaire as well as integrate various loose threads from Batman's past into a cohesive whole.

Strangely, issue 664 picks up immediately following the end of "Batman & Son," suggesting that "The Clown at Midnight" exists in its own space. However, the beginning of this issue could also be a flashback. In the first half of thise issue, Bruce Wayne goes skiing with Jezebel Jet and establishes himself as cooler than James Bond. Not much is actually accomplished here beyond showing Bruce Wayne being cool and his budding relationship with Jezebel.

Then, almost aburptly, at the mention of the death of his parents and assurances that he got over it, we're in Gotham where prostitutes are being killed by some sort of monster that's protected by the cops. Morrison reintroduces the standard plot of a corrupt Gotham police force. While it never exactly went away, it hasn't been quite this explicit recently (I think--I could be wrong--of course, the Jim Corrigan character in Gotham Central was corrupt as hell, so it has been a plot point recently, but perhaps not to this extent). After Batman beats up the cops and some other thugs, he gets information from the pimp and tells one of the hookers to apply for a job at Wayne Enterprises as a receptionist. Then, he goes after the monster, who is apparently a cop.

Here, Morrison once again uses an inner monologue, but a different type than the one used in the second part of "Batman & Son." This one has large font and looks like computer font almost. As well, the style is more gritty and halting. Sentences are fragmented--and then we meet the monster, which is a man a hybred Batman/Bane costume. He's giant and takes Batman down easily.

Before this, Batman mentions the smell of testosterone, which plays an important role here. One of the major themes of superhero comics is the concept of masculinity and what it means to be a man. In these two issues, this idea is presented in various forms. First, there's Bruce Wayne who is the parachute onto skis and then take down a small helicopter with a ski pole before whisking the girl off to a fancy dinner sort of guy. Then there are the corrupt cops and the pimp, all exploiting women for their own gain. They equate being a man with dominance over women and the gain of money, which isn't exactly that far from the actions of Bruce Wayne. One of the reasons why he's so cool is that he's rich and saves the girl from a potential assassin (turns out to be paparazzo). And then thee's the monster who equates manliness with physical power and, again, dominance over women. We're told that the only thing that pacifies him are the prostitutes who he eventually kills. He does the venom drug and exudes testosterone, which Batman equates to the smell of board meetings, the stock exchange and executive washrooms. This Bat-Bane is pure alpha male and is able to beat Batman by using superior strength and intimidation.

Another key element mentioned here is the black casebook, which we find out in the next issue is where Batman writes down the details of events that don't fit with the presumed nature of reality. His encounters with aliens and the supernatural, etc. are all included there; the things that don't exactly fit with the grim-n-gritty Batman established in the '80s. Morrison reframes these events in terms of that reality and has Batman acknowledge that they don't fit with what he knows. This way, they still don't work within the context of what we think a Batman story necessarily is, but since Morrison and Batman both recognise this, it doesn't matter and, ultimately, works.

Issue 664 ends with Bat-Bane stomping on Batman's back, refencing Bane breaking his back in the early '90s. Morrison here integrates another element of Batman's past, one that is not remembered with fondness by current readers and brings it into the present. While those events aren't out of continuity, Infinite Crisis suggested (quite strongly) that those events were mistakes, a feeling often put forth by readers. The '90s are not looked upon favourably by most and Morrison brings back the key Batman '90s moment, almost saying that it wasn't so bad and that we're judging it harshly. Who are we to pick-and-choose what should count and what shouldn't? Everything is in play with Morrison--and everything has the potential to be cool. (I should add that I don't think the entire Bane/Azrael story is a low-point for Batman--in the same way that I still look upon the death and return of Superman with fondness--and even, to some extent, the Spider-Man clone saga.)

Issue 665 begins where 664 left off, Batman beaten and crawling on the ground. Morrison uses the narration in a fantastic way here, having Batman "say":

Face down in my own blood and vomit in the pouring rain. / Must / Must be / Must be a better way / to strike terror / into the hearts of criminals.

He plays with the convention of Batman's fragmented narration and his cliched catchphrases to poke fun at the seriousness of the character--especially as he is then recused by prostitutes.

Ultimately, he is patched up by Alfred, Tim goes off to fight Bat-Bane, he follows and they defeat the monster. In these scenes, though, we learn more about the black casebook and are introduced to the three Bat-Ghosts. At the end of the previous issue, Batman draws a connection between this Bat-Bane and the cop in issue 655 who shoots the Joker in the face. Both cops, both wearing Bat-costumes and both were figures in a vision he once had of three versions of himself that he took to be warnings of who he could become:

1. An unhinged, gun-toting vigilante.

2. A steroid freak devoted to being as strong as possible

3. And a third, shadowy figure we learn from Bruce sold hissoul to the devil and destroyed Gotham.

Alfred and Tim write this off an effect of the pain medication, but Batman has seen two of these figures in person now. Are the events in the black casebook as far-fetched as Alfred thinks? He actually says about those events, "I'D AZARD A GUESS THAT YOU AND MASTER DICK WERE OFTEN THE VICTIMS OF ONE TOO MANY EXPOSURES TO SCARECROW GAS OR JOKER TOXIN," but Batman dismisses Alfred's scepticism.

Here, Batman begins to towel himself in Bruce's dirty shirts to blanket himself in pheromones and testosterone in order to beat the Bat-Bane on his own terms. As Batman says, "WHAT'S THE ONE THING AN ALPHA MALE IS PROGRAMMED TO RESPECT? / ALPHA MALE PLUS." While the Bat-Bane creates a manly image of himself through drugs and artificial testosterone, Batman relies on his natural masculinity, specifically Bruce Wayne's. Morrison subtly raises Bruce Wayne up to be Batman's equal or, perhaps, superior here.

Tim's speedy exit once again plays with the father/son relationship of the two as he is still eager to prove himself in the wake of Damian's visit. Again, Batman assures him that there is nothing that Tim has to prove to him, of course failing to see that one of the reasons that he is Batman is because he feels he must prove himself to his dead father.

Batman saves Robin from being beaten and then attacks Bat-Bane in a scene that recalls the fight between Batman and the gang-leader in The Dark Knigh Returns. Once again, Batman is fighting a larger, stronger enemy and does so in a construction site not unlike the muddy pit of DKR. Except, before he can finish it, Batman is interrupted by dirty cops that cover for Bat-Bane and threaten to shoot Batman.

Commissioner Gordan tells Batman that something is wrong with the Gotham PD and maybe the corruption of old is back.

The issue ends with Talia and a lead-in to the upcoming Ra's Al Ghul storyline. She learns of Bruce's relationship with Jezebel-and the fact that the two have been seen twice together that week. In Venice, the two are together and Bruce explains his injuries away before kissing Jezebel. The inclusion of Jezebel is another old trope of Batman Morrison reuses. Back in issue 655, Alfred lists some of the women of his past like Kathy Kane, Vicki Vale and Silver St. Cloud. In recent years, the focus has been placed on Batman to such an extent that Catwoman is the only romantic interest I can recall, and that was a relationship with Batman, not Bruce Wayne. The films always follow a pattern where Bruce Wayne meets a girl and ends up revealing his indentity to her. Is Morrison using that same story here?

"Batman in Bethlehem" (#666)

Like "The Clown at Midnight," many have not known what to make of this issue as it stands outside the rest of the run in a very odd way. I was actually tempted to include it with the previous two issues as it concludes that little story, albeit in an odd manner. In this issue, Damian is Batman in the future and fights against the third Bat-Ghost, a Batman who is the anti-Christ. It is suggested that because the Bruce Wayne Batman wouldn't kill him, the apocalypse will come. Damian as Bruce's successor is a necessity as his methods differ enough that he able to defeat someone his father never could.

One question that has to be asked is whether or not this is a real story. And, does that matter? Obviously, it's a REAL story, but is this the future really? Does Bruce die with his son as Robin? Does Damian take up the mantle instead of Tim or Dick? Does Barbara become commissioner? Now, within the context of this run, the story is 100% real and accurate as every story is. However, I wonder if this is meant to be a real depiction of the future or something else entirely. The only problem with that is I'm not sure what else it could be except for an alternate future, but what would be the point of that? Usually, alternate futures are framed in a way that reflect upon the present, but this doesn't. The only pieces of the present we get are in the two-page spread "The Legend of the Batman / Who he is and how he came to be..." where we get Damian's origin--which is Morrison using the comic book staple of retelling origins, especially at the beginning of the issue.

This is Morrison's most inventive issue as little here is known. Damian faces an entirely new rogues gallery with guys like Candyman, Professor Pyg, the Weasel, Max Roboto and Jackanapes--and, of course, the anti-Christ Batman. The issue is devoted to the fight between the two Batmen with a glimpse into Damian's life as Batman. In one panel, he walks through his Batcave and we see two costume display cases. In one is Damian's Robin costume with two Batmen. Is this a suggestion that someone else took up the mantle before him? Is that what Tim did? Maybe Dick? The other display case houses the Joker's suit and his smile--what the hell?

At the Hotel Bethlehem, the two Batmen fight with Damian eventually winning as he also made a deal with the devil. He sold his soul at 14 to ensure Gotham's survival, suggesting that as the age when Bruce died--which can't be too far off from the current timeline, although I don't remember Damian's age being mentioned. Hard to say exactly how old he is now.

During the fight, the anti-Christ Batman says something interesting about the two Batmen sharing the same father, both sons of the Batman. Some have taken this to mean that the connection is through Ra's Al Ghul, but maybe this other Batman is the more traditional son of Bruce and Talia, the one named Ibn al Xu'ffasch? Given up for adoption, he learned his true parentage eventually and was jealous of Damian the same way Damian is jealous of Tim? Or maybe Jason Todd? Who else could it be? Maybe even Tim.

Damian says something interesting when discussing how he boobytrapped various buildings in Gotham: "I KNEW I'D NEVER BE AS GOOD AS MY DAD OR DICK GRAYSON." A subtle jab at Tim?

In the end, Damian kills this anti-Christ Batman and is shot by the police, only to stand up, unharmed, protected by the deal he made with the devil.

What does this story mean? Morrison plays with the obvious Satanic reference with Damian's name, but why tell this story? I think it's partly to provide a conclusion to the Bat-Ghosts story in that we see how the third ghost is eventually defeated. An untraditional method of concluding the story, but interesting. There's the fact that it is issue 666, another devil reference. Is it a true representation of what's going to happen?

It does further a few of Morrison's themes like fathers and sons, which also ties into concepts of masculinity. As well, one of Morrison's recent obsessions has been examining heroes through various doubles. As Jog has said of All-Star Superman, Morrison has the hero confront various versions of himself. Here, Bruce Wayne doesn't confront other versions of himself, but we're given two more to go with the others we've seen (the gun-toting Batman, Bat-Bane, the Joker--who, YES, is another version of Batman, at least the way Morrison depicts them--the ninja Man-Bats, and even the young Damian who recalls a young Bruce Wayne while also doubling Robin). This leads into the Club of Heroes story where Batman deals with numerous doubles.

"The International Club of Heroes" (#667-669)

Earlier, in the section on "The Clown at Midnight," I mentioned the issue of Batman's various personality changes and this arc introduces the issue in an implicit manner. The cover of issue 667 features a picture of Batman, Robin and the original International Club of Heroes in classic '50s or '60s style. The picture is repeated inside the issue and asks the question: does that Batman still exist in the history of the character. In the arc, it is said that Batman only attended one meeting of the group, suggesting that his current personality of a loner and asshole applies then when he was a much more cheerful and fun character. Now, I assume the group only appeared once originally in that typical Silver Age fashion where story ideas were used once and then ignored because the idea of continuity was applied to how a character acted, not the events of the story. Morrison explains that away by applying the post-Crisis Batman personality to a pre-Crisis event. Does that mean all of those old stories happened, but with the modern Batman character rather than the Silver Age one? Or has Batman also changed personality over time like the Joker has? Morrison raises an interesting tension there.

Surprisingly, rereading this arc as a whole left me cold. I found the plot to be very weak, almost secondary to the furthering of Morrison's themes and motifs. The major idea here is Batman confronting all of these alternate versions of himself. The Knight (British Batman) is a recovering drug addict and alcoholic trying to make good by stepping into his father's shoes. The Legionary is a fallen hero, fat and corrupt. Man-of-Bats is also a second generation hero, stepping into his father's shoes. And so on. However, I'm not sure we gain a lot of insight into most of these characters.

The real doubles here are John Mayhew and Wingman. Mayhew is a double of Bruce Wayne, a rich man who instead of becoming a costumed vigilante, bought his own superhero team full of Batmen--except it fell apart partly because of Batman's lack of interest. Mayhew lived the life of the millionaire playboy that Morrison pushes Bruce Wayne into during his run, except without the Batman morality to hold him in check. We find out that he possibly killed his mistress and he is the mastermind of the murder plot here.

Wingman blames Batman for his unknown status, claiming that he thought of the Wingman idea a year before Batman showed up and that the Club of Heroes was his chance to be a famous superhero. Here, his costume has been updated from the odd red and yellow spandex outfit he originally wore to a bluish-black and grey armoured outfit that alludes to Azrael's Bat-costume, but also very clearly resembles Batman's regular costume. He has modelled himself after Batman despite claiming to be ahead of Batman. One of the interesting quirks Morrison adds is having Wingman say "TT" from tie to time, which is a characteristic of Batman that he started in JLA (along with "HH"). He also makes an interesting comment about sidekicks, mocking Batman for needing one--although, he is actually Mayhew's sidekick in a sense.

As well, Robin faces two doubles in the form of Beryl, the female Squire (sidekick to the Knight) and Raven Red (who insists he's not "Little Raven" as his father calls him). All three are not the first to wear their costumes/identities as both Man-of-Bats and the Knight were sidekicks to their fathers, so Beryl and Raven Red have stepped into those roles only when the former sidekicks became the heroes.

The sidekick elements also introduce Morrison's fatherhood themes, especially in a discussion between Man-of-Bats and the Knight where they talk about their fathers and how they seemed like such big heroes when the two were kids--but they were wrong. They weren't heroes, just men. Red Raven and Man-of-Bats also have a strained relationship as we get the sense that Red Raven wants to be respected for his own abilities while Man-of-Bats keeps seeing him as a little kid.

The Knight/Squire relationship is interesting and continues from Morrison's JLA Classified arc where the two were introduced. We get a sense that Beryl watches over Cyril rather than the other way around. Cyril is the dysfunctional father (although I should point out that the two are not father and daughter) that requires the child to grow up quickly and take on a parental role. In this way, Beryl often comes off as more mature than Tim. Tim goes through the story making jokes about the Club of Heroes, which Batman chastises him for.

While Wingman is a double of Batman, he also exists in a father/son relationship with him. Even though Wingman claims to have donned a costume before Batman, Batman tells us at one point that he spent a summer training Wingman. Wingman rebels against his superhero father, siding with his OTHER father, the one who believed in him and nurtured him, John Mayhew.

JH Williams III's art here is fantastic. He conveys a lot of information about the characters by depicting each in their own unique style. He says this was his idea, so it adds to the story, but doesn't necessarily further Morrison's themes. As for the plot, it's pretty standard and seems like it could have used more room to breathe. The ultimate solution to the mystery is partly a surprise, but also a disappointment in that I don't think the necessary clues were there, especially in the killing of the Legionary, which is shown to us.

However, Morrison does explore his major themes more here and further his goal of including every piece of Batman's history in continuity.

Almost at the end

Morrison's first year on Batman is notable for his inclusion of elements of Batman's past that we wouldn't normally think of as "in continuity," but that is because, to Morrison, every story is in play no matter how different it is. He brings back the child of Bruce and Talia, the Club of Heroes and introduces the black casebook as a means to explain the non-noir/gritty elements of Batman's past. He alludes to the '80s and '90s numerous times, suggesting that those "dark" times still have worthwhile elements. He progresses beyond his own Batman stories, pushing familar themes like fatherhood beyond Bruce as son to Bruce as father, as well as continually has Batman face different versions of himself, a subtle means of incorporating the concept of alternate realities and "Elseworlds" stories without explicitly doing so. I'm interested in seeing where Morrison takes the character in the rest of his run, as well as what he will do with his reinvented Joker.

And that does it. Who knows when I'll post again.

Lie to me like I lie to you . . .

Yesterday, I reread Joe Casey and Charlie Adlard's Codeflesh. Now, I've discussed the final chapter of this series/story in an essay already, so I'll probably steer clear of it. Even though, I must once again say just how fucking amazing that final chapter is. Because of it, I can see Codeflesh becoming big some day. It's a shame it already isn't.

The story is about as basic as you can get: Cameron Daltrey is a bail bondsman in LA that writes up bonds for super-powered criminals because they always skip and that means he gets to bring them in. However, a judge ordered him to no longer bring in skippers and to farm the work out to bounty hunters. As a result, Cameron dresses up in a mask and does it himself without anyone, besides his business partner Staz, knowing it's him.

Codeflesh operates in a tradition, namely that of Spider-Man. One of the subplots running throughout the eight chapters is the relationship between Cameron and Maddy, which is under strain because of his work. She doesn't know he still hunts down the skippers and he can never explain. We get a few clues that maybe Maddy knows, but nothing ever comes of it, because, in the end, Cameron chooses the life of the mask over love--just like Peter Parker. Knowing that doesn't ruin anything, trust me.

Unlike Parker, Cameron doesn't do it because it's the right thing to do. This is not a tale of power and responsibility. Cameron does it simply because he enjoys it. He's addicted to that rush of kicking the crap out of these super-powered criminals. In that way, it's the flipside of the whole "with great power comes great responsibility." It's almost "with great responsibility comes great power."

At the same time, there's something unique here. This book shines a light on a place regular superhero books tend not to look, really just in the premise. Wouldn't these guys skip out on bail? None of the criminals here at heavy-hitters. They're mostly the two-bit, piece-of-shit guys that would have apeared in a single issue of Marvel Team-Up or Two-in-One back in the day and never returned.

While it exists in the superhero tradition, it also owes a lot to Raymond Chandler and the pulp tradition. Much of the focus here is on Los Angeles and the feel of the shitty part of town where all of this takes place. That's partly why all of the criminals are the dumpy kind. This isn't Manhattan, this is Northeast LA. The fights are nasty and brutal--at one point, Cameron sticks a telephatic guy's head in a vice. Maddy is a stripper--an issue that doesn't even come up in a moralistic way--it's just a given and never explored, which says more about the tone and setting than any actual words COULD. If this was any other sort of superhero comic, we'd have an entire story devoted to it or something.

I'm honestly amazed more people haven't noticed Codeflesh, because it really is worth noticing.

Man V. Superman

Well, I've finished rereading Grant Morrison's JLA run (I skipped over the JLA/WildC.A.T.S. book and the "One Million" storyline--and have yet to reread Earth 2) and a few things jumped out at me.

First of all, this is the book to see how Morrison applies the various hints of a theory in Flex Mentallo. The entire run is all about the tension between regular humans and superheroes with the two bookend stories both ending with regular humans helping to save the day. Hell, the end of "World War III" is right out of the end of Flex Mentallo.

One of the hallmarks of the series was Morrison's treatment of Batman, a regular human who plays in the big leagues (he also focuses quite a bit on Green Lantern throughout, who is also really just a regular guy with no superpowers--is there really a difference between his ring and any of the equipment Batman uses other than power and the fact that Batman actually invented all of his stuff?). In the first story, Batman saves the day and continues to exert a dominance over the team throughout the run.

Hell, nearly every story involves the idea of a human saving the day.

--The white Martians? Batman.
--Tomorrow Girl saves the day by becoming human.
--Zauriel becomes mortal to help save Heaven.
--Green Arrow stops the Key.
--Batman and Lex Luthor square off in "Rock of Ages" while, in the future, Green Arrow and the Atom take down Darkseid.
--Catwoman takes down Prometheus (who is basically a normal human who uses technology and brains to do what he does)
--Starro is defeated because of a human who resists his powers
--The whole Ultramarines story is about the conflict between basic humanity and what superpowers can do to people
--"Crisis Times Five" has, at its core, non-superpower solutions as JJ Thunder commands his genie and Kyle comes up with the way to stop the genies
--"World War III" has humans become superheroes to fight Mageddon

Very rarely does Superman punching something actually solve the problem--not to say that it doesn't help, but the more basic message is that human ingenuity is what saves the day. We all have it within ourselves to be heroes, basically.

Of course, this is an idea that is handled more directly in New X-Men where literally anyone can wake up one morning and find out that they have a superpower and humanity will die out within three generations to a new superpowered race.

***

Last night, I reread my favourite story (aside from Earth 2, but does it count?) from the run: "Crisis Times Five" and loved it again. Probably the most complex and compressed story of the lot as Morrison juggles five plots that seem unconnected, but actually all stem from one. I remember when I first read part one in issue-form, I put it down and went "And what the fuck just happened?" Morrison just throws information at you and it took me a couple of readings of the whole four-part story to actually figure out what happened, because things happened so fast. What's interesting is how Morrison uses elements from the past like Johnny Thunder's genie, Quisp and Triumph to tell a very modern story.

You can see a lot of his narrative tricks show up later in New X-Men where he had more freedom because of the soap opera, never-ending-story nature of the book. Here, things like the two-part future story in the middle of "Rock of Ages" is about as close as we get to him pulling anything big where the seemingly main story takes a back seat to something else. I mean, what else would you call something like "Assault on Weapon Plus"? Not that these little tangents aren't important, but they're also just that: tangents.

The only other times you see that in this run, really, is the fill-in issues (there are eight: six written (or co-written) by Mark Waid, one by Mark Millar and a tie-in to the "Day of Vengeance" line-wide crossover). Waid's first four-issue fill-in doesn't really address any of the lingering threads of the series beyond playing with the line-up Morriso debuted in the previous story. Millar's fill-in issue left me puzzle when it first came out, because it ties in directly to Morrison's stories, referencing Hourman's appearance at the end of the Ultramarines' story and his prediction for "Crisis Times Five." Now, Millar's one-off is actually one of my favourite superheroes stories in that simple way (the ending is genius), but it also left me wondering if it counted. In the story, to fight Amazo, the League ups its ranks and discusses a recruitment drive, but that goes nowhere, really, beyond that issue.

There were also problems throughout the run of Morrison having to work around characters' titles--things like Superman's electric costume, Wonder Woman dying and getting replaced by her mother, the Flash having all sorts of problems, etc. He did totally ignore the whole "No Man's Land" fiasco in the Bat-titles, and I wish he had been able to ignore that shit more, because it really hampers his run, in spots. And it adds a pseudo-element of realism that really isn't there. It appears realistic that because of problems, some heroes would be absent for the first part of an "adventure" and then return mid-way once those issues are resolved. The best example of this is when Wally was replaced as Flash by, what, his future self or alternate reality self or some other stupid-ass-lame idea. Anyway, that meant he was absent for the first four parts of "World War III," but showed up for the final two (really, just the last couple of pages of part five). Now, if you follow the books, it makes sense in that his situation was solved in his book during this storyarc--except, um, the events of the storyarc cover, like, a day. Maybe two. I can understand why Morrison would use the character again, but it just fucked things up. A problem that didn't really happen on New X-Men where he was given carte-blanche almost, even with Wolverine--and sometimes used X-characters from other books.

***

Overall, a fantastic run with some great stories that walk a very fine line between past and present. I may write up a few thoughts on Earth 2 later after I've reread it.

One, two, three, four, get your woman on the floor!

One of Grant Morrison's "forgotten" works (as pretty much all of his time at Marvel aside from New X-Men is) is actually one of his better ones: Fantastic Four 1234, which also features Jae Lee's excellent art. The four-issue story has Doctor Doom take apart the group until all that remains is Reed Richards who has been locked in his lab, working on something for the first three issues.

In the first issue, the Thing is verbally attacked by emergency services after trashing his neighbourhood while fighting supervillains. Morrison here channels some of the early FF stories as the Thing is back to his self-loathing, hate-the-whole-fucking-world ways. At one point, he threatens to break Johnny's neck. And this is how Doctor Doom finds him and tells him a secret about Reed so horrible, so world-shattering that the Thing actually trusts Doom and allows Doom to "cure" him. Of course, human Ben Grimm gets hit by a car and loses an arm.

Next, Sue Storm is feeling neglected and seems ready (and willing) for the advances of Namor. Johnny fights the Mole Man's monsters and is captured along with Alicia Masters--and it turns out that Namor and the Mole Man are working for Doom.

This all leads up to a giant Doombot storming the FF's HQ and Doom bragging to Reed about all that he has accomplished and asks what has Reed been doing while Doom has destroyed his precious family. Here, Reed gives the best answer I've read in a long while: "Well, Victor . . . I've been thinking."

Not the most groundbreaking or experimental of works, it does tell a good story and gets at many of the characters, often equating their powers with who they are. The Thing is a violent monsters; Sue is the invisible wife; Johnny's flames come on without him noticing most of the time; and Reed's mind is as fluid as his body.

There are also some great artistic techniques used in the series, like using splash pages as the basis for the first issue with panels then laid atop the larger picture, or the larger blank white gutters in the second issue to work with the theme of invisibility (as well as the switch to speech bubbles with no outlines).

It did have that standard "will Sue cheat on Reed with Namor" plot idea that bugs the fuck out of me--one bit made me laugh when Sue talked about why she's attracted to Namor. Basically, she argues that her mother raised her to think that she would someday marry a price or someone of that station and she can't help but be attracted to Namor. Okay, that actually makes some sense. I just can't get over where she talks about how Namor has manners and sophistication. Can someone point me to the comic where Namor displayed anything close to manners, please? (Oh, I'm a nit-picky bastard sometimes.)

At the root of the story is an exploration of what makes Marvel's first family tick as Doom pushes them all in different directions, preying on their weaknesses--but, those weaknesses are also their strengths, which Reed highlights in the final issue--and then turns it around on Victor to point out that his greatest strength is what causes him to lose every single time.

I don't think the series fits into continuity really, it stands more as an "All-Star Fantastic Four" type of story where we have the characters represent the larger ideas of who each is rather than who they are at any one moment. It's meant to be a modern take on the team that stays true to past stories and intentions.

It's also a good read.

Losers

I reviewed the first part of the recent Teen Titans storyarc where the group faced the Teen Titans East, a collection of villains that match up against the heroes, almost member for member. I thought the issue was kind of shit and I realised a few days later, it was because I consider the whole evil version of the superhero team to be really fucking stupid and I blame Grant Morrison for bringing it back.

Now, of course, Morrison didn't invent the idea, but he made it popular with the first incarnation of the Injustice Gang in his JLA run where Lex Luthor gathered the Joker, Dr. Light, the Mirror Master, Circe, the Ocean Master and Jemm--all enemies of the Big Seven. Of course, if you read the story, you'll realise quickly that the Injustice Gang gets its ass handed to it. Seriously, they barely do anything--and most of the stuff they actually accomplish was faked by the JLA when Batman realised Luthor's methodology.

The fact of the matter is, you can't take a group like the first Injustice Gang seriously as a threat because it's a group of losers. None of these guys can take their respective hero one-on-one, so we're to assume by teaming up to take on all of them (plus, in this case, Green Arrow and Aztek--later, Plastic Man) that they'll somehow succeed?

No. Which Morrison seemed to recognise, which is why the second version of the Injustice Gang seemed much more threatening. Instead of villains that fight individual heroes, he used villains that almost beat the entire League by themselves. Now, we didn't get to see the true outcome of that fight because it was also taking place as the whole Mageddon/World War III (the first World War III) thing was happening. But, still. The lesson was there.

Too bad no one seemed to notice.

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives and every wife had seven sacks and every sack had seven cats and every cat had seven kits

In my quest to look at Morrison's post-Flex Mentallo superhero work, I read the entire Seven Soldiers story yesterday (with the three-part JLA Classified prologue the night before).

But, before I no doubt write the shortest blog post on the entire thing in the history of the web, I'll direct you to a few places that discuss the entire series in far more intelligent ways:

Jog's reviews
Greg Burgas' 31 Days of Seven Soldiers
Barbelith's Seven Solders Wiki

Now then, my overall impression of the entire saga was a somewhat lacklustre, apathetic one. At least with regards to what each character does to fight the Sheeda. It's rather interesting, but most of them seem to do little minor things. Mister Miracle, for example, does nothing to fight the Sheeda. Sure, he frees Aurackles, but how does that fight the Sheeda? Jog speculates that he's not even one of the Seven Soldiers really, which makes sense. The Manhattan Guardian does some fighting of Sheeda warriors at the end, but his only other contribution (that I can see) is being on the train that runs over the Horrigal and lets Klarion escape.

Now, I actually like that some of the characters don't seem to do much--or, the things they do to help are only minor elements of their stories. The Bulleteer is the key to killing Glorianna, but beyond that, she does nothing (except not show up in Seven Soldiers #0). Except everything she does leads her to driving that car in Seven Soldiers #1.

In a way, the whole series is about coincidence and how seemingly meaningless moments build to create meaningful actions.

Another theme that I picked out (and was slightly touched on, sort of, by Burgas, mostly in his child/adult theme) was one that I saw in Flex Mentallo (and can see in almost everything else Morrison does): the tension between past and future. Now, I'm leaving the present out of it, because the present is, ultimately, transient and meaningless. Here, the conflict is between the past (now) and the future (the Sheeda)--both are the present depending on the perspective.

Justin(a) struggles between the past and future as (s)he acclimates to our time.
The Guardian struggles between his past of killing an innocent teen and his future as a hero.
Zatana struggles between her past as a fuck-up and her future as a confident hero.
Klarion struggles between the past his people are trapped in and the future of our world.
Mister Miracle struggles between the New Gods' past and future.
Bulleteer struggles between her past and future lives.
Frankenstein doesn't actually struggle, he just acts the same no matter what time it is despite being from a past time.

And, of course, all of these series have a tension between old characters and new, same with the name Seven Soldiers. There's even a tension between the first group we see in issue 0 and the seven we follow in their series.

Stylistically, Morrison walks the fine line between the past creators/styles of these books and making them modern. The best example of this is in Mister Miracle where Morrison updates Kirby's New Gods. Or in some of the narration found in The Manhattan Guaradian (very bombastic) or Frankenstein (pulpy). Each of the series has its own unique take on the superhero genre itself, creating a tension between what he's doing with it and what's come before.

Now, the finale of the saga, issue one. It falls victim to the typical Morrison ending in that it isn't actually that satisfying. I've discussed this briefly before, arguing that Morrison doesn't give conclusive endings because of the superhero comic's nature. The nature of the medium/genre is serial, meaning the story never ends. You'll notice this sort of ending in most of his work: Animal Man, JLA, New X-Men, etc. The ending never feels like an ENDING, because it's not. These characters keep going and will have new adventures. The same thing happens here. We see a few of the characters have endings, of sorts, to their adventure (Klarion becomes leader of the Sheeda, Justina is put in a superhero school, Mister Miracle comes back from the dead, and--uh--that's it), but always with an eye toward the future.

That's where the tension between past and future usually shows up in a way that readers don't like, because it's not a satisyfing way to end stories. Morrison recognises that once he's finished the comic, it's continuity past and is always mindful of the future stories that WILL be told. Hell, that was the whole point of the "Planet X" storyarc basically.

And that's what I took from the series. Oh, and might I once again state how mindblowing J.H. Williams III's art on issue one is? Seriously, he does, what, eleven different styles? Sometimes three or four styles on a single page. And you'll note no Eisner nomination. The fuck? Show me art that is more impressive and well done in the past year. You can't.

Next up in my journey through Morrison's post-Flex Mentallo work (which I've dubbed "The Next Age" for easy reference) is Seaguy. I'm not doing these in any real order, just whatever I feel like. After that, some thoughts on Fantastic Four 1234. By then, I should be finished his JLA run (just began "Rock of Ages").