Category Archives: 1990s

Bats and Legends: “Destroyer”

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“Comics will break your heart,” or so the saying goes, and while I’ve never had my work exploited for a billion-dollar movie franchise or had to beg a publisher to pay my invoice so I could cover rent, I have had a few little heartbreaks, here and there, over the years. 

This issue of Legends of the Dark Knight was surely one of the first–a title seemingly created to tell stand-alone stories over several issues from the early days of Batman’s career, suddenly shoved into a three-part crossover with Batman and Detective Comics. Sure, I was buying all three titles, that’s not the point. The point is that when faced with any decision pitting creative value over additional revenue, comics publishers will always choose the latter. 

This will only become more horrifying as we get into the era of Knightfall and KnightsQuest and KnightSweats, all those gigantic storylines that pull in every single Batman series to tell a big stupid saga. Heaven forbid one Batman title get left alone to serve as antidote to an era of endless cash-grab crossovers. 

Like I said, I was a teenage Batfreak who bought all these issues slavishly when they came out, so I had all three parts teed up in Ye Olde Longboxes. It’s an interesting story because Alan Grant, who was all over the Batman books in that era, writes parts one and three, leaving dependable Denny O’Neil to pen this middle chapter. On pencils, we get Breyfogle and Aparo on the other titles, and none other than…Chris Sprouse on this issue. 

That’s right–it’s a Dennis O’Neil script drawn by Chris Sprouse, and it’s plopped in the middle of a three-part crossover story designed to give some love and possibly publishing fees to Anton Furst, the production designer whose vision of Gotham City animated the two Burton Batman films. 

Based on the checklist at his website, this was in the earliest days of Sprouse’s penciling career. (I forgot he drew a Batman annual written by Andrew Helfer, which I will have to check out.) What’s great about it is that it is immediately recognizable as Sprouse; he apparently didn’t have to suffer through a period in his early career where he was asked to adapt to a DC “house style.” And from the jump, Sprouse’s Batman is terrific. He leaves the eyes white, creating an extra emphasis on Batman’s facial expressions. Look at this somewhat surprised Batman. 

He doesn’t overdo it; it’s not exaggerated. But leaving those eyes without detail forces us as readers to rely upon the rest of Batman’s expression to interpret his mood–alert, engaged, slightly taken aback. 

There’s not a lot of big visual moments in the issue, other than a terrific page where Sprouse depicts the Wayne Foundation building collapsing thanks to a criminal’s bombs. 

Three vertical panels, perfectly visualizing the entire point of the conflict in the story–a crazed architecture freak who destroys newer buildings in Gotham so that the city’s oldest gothic facades are more visible. 

Perhaps in a nod to the title’s intent, O’Neil does include a backward-facing moment where a flashback illustrates the Wayne family’s connection to the architectural style Gotham has developed as its trademark–which happens to be the same style Furst imagined for Gotham in his designs for the first two Batman movies. Beyond that, this is not a complicated story, although it is clever. The motivation of a villain who sidesteps his way into manslaughter by way of his passion for architecture is something different, and it connects well to the inclusion of Furst’s designs, which was definitely meant to capitalize on the ongoing Bat-fever as a world waited with breath bated for the premiere of Batman Returns in June 1992. 

I enjoyed these three issues, both at the time and upon a re-read nearly thirty years later. And yet, I can’t help but recall how this moment also marked the beginning of the end for my illusions about comics. Sure, I’d happily lapped up the 1991 annuals to follow Armageddon 2001, but mess with Batman, and you’re crossing a line. 

Next: Matt Wagner and “Faces”

Bats and Legends: “Flyer”

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There’s a heightened sense of expectation when a comics fan sees the words “Chaykin” and “Kane” on the cover of an issue. (I guess it depends on the “Kane” in question; I’m talking about Gil, not Bob.) 

These are not only two masters of the form, but each known for their own distinct approach to comics–as a writer, Chaykin excels at a steamy blend of intrigue, sex, politics and satire; Kane’s pencils are legendary for their mastery of shape and shadow. 

Not only are these two greats working together, but they’re doing an out-of-continuity Batman story. DAMN. This should be good, right? 

No. No, it’s not. 

Chaykin picks a fine starting point for his story–Bruce Wayne worried he’s enjoying being Batman a little too much, until a mysterious foe in a flying armored war machine attacks him unexpectedly and leads him on an aerial chase high above Gotham City. That’s essentially part 1 of 3 here, and if you’re curious enough about what you’ve heard so far to want to check this out, maybe only read the first part. 

From there, Chaykin twists this story into something grotesque involving Nazis, intimations of incest, and a set of brutal characters that might seem worthy of our pity if they weren’t so unlikable. Our finale entails Batman held captive by Birgit Eisenmann, an ageless Nazi crone who is obsessed with procreating with the Caped Crusader to further her personal vision of a “master race.” 

This one line from the DC Database entry on the issue really captures the squirm of it all: “Birgit gets aroused watching Batman overcome every obstacle…” These are elements of plot and character that could just as easily have been assembled into something more sturdy; Chaykin has written plenty of genre stories where moments of revulsion are employed not just for shock value, but for thematic resonance or even just bizarre humor. Here, these strange villains seem to come from nowhere, say nothing, and vanish just as quickly as they appeared. 

“Flyer” is…an uncomfortable read. Because it feels both silly and gross at the same time, what stands out are some of the more ludicrous comic book plot devices Chaykin employs. Early on, Batman knocks the flying Nazi into the river, causing him to almost drown; in response, he brings the dying criminal to the Batcave (?!!?!) to work with Alfred on saving his life. If Batman started bringing bad guys he hurt to his secret headquarters, it wouldn’t stay secret for long. 

All of that said, there are some late-era Kane pages here that are gorgeous, even if they’re in service to a story that’s at turns stupid and disturbing, and occasionally both at the same time. 

I love the motion of the cape here and the position of Batman’s legs, as they emphasize both the power Batman’s fighting against and his body’s struggle in opposing it. The three facial close-ups on the right-hand side help escalate the drama as well–Batman’s anguish, followed by a two-panel zoom into Birgit’s mania. 

“Flyer” feels like a classic example of the “adult” comic book story gone woefully wrong; it’s not enough to put Batman into a story with weird sex stuff and the most toxic foes imaginable (Nazis). If it all pushes the reader away, if there’s nothing smart or emotionally engaging or even formally interesting, then there’s no point.

Bats and Legends: “Faith”

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Imagine you wake up one morning and read in the newspaper that–

(Hahahahhaa, just kidding, newspapers are DEAD)

One morning, you read on the Tweeters that a guy dressed up as a bat spent the night before beating up criminals and depositing them at the police station in your city. Next night, same thing. Then another night. It goes on. 

How would the average American citizen in 2021 respond to such an occurrence? Fear? Excitement? Support? Disgust? 

Probably indifference. Maybe I’m wrong; we have seen an unprecedented rise in righteous protest as the Black Lives Matter movement swept the nation. Maybe people would take to the streets with bat-logo poster boards and march on City Hall to show their support. On the flip side, there would likely be a handful of nutjobs who would take this as an opportunity to load up their vans with hollow-tipped bullets and plastic explosives to conduct their own personal war on crime. 

This all comes to mind as we consider “Faith,” a three-part story from Legends of the Dark Knight issues #21-23, with words by Mike Barr and pencils by Bart Sears. The “vigilante inspires other vigilantes” storyline is a leitmotif across Batman’s publishing history; in this scenario, it takes root within a former drug addict named John Ackers who overdoses, recovers, and then recruits some of his neighbors to build a Batman-inspired “gang” for positive change in the neighborhood. Unfortunately, John is also having some crazy visions (withdrawl-inspired?) about a giant fantastical Batman telling him to kill the guy who sold him the drugs that made him overdose. Batman has to juggle good intentions driven by insane hallucinations, and the bad behavior of the actual drug syndicate, along with the continuing efforts of the Gotham police to put him behind bars. Dr. Leslie Thompkins appears in a subplot where she learns that Bruce Wayne is Batman, forcing her to come to terms with her disdain for the vigilante and her maternal feelings for Bruce. 

I became aware of Bart Sears through his time penciling Justice League Europe; these three issues appear to have been published concurrently with his later issues on that series. This is likely to my own detriment but I always saw Sears as a “beefcake” artist, known for drawing outlandishly built men and women in tight-fitting spandex costumes. There’s certainly some of that here with regard to Batman, but I’m also struck by how effectively his elaborate, amplified style adapts to depicting mere mortals. I especially enjoy his version of the drug-addict-turned-community-activist John Ackers; he depicts him on a thin line between reality and exaggeration that allows for an easy transition between the character we see in the “real world” and the one contorted into unreality by his hallucinations. 

The publishing history of Batman hasn’t been dominated by the kind of Batman stories that seem most prevalent and popular today–big tales where teeth-gritting, endless loss, and villains constantly trying to destroy Gotham City are the order of the day. 

No, the vast majority of Batman stories are still relatively small, chronicling not the earth-shattering stories where “nothing will ever be the same” (until it is, eventually), but the ongoing adventures you’d expect from a guy in a bat suit who fights crime. Every night can’t destroy the status quo, otherwise there’d be no quo to status. Most nights are spent on the streets of Gotham, beating back an ever-breaking tide of superstitious, cowardly criminals who are relentless in their pursuit of the same sins and vices you’d see in any American city. Robbery. Bribery. Drugs. 

This is one of those smaller stories, character-driven, showcasing how the impact of the Bat can loom just as large on those he saves as it can on those he condemns. It’s a relief in some ways; a nice tight three-parter is a breath of fresh air after four consecutive five-issue stories (each of which could have probably been tightened into a four or three-issue affair, but I digress). 

Next: Chaykin, Kane, and “Flyer”

Bats and Legends: “Venom”

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Just ten issues after his first storyline for Legends of the Dark Knight (“Shaman”), Denny O’Neil is back behind the word processor again for “Venom,” a five-parter with artists Trevor Von Eeden (layouts), Russell Braun (pencils) and the great Jose Luis Garcia Lopez (inks). 

That’s a murderers’ row of talent, and it’s a shame that the work doesn’t live up to their reputations. “Venom” is known today more for what it introduced into the DC Universe than for the story itself–the “venom” in question is the same narcotic cocktail that will create Bane, and this story brings the drug to Santa Prisca, a fictional South American country invented by O’Neil during his run on the Question. We will eventually learn that Bane hails from Santa Prisca, where he was forced as a child to serve time in a maximum-security prison because his dad escaped–the kind of insane version of “justice” only a mid-nineties comic book writer could come up with. 

“Venom” feels like a logline in search of a story, a character, a theme; anything to justify its existence beyond the simple high concept of “Batman gets hooked on performance-enhancing drugs.” It feels incredibly dated, its understanding of the illegal drug trade and its impact on the U.S. informed largely by the waning days of the first War on Drugs. Characters behave in ways that defy our previous understanding; Alfred functions solely as a long-suffering quip machine, his droll one-liners awkwardly punctuating even the most dramatic moments. 

There’s something lumbering and gawky about the way it’s plotted, too; you have this big fat hook, “this is your Batman…on drugs,” and then he overcomes the addiction by the end of the third issue in the story, just so that he has time to play the Schwarzenegger role in a warmed-over redo of Commando. You can see O’Neil is trying to build sympathy around the son of one of the story’s two villains, but his father is such a grotesque pantomime of “old Army dude practices tough love on his family” that it defies belief. 

Also beyond caricature is the “evil scientist” who creates “venom.” Batman’s inciting event in the story is the death of the scientist’s daughter in a drowning that Batman could have prevented if only he’d been physically stronger. When Batman appears to tell the scientist about the death of his daughter, the scientist barely reacts; within a few panels, Batman is taking the guy’s pills. It’s probably a bad idea to trust the pharmaceutical recommendations of a sociopath who can’t bother being upset about his young daughter’s death by drowning. 

Tegan O’Neil does a much better job of dismantling this arc than I could. “Venom” has been around long enough that it feels like a necessary evil, a bedrock of the modern Batman mythos that exists solely because it has to. It gave us the Venom drug, which begat Bane, which begat Knightfall and countless other Bane stories and eventually The Dark Knight Rises. In spite of its dated, cloying story and unrealistic characterizations, we’re probably stuck with it. 

Bats and Legends: “Prey”

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If you want, you can blame Bob Kane and Bill Finger. 

In November 1939, they published their origin story for Batman, in Detective Comics #33. It’s been 82 years, and the details haven’t changed much–Bruce Wayne leaves a theater with his mom and dad; a criminal holds them up with a gun, shooting his parents; he sits in a puddle of their blood and watches them die. This becomes his inciting event–the reason he dedicates himself to a life spent striking fear in the hearts of criminals as a bat. Also, man. A Bat-man, if you will. 

But really, it’s Frank Miller’s fault. Until his work in the 1980s, this story was an inciting incident for the Bat-mythos, but not the sole driving factor that made this dude dress up every night and get frothing angry at petty criminals. With Year One and The Dark Knight Returns, he paired Batman’s hypermasculine power with an almost infantile anguish over the death of Bruce Wayne’s parents. Not only did that create a cloud that has hung over Batman’s adventures ever since; it also has inspired hero after hero to develop their own parental issues, most often in the daddy department (Superman, the Flash, Iron Man, and so on). 

(It’s not that the death of Bruce’s parents wasn’t central to Batman’s mythology prior to Miller; it’s that it became popular to suggest it was practically the only relevant development in Bruce’s life prior to donning the cape and cowl. At one point in the seventies, writers seemed to be embracing a more magnanimous view of the Caped Crusader’s motivators; sure, losing his parents was an inciting event, but then Bruce got training from experts around the world and became inspired to dedicate his life to being a force for good in Gotham. Whereas the whole “PARENTS DEAAAAAD” vibe reads as more of an obsession than a vocation, and leads to all kinds of angst that somehow became hugely relatable to pimple-faced teenagers in the 90s and aughts, not unlike myself. ANYWAY.) 

If you’re gonna dive into psychobabble with Batman, you almost have to pull the Hugo Strange card. (Joker’s up there too, of course, because lately all he does is prattle on about the nature of Batman’s obsessions and how he himself is the inevitable counterpoint/flip side of a dark, dangerous coin. But Strange has a Ph.D, so.) That’s exactly what Doug Moench and Paul Gulacy get up to in “Prey,” published in issues 11 through 15 of Legends of the Dark Knight in late 1990 and early 1991. 

As a story, “Prey” is a bit of a tangled mess. There’s Hugo Strange and Batman, and there’s Commissioner Gordon and a beautiful woman who is as underwritten as you’d expect. Catwoman has an extended cameo, and there’s a role for an overeager sergeant on the Gotham PD who becomes the Night Scourge, a competing vigilante, under the hypnotic thrall of Strange. 

Keeping all of these plot plates spinning requires Moench to paper over a few substantial leaps in the story; as obsessed as the overeager sergeant might be, do we really buy that a hint of hypnosis would turn him into a costumed crimefighter? Would we then also buy that he can hold his own against Catwoman and Batman in hand-to-hand combat? What about Hugo Strange himself donning a perverted Batman-esque costume for a breathy conversation with a lady mannequin to whom he seems inordinately attached? 

Again, the blueprint here is obvious–these are “year one” stories for Batman, so Moench takes his cues from Miller’s inciting work. There’s a Gordon/police storyline, a Hugo Strange storyline, a Batman storyline, and what amounts to a few scattered scenes of pinup Catwoman writhing in bed with her pets before she shows up to play a single impactful role in the overall story. 

Moench feels like he’s checking items off a scorecard for this story, which is a shame, because Gulacy and inker Terry Austin deliver visuals with a heft and solidity that give their version of Gotham and its inhabitants a realistic gristle. Austin deploys shadow with care; paired with Steve Oliff’s colors, it creates a world that is dark, but not impossibly so. There’s enough light to make out color and shape; again, heightened but real. 

Moench does provide a splash of fanboy glee when he introduces the Batmobile to the “year one” era, in a design that’s inspired by Michael Keaton’s conveyance in the 1989 movie but not beholden to it. But moments like that are the exception rather than the rule, and unfortunately “Prey” loses its way pretty early to become wandering and listless.

***

Tegan O’Neil takes a more favorable view of “Prey” in this review from 2015.

Next: This is your Batman on drugs. Any questions?