Batman: TAS, episode #25: The Cape and Cowl Conspiracy

Well, you know how I said episode #22, Prophecy of Doom, was the first example of an episode that simply failed to work? Here's your second. In fact, the problems with the The Cape and Cowl Conspiracy weren't even just about the plot. It was also the dialogue and the pacing and the action and questioning basic costs of animation time, both for the story and the studio. We started with a nice, moody opening with a guy following a rhyming clue, which makes the initial thought of the long-time Batman fan that this could involve The Riddler. Instead, we get a cheesy, bad James Bond-style quicksand trap. That's quickly followed by the exposition trap of trying to introduce a "famous" villain that is presented through dialogue, rather than story. That dialogue is supposed to represent two people who've known each other for years- The Batman and Commissioner Gordon -speaking to each other in rhetorical questions ("The guy who specializes in using deathtraps to pry information out of his victims?") They follow the unloading of exposition where nothing actually happens in the story (Don't do this when you're writing, kids!) with little in-jokes where the writer was apparently impressed with himself: "Look up 'slippery' in the dictionary and there's a picture of his face next to it. Well, if anyone can pin something on him and make it stick..."

But a major  problem with the screenplay isn't just the thin plot and the clumsy methods used to convey it. It's also a fundamental misunderstanding of the character. This is a very juvenile presentation of The Batman. He has a target for information about this crime and he abducts him in outrageous fashion by swinging across the stage of a public charity event. This is not the mysterious Darknight Detective, letting the shadows and atmosphere work for him. This is someone committing assault (and ruining a very expensive cake) in front of the "proper citizens" of Gotham. This is a teenager deciding that he's the toughest guy in town and this is how tough guys do their business because no one will tell them otherwise. This mindset is perpetuated in the following seconds, where The Batman smiles at the thought of the Baron being afraid of heights. There's no menace of an otherworldly creature there. It's just a bully being a bully and laughing about it. That's not The Batman and it's not very effective unless the plot demands that it be so. This is perpetuated in a later encounter with Gordon, where The Batman has already figured out Wormwood's first clue and Gordon asks: "Do you know what it means?" The response: "Don't you?" This is petty Batman: "I know something you don't!" This isn't our hero. This is someone too impressed with himself.

Pacing and direction are a big problem here, as well. When "the Baron" meets Wormwood to make his offer, we spend several seconds and a lot of animation cels with him tossing a poster-sized picture of The Batman for Wormwood to look at. Why? The story gains nothing from this kind of gesture. It doesn't create atmosphere. It doesn't convey information. It doesn't move anything forward anymore than "the Baron" simply telling Wormwood what he wants, which takes less time and doesn't require animators to do much, which means it saves production costs. What we got was just padding the story of a thin plot for no positive effect, but plenty of negative ones. That misaligned approach is evident throughout the entire production. This is presented as the first use(!) of the Batsignal by Gordon, except that one of the ears in the skyline image is bent. Was Gordon planning on fixing that first paint job later or was it just bad artwork from the animators? Then we get to the trainyard, where Wormwood has to announce that "you won't find me in there, but you will find... a TRAP!" Oh. Shocking. And it's doubly shocking when we witness the clichéd damsel-in-distress-on-railroad-tracks routine. Did they think that even kids would be intrigued by that so-dated-it-can't-even-be-a-meme situation? Even 30 years ago, no one serious used that gag.

Plus, it seems apparent that the writer's grasp on even his lesser characters wasn't that great. Wormwood, master criminal, is reduced to a stuttering henchman when he has to explain to the Baron that he failed in his first attempt to steal the costume of The Batman. You know, the guy who deals with criminal geniuses on the regular? Given that they decided this was the first appearance of the Batsignal, maybe this was supposed to be so early in his career that he hadn't earned that reputation yet? Except that Gordon is completely casual with him, again, just like they'd known each other for years (and, at this point, we're 24 weeks into this version of the character.) In their subsequent encounter, we try to just ignore the fact that Wormwood has somehow been able to install not only barricades on the front door, but elaborate traps in a public building/tourist site like a wax museum. This just highlights the problems with the plot and the character to begin with. This is all too staged to be threatening to our main character or interesting to our audience. Suspension of disbelief is a necessary element of any fiction. They failed here, repeatedly. And then we get Bully Batman growling in anger that he's seemingly been outwitted.

But then we come to the final action scene, where story and direction all break down together. There's a notorious failing in many superhero comics where the main characters do what we call "the pose." It's a panel that follows an action sequence where they all stand and face the camera and flex like they were in a photo shoot or on a modeling catwalk. It doesn't move the story forward and it doesn't tell the reader anything they didn't already know. It's just an opportunity for the artist to show off. It's the difference between graphic art and comic art. Animation can have that same problem and it shows up here in spades. The last five minutes of this episode are The Batman looking menacing while chasing an idiot and his key, when one punch or toss of a Batarang would've ended things on the spot. Instead, we get a fight sequence where Average Guy once again gets the best of the master unarmed combatant so that the latter can stalk down a hallway in the shadows and stand triumphant at the edge of a window. There's not even good atmosphere presented here. It's mostly just frustration as we sit through several minutes of "action" wondering why our hero looks like he has no clue what do next other than "the pose". Seriously, the only upside of this entire episode was that John Rhys-Davies was the Baron, and that character was still right out of (poor) central casting and completely obvious.

You cannot crash and burn much harder than this and it's surprising that regular director Frank Paur was the one helming it. Remarkably, it's actually based on a Detective Comics story from 1975, but those weren't always stunning pieces of literature, either. In fact, scheduling was so poor at DC in the 70s that they frequently put new covers on reprinted material; sometimes from a different book. This episode would've qualified at that level of disappointment.

Next time, we (cringe) have a dream sequence story with Perchance to Dream. Here's hoping for a better outcome.

Batman: TAS, episode #24: Mad as a Hatter

I'm a long-time Alice in Wonderland fan. I always appreciated the outright bizarreness of many of the concepts and characters contained in it; like a fairy tale, but with just that tinge of madness and darkness that takes it one step beyond. I designed a comic series many years ago that involved a number of characters with mental illnesses and one group of primary antagonists were called The Wonderland Gang. (I still have a few hundred pages of script for that sitting around somewhere...) And, of course, with so many of The Batman's opponents afflicted with their own particular issues, it doesn't seem outrageous that one of his enemies would be modeled on a notable character from Lewis Caroll's works. The Mad Hatter was first created by Bill Finger and Lew Sayre Schwartz in 1948 and has been a regular opponent and resident of Arkham Asylum ever since. That said, the Hatter always struck me as a bit of an outsider to the whole Batman milieu. Was he perhaps a bit too on the nose when lined up against more original characters like The Joker? Or is it lingering discomfort from seeing the Hatter's hat eyes shoot lightning that mind controlled people?

As a 5-year-old, that was kind of creepy, even if it later became as ridiculous as everything else connected to the Batman TV series. (Or maybe it was because they used the same visual effect as the Mummy Man from Ultraman, who was genuinely creepy?) Writer/producer Paul Dini fully engages the Wonderland mythos in this episode, establishing Jervis Tetch (strangely, one of the most normal of Batman villain names) as a devotee of Carroll, as well as a scientist at WayneTech. Instead of the hat being his central gimmick, he goes with the 10/6 price tags (the price of a hat (10 shillings, 6 pence) when original Carroll illustrator, John Tenniel, first drew the character) as his method of mind control. It's considerably less elegant than firing beams of light at your target, since you have to assume that everyone that Tetch approaches is going to let him wave a circuit board in the direction of their heads. But this is where fantasy meets reality. BTAS was intended for kids just as much as it was adults. Many kids might not be familiar with Alice in Wonderland and fully immersing them in the character as presented in Carroll's work might be a doorway (a very small door...) into the books where the character was created.

Dini goes full steam ahead with this approach, since the target of Tetch's affection is the department secretary, not only a dead ringer for Alice, but named that, as well. This is where we begin to debate the difference between ripoff and homage. Obviously, there are no illusions here, as this was intended to be a Wonderland adventure, beginning to end. But I couldn't help but feel that the whole treatment was a little heavy-handed. For all that the regular opponents, like The Joker and Catwoman, didn't receive the "origin" treatment or others, like Mr. Freeze, received nicely-woven new ones, this one stayed well within the bounds of what the character had usually been. The main exception was that the Hatter was acting not out of greed, but love unrequited, which is at least a more primal motivation and something that might encourage his more erratic behavior. It doesn't entirely cover all of the erratic behavior in the episode, since "Mr. Hat" didn't tell his would-be muggers to "climb the tower of the nearest suspension bridge and THEN 'jump in the river'", creating a really clumsy setup for The Batman to save them, but OK. Dini also uses lines from the books ("Curiouser and curiouser!") whenever he can.

There's a heavy dose of notable voice talent here, as well. The Hatter is Roddy McDowall of multiple SF production fame (Cornelius in Planet of the Apes, etc.), while Alice is Kimmy Robertson of Twin Peaks and Dr. Marcia Cates is Loretta Swit, most remembered as "Hot Lips" Houlihan from M*A*S*H, which makes her a very appropriate Red Queen, later in the episode. It's certainly arguable that, despite all of the high points, the story as a whole is a bit too much of a setup. Carroll didn't need to explain why the Unbirthday Party was so bizarre or why the Red Queen and her court were so strange because that was part and parcel of the whole adventure. Why everything seems so easy for Jervis Tetch and why Alice seems so willing to just ride along with it, outside of one great line ("This is getting too weird!") is a bit harder to explain. Where do we wobble between well-constructed story and amusement park ride? Certainly, Tetch hoping for Alice's affection makes him more relatable than most versions of the character in the comics or even the one who inspired all of them at the tea table which he attempts to recreate for his test subject rats in the first image of this episode. But it also doesn't make this much more than bog standard super-villain fare, either. But, then, this is a superhero cartoon, highlighted by the best line of the episode, from Alfred: "Then I'll prepare your usual breakfast: Toast, coffee... bandages." Overall, it was decent, but not especially thrilling.

Next time, we get a bit more down to earth, with The Cape and Cowl Conspiracy.

Batman: TAS, episode #23: The Forgotten

This episode is a really interesting intersection of two aspects: It's not really a Batman story, but it is a really well-told story with pertinent social themes, not only to the viewers, but to the characters involved. The Batman ending up somewhere in what looks like Wyoming to battle a mine operator is something that would've come out of he "Good ol' Bstman" frame of reference, in that the unusual locale and circumstances were something different for the guy usually skulking around warehouses or hanging from rooftops (The Simpsons go to Japan!) By the same token, it does embody one of the central themes of the character (defending those who can't defend themselves) and it turns out to be a really solid story, with good pacing and great visual cues and sequences that build the atmosphere at all the right points. Director Boyd Kirkland doesn't shy away from the Cool Hand Luke cues, with both the music and the ironic banter among the prisoners becoming easy reminders of that classic film.

But it's also built in other ways. The opening shot of the pigeons flying from a rooftop near the rescue mission is then mirrored by a cauldron of bats mimicking their motion as an indicator that we've transitioned to the Batcave. We've gone from Bruce Wayne to The Batman without even needing to see the costume. Kirkland then follows with a great visual sequence of a few seconds showing Bruce Wayne getting into his "transient" disguise. It's an example of letting the visuals tell the story, rather than adding dialogue which only muddies the waters (If you want to lose an hour of your life, ask me about this approach vis-à-vis Blade Runner sometime.) He continues that with Bruce driving around, looking for a suitable location to investigate the disappearances. It's just good storytelling and we get to see things without a word spoken to distract us, although it has to be said that a "transient" driving around in a nicely-maintained Studebaker probably blows his disguise. But, so rarely in this series, even while needing to present a situation where there's a threat to our main character, Kirkland doesn't hesitate to remind us that this is The Batman, master unarmed combatant, as he takes out two guys while keeping his hands in his coat pockets the whole time. Unfortunately, he's then distracted by a cat (Selina!) and we move to the next stage of our story.

Bruce in the mining camp gives the storyteller two opportunities. The first is the chance to further engage those Cool Hand Luke parallels, where the stories of the people in slavery only emphasize the already obvious injustice of the situation. It introduces us to the most laid back and positive chain gang worker ever, in Riley, but it's also a way to introduce someone who can be the level-headed one while Bruce is impaired. Speaking of level-headed, the second opportunity is the chance to show Alfred again as Bruce's right-hand man who's able to do more than just polish the silverware, as he smartly puts a tracker on a truck and then kinda flies the Batwing out to its location. That scene is a little awkward, because we've just been impressed with Alfred's confidence and ambition (and complete understanding of our main character: "Only vampires loathe daylight more than Batman!" He only missed the "The") and now we're reduced to him being completely impotent compared to the technology. One also wonders why it was appropriate to still wear his tuxedo out to "The Bowery!" of Gotham and not out to the hinterlands where gold mines exist. Lazy animators or something else?

That great visual storytelling continues in the dream sequence with The Joker. We see the hints at who Bruce Wayne/The Batman is without a voiceover or anything except what we see in front of us. The Joker is horrifying as a dream menace to begin with, but here, of course, it's also a clue.  But despite getting back to more of what a Batman story would normally be, the writers don't leave the central theme, as we see images detailing how many are doing without food or proper shelter in Gotham, the same way it is in the real world in the wealthiest nation on Earth. We also get to maintain that firm grip on the character's reality, as The Batman makes short work of multiple regular guys in the perfect environment: darkness, a cave, and with few firearms at hand. Again, the unarmed combat master who simply won't be stopped by Joe Average criminals. Even in those circumstances, the threat is present and the the tension remains, which makes it an interesting action sequence, rather than just a device to move the story along. That whole "character's reality" shows up in another way at the end, where we see the contrast between regular people and Bruce Wayne, millionaire. In that way, Bruce never really confronted the existence of the people who are doing without the bare minimum and it was kind of awkward to see him essentially rub it in their faces; to say nothing of how it arcs very close to being a secret identity revealing moment.

But in contrast to the previous non-super-villain episode, this was a really well done story from beginning to end. Next up, we see our first appearance of one of the more esoteric of The Batman's enemies, The Mad Hatter, in Mad as a Hatter.

Batman: TAS, episode #22: Prophecy of Doom

 

Ugh. This is the first example of an episode that simply failed to work on almost every level. The premise is weak, the pacing is tedious, and the presence of The Batman is the only thing that makes it distinct from a Murder, She Wrote episode. We hit the ground running with a Benny Goodman-style rhythm in the background on a cruise ship, which is then sunk for reasons unknown. Those reasons become obvious when we're informed of the presence of the mighty Nostromos, a cheap hood and former actor who's apparently willing to go through the expense (and lengthy investigation) of sinking an entire cruise liner and likely killing who knows how many people to make only one of his wealthy dupes believe even more deeply than his already-professed devotion. Eh? Part of Nostromos' acting ability is also the ability to keep his eyes large enough for one to suspect he's been given Alex's therapy for too long. This is on top of how some actors just can't function without a writer. Nostromos? I think the actual writers (Dennis Marks and Sean Derek) could've worked just a little harder on that name.

It's not that the themes are poor. They're just very common. Did anyone think of Fox News while listening to the description of The Great Fall, including the desire to transform all the cash into gold bullion in true, Ron Paul style? This was a few years before that network began, but the impulse for wealthy people to prevent the rabble from taking a piece of that wealth has been extant since human society was developed. Also, the usual generational conflict, as Ethan bemoans the fact that "We're raising a generation of cynics!", presumably using the modern perception of the term 'cynic', someone who doubts everything, while he clings to the hopeful message... of someone predicting the end of civilization. Yeah. But you could see the "OK, Boomer" message in that, too, because that theme has also not changed down through the ages. 

And that's kind of the overall theme that was delivered here, since this was straight out of the 1950s-era Batman, including the endless final battle scene (Attack of the Deadly Planetarium!), which makes one wonder if planetaria can, indeed, go into overdrive or be driven out of control and threaten everyone within them. I mean, apparently, elevators can be destroyed by literally tossing a wrench in their gears, so there it is. However, given the resplendence of Nostromo's HQ, one wonders where the out-of-work actor and SFX guy got the money for that place before collecting the wealthy idiots whom they're trying to rob right now. One perhaps inadvertent theme was that the only woman in the room, Lisa (voiced by Heather Locklear!) was also the smartest person in the room. (Apart from The Batman, of course, since Bruce Wayne has to look like an idiot; again, totally 50s-era approach.) That status apparently included the writers on this one, since it was kind of a grind to get through it.

That lowball, 50s approach also colors the other action scenes. Why is out-of-work SFX guy the most dangerous person The Batman encounters, not only outdoing him physically on a rooftop, including being strong enough to rip a steam pipe from its housing to then catch the master unarmed combatant full in the ribs, but putting up more of a fight than Killer Croc throughout the planetarium battle. Why? Because they needed that to keep a weak story moving along. What it does, of course, is diminish the main character and produce an episode that really isn't worth the time, as the villains seem somewhere between ridiculous and laughable and the hero, consequently, not much better. Even the in-jokes were weak, since Nostromos is apparently a fan of CCR ("I see a bad moon rising!") Every series has its low points and this was certainly one of them for BTAS.

Next time, we at least have a more interesting social issue in focus, with The Forgotten.