Batman: TAS, episode #57: Shadow of the Bat, part 1

The title of this two-parter should have some meaning to those who were reading the comics back in the day, even if it has nothing to do with the story itself. As noted many times here, Steve Engelhart's run on The Batman is considered a highlight of the almost-century-old character's existence. It created characters that have become staples of the mythos and, of course, also included the greatest Joker story ever told. In the mid-1980s, DC recognized the attachment that people had for this run and reprinted portions of it as a limited series called Shadow of the Batman. That's when The Batman's popularity was beginning to reach epic proportions with the publication of Frank Miller's Return of the Dark Knight and the Tim Burton film to follow a couple years later. Finally, in 1992, DC began a fourth monthly series about the character (after Detective Comics, Batman, and Legends of the Dark Knight) called Batman: Shadow of the Bat. So, for those of us old enough to be around "back in the day" (or just, you know... old) that title is always going to carry some weight and I think that played into the overall story presented here, as well.

As noted last time, not only is this the first appearance in BTAS of Barbara Gordon (Melissa Gilbert) as Batgirl, but it's also clearly written as a work of longer effort, rather than just the weekly situational episode and not simply because it's a two-parter. There's a pacing present here that regular director, Frank Paur, and semi-regular writer, Brynne Stephens, maximize at every opportunity. I've talked often about the noir roots of not only The Batman but especially this series and this episode is clearly written with that in mind. There are many set pieces that would've been glossed over or presented through dialogue in the average episode, but here we see the moment when Mad Dog (Greg Burson) interacts with the mysterious boss and we see the little character moments with Barbara and with Robin, as well as Bruce in disguise playing pool at the Stacked Deck while gathering info about who might be behind the plot to frame Jim Gordon (Bob Hastings.) It's all carefully shown, rather than told, and the pace is deliberate. Of course, speaking of that plot, it's kind of funny that the rally held in his defense isn't proclaiming that "Jim Gordon is Innocent", but instead that "Jim Gordon Deserves Bail." That's the most proper, follow-the-due-process-of-law public protest that I can remember. ("Jim Gordon Deserves a Motion for Change of Venue at Pre-trial!") This is on top of the assistant commissioner bringing Gotham City police to arrest the commissioner of said police, which would normally be done by something like the FBI, so as to avoid chain of command issues. This point, of course, was also to emphasize the betrayal inherent to this whole situation by the 'two-faced' Gil Mason (Tim Matheson.) The little humor doesn't stop with the police, since Rupert Thorne (John Vernon) is in our opening scene, somehow walking around a building for no apparent purpose where crime is taking place, just like no crime boss should ever be doing, especially one as smart as Thorne. (Rupert Thorne, of course, was created by Engelhart in those stories partially reprinted in Shadow of the Batman.) But those are just nitpicks, really, and the upsides to this episode are many.

Barbara Gordon, for example, not only appeared three more times before this (including another two-parter written by Stephens) as her own person walking her own path, but now takes up the road-less-traveled like Bruce, albeit with far less grim (and obsessive) motivations. Confronting both the paternalism of her father and The Batman in adjoining scenes, you can see why a determination to do what she sees as right is something that's been with her from the beginning of her appearances here. Appearing as kit-bashed Batperson only earns her more of that male attitude when Robin (Loren Lester) sees her ("A girl?!") but also lends some weight to the idea that this is one of the few things that the Batman TV series from the 60s might have gotten right. Robin makes that exclamation upon tearing her costume and seeing her blazing red hair. Yvonne Craig appeared in Batman as her regular brunette self when playing Barbara and had a red wig attached to her costume to further misdirect people as to her identity when playing Batgirl. In terms of people taking on new identities, this was also a moment for Mr. Inconsistent, Harvey Bullock (Robert Costanzo), to jump to the commissioner's defense by leading the effort for the rally for proper legal procedure, rather that immediately jumping on Mason's bandwagon. This version of Bullock is largely supportive of Gordon throughout BTAS and saves his venom for The Batman, but he has moments of dissension and the character was virtually built on those from his first appearance in Detective in 1974, so it's often hard to keep his motivations straight.

And, yes, in perfect sync with his identity, it is totally appropriate for Two-Face (Richard Moll) to appear in a two-parter with a master plan to undermine his former colleague, Jim Gordon. Even if you didn't recognize Moll's voice in that initial moment with Mad Dog, you would've been able to tell from the clues leading into the reveal, like the fact that the building where he's masterminding has two paint jobs, split right down the middle. I appreciated the focus that Stephens paid to the coin flipping, too, as that's a central point of the character that's often tossed to the side like some kind of gimmick. But his dual nature is another reflection of that of our protagonist, Bruce Wayne/The Batman. Harvey Dent just lacks the control and willpower that Bruce displays to not only keep his mental health issues from totally distorting his life, but also to use them as fuel for the focus that his second (first?) life requires. Two-Face remains one of the best of The Batman's foes for that reason, as not only is he purely driven by his dichotomy (somebody told me that word before...) but there's an element of tragedy there that lingers in the background whenever he's the main element of the story.

Next time, it is, of course, part two (face) of Shadow of the Bat.

Batman: TAS, episode #56: Harley and Ivy

I have many rather mixed feelings about this episode. On the one hand, it has one of my favorite modern characters of the Batman mythos in Harley Quinn (Arleen Sorkin.) Despite her origin in this very series as a goofy mascot of The Joker (Mark Hamill, as always), she was so popular that she later went on to appear regularly in the comics and in even later DC productions based on those comics (and this series.) As noted earlier, the version of her that appears in Amazon's Caped Crusader is the best one ever done and carries the inherent appeal of the character into a very realistic rendition. But there's something that simply made the character interesting from the beginning, especially when she's played with the maniacal edge that comes with hanging around the Clown Prince of Crime for too long. OTOH, Poison Ivy (Diane Pershing) has always been one of the "gimmick" villains of the Rogues' Gallery, with nothing that makes her genuinely compelling. In a comics world where the other hero with a regular gallery, the Flash, had opponents like Captain Cold, Heat Wave, and Weather Wizard, Ivy filling the "plants" slot of the various natural phenomena villains wasn't especially interesting.

Similarly, the main theme of the episode is female empowerment in this, our misogynist society, which is an obviously laudable goal. It's just that the way it's delivered is so ham-handed that it was likely to have been mocked not only by the young boys watching but by the young girls, as well, for being about as obvious a delivery as could be imagined. Ivy strolling into the Peregrinators Club to be greeted with "Is that a woman?! Here?!" can leave you shaking your head at the archaic tendencies of someone that would react like that... or the person who wrote it, which was Paul Dini, stalwart of the show and not generally prone to not-even-pedestrian lines or plots like this. Oh, and not even effective given that Harley is still devoted to her abusive boyfriend at the end of the show. So, in terms of general mission and the quality of the story, this one is fairly close to the low end of the scale. We also don't delve into the deeper social aspects of the situation, in that the Queens of Crime who are riding high over Gotham are also both depicted as sexpots (i.e. things for men to ogle at and often not respect) in this episode and every other appearance. This is aside from the more Batman-centric aspect to it, in which the girls and young women watching the show are meant to think of standing up for themselves and their rights embodied by two hardened criminals (aka the interesting characters) and not, of course, our hero (or even Batgirl!) So, yeah, a lot of more complicated criticisms of this one can easily be peeled away as you look deeper into it.

One really positive development, however, was that this episode was the initiation for the Harley-Ivy relationship that has since persisted in the aforementioned other media and has become something of a fan-favorite situation. And there were some good moments here. The anti-Batman fridge magnet at Ivy's place was a nice touch, as were the multiple classic film references ("I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!"; Ivy's license player reading "Rosebud", etc.) Not sure what relevance those had to the overall picture, but that's fine. I appreciated Ivy being direct with her own criticism, as well ("Change the record, Harl! You wanna be some wacko's victim the rest of your life?") Similarly, Harley taking care of the obnoxious frat boys in as direct a manner as can be used (boors meet bazooka) was also fun. However, in the end, we come to the conclusion that, despite its trappings, this wasn't really a "Harley 'n Ivy" episode as much as it was a Joker one, since he's the main threat at the end, destroys Ivy's house, almost kills The Batman in the process, only to be rescued by the latter as almost an afterthought while Renee Montoya (Ingrid Oliu) delivers the "I am no man!" moment in arresting our two sideshows. Given that he's the central threat, it's also mildly disappointing to see his mania be subsumed by the typical relationship dynamics of a guy not appreciating (and not listening to) the companion who is always by his side (and I don't mean the hyenas.) On that whole "social responsibility" thing, as well, it was kind of startling how dangerous and violent the high speed chase was that opened the episode and led to Harley getting tossed out by her beau. Not very responsible on the part of the protector of Gotham.

But speaking of Batgirl, she makes her first appearance in the series in next time's episode, Shadow of the Bat, part I.

Alien: Earth, episode 3: Metamorphosis (into something mildly interesting)

The opening moments of episode 3 were emblematic of some of my thoughts on the first two, as Nibs (Lily Newmark) questioned with some disdain why she and the rest of the hybrids were named after Peter Pan characters. My thoughts, exactly. Here's where we really get meta. Was Hawley doing that to show how shallow Boy Kavalier (Samuel Blenkin) is, despite his genius (shades of Elmo yet again)? Or was Hawley genuinely using that as I thought before, simply because it's a trope that a lot of people will latch onto? And, again, it is a Disney property. (Marketing! Woo!) But I'm starting off with a heavy dose of similar disdain for an opening to an episode that, as it went along, actually turned into the best of the initial three. There were still some predictable parts and it's still part of an origin story, which is always below the degree of originality that I'm usually looking for these days, but there are a couple interesting things going on.

What stuck out to me overall were the number of references to other elements of our sci-fi culture over the past 50 years. Once might call them "homages." One might also call them "obvious touchstones." If you want to really be dismissive, you'd call them "ripoffs designed to evoke familiarity because, once again, your story is lacking originality." I'm not sure that I'm quite that cynical, as of yet, but it's something that's going to continue to rear its head as long as the central plot is the overtly Blade Runner-esque "What does it mean to be human?" There's nothing wrong with that plot. It's a great premise for any number of stories. I'm just continuing to draw this comparison and my mild frustration with it based on the assertion at the very beginning of episode 1, which stated that the major corporations were engaged in a race to find "immortality", despite synths and their cyborg simulacra being not suitable for what you'd assume "immortality" was intended to do (i.e. preserve the rich.) The only model that's come close is that of the new one: the hybrids. Presumably, this is supposed to define Kavalier's "genius", in that he's finally found a way to accomplish this desired goal of people like him. But synths and cyborgs were never going to be part of that goal, so that whole element still seems a little hazy and more of a sop to Blade Runner fans (like me.)

But Hawley is at least spreading his net wide. Not only are we doing the replicant thing, but it's obvious that someone among the story team was a Netrunner player, since the identities of the corporations that we've seen are much like the major players of that legendary card game: Haas-Bioroid specialized in android design. Jinteki was about biological enhancement. And the Weyland Consortium had a wider portfolio than any other. And, yes, the name of that Consortium was almost certainly a reference back to Weyland-Yutani from the original film, who still exist here. Can you do an homage to an homage? If the next corporation we're introduced to is a media conglomerate (NBN!), my suspicions will be confirmed. Similarly, although slightly more subtle, we have Kavalier's exclamation: "New lifeforms! With acid for blood! Like an undiscovered country!" Hello, Star Trek fans. At least they cited the best of the films. (Fight me, Khan fans.) But some of that referential material is self-referential and, as with the first two episodes, gets a little annoying. Morrow (Babou Ceesay) confesses to Smee (Jonathan Ajayi) and Slightly (Adarsh Gourav) that he was given the same instructions and found some of the same internal conflict that Ash would find two years later (or, y'know, almost 50 years ago when the original film was released): Mother told me to do this and I had to struggle with the ethical complications of making the crew expendable. I get that major corporations tend to lack innovative thought but my first question had I been in that writer's room would have been: Haven't we been here before?

And that extends to Kersh (Timothy Olyphant) somewhat, as well. He begins to take on a minor deus ex machina role (how drolly appropriate...) as he deftly uncovers and explains all the little mysteries about what happened, what's happening now, who Morrow is, how the aliens function, and why it's dangerous for the inferior human, Kavalier, to be near the eggs. He's the walking exposition guy that kept the story below 60 minutes. But you can only have that ultimate info key walking around for so long before suspension of disbelief begins to fail. That said, Kersh and Morrow are still, by far, the most interesting characters, based on Olyphant's gravitas and Ceesay's genuine inhuman struggle with his nascent humanity. That comes out even more strongly in this episode than it did in the opening two because this script is stronger in character action than either of the openers. The inclusion of Joe (Alex Lawther) with Wendy (Sydney Chandler) has grounded some of the more emotional content in something that's real, as opposed to plot-driven. Of course, Joe spends most of this episode unconscious, but the fact that he still has the opportunity to be so is one of my major story questions. As noted, the xenomorph in the first two episodes was like an ever-expanding cloud of shrapnel, eviscerating everything in its path. But, suddenly, Joe is the first choice for it to do the "phlegm them for the eggs" capture routine. Why him and why now? Is it just the plot armor for a starring role? If so, that's quite weak.

And there are a couple more points of interest that pop up outside of the airspace of Kersh or Morrow. One of them is Curly's (Erana James) insistence to Kavalier that she should be the favorite: "She's my favorite because she was first." "My dad always threw the first pancake in the trash." She's demonstrating the hyper-awareness and unbridled ambition of some youths, which does play right into Kavalier's complaint to Dame Sylvia (Essie Davis) that he's creating this multi-billion dollar project because he's bored and wants to have a decent conversation with someone (obvious segue) but it also at least gives James and her charisma some screen time. Now I'm just waiting for her to do a floor spin at some point to kick away an alien threat. Kavalier also asserts that he created the hybrid project in part because "Children have access to a world of infinite imagination." Not only is this another tired Peter Pan reference but, hey, man: I'm 55 years old and my imagination is still pretty damn good. The other interesting bit is Wendy reacting to the shrieks and pain of the face hugger that Kersh dissects... perfectly. Somehow. That's at least a worthwhile mystery for now. I also have to say that I appreciate the cynical design of the Prodigy logo, as our camera recedes from Wendy's throes of agony to end the episode. Just like with the first two, I'm not sure how relevant Metallica's "Wherever I May Roam" is for the end credits but, yeah, whatevs. Overall, it was an improvement from the first two. Still not classic, but worth watching episode 4.

Might be TTH: Alien: Earth, episode 1 and 2

Those of you who've followed my work here for any length of time know that I'm a Ridley Scott fan... to a point. I think his first three films (The Duellists, Alien, Blade Runner (the director's cut; no voiceover, ends in the elevator)) are as fine a contribution to the history of cinema as anyone's. Indeed, I still consider Blade Runner to be the finest SF film ever made and one of the greatest films period. Its influence is rampant across my own fiction work. And not far behind in that SF film and film ranking is Alien, which demonstrated that you didn't need lasers or robots or heroic prophecies to make a solid story in the near future. You just needed regular people in extraordinary circumstances, which is the root of a lot of good fiction. Noah Hawley's new series, Alien: Earth unfortunately evades that premise entirely in its first couple episodes. Whether that's just a different take or a significant flaw in the overall story is open for question.

The problem that a lot of creators have struggled with within the constraints of the Alien "franchise" is how to keep drawing people back to the perceived threat of the xenomorphs once they've been "solved" in this or that film. James Cameron produced (and directed) what is probably the greatest sequel ever made with Aliens, when he took the horror film and turned it into an action film without sacrificing story or character. That's because he recognized that what Scott did is create approachable and memorable characters against- again -the backdrop of extraordinary circumstances. (Shakespeare alert!) That's exactly what most creators have failed to do since, instead relying on a new alien gimmick, rather than a story about the moving things on screen that the audience can actually relate and connect to (Full disclosure: When I saw Alien at the age of 7, I was rooting for the creature, but I was like that (far more enthralled by Darth Vader than whiny Luke Skywalker, etc.))

On the one hand, Noah Hawley recognized that his series likely wouldn't be a hit if the story was about the creatures and people just having to figure out the "villain of the week" gimmick like a police procedural or any of a number of mostly DC comics throughout the ages. Instead, he inserted a broader plot that examines the question of why both humanity and the xenomorph's reactions to each other are so foreign. I'm not sure if it's going to work, but it was at least a decent effort so far. The main premise is the competition between the five major corporations that rule the planet Earth to produce a new form of "immortality", be it synthetic (like the androids from the film franchise), cyborg (a single prominent character in the first two episodes), or hybrid (human consciousness transmitted into a synth.) The latter are the creation of the "world's youngest trillionaire", as if this were something to aspire to for all the current tech bro followers of Elmo Musk. They're also the central focus of the plot. I believe the idea is that, since they inherently have human consciousness (and, supposedly, conscience), they'll be the most interesting to follow and most relatable to the audience. Since all of the hybrids are created from terminally ill children, Hawley chose to cloak this whole aspect of the plot in the regrettable Lost Boys trope from Peter Pan, which has been so done to death that not even supposed immortality can rescue it. It's also an interesting insight into current world circumstances, in that it allows a company owned by Disney (Hulu) to produce a show that also uses Disney properties as central themes of the story in the form of that film, as well as Ice Age. Something something corporations ruling the world and all that. I mean, the whole premise of the xenomorph reproduction process is parasitic, so this should come as an easy turn for a company like Disney...

Hawley has done good work in the production process by borrowing extensive elements from the original film. Given that this is technically a prequel (le sigh), most of the technology on the Weyland-Yutani ship retrieving the specimens is drawn from the original film, from the text sounds to the light panels of Mother, the ship's AI. That's interesting for a bit but it eventually veers from homage to near-mockery. And I'm fine with cross-time technologies, in that their space travel is vastly more advanced than ours but their Internet and communications aren't. That's just a fact of SF only being able to predict so much (people still using pay phones in Neuromancer, etc.) But said advanced space travel also completely ignores the laws of physics when a ship crash lands on Earth under some measure of thrust and somehow doesn't create the mile-wide crater that one would expect. When there are obvious ways to defuse these kinds of glaring plot points (and when you have Disney money to do it with), it does leave you wondering. But those are details.

The main problem with the premise of the superhumans (whether synth, cyborg, or hybrid) engaging with the vastly physically superior aliens is that, well, we lose that whole "regular humans in extraordinary circumstances" element. We do have the hybrids being impaired by the immature emotional responses to events, which is similar to Blade Runner's replicants having difficulty dealing with their own existence. But that was interesting because the entire focus of the film was the question of what it means to be human. This is not that. Instead, it's about what it means to be more than human, which isn't quite as exciting in a genuine Marvel vs DC heroic fantasy comparison. On top of that, there are not yet any genuinely compelling characters to propel the story (in true adventure comic fashion.) In truth, the most interesting people are Morrow (Babou Ceesay), a Weyland-Yutani cyborg determined to serve the company, and Kersh (Tim Olyphant), a Prodigy synthetic determined to be as icy and distant as possible in every circumstance. The most notable thing about Morrow is how much of a fanatic he is to serve the mission (retrieve and protect the specimens, akin to Ash from the original film) but also how utterly inhuman he is when the definition of cyborg is a cybernetically-enhanced human. Again, are we attempting to hearken to the Blade Runner conflict of the inhuman human and the human inhumans? If so, why do we need aliens?

The visuals have been good. I'm finding the architecture to be very Mega City One, which would be an interesting reach if that was their intention, given the far different structure of that society to this one. And, of course, when our gang of hybrids set out to encounter the xenomorphs, the staging shifts into a very familiar "superheroes setting out on a mission" approach which again raises the question of just which aspect of (non)humanity are we focusing on here? Both? Neither? Episode two also branches into high action a la Aliens to Alien. But it also bends distinctly into John Carpenter's The Thing territory with the amount of blood unleashed by the primary alien and some of the other specimens brought back. It's not just the cool tentacles and the disturbing parasites (and not even Face Huggers.) It's the sheer torrent of blood. The original creature was a stalker. People mostly died offscreen. The creatures in Aliens were soldiers, but still mostly did the dirty work off-camera, presumably because people had to be at least partially alive to propagate the bugs. Hawley has taken a very different horror angle in this show, going from the eerieness of The Haunting to something like Friday the 13th, which is vastly less interesting to me from a storytelling angle. I have bloody scenes in my Dystopia work, too, but it's generally meant to be detail, not a starring role. I'm also not entirely certain what the relevance of the 18th-century French party was nor the baseball angle. Is this our sign of actual humans, in that they have hobbies and distractions where the synths and the cyborgs don't? I'm also questioning the choice of credits music, going from Black Sabbath's "Mob Rules" to Tool's "Stinkfist", neither of which seem to have relevance to what's happening onscreen, except in the broadest sense.

So, yeah, overall I'm kinda lukewarm on the whole thing. It's not awful, but it's not exactly compelling, either. Again, watching Ceesay and Olyphant perform means I'll probably continue to see if they can take it somewhere interesting, but it's certainly not in The Wire/Breaking Bad/Game of Thrones (seasons 1-5) territory of something that must be seen or even a "you really should watch this" effort like Andor. I know that's a tall ask, so I'm certainly willing to give it a couple more episodes to see if it can at least aspire to get there.

Realism in fiction

It's not often that a month goes by without anything showing up here, but it is in fact one whole month since the last post. Part of it is that I've been spending most of my writing time at Dystopia.ink. But another part is that we haven't been at the theater very often in the last couple months because there hasn't been much to see. I don't know if it's just a dearth of releases caused by the writers' strike a couple years ago or if the new approach of "Marquee Arts" (the new face of the Michigan Theater non-profit) is to emphasize stuff that makes money (mainstream films) over the smaller returns of the art films that were the reason we joined up in the first place. I really hope the latter is just idle speculation. But tonight we made it back for a film I didn't have tremendously high hopes for, but which turned out to be a solid effort. In a way, my perspective was like the outlook of the main character, Agathe (Camille Rutherford) in Jane Austen Wrecked My Life.

Agathe is an introverted bookseller at Shakespeare and Company (an actual bookstore on the Left Bank in Paris) and an aspiring novelist. She also has no relationships with anyone but her sister and nephew whom she lives with and her best friend and co-worker, Félix (Pablo Pauly.) When she finally gets inspiration from a sake cup in a local Chinese restaurant, she writes the first couple chapters of a romantic novel, which Félix likes and secretly sends to the Jane Austen Residency in England. Agathe reluctantly attends while she tries to sort out her own romantic interactions with Félix and Oliver (Charlie Anson), the son of the people who run the residency. It's not a complex plot, but there's enough depth to the characters and their quite human foibles and exchanges that it was sufficient to keep Story Guy interested in what was coming next, rather than sighing as I predicted the next five minutes from scene to scene. Agathe isn't an especially compelling character, but the story is genuine enough that she doesn't have to be.

This is a mixed-language film, which is nominally French, but spends about half the runtime with the characters speaking English. I'm not sure whether that was a nod to its inspiration (Austen) or just a demonstration of its modernist perspective, in that a significant portion of Western Europe can speak English (or, at least, that's been the case in our ventures into places like Germany, Portugal, and Liverpool.) There's still a certain level of romance (naturally) attached to the French language and I think that may have been part of writer/director Laura Piani's intent. It was billed as a "rom com", but there wasn't much about it that felt comedic, per se. As Jaime pointed out when we were leaving, it felt more like a drama that didn't take itself too seriously and left its characters in several situations that didn't approach the level of tragedy (using the old Greek dramatic split here (comedy/tragedy)), but were emotional enough to not have everyone laughing the whole way through. Stick in the mud that I am, I didn't laugh at all, but did appreciate the humor in several moments; most of them driven by the blessed European forthrightness of the dialogue. I always enjoy the fact that European films with modern characters don't shade their dialogue for the horrible crisis that might be a child walking into the theater. If they're talking about sex, they're not doing it on stage. They're doing it in real life and expressing themselves like real people do.

Of course, given that this film is largely about the crisis of confidence of a writer, I was also instantly interested in that, in the same way I have been with others. We've all been there before. We all will be again. I can say that I've been spending so much time on Dystopia because of that same struggle to put things into words that don't seem to want to cooperate. In Agathe's case, it was also about speaking those words to the people around her and taking the risk of being directly connected to someone. That's an introvert's regular challenge and it's part of why I found her character so believable. I have to say that I tend to share Oliver's initial perspective that Jane Austen is mildly overrated, but I also appreciated Agathe's assertion that Austen was the first Western writer to represent women as human beings, rather than plot devices, some of them "even with a sense of humor." There are points where the film drags a bit, but that may just be the nature of how Piani wanted to tell the story. The best word possible for both the main character and the story, in general, is "thoughtful." The other word that all of us emerged from the theater with is "cute." Again, that's not tremendously compelling, but it could have been a bog-standard, three act comedy, too, and this was elevated some way past that. Worthwhile.

Batman: TAS, episode #55: The Mechanic

Given all of my complaints about the previous Penguin episode and the character, in general, you'll probably be relieved to know that I won't spend this entire post complaining again, as The Mechanic, while not tremendously innovative in style or story, is still a solid entry for the series and well-told in terms of the action sequences, the believable danger for our heroes, and the threat posed by a villain who is often the least threatening of anyone who normally faces The Batman.

It's perhaps understandable that this episode features a more menacing Penguin (Paul Williams), because several elements of it were clearly taken straight from Batman Returns, Tim Burton's film which was the first medium to feature the character as anything other than a foppish rich guy. It was notably his first appearance as a mutant, with hands that looks like fins and so forth (unless you count the quite pointed nose that he's always had, I guess.) That feature was present from the beginning of B: TAS and now the attitude that Danny DeVito brought to the character came with it. It also inspired major elements of the plot, such as Penguin taking control of the Batmobile, and minor elements, like the giant rubber duck that sends Arnold Rundle (Steve Franken) presumably to his doom after he supplies the villain with the info by which to track down the title character of the episode, Earl Cooper (Paul Winfield), the mechanic. Winfield should be well-known to SF film fans (the lieutenant who tries to help Sarah Connor in The Terminator, among others) and he also wasn't the only SF star to be part of this episode, as John De Lancie (most well-known as Q from Star Trek: The Next Generation) voiced Eagleton, one of Penguin's henchmen.

The episode opens right into the action, with The Batman and Robin in hot pursuit of the Penguin's henchmen and with an acknowledgment that this kind of action is as routine as you'd expect it to be when Robin raises an eyebrow at one of them spraying the Batmobile with bullets ("Is he kidding?") and The Batman's subsequent response: "Maybe he's new in town..." Given that the plot centers around not only fixing the Batmobile and the parts involved, but also the hijacking of it, I found it extremely satisfying to watch the moment when Penguin's car drops off a bridge to a passing boat and how detailed and realistic the destruction of said car was (wheels flying off, etc.)m in contrast to usual Hollywood durability (or explosions that obviate that kind of detail.) In that same respect, I have to say that if they were trying to maintain the secrecy of Earl's workshop, driving the smoking Batmobile into one of the worst (and largely abandoned) neighborhoods in town is probably not the best way to go unnoticed. That leads right into the central plot, but kind of stuck out as a marked contrast to the otherwise fairly subtle element of that plot that leads the villain to the Batmobile. But that subtlety is kind of undermined by its circumstances, as well. As soon as Earl began ordering parts to repair the Batcar, my first thought was: "He's ordering parts from public suppliers? Wouldn't those normally come from Wayne Enterprises for precisely this reason?"

But most viewers probably wouldn't be thinking that much into it, either. What was interesting about Earl's setup is that it looked like an inspiration for the alternative HQ that Bruce Wayne adopts in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, after Wayne Manor is burned to the ground in his first film. Another atmospheric element that caught the eye was the billboard that announced: "Welcome to Gotham City. America's Playground." That's probably the first and last time that slogan was ever attached to Gotham City (and I'm not entirely sure when Las Vegas began using it) but the idea of a playground was in tune with, again, the high level of action in this episode. The opening scene was one aspect of it, but the entire third act was one long action sequence that was paced really well. The insta-gliders that both heroes were equipped with upon ejecting from the Batmobile were a really nice touch, especially since they didn't instantly disappear when they both landed, as would often have been the case in cartoons with lower production values. That menacing aspect to the Penguin also turned into actual murderous intent when he threatened Earl's daughter and assistant, Marva (Candy Brown.) His final moment on screen, in the prison license plate shop, was also a nice touch. The plate he tears apart says "Gotham - the Dark Deco State." Putting aside the fact that Gotham is a city, not a state, that moment was a nod by the producers, as "dark deco" was their label for the visual style of the series as a whole. So, all in all, a quite positive episode.

Next time, we get a two-fer of villains and the first example that may have set the tone for later villain series.

A stylish cloak on a standard frame

I generally like Ryan Coogler's films. I think he has a solid visual sense and good recognition of both the space and limits of the story that he's trying to tell. On those that he's been directly involved in (Fruitvale Station, Black Panther) and indirectly (Homeroom, Jesus and the Black Messiah), I think he's a key part of the process in getting stories told that often wouldn't be otherwise. Among those is his latest, Sinners. As with Fruitvale and Black Panther, he's both writer and director on this one and his sense of style is visible all over it. It's just that when we get to some of the plot details that I feel like he could've done even more to take it in his own direction and somehow play those last few notes. (Mild spoilers below.)

That latter phrase is based on the fact that the film is largely about music and its influence, not only in African-American culture, but world culture. It takes place in one of the most vibrant and deeply-felt areas of that musical culture: the Mississippi delta. That's where Coogler, regular leading man Michael B. Jordan, and regular accompanying composer, Ludwig Göransson, build story and music together so that one never becomes separate from the other. The film itself isn't a musical, per se, but has several musical numbers that tell large portions of the story by themselves. It's a stylistic approach that worked spectacularly, without forcing us to watch another version of West Side Story. The music wasn't just the vehicle for the story. It was the story. Central to that embodiment was Miles Caton, who played Sammie Moore, aspiring guitarist and the son of a preacher man. Caton was the very embodiment of Delta blues and his powerful voice and playing (ably assisted by one of my long-time favorites, Delroy Lindo, on piano and harp) drove the story forward even more than Jordan's excellent rendition of twin brothers, Smoke (Elijah) and Stack (Elias.) Everything presented there would've made for a great story even without the supernatural elements that accompanied it.

And it's there where the river kinda dried up. Due credit to Coogler for including the local Choctaw presence, who show up in pursuit of a bad element. Unfortunately, that bad element turns out to be a bog standard vampire. That English descriptive that I'm fond of is even more appropriate in this place, as the vampire, Remmick (Jack O'Connell) is appropriately European (Irish) in his desire to dominate or destroy the non-White cultures that he encounters. Of course, given the history of the Irish in this country and back in Europe, Remmick's appeal to solidarity among the collected peoples when he tries to convince the twins and their friends to join the non-human set is yet one more valid metaphor in the story that Coogler's trying to tell. But it's also the same, tired vampire myth that we've seen before; involving garlic, wooden stakes, and sunlight. Smoke's (ex-)wife, Annie (the wonderful Wunmi Musaku) is a practitioner of traditional spiritualism and medicine down on the bayou and, between her knowledge and the presence of the Choctaw, it feels like we could've ventured into something a bit more exotic and less retreaded than the same Romanian refugees who happen to be walking around with a Gaelic accent. Why couldn't we have had people possessed by corrupted shilombish or something like that? Instead, we get typical bloodsuckers who try to trick people into inviting them in, but are powerless to do anything else until that point.

My complaint about Black Panther was that it was telling an interesting espionage and international diplomacy story until we got to the third act, where everything devolved to explosions and cyber-rhinos. I assumed at the time that that was just the necessary price of entering the Marvel Universe. But that's kinda how this story ends up, too; with a cascade of bullets, blood, and fire, even after the supernatural elements have departed the scene. We go from a deeply-invested story about the power of music suffusing culture deep into the past and far into the future and, at the end, the only music we get is the staccato of a tommy gun, which kind of wipes the mind of everything that's been told before. For the first two acts, I really thought we were going somewhere and then the third just left us at the door of typical Hollywood horror flick, like a slightly more cultured From Dusk 'til Dawn. I liked the script and the dialogue (Women talking frankly about sex! Just like, y'know, real life.) I liked most of the characters and performances. I highly appreciated the music, including the Irish jig that Remmick and Co. engage in (Rocky Road to Dublin.) But, in the end, I came out of the film thinking about all of the opportunities missed, rather than the spectacle that I'd just seen, which is really unfortunate. It's certainly worth the time to see it, but I can't point at it and suggest that it's a song that's going to stick with you.

Batman: TAS, episode #54: Zatanna

This episode was an interesting comparison with the previous one. While we still ventured back into Bruce's past to witness his training in escape artistry with the magician, Zatara (Vincent Schiavelli) and his daughter, Zatanna (Julie Brown), we had a few more fireworks in the present based almost solely on Zatarra's use of "magic", confined solely to the idea of stage artistry. The original character is a long-time veteran of DC Comics and former member of the Justice League who first appeared in Hawkman #4 (1964.) In the comics, there was never any doubt as to who or what she was: an actual sorceress who not only communicated with the supernatural but used that power as a superhero; not just a stage magician as she's depicted here in the episode named for her: Zatanna. She was so much the sorceress that she even crossed the veil between DC Comics and the later imprint, Vertigo, when various mystical characters like The Phantom Stranger, John Constantine, and Dr. Fate gathered to deal with major threats from the magical end of the DC Universe. But that level of fantasy was considered to be too out-of-realm for this series by the production team, not least because they discarded the entity that was supposed to be the main villain of this story, The Gentleman Ghost (an arch-nemesis of Hawkman, incidentally.) No ghosts and goblins for the main dressed as a bat. Much of that disdain for the fantasy end of the comics is reflected in the dialogue, most often delivered by Zatanna ("I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation!" after her illusion ends up losing the money from the Gotham Mint; "This never happens to me in Vegas!" after she's arrested; "Why do you care about some leggy dame in nylons?" when The Batman rescues her from the vehicle taking her to jail; etc.)

But just like last time, the basis of the story is the past. Our hero and Zatanna rekindle their mutual affection developed while the former was training with her father (also an arch-sorcerer in the comics) and she takes a moment to ask what terrible event happened that caused him to put on the mask. The details of the story also might demonstrate why they were reluctant to engage the supernatural because the "bad guys" are, like last time, just the normal thugs of Montague Kane (Michael York) and The Batman shows just how those years of training with people like Zatara benefited him, by easily dispatching all of them who approach him until Kane has to do the "damsel in distress" sequence with Zatarra, which was kind of a jarring reversion to the past after listening to the very modern and self-assured woman for the first 15 minutes of the episode. Some of that bait-and-switch might have been because of the change in director. This episode is the only one of the entire series to credit two directors, as Dick Sebast was at the helm at the beginning but then left the project, so it was completed by Dan Riba.

But the way the entire story was constructed makes me think that it was delivered with intent and the switch in captain didn't really impact things overmuch. The final scene with the battle aboard the giant seaplane by which Kane is subtly exiting the city with all of its money (this after we're told that Kane reveals magicians' tricks because he's utterly familiar with their methods) is fairly mundane, even for just a 1930s-era noir. It reminded me of the final sequence in The Rocketeer, another film set in this time period which climaxes aboard a zeppelin and has similar moments of threat where it seems like our hero and the damsel are going to plummet from the skies. Despite my seeming criticism, I do understand why they would want to tone down the "magical" elements of the world that they've created for their version of The Batman. I was never entirely comfortable with those aspects in the regular books, either, since it steps away from his identity as a master detective/scientist/martial artist, but still a normal man and confronts him with things that no "normal man" would be able to deal with, which he then has to kind of brazen his way through, rather than actually "solve" them. In this case, it's an opportunity for him to exercise the skills that we've seen he developed over years and with the commitment and discipline to do so. It just smacks a little bit of the "you got your fantasy in my science fiction" kinda thing, an opinion that I generally reject, since the story is the story, no matter what genre is assigned to it. Also, I'm kind of a cross-genre person, anyway. There's one nice little tease right at the end, too, when Zatarra departs and leaves behind a note that she couldn't possibly have written beforehand. Is it (real) magic? Who can tell?

Next time we go back to the usual cast of characters and look at another kind of (mechanical) magic.

Batman: TAS: episode #53: Paging the Crime Doctor

This episode is a great example of how some of the best stories have nothing to do with the rogues' gallery. Interestingly, most of those good stories usually involve Dr. Leslie Thompkins (Diana Muldaur), from the Wayne Clinic and Paging the Crime Doctor is no exception. She's a hallmark for Bruce Wayne's past, since she was close friends with Thomas Wayne, his father. That gives the writers room to delve into his primary motivation- avenging the death of his parents -without constantly citing that event in Crime Alley. Unlike many of the other Leslie stories, though, this one managed to embed the surrounding shell firmly in the Batman mythos, as well, since the situation involves another close friend of Thomas' in Matthew Thorne (Joseph Campanella) and his brother, the far better known Rupert Thorne (John "The Voice" Vernon.) Involving Thorne means it's about The Batman, but leaving out standards like The Joker and Two-Face means that it remains on that human level that could have made it a Dashiell Hammett pot-boiler. The semi-tragic ending simply seals that as, instead of ending with the "... and all was well" Hollywood approach, we circle back to our primary motivation, as the only request that Bruce makes of Matthew, already weary of the corruption and glad-handing that is his brother's world, is to have a conversation: "Tell me about my father." That's a human note that everyone watching can relate to.

To fit that less-fantastical level, our hero has to be scaled down a bit, too. Without a super-villain to distract him, most of Thorne's typical thugs aren't going to be a challenge. But if the Darknight Detective is running around with a concussion, that's an extra layer that reduces him to mere human, as opposed to the figments of imagination (and years of training) that make him far more than that, in reality as well as in the minds of his enemies. Of course, there was one beat of modernity added, when a surgical laser somehow becomes a ready weapon that can fire lethal blasts of energy. I suppose the tommy gun animations do get a bit tired after a while. Speaking of animation, whichever studio they used was heavy on frames for many of the sequences. There was constant flow to static structures and "motion lines" attached to the activity of both people and vehicles. That gave it a bit of an old-school feel, which was helped by the full engagement of those noir elements in the visuals, as the use of shadow around both our hero and many other characters was omnipresent and impossible to miss. Indeed, the most fantasy-like element of the entire episode outside the laser was probably the throw of a gas/smoke grenade that one of Thorne's thugs made into the window of an armored car from another moving vehicle.

The Batman stayed in that gas theme later, when trying to deal with one of those tommy guns pinning him in an elevator, as he chose to use a gas grenade to try to overpower the thug, rather than a Batarang to simply disarm him. Another aspect to the concussion, perhaps affecting his aim? Or a director's choice paced on pacing and frames? And, interestingly, despite all of the detachment from the usual cast of opponents, the "Crime Doctor" was an occasional adversary in the comics, first appearing in Detective Comics #77 in 1943. I don't recall any of those stories from my 25 years of reading said comics, but I'm betting that most of them weren't up to the quality level of this one (story by Mike W. Barr and Lauren Bright, incidentally.) Next time, we arc right back to the fantasy, with an appearance by a DC regular.

Sound and fury

I've generally appreciated Alex Garland's films over the years. I'm not a devoted fan, in that I'll run out to see whatever he does. But he hit a high point for me with Ex Machina and adding to that writing the screenplays for 28 Days Later (the best modern rendition of the zombie genre) and Dredd (the only decent adaptation of the legendary OTT British comic series) means I'll generally at least take a look at whatever else he gets involved in. That reputation took a minor hit for me with Annihilation (just another version of The Colour Out of Space) and Men, which I talked about here and an even larger hit with Civil War, which I didn't bother to cover. That review of Men was similar to this one in that, again, it's an interesting premise but there are various flaws which make it something less than a must-see or something I'd be eager to watch again (or own, in the way that I do Ex Machina.) In all of those respects, Warfare is no different.

Garland co-wrote and co-directed the film with Ray Mendoza, a former Navy SEAL, based on the latter's experiences in the Iraq War; specifically, the Battle of Ramadi and a couple of hours that Mendoza and his team spent trapped in a house while resistance fighters tried to extirpate them. On a technical level it is, as Garland's films almost always are, very well done. It's told almost completely in "real time", following every movement of and moment that the squad occupied the house and uses ground-level perspective on all of the characters involved, so that we see and hear what they do, with broader looks at the scene represented only by views of the screens of spotter planes as they track enemy movements around the city. It doesn't spare any of the tactical actions or approaches to the situation (multiple "shows of force" (where an F-16 comes in low enough to make everyone want to duck for cover), proper stacking of infantry, etc.) and it also doesn't spare the effect of those tactical actions. This is one of the films that I would generally refer to as "ferociously violent", like The Northman but even moreso. And that, of course, is all well and good if you lack any empathy whatsoever for the human beings that experienced all of this and were the ones behind the blood and the screams of agony and so forth, which presents us with the real problem in all of this...

The Iraq War was one of the more contemptible and stupid actions in this nation's history (almost surely to be surpassed by the current idiot in the White House any day now, which is saying quite a lot.) It was one of the purest expressions of imperialism ("You're sitting on our oil!") and complete obliviousness to the reality infusing the region. Indeed, we had spent decades supporting Saddam Hussein, not least because he was radically opposed to just the kind of fanatical Islamic tendencies that were unleashed as soon as he was toppled. We had a president who had decided on his own "show of force" and that was to unleash the US military machine on a nation that had absolutely nothing to do with the terrorist acts carried out by Al-Qaeda but which made him feel like a tough guy and, therefore, consequences (and millions of Iraqi lives) be damned. Just like other films about the period like American Sniper, this film does nothing to express any of that political reality. It's just an action moment that ends up lionizing the people involved and which will be responded to by much of the American audience with a "Thank you for your service!" obeisance and a complete neglect of the outright crimes committed throughout that period of time. Indeed, it's just a memoir of someone involved in a terrifying moment that doesn't reflect whatsoever on, for example, the terrorizing of the two families that lived in the house that the SEALs occupied. The end of the film even shows the return of members of the unit to that same address as if all is forgiven and now it's just a curio box for former soldiers to remember "those days."

Does it show the brutality of war? Sure does. Does it show the enormous amount of pain, terror, anguish, and trauma that accompanies combat? Absolutely. Does it deliver any kind of message about why any of that should be avoided like in movies such as 1917 and All Quiet on the Western Front? No. It's just an action moment. Certainly, some humans will be spooked by being that close to stuff they've only seen as sanitized news reports before, but just as many will think it's cool to see a JTAC in action and seeing someone hit the clicker to blow the Claymores and so on. In the end, I just don't see the point, despite my appreciation of its technical merits, and my disdain for the central story of this film and the way it's presented is why I still haven't seen things like American Sniper and why my opinion of Garland is continuing to diminish, seemingly with every further step he takes these days.

Batman: TAS, episode #52: Mudslide

In the same way that Clayface's original appearance in the series was a step below the episodes that had come before it, his second (and last) appearance, Mudslide, is also a step down from the three previous episodes that we've seen. As I mentioned before, the character that can shapeshift to be anyone makes for some complex stories that aren't easily adapted to a series that's supposed to be a collection of one-offs. If BTAS had appeared in the modern format of television, where one is expected to start at the beginning and follow the story through to the end, characters like Clayface become much more viable, since their subtleties can be woven into each plot and their threat grows from background details to the headlining event. Without that amount of time and attention, you end up with "monster that forms morning stars from his hands and tries to kill the hero" which is fine as a bog-standard superhero adventure... but it's still a bog-standard superhero adventure and we've seen many of those over the years (and decades.) This was, of course, episode #52, which means one episode a week for a year which is a great deal more than any series produces these days and it's difficult to maintain the quality of something like The Man Who Killed Batman with a schedule that crowded and you could see writers Alan Burnett and Steve Perry reaching for all kinds of angles to make it work. In fact, Bruce Timm mentioned later that the reason Clayface wasn't used more than twice in the whole run was that a) he was too expensive to animate and b) he was too difficult a character to develop a good story around. They only ended up doing this sequel because of fan demand.

As mentioned in Feat of Clay, there were some elements that kind of fused the realities of Clayface II and Clayface III. That was even more the case in this episode, as Matt Hagen (Ron Perlman) is facing the reality that the latter experienced, in which he was falling apart (melting) and needed a specially-designed suit (in III's case, an exoskeleton) in order to keep from disintegrating. In this episode, we also included the constant creation of mass (aka the Incredible Hulk puzzle), as Clayface flings segments of his body around to disable a guard, presumably by suffocation, and leaves other portions behind, but apparently doesn't suffer any ill effects from doing so. After attempting a robbery (somehow, the career actor has also developed safecracking skills), he retreats to yet another cliffside laboratory, which is definitely one of the most popular styles of home in Gotham City, given their regular appearance. After asking Alfred to assist in research to track down the melting man, our hero suddenly realizes that examining Hagen's film career is the answer, which kinda makes one wonder why that wasn't the first analysis. This is reinforced by the writers' decision to drop references to that film career throughout the script, such that the scientist helping Hagen is one Stella Bates (Pat Musick.) Not only does Clayface do the Stella! scene from A Streetcar Named Desire but The Batman also mentions that Dr. Bates used to own a motel that she sold to finance the research to save Hagen. This is on top of Clayface suddenly making movie puns with every other line ("You've upstaged me for the last time-!" "Time to bring down the curtain!") The fact that Clayface in his special skin that keeps him from collapsing also makes him resemble an Oscar statuette is just one more reference that was really overworked to try to make this episode work. Which it mostly didn't.

The final action scene was somewhat horrifying, as Clayface tries to absorb and contain The Batman until the latter suffocated, saying that he could "hear his heartbeat slowing", which is almost more gruesome than anything the first three Clayfaces did (although III turning people to protoplasm is still probably worse.) There's actual tension there for a few seconds, but then it all kind of (ahem) falls apart and we end up with an unusual ending, in that there are no words from our hero, as he's shown simply escorting Dr. Bates(!) back inside as our camera heads for the storm-filled sky. Thankfully, this episode ended up airing as #63, as if the first season had ended on this note, there might've been some questions about its return. But, as it is, we'll be moving on to the next in production order which was, in fact, the final episode of season 1 to be aired.

Batman: TAS, episode #51: The Man Who Killed Batman

One of my longstanding (and most repeated) assessments of The Batman as a character and a cultural icon is that he's often the antagonist of his own stories, since his villains are often more textured and interesting than the force of nature which is our hero. The entertainment is in seeing what kind of insanity (often literal) that the various rogues can come up with that threatens the citizens of Gotham and how the cold, calculating power that is the "main" character can stop them. Thus, it's funny that not only is The Man Who Killed Batman among the few episodes of the series that doesn't feature The Batman as the main character, but it also features his nemesis, the Clown Prince of Crime, who is the person most likely to be vexed by the absence of said main character. The fact that this episode went on to be one of the most acclaimed of the series not only reinforces my theory, but also reinforces the idea that any episode with The Joker is going to be a good one.

Our seeming protagonist is Sid "the Squid" Debris (Matt Frewer.) Right away, I questioned whether the last name ("Debris") had some kind of in-joke about the mess ("rubble") that he managed to make of his situation by his own incompetence, but there's never any indication that that was part of the concept. We also encounter Rupert Thorne (Englehart!) for the first time since episode #21, Vendetta, voiced by the unmistakable John Vernon. But, eventually, all roads lead to The Joker and we discover just how annoyed the clown can get by someone beating him to the punch that he never really wants to land. As he mentions during the test job to see if The Batman is really gone: "There's a certain rhythm to these things: I cause trouble. He shows up. We have some laughs and the game starts all over again!" This is a man wedded to the contest, not the win. Of course, if it ever did arrive at the point of a win, he'd have to be the man to do it. But, even then, there's still an edge to the main (real) villain's attitude that says there's more propelling him than just that. Once he disposes of Sid, his first reaction is: "Well, that was fun! Who's for Chinese?" Mark Hamill once commented that it was this scene (and the line: "Without Batman, crime has no punchline.") that most contributed to him "getting" the character of The Joker. That's significant not just because of the complexity of the villain (again, more interesting than the hero) but also because "the man who killed Batman" is intentionally such a nothing that the highlight of the episode will be yet another "side" character in the form of The Batman's nemesis (yet again, not the hero.)

On that note, Arleen Sorkin once again does brilliant work as Harley Quinn, reacting to The Joker siccing his favored hyena pets (a treat to see them appear) on the impertinent thug, Murphy (Maurice LaMarche) with: "Yawn... I'll get the mop." A story from the studio relayed that Sorkin played "Amazing Grace" on kazoo for Sid's funeral in one take, which was a good thing since all of the cast broke into laughter after that one take and director, Bruce Timm, knew that they would probably never get another one. Harley also delivers with a moment of Sid's intended departure: "You know what's great about you, puddin'? You really put the 'fun' in 'funeral.'" This was another Paul Dini screenplay, demonstrating not only his mastery of all of the characters involved, but also some of the higher level aspects to his writing. At one point, The Joker questions whether they can know that Sid killed The Batman without "batus delecti", a bat-themed pun on corpus delecti, which is the principle saying that a crime has to be proved before someone can be convicted. Your average 20-something isn't going to know that, to say nothing of the presumed audience of a "children's show" and this was a long time before the Interwebs could be used to instantly provide answers. There are also some good references within the framework of the story, where The Joker cites the fact that Sid got lucky, as The Batman probably slipped on the slime trail he left behind, citing Sid's impromptu nickname "The Squid."

On the technical side, there were some good moments, such as the distinct sound of Sid climbing the ladder to act as lookout on the initial job, as well as the phantasmagoric image of The Batman appearing on that rooftop, similar to the way he appears in the opening credits, as a vision of menace, rather than a man. The atmospherics are also excellent in this whole offering, from the title card to the intense storm that Sid is running through to confess to Boss Thorne that he's not the guy. So much screen time for Thorne (and the voice of Vernon) is just another upside. Dumping Sid into a vat of acid is also unintentionally an inside joke, 27 years later, for those of us still cartoon-inclined. Dini's knowledge of character doesn't just stop at the dialogue, either, as we see Harley with her hand firmly planted on Sid's back to push him into the bank when they're attempting to set up the ambush for The Batman. She knows, like The Joker knows, like Dini knows, like the viewers know that there's no way Sid actually did this thing. But until we get to that conclusion, she's just going to follow the clown and play the game the whole way through. This, like the last couple episodes, is really one of the high points of the series. Next time, the return of another classic, but rarely seen (or is he...?), villain.