Batman: TAS, episode #45: Terror in the Sky

As noted over four years ago, the intro episode for the character of Man-Bat was notable for most of the elements other than that character. Since it was the premiere of the series and being shown at prime time, that episode is fairly suffused in the noir atmosphere that Bruce Timm and Co. wanted the series to carry. But that atmosphere started to wane a bit by the closing stages of season one and this follow-up story, Terror in the Sky, doesn't have nearly the aura that that premiere did. Of course, given that Man-Bat was always kind of a knock-off, in-house joke (Man-Bat instead of the Bat-Man), it can't be too surprising when the plot surrounding him (or, in this case, her) turns out to be kind of shallow. And, yes, it's not even a Man-Bat but rather a Wo-Man-Bat in this episode, as Kirk Langstrom's (Marc Singer) wife, Francine (Meredith MacRae) ends up being the creature that is once again terrorizing Gotham. In fact, the whole crew makes a return, as Langstrom's partner, Dr. March (René Auberjonois) is also present as the source of the renewed formula that is once again being misused.

I used the phrase "once again" more than once in that opening paragraph which may strike some as repetitive and it is because this episode's plot is. That's frustrating enough for those of us who are fans, but it also seemed to be a source of irritation for pretty much everyone who appeared onscreen. Francine was frustrated (and quite unsympathetic) with her husband's inability to sleep and then with his supposed reuse of the bat mutagen. Kirk was frustrated that The Batman's antidote hadn't really worked, if everyone's suspicions about him were true. Our hero was frustrated that Langstrom would get involved with what he absolutely knew was a source of danger. And March was aggravated that he had to share lab space with all of these kooks, which is perhaps the most understandable of all of them. The scene at the lab was probably the largest collection of distinctly unlikeable people in the entire series, to date. Our hero carries that sterner attitude forward throughout the rest of the episode, being quite taciturn and short with almost everyone he meets or speaks with, including Alfred.

Add to that frustration the fact that one of the original selling points of the character was Neal Adams' art. Given the visual style of the cartoon (and the probable influence of the censors, who wouldn't have permitted something as graphic as Adams usually drew in a "children's show"), it wasn't going to be possible to imitate that here. So, the depiction we get of the She-Bat is just this side of goofy, when it's supposed to be terrifying. On top of that, it was an interesting storytelling choice to keep presenting the creature as if she was tracking things by sonar, when it was perfectly obvious from all of her actions that she could see perfectly, just as most bats can. That leap of reason is almost comparable to the similar effort in the plot, where we have Francine adamant about the fact that she can't live with Kirk if he's flying again, but doesn't see fit to question why she'd be returning home with her clothes shredded from transforming into the creature. Even Bruce Banner usually ended up with wisps of shirt hanging off him as a sign that he'd become his alter ego, even if his purple pants were indestructible and always shrank to fit. Although it is kind of a subpar episode, it does contain appearances by two infrequent examples of Bat-technology, in both the Batcycle (with studded tires for winter weather) and the Batwing, which plays a key role in the resolution of the conflict.

Next, we do a villains' revue of their history with the Caped Crusader in Almost Got 'Im.

Batman: TAS, episode #44: Day of the Samurai

This episode is an odd bird in the series. Not only is it a follow-up to an earlier episode, Night of the Ninja, without being a direct second part, but it's also the only one that I know of with non-English dialogue and subtitles, as many of the characters speak in their native tongue of Japanese; as does Bruce Wayne and The Batman at various points. Day of the Samurai is, to its credit, quite different in tone to its predecessor, despite being written by the same person (Steve Perry.) Like the previous post, it's not hard to see this genre as an expression of another aspect of the 1970s. When horror comics became popular (permitted) again, there was another topic bursting forth on the American mindset in film, TV, and comics, which was martial arts and East Asian cultures. Most of it was the Hong Kong action flicks of people like Bruce Lee or dim attempts at the American past in series like Kung Fu. Conics were no different, as characters like Shang Chi, Master of Kung Fu because popular for a time. DC's answer was, of course, a White guy called Karate Kid from the Legion of Superheroes whose solo series lasted a whole 15 issues. To Shang-Chi's credit, his ran to issue #125 and 1983. (I chalk that up to the former being created by Jim Shooter and the latter being created by Jim Starlin and Steve Engelhart (of Laughing Fish fame.))

But also to Perry and the producers' credit, by the late 80s/early 90s when this was being written, a lot of people had tried to steer away from the often misrepresented aspects of Japanese culture. The most notable example in this episode was that use of subtitles, but also the exploration of concepts like giri ("obligation" or "duty") and a deeper exploration of Bruce Wayne's awareness of the concept of honor and how return villain, Kyodai Ken (James Ito), is besmirching it. Of course, little details remain important, where the idea of a self-avowed ninja wielding a katana isn't really in line with proper perspective (unless he's doing so as a deliberate insult?) but also when the entire plot of the episode revolves around the hunt for an ancient technique hidden away as too dangerous which is essentially the Touch of Death made famous by AD&D monks from the late 70s, where the only reason to play a monk (couldn't use magic weapons, couldn't wear armor, basically had no reason to be a looting murder hobo) was to reach level 13, whereupon you learned said Touch of Death and could kill things just by, y'know, touching them. This idea has lasted down the years in forms like the Five Finger Death Punch (now a band because why not?), the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique, and so on.

One stereotype that Perry thankfully avoids (unlike the episode just before this one) is the question of The Batman's identity. Bruce notes that "fighting styles are like fingerprints" so Kyodai already knows that he and the Darknight Detective are one and the same. The fact that Bruce Wayne's sensei, Yoro (Goh Misawa) (occasionally misspelled as "sensi" in the subtitles) somehow doesn't know this, despite having trained Bruce for years, is something of a head-scratcher, though. Regardless, the high point of this episode is almost certainly the actions scenes between Kyodai and The Batman, since it's one of the few times that we really see fighting technique emphasized; not least in their final encounter, where our hero finally demonstrates his considerable superiority by casually batting aside Kyodai's attacks after revealing that his Touch of Death had no effect on someone who was prepared for it (Speaking of Karate Kid, this is where I was impressed to hear the writers of Cobra Kai have Daniel Larusso saying that the only reason the "Crane technique" worked in the original film is because Johnny Lawrence walked right into it...) Of course, the only way to provide regular drama in The Batman's regular martial encounters is to have him show weakness and, thus, create threat. But the number of times it seems to happen to average thugs on the streets of Gotham City gets kind of onerous over multiple episodes, so it's gratifying to see him display the kind of expertise that we'd all expect in this moment.

Despite the obvious poor choice of fight location on the side of an active volcano (which The Batman does point out), the visual of that final fight, taking place in front of the flowing lava and literally highlighting the motion of their two shadowed figures, was really well done. Again, small things mean a lot in this case and this episode was interested in focusing on those details. There's a lot of slower-paced story exploration here, which is a nice change from the often frantic pace of other episodes. This is one of those moments where you'd find editors talking about "character development" for both the hero and the villain, even if there's no traumatic exploration of either. In this respect, I much prefer Day to Night, even if we are talking about the scourge of Gotham's underworld.

Next time, we see another villain return in Terror in the Sky...

The essence of popularity

One of the films that we most wanted to see in this year's Oscar batch was largely unavailable through our regular channels. Despite showing many more popular films at the Michigan and State theatres in recent years, The Substance didn't seem to have anything approaching a normal run for something that was seemingly as well-received as it was (standing ovation at Cannes, plus winning Best Screenplay there; 90% positive at RT.) The distributor was pretty low on the totem pole (Mubi) and there was reportedly major pushback by the studio that was going to do distribution (Universal) and, given how the industry is generally portrayed, that's probably not too much of a surprise. But word of mouth got around and after lead actress, Demi Moore, began winning every award available (the first trophies she's ever won in her career...), it finally hit the streaming possibilities and Tricia and I found it last night.

Right away, I have to mention that the story isn't mindblowing. It's a vanity tale and, in fact, once we'd seen enough of it, the first thing that came to mind (comics nerd that I am) was a Tales from the Crypt episode from that series' first season, "Only Sin Deep", in which Lea Thompson sells her beauty to a pawnbroker in order to land a rich guy and be on Easy Street for the rest of her life. You can see the ending of that already, I'm sure. This film is no different in that respect. You can see how it's going to end from the very outset, but the way it's presented- in a very pointed perspective on Hollywood, America's version of misogyny, and the careers of people like, say, Demi Moore -is far more explicit than many similar stories. Moore's character, Elisabeth Sparkle (just a bit on-the-nose there...) is being shown the door by her boss, Harvey (a perfectly-sleazy if a bit over the top Dennis Quaid) after decades as the studio's fitness/sex symbol because the "shareholders" are looking for new blood (aka more money.) After being clued in to an opportunity to get around this whole "age" problem via back-alley (literally) science, Elisabeth decides to take advantage of it and start us on our spiral downward.

The thing that struck me right away was the visuals. Writer/director/producer, Coralie Fargeat, filled all three of those roles because she wanted creative control of this story that was extremely personal to her and followed the perspective of her previous critically-hailed film, Revenge. (Rumor has it that one of the reasons Universal objected was because Fargeat had final cut in her contract. You can view that as misogynistically as you'd like because it's probably all true.) But Fargeat and cinematographer, Benjamin Kračun, did an amazing job of keeping the eyes of the viewer entertained at all points of the story. One of their most prominent devices was that every hallway in the film was extraordinarily long, presenting us with the notion both of the detachment from self that the Substance process presented (despite its providers' insistence that the users were "one" and not distinct from their other selves) and also the imagery of Alice down the rabbit hole and the farther you go, the weirder it gets. The other image, of course, is that in Hollywood, no matter how far you go, that point of perfection is still out of reach. Every environment is also very clean and very precise until they look at almost anything organic that isn't the "upside" of the Substance. Food, the traumatic changes (e.g. the body horror), fluids (both fantastical and normal); everything is shown as viscerally as possible in complete contrast to the shells that all of these organic things inhabit (buildings, etc.) That, too, is part of the message and it's never one that is used to club the viewers over the head. It's all just part of the visual realization that you make as you proceed through the film.

The later progression of those organic themes will summon some flashbacks to John Carpenter's The Thing, one of the best horror films ever made, so if you're the squeamish type, you should get ready to squirm a bit. But that comparison works on more than one level, as the point of this film is demonstrating that "monster" within us (vanity, pride, envy) that can drive us to these outrageous acts and, with enough money, can harm a lot of other people along the way. Moore plays it straight and the anguish is totally believable the whole way through. Similarly, co-star Margaret Qualley, who plays Sue, is also on top of her game, as you can feel the compulsion that she's displaying as she tries to escape the one thing that many humans fear more than anything else: embarrassment. It's just that this time it comes with a slightly more traumatic end if it's not evaded. Again, it's not a new story, so Story Guy kinda shrugs his shoulders at that side of my usual perspective. But the storytelling- the process and delivery -make this a standout of the current Oscar season. Among those films nominated for Best Picture, it's definitely among the, uh, more attractive offerings. Recommended.

Batman: TAS, episode #43: Moon of the Wolf

There are initial pros and cons when looking at Moon of the Wolf, because involving The Batman in something that's relatively bog-standard like werewolves is generally not going to be numbered among my favorite topics for our hero. But the initial pro is that this episode was written by Len Wein, a legendary figure in the comics industry, for both writing and editing. He worked many years for both Marvel and DC and, importantly here, was part of Marvel's horror revival in the early 70s once the Comics Code was neutered and it was finally considered safe to show kids ghosts and goblins again (on top of the fact that Marvel had long since been aware that its primary audience was college-aged.) Wein worked on titles like Tomb of Dracula, Werewolf by Night, and so forth, so tagging him to write a Batman/werewolf story seems wholly appropriate. And, like many comic writers of that era, he wastes no time getting right to the topic at hand, as there is no setup to the story. We simply see a zoo guard (Peter Scolari) walking his dog and being accosted by the main enemy right away, with The Batman dropping in to rescue him.

The larger thematics are present here, of course, in that our hero's imagery is right in the (ahem) vein of another classic monster: the vampire, what with the big, dark (and even scalloped) cloak and the bat imagery which is usually attached to those horrors. The idea of a conflict between vampires and werewolves is the subject of all kinds of other media, from movies to RPGs, so we're right in the wheelhouse of those of us who are fond of such things. Again, my reluctance is normally that attaching characters like The Batman to tales like this is generally going to make them rather formulaic. But Wein was probably conscious of this phenomenon, too. Much of the writing of things like Tomb of Dracula was hailed back in the day, but when editorial (which, uh, often included Wein) decided that the way to really make sales was to include the new horror books in the broader Marvel Universe™, the quality began to suffer because the two genres don't always mix very well. This is why DC later decided to separate their horror tales into an imprint called Vertigo, but Marvel were content to let the new set of horror books die on the vine. For my own part, I recognize the genre friction, but acknowledge that there's still room to play around. (Level four is the "horror" level.)

But Wein's experience shines through here in other ways, too. The Batman meets with Commissioner Gordon about the weird, wolf-suited mugger he just encountered and Gordon decides that the best cop to put on this case would be Harvey Bullock. This is one of those instances where Bullock is considered a competent, relatively non-corrupt cop; distinct from his frequent presentation in the series. He later goes on to prove his bona fides in that respect, but not only keeping his men organized but acknowledging that, after the werewolf seemingly disappears, the only way to be sure that it's gone is to wait four weeks for the next full moon. He not only does his job, but fully engages the "reality" of the story (e.g. this is a werewolf, so this is how werewolves operate.) Other little details like this, in which Wein demonstrates that there are other aspects/depth to the usual characters, are exemplified by Alfred being shown doing regular maintenance to the engine of the Batmobile, rather than just bringing tea to the Batcave or some other relatively menial task. It looks like he was attempting to deviate from the stereotypes. That is, of course, until the villains, Anthony Romulus (Harry Hamlin) and Achilles Milo (Treat Williams) manage to capture The Batman and, for whatever the age-old reason is, don't pull his cowl off to reveal our hero's identity. I have no idea why both villains had legendary Roman and Greek hero names, either, but there it is.

Wein also does the best thing for a modern telling of this kind of story and makes the lycanthropy the result of deranged science, rather than someone being bit by a werewolf or some other stock cause. The visuals for both Romulus returning to human form and transforming the first time that Milo gave him the formula are well done, too, and clearly drew from the more modern versions of that kind of transformation (The Howling, etc.), rather than just Lon Chaney, Jr. doing his thing and growing more hair all over. Wein, as a horror writer, kept abreast of the changes to horror films and stories, which is always a positive. The final fight even has a no capes moment. In the end, the motivation for the villain(s) is greed, like usual, but also vanity, since Romulus wanted the fame that comes with being the "world's greatest athlete" (Bruce's ego is on full display here when he trains alongside Romulus at a public gym.) That's kind of a nice segue into another post for the blog on that same topic. But, next time, we're going back to another American fan-favorite of the 1970s: martial arts and East Asian culture.