Batman: TAS, episode #61: The Demon's Quest, part 2

This episode is a fine example of the difference in writers utterly changing the nature of a production. In the same way that writers are more than just "the guys who put the words in the bubbles" in comics, screenwriters do an enormous amount to shape the final product, often by pacing, sequencing, and, yes, dialogue. In this case, Denny O'Neil was unable to write the screenplay for The Demon's Quest, part 2 as he had done with part 1, so the credits ended up being Story by Dennis O'Neil and Len Wein and Teleplay by Len Wein. Just like part 1, this is an adaptation of an O'Neil story from Batman #244 ("The Demon Lives Again") but the fact that Wein receives a partial story credit leads me to believe that much of the degradation in delivery is down to him. It's worth mentioning that, as we've noted multiple times before, Wein isn't a bad writer. But he's also not a great one like O'Neil has often been. We see that right from the outset as the maddened Ra's al Ghul (the still-excellent David Warner) approaches and The Batman steps forward to throw down with him, only for Talia (Helen Slater) to step in as if she's going to do the "beauty and the beast" thing... and instead just uses her own form of violence by cracking dad a good'un across the face. Not exactly subtle storytelling. Wein's also prone to one of the oldest villain clichés in the book: drastic exposition in the form of villain monologuing. How would our heroes have any clue as to where Ra's is going or what he's doing if he didn't blab about how they were escaping to their "desert stronghold"? It's an exposure of how Wein's stories tend to be more paint-by-number superhero stuff, whereas O'Neil's are rooted in more classic adventure prose.

It was still veteran Kevin Altieri on the director's reins so, again, I'm pretty confident in thinking that the utter abandonment of the noirish tone that suffused part 1 is down to Wein's desire to play up the action. It has to be said that there are a couple odd directorial moments, though, such as Robin casually being left behind in the plane without explanation (a moment of explanation that was cut, perhaps?), as well as a pretty strange moment for a commercial break that doesn't focus on our hero or a villain, but just an open parachute over the Sahara. To the animation studio's credit, though, seeing The Batman's costume still slashed by the panther from the last episode as he and Robin attempt to survive over the Lazarus pit was a nice touch. In contrast, Ra's' men "searching" The Batman resulting in half his costume being torn away was kind of ridiculous. It's an obvious setup for him and Ra's to do the manly sword duel later, which is about as Doc Savage as you can possibly get. And then we get to the funniest moment, where our hero insists to Ra's that "You have nothing to lose by telling me what you're doing here!" He's not even letting him monologue on his own! He's using the hero to demand that he monologue! Woof. So, after a block of exposition detailing the master plan, we fall right back into the action. It just lacks the panache that O'Neil wielded in the first half. Credit for the one Ra's response, though, when The Batman shouts: "That will cost countless lives!" "Actually, detective, we have counted."

And, despite my seemingly derogatory tone, I don't object to action if it feels appropriate to the story. These are superhero comics/cartoons, after all. I just want it to fit the style that the story began with. As a case example, after all of their frustrating encounters for both hero and audience, the final confrontation between Ubu (George Dicenzo; odd that this was a different actor) is extremely unsatisfactory. We needed an epic beatdown and we got the bad guy tossed against a wall and crumbling. And, of course, after the grand showdown between Ra's and The Batman, the latter not only stops the signal to destroy/reshape the Earth with two seconds to spare, but that signal interruption also de-orbits the satellite...? Even as a kid, I'd have been arching an eyebrow at that one. The very Casablanca-like kiss in the sunset seemed mildly appropriate, if corny, and I'm still not sure whether concluding with the mad laughter of the still living Ra's (Spoilers!) was the way to end it. By default, most comic readers know that villains of that stature won't just disappear off-camera but I guess it does kind of play up his immortality by doing the hand-over-the-edge-of-the-pit-plus-laughter scene. I could go either way on that one.

But, yeah, a very lowbrow conclusion to one of the better episodes of the entire series. Next time, we're back to the computers with His Silicon Soul.

Batman: TAS, episode #49: I Am The Night

Right away, this is probably one of the best examples of storytelling in the entire series. Writer Michael Reaves, who authored no less than 18 episodes over the course of the series, including highlights like the introduction of Clayface in Feat of Clay, captured the very essence of The Batman as a human being in I Am The Night. You've seen me talk before about one of the elements that separates The Batman from much of the rest of DC's stable is his essential humanity. He's not just doing what he does as an example of justice for the wider society. It's also quite personal for him. It's about making up for the crime he wasn't able to prevent as a child. Accompanying that, of course, is some measure of vengeance against criminals for that isolated instance, which isn't the best driver for one's life ambitions but, again, we're talking about the base level of a flawed human being, no matter how much of a hero he is, otherwise. This episode starts out focusing on those flaws as it highlights his self-doubts about what he's doing and how effective it is; brooding on the Batcave's version of a throne. When he makes his annual pilgrimage to Crime Alley alongside the always welcome sight of Leslie Thompkins (Diana Muldaur), the two of them end up in a discussion about basic philosophy (How much is too much?), referencing opposing perspectives on Santayana, where Leslie offers a paraphrase of his most-remembered quote ("Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.") and The Batman responds with: "A fanatic is someone who redoubles his effort while losing sight of his goal." Of all the DC heroes, "fanatic" is a label most easily applied to this one.

That "essential question" element of the plot is well-supported by the otherwise basic elements of the action surrounding it. We're shown a plain, old gangster, The Jazzman (Brian George), who doesn't even reference jazz or its usual instruments in his constant musical references to what's happening around him. But he's busted by Commissioner Gordon, Harvey Bullock, and our hero and ends up seriously wounding the former, causing The Batman to question his motivations and actions even further, while Bullock piles on, accusing him of being one of the main causes behind Gordon's injury and crisis. Indeed, Bullock chases him away, yelling: "This ain't over yet, outlaw!", reminding everyone that our hero's actions aren't even legal, despite their generally positive results for society. It's all very 1920s noir, which is at the root of the style of the series, again highlighting the upper level of storytelling present here. There's even a reference to modern times, as The Batman swings by a souvenir shop, festooned with images of him and his famous chest emblem, while later bemoaning the fact that "I've become a cliché!" Given the long merchandising history behind DC's heroes that often outstripped the quality of the comics, this was quite the knife twist and not just to our main character. His highly unusual emotional response to the situation, by trashing the lab in the Batcave, is just another example of this story's will to push the limits of the character.

And, with that, this is one of the best examples of how the series was always playing to two (and possibly more) different audiences. Sure, the action and the cool costumes and the wacky events were there for the kids (and some of us adults) but there were also moments that spoke at a deeper level; an emotional level that perhaps many kids among the audience wouldn't quite grasp, but which were still an essential part of the story and the character and the driving force for the whole picture that is The Batman. That more sophisticated storytelling extended to some of the technical aspects, as while Dick Grayson attempted to convince The Batman that he was not only still needed but also "Only human!", we cut a couple times to watching Jazzman escape from prison in his single-minded focus to take vengeance(!) on Gordon. That switch of pace and progression of story is outside the realm of the usual linear approach that the series takes in almost every other episode (due credit to regular director, Kevin Altieri in that respect, too.) That awareness of pace carried into the main action scene, where our hero strives to prevent Gordon's death as he and Jazzman struggle on a window-washing platform and then inside a hospital room, with Barbara Gordon (Melissa Gilbert) assisting (e.g. only human, needs everyone in this struggle, etc.), producing some genuine tension. At the end, after saving his friend's life and reminding him that he, too, is a hero for the people of Gotham, we find The Batman watching the city from a rooftop, in the light of the moon.

Again, storytelling-wise, this is absolute top shelf, despite it having nothing to do with the "more interesting" characters of the overall milieu. It drills down to the essential notes that make up this heroic figure, examines them, is willing to question them, and then comes out the other side with at least a partial affirmation. There are no definitive answers to either this situation or The Batman's existence as a whole, but this story at least offers rebuttals to those questions, while leaving room for the viewer to make up their own mind. Great, great stuff. Next time, we're back to a classic villain and a classic writer from the old days of the comics.

The hand of the GM

I'm going to delve back into my Dungeons and Dragons metaphor because it works for this latest episode of Rings of Power in more ways than simply the subject matter. Yes, D&D and Tolkien are almost the standard-bearers of nerdism, hand-in-hand. The former is the outward expression of the genre that the latter almost introduced into modern storytelling. Fantasy was an aspect of storytelling from the time humans began sitting around campfires and entertaining and/or educating each other. But in the 20th century, it became a literary genre of note when Tolkien did his thing, even if it was long-preceded by things like Robert Howard's Conan the Barbarian stories. That story (The Lord of the Rings) spawned the role-playing game culture as we currently know it. That, in turn, kept Tolkien alive and in the minds of kids who became adults and that's why we had Peter Jackson's films 20 years ago and why we now have this Amazon series. You can't really escape it and so it's often easiest to use the techniques that the game has both taught and presented to demonstrate how good and bad storytelling is conducted. I've referred to this before when I mentioned the difference between the good DM and the bad DM (dungeon master, traditionally, although "GM" (game master) is probably more appropriate these days.)

You have your group of characters and they're given a set of circumstances to react to and engage with. These are player characters, meaning that they're people involved in the story that, you, the GM is creating, but they're also other humans that you have to entice to play along. In the case of Galadriel and the people around her, the enticing circumstances are the eruption of Orodruín and the creation of what would be known as Mordor. We already know what this is and we know where it is. Outside of the fact that, in any normal situation where a volcano would release a pyroclastic flow, all of those people that it swept over would be instantly dead, we can at least follow along with this set of circumstances and see massive changes to one key figure, Miriel, and more subtle changes to others, like Galadriel. Miriel being blinded and the devastation wrought by the orcs and the mountain compels her to bring her people back from their island kingdom to make a stand on behalf of the other humans that have also been devastated by this. While this is kind of a stretch for any regular player characters, this is at least a premise that's been put in front of them that they can react to in a relatively reasonable manner. They've been wounded and those around them have also been, so it's easy to see how simple vengeance and/or a sense of justice would compel the characters to act in this way. Fair enough. It's a little on the obvious side, but a good GM could make this work, given that there's already been a character with a driving motivation (Galadriel) dropped into the midst of this scenario. The problem with that character is that she's been so monochromatic that it's more likely she's an NPC (non-player character) than someone who would naturally be inclined to act that way. She's a storytelling device, rather than someone who acts normally, like you'd hope a player would in response to what's happening around her. Miriel, Elendil, Theo, and the rest in this scenario are more like players and are the people you'd hope that the audience could relate to, given what's happening, and much of this storyline is made to work by them, rather than the obsessed elf. But it's still kind of a mixed bag and the producers do themselves no favors by not only providing the very obvious cues, but then providing the very obvious labels to everyone (e.g This was The Southlands and it is now Mordor, just in case you somehow didn't get it.)

Similarly, we were kind of hit over the head with the mithril story. Anyone could see what was coming, when NPC King Durin denied the desires of nominally PC Elrond and Prince Durin and Disa. They're given a bit more to work with, in that Prince Durin has to overcome the distrust of the elves that his father and culture have taught him and Disa gets to express her personal desire for power and how she and her husband will step into it when the old man is dead. Likewise, Elrond gets to express not only his exceptional character but his rueful understanding of the violence to come when Gil-galad is informed that the dwarves have essentially told him and his people to piss off and die. All of this is decent reaction to a very obvious situation that, again, we all could see coming from leagues (traditionally, the distance one could walk in an hour; roughly three miles; fantasy term) away. We also get to see non-traditional emotion from hardened dwarven warrior Prince Durin, so we understand how difficult this situation is for him on a governmental, cultural, honorable, and personal level. Similarly, we see the legendary wisdom of Elrond in his understanding of both King Durin and Prince Durin's choices, despite his dismay that they're making said choices. All of these are good storytelling choices by the GM and actions by the PCs. It all gets almost completely ruined by the "teaser" scene at the end showing the balrog incinerating the leaf at the bottom of the mithril vein. For some reason, the incredibly powerful servant of Morgoth isn't sleeping entombed in the ground with the departure of his master (what actually happened in the books) but is instead laying in wait for a dramatic moment next season...? It's right there and it knows they're right there because they just dropped a leaf apparently 50 yards down an open hole. As soon as they crack that hole a little wider and start grabbing the shiny stuff, it's ready to grab them with that famous whip. The importance of the whole story concept was that the dwarves were so greedy for the stuff that they dug too deep after centuries, not that they could drop a piece of paper down a hole after first discovering it and realize that an immortal fire demon is present. They basically just trivialized one of the eeriest legends of the whole Tolkien mythos and one of the trademark scenes of the standard-bearing novel to make a ham-handed teaser.

But the best GMing example is the storyline with the (sigh) Harfoots. Here we have multiple PCs that are allowed to make what seem to be mistakes but which actually just continue the story in the direction that the GM probably wants it to go. They brought the big man along, but then they sent him away because he seemed to be doing destructive stuff. Both of those choices moved the story along. Now several of them are setting out to retrieve him in the name of charity and understanding, which are also very human choices that may not make much practical sense, but are perfectly understandable and relatable motivations. On the practical side, it is kind of odd for them to give rousing speeches about sticking together being the most important thing to the Harfoots as a people, only for four of them to split off from the rest to pursue an adventure but, yeah, most people aren't always consistent even when trying to be noble. In fact, they're pursuing the big man because they don't know who or what he is, but they also told him to leave because of the actions of the trio of white-robed people whom they also don't know. And the best part about all of that is that we, the audience, the largest group of player characters, also don't know who he is or who they are, even as Tolkien fans. (I'm still kinda thinking that he's Beorn, especially since they sent him north to Greenwood (later Mirkwood), but I still wouldn't put money on that.) That's the least amount of recitation of history and the most amount of new story in the whole series so far. My only gripe is that it has to come via the hobbits. Again.

The way to keep your readers/viewers/players interested is to present them with stuff that they have to sink their proverbial teeth into. They have to explore. They have to discover. They have to question their own actions and they can't just have everything served up to them on a plate. That's boring. That's obvious. That's not the way to keep their/our interest. Riugs has run into a similar problem to House of the Dragon, in that we know all this stuff already and there has to at least be an interesting presentation of it to keep people coming back. I don't think I will be with House, but I can be convinced as long as Rings does away with idiotic moves like the balrog teaser and tries to make its leads a bit more like people and a bit less like devices.