Noir toons and roots in reality - Batman: The Animated Series

Recently, I discovered that HBO had picked up the full run of Batman: The Animated Series for its catalog and I sat down to watch a couple of them. I hadn't seen any of them since they were originally broadcast in the early 90s, so it was an interesting experience to hearken back to a period that's now almost 30 years past, but still feels "relevant" to the modern era. My comic experience is woefully out of date as far as superheroes are concerned, so I'm only able to frame this from what I knew up to that point and others who have begun watching the series may feel that it's quite dated, as many things from that era are for natural reasons. But I suspect that series will still hold a lot of its contemporary charm for a couple of reasons: 1. It was designed to have its own, unique timeline that wasn't intended to reflect any particular era. 2. The Batman is the most timeless of DC's characters; just one more reason that he's also the best.

Reason #1 was a decision by producers Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, and Mitch Brian. Inspired by Tim Burton's interpretation of the mythos (Batman and Batman Returns), they wanted Gotham City to appear in its own technological bubble. Thus, right alongside classic big-fendered cars and Gothic architecture were not only modern technological conveniences (computers, etc.) but also police airships, which have never existed, but were indicative of the kind of "between the lines" approach that Dini and Co. were bringing to the idea. But part of that inspiration also had to do with overall tone. Now, right away, let's lay this on the table: I am not a fan of Tim Burton's version of The Batman. I appreciated his willingness to adopt much from the Neal Adams/Denny O'Neill approach from the early 70s, where DC tried to pry their most famous hero away from the endlessly goofy Batman TV series of the late 60s. Burton, a storyteller who's fond of working in the shadows (Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Edward Scissorhands, etc.) was kind of a natural choice to take on the challenge, as there would be much more in the way of moody settings than the "Biff!" and "Pow!" of the Adam West show. However, Burton is also quite fond of the goofy, as films like Scissorhands and A Nightmare Before Christmas will display. That tendency stayed with him in his two Batman films and it put off at least this fan of the Darknight Detective approach to the character. When Michael Keaton confronts a thug on the street and says: "I'm Batman!", those of us who like to stick more to the shadows would've vastly preferred him to say: "I'm THE Batman!" (as I am regularly doing here) because it conveys a much more serious tone about a character who had his origins rooted in killing criminals with a .45 caliber pistol.

Thankfully, while more than willing to continue with lighthearted moments centered around Bruce Wayne's social life and his interactions with Alfred, Dini and Co. decided to stick to the more serious version of the character in their series. Indeed, they took some heat from the studio (Warner Bros.) and from various Helen Lovejoys because their series was on the darker side of good ol' Batman. However, the critical raves about that tone, the textured storytelling, and the very human aspects of the characters were enough to drown out any concern about the fact that, unlike Adam West, this Batman only came out at night, as he should. And that's the other key part about their style: This was clearly intended to be a noir approach. The entire series is suffused with the measured pace, mystery, and cynicism that are hallmarks of the genre. The Batman may be a hero who's punching out bad guys, but he's also very aware of whom some of the true villains in our society are and the series doesn't spare on displaying the ills of money, inequality, and prejudices that are everpresent in the modern world. The humanity is something that's often missing from these kinds of adventure stories, but that aspect is prominent here.

And it's that human side that makes up reason #2 cited above. The Batman is DC's best character because he's their most human character. One of the (many) reasons that DC's ventures into TV and film are often failures is the very nature of the beast: Their characters aren't human. They're demigods, with which it's far more difficult for most viewers/readers to relate. How can someone relate to the "life struggles" of a man who can fly through the sky and is invulnerable to harm or a woman who is an Amazon princess from a land that's almost literally paradise? The key aspect to Marvel wresting the comic world away from long-time suzerain DC was that the former's characters were humans first, superheroes second. Peter Parker may be able to climb walls and shoot webs from his wrists, but he also worries about paying his rent, his grades, and whether he can make his date with Mary Jane. Marvel recognized in the 60s that the bulk of their regular audience was college-aged, rather than elementary schoolers. DC wouldn't concede to that reality for another 20 years and the essence of their characters still denies it. The Batman, despite being a billionaire, genius, unarmed combat master(!) is, in the end, still just a guy. His life is vastly different from any other human in our real world, but he's still human. That's the key that makes him approachable.

Batman: The Animated Series (from here on out: BTAS) didn't shy away from that humanity. In fact, it became a lynchpin of their storytelling, not only about Bruce Wayne, but also his rogues' gallery of opponents. In truth, The Batman is the antagonist in his own stories. Many people don't necessarily read or watch his stories because they're fascinated by him. They're usually fascinated by the erratic behavior of the villains that he's attempting to get off the streets. He's constantly locking up people like The Joker, Mr. Freeze, and Two-Face in Arkham Asylum, despite the fact that a man who dresses up as a bat and spends his nights beating up criminals isn't too far a cry from being a viable patient there, as well. But he's the straight man to their comedy. He's the force of nature that tries to contain the aberrant activities that make up their personal tales. And, to their enormous credit, Dini and Co. didn't shy away from that. Their version of Mr. Freeze isn't a "bad guy" just because he's a bad guy like Sauron from Lord of the Rings. He's a "bad guy" because of an extraordinary tragedy in his life that pushed him past the point of stability. That's a far more interesting version of Freeze than almost anyone had presented prior to the cartoon's creation. That's the humanity that the producers inserted into a "kids' show" that made it an excellent watch for adults, as well.

So, I'm going to be going through the whole series, all 65 episodes that HBO has, one by one and taking a look at how those stories were told, whom they were about, and how those elements, new and old, were melded with the 53 years of history prior to the show's release. Along the way, I'll talk about visual style, previous versions of the main characters involved, new characters, and what methods it seems they might have used to get their stories from point A to point B. There have been many phases (as noted) in the character's existence and many audiences to satisfy and I think it's worth examining just how said creators jumped through those hoops, as well as how they added their own imprint to the character that many, without hedging, have declared to be among the best versions of that character ever shown. I'll be watching them in the order that HBO has them lined up (which is pretty close to the original), so my next post will be about The Cat and the Claw, part I.