Batman: The Animated Series: Wondering about the Boy

Next episode is the first appearance of Robin, the Boy Wonder, in our review of BTAS. There is no lead-in to this appearance as, once again, the producers decided that their audience was familiar enough with the Batman milieu that the presence of a sidekick teenager in a circus outfit wasn't something that needed explaining. For many, The Batman was "Batman and Robin" and this was no different. Indeed, in the original broadcast of the series, our hero was assisted by Alfred and an amateur detective named Sherman Grant before the person whom most assume is automatically his constant partner in any of his adventures or crimefighting activity first graced a rooftop. That's not something that was tagged on The Batman by the goofy TV series, either, as the first appearance of Robin in the comics was in 1940, with Detective Comics #38, only 11 issues after Bob Kane's Darknight Detective first swung through the moonlight. He was a Bob Kane creation and, as such, is part of the character in ways that few other elements can lay claim to. The problem for me is that he never seemed to fit.

I would never claim to know Bob Kane's rationale for including Robin. Most like to present him as a move intended for young readers of the comics to identify with someone other than the adult in the spotlight, so that (mostly) young boys could imagine themselves cavorting across the rooftops with the Caped Crusader. After all, if you were pretending to be The Batman, you were clearly just pretending, because he was an adult. But if you were imagining yourself as Robin, well, then that was different. If Dick Grayson could trade punches with The Joker, then surely you could, as well, right? There also could have been some pressure from Warner, in that The Batman originally began his career in the funny pages as a guy wielding two .45s and killing people like his close parallel, The Shadow. Once he had proved to be a hit, bringing in a character that lightened the mood a bit may have been an editorial nudge/suggestion/demand. After all, only kids read comics, right? It couldn't constantly be about fear and the ominous appearance of a giant bat, right? Kids could be corrupted by that stuff! Frederic Wertham, DC, and Fawcett Comics would ensure that great rival EC would feel the full impact of the "Robinization" of the comics industry a decade later.

That may sound like I'm coming down hard on the negative side about Robin and I am, in truth, but that may be a facet of, quite literally, what I grew up with vis-à-vis The Batman. As my friend, Don LaRew, mentioned a few weeks back, everyone has their Batman. It's the image of the character that may be the first one you encountered or it may be the one that had the most impact upon you. In Don's case, it was BTAS, fortunately enough. For me, it was the mid-70s when, as I mentioned previously, creators like Denny O'Neill, Neal Adams, and Steve Engelhart radically redirected the character away from the fun-loving, circus freak nature of his adventures and back toward the investigator who was a symbol of fear for the underworld and, in many ways, too ruthless for someone running around in a canary yellow cape. By the time I had my first exposure to The Batman, DC had conceded to the trend that Marvel had launched, in that characters do actually age and move on to a small degree, and shuffled Robin off to the much more superhero-y Teen Titans and college. The Batman was a loner again who stuck to the shadows, where Robin's (literal) circus costume and the image that it created simply wouldn't work. (Fair argument here as to why The Batman wears an almost-literal target on his chest, which is something I'll get to later.) My image of Robin was mostly tied to the goofy TV series and Burt Ward uttering lines like: "Holy Etruscan vases, Batman!" My image of The Batman was much more serious.

And it has to be said that I was a pretty serious kid ("Precocious" is the classical term.) I recognized right away how appropriate it was for a guy dressed as a bat to be in a much different sphere than someone dressed like he wanted everyone to see him, everywhere he went. To their credit, the BTAS producers did address that little difficulty, as his costume is much more restrained in coloration (and actually has long pants.) But the real change for me is that, when he's operating alone, The Batman is the pinnacle of my interpretation of the character. He only has himself to rely upon. Yes, that means he's relying upon a genius detective, a master of unarmed combat, and a billionaire who runs a massive conglomerate and all the resources that entails, but it still means that if some thug gets the drop on him, he can't depend on anyone else to have his back. He also can't depend upon magic lassos, heat vision, or invulnerability against someone else with one of those .45s. That, to me, provides some of the essential tension to the stories and, indeed, emphasizes the "antagonist in his own stories" phenomenon that I mentioned before. If it's just the implacable (but still human) Batman facing down the insanity of people like The Scarecrow and The Riddler, then we can focus on them. If there's someone else along for the ride, then that's a distraction that the story really doesn't need. If I'm reading a story about The Batman and his maniacal rogues' gallery, then that's what I want. I'm not really interested in Batman and This Other Guy because it doesn't add anything to the story and diverts attention from the contest of wills that our hero's encounters with his regular opponents tends to be.

So, yeah, I am not a Robin fan. I'm not radically opposed (i.e. it doesn't mean I won't read/watch a Batman story that has Robin in it) and it must be said that, in the modern era, it was a good choice to portray Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake as the occasional voice of greater reason in the face of what are The Batman's own psychological hangups. But I think that, overall, he detracts from what is the essential identity of our main character and doesn't add anything particularly notable that makes him a worthwhile addition. But my opinion may be among a distinct minority and it would be very far from the first time that that was the case.

Next up, back to our regularly scheduled program with Fear of Victory.

Batman: TAS, episode #18: Two Face, part 2

 

As I've mentioned repeatedly, the producers of BTAS have largely credited the audience with knowledge of the Batman mythos. Even when presenting a repeatedly told origin story, they didn't go into as much detail as you might expect about characters and their habits (The fact that every episode only runs about 22 minutes is also a bit of a restraint on that kind of thing.) But sometimes it's possible that that's too much of a shortcut. Despite the appearance of the famous two-headed silver dollar in part 1, there's no description of it nor the importance that Harvey Dent places upon it. The assumption is made that the audience simply knows of it and its unusual nature. But as such a key aspect of the character and his visual image, I found it kind of odd that the first time we get a picture of its reality (the two heads) is at the beginning of part 2, after Two-Face has already scarred one side to match his current state. There comes a time when things become perhaps too much of an inside joke, even for those already familiar with the story. If you're playing out the tragedy, you want to know everything that's involved in it. The coin, although it may seem a trivial detail, is as much a part of Two-Face's twisted perspective as Big Bad Harv is, so it makes me wonder why they didn't spare 20 seconds for it in the first episode, just to lay out everything that a new viewer might want to know, and weave in what the rest of us already know to this new telling.

On the other hand, a very welcome change to part 2 is the shift in Grace (Murphy Cross), Harvey's fiancé, from weeping willow and arm ornament to someone with actual agency. I neglected to mention her presence in part 1 because of the extent to which it was clichéd, stereotypical, and generally awful. She basically had no role except to be an object of Harvey's affection. In part 2, that all changes when she finally finds him. While Two-Face talks about surrendering to chance and not allowing her into his new world for her own sake, she insists on defining what "her own sake" means and draws new parameters for what their life should be. She has an opinion and she makes him accept it. That's agency and it's a welcome change and, unfortunately, was still kind of unusual for female characters in both comics and cartoons, even in an obviously more enlightened production such as BTAS. Grace even goes on to kick some ass during the final fight scene in Two-Face's lair.

Speaking of clichés, they do lean kind of hard on the old "two" thing, as the odds of even as widespread a boss as Rupert Thorne having as many front businesses that can be identified with "two" or "deuce" is pretty low. On the other hand, Two-Face showing up with a pair of twins, Min and Max, for henchmen (voiced by Micky Dolenz, the drummer from the Monkees) is just par for the course. But on a deeper level, I thought it was a great touch that the dream sequence in part 2 was actually from Bruce Wayne's attempted slumber, as he wrestled with the guilt of not being able to save Harvey (and perhaps because he inadvertently contributed to the accident?) and that, in turn, blended with the lifelong survivors' guilt that he carries about the night his parents were murdered. This is the first time we've seen any references to the origin of The Batman and it was deftly combined with the internal struggles we saw of Harvey's last episode, as he tries to keep his inner bully, Big Bad Harv, under arrest. This is an excellent series moment, both for the deeper meanings connected to our main character and to one of his foremost and most tragic opponents.

Indeed, there are a number of interesting little touches in this episode that seem to touch on broader meanings. Harvey surrendering his life to the whim of the coin seems to coincide with the fact that he has lottery tickets in his wallet. Rupert Thorne's attorney, Abner Doubleday, not only stays in the "two" theme, but also shares a name with the Union general who thought his finest hour was at Gettysburg but felt his glory was robbed of him by George Meade. Doubleday went on to be president of the Theosophical Society, a Mason-like organization that investigated the "unexplained laws of nature." We also get out first look at the Batcycle, although it doesn't perform any of the tricks that one expects from The Batman's other major pieces of technology. Was it present just because it was a two-wheeled form of transportation? Maybe. Thorne ends up with one of the better lines again: "No... Two million. A million dollars a face to the man who brings me Two-Face." But the best line of the episode came, appropriately, from Two-Face himself, when he explains to Grace why the coin is paramount: "Here's the only law. The law of averages." On average, this was a pretty good episode, but a slight step back from part 1.

In the next episode, the Scarecrow returns and Robin(!) appears in Fear of Victory, but since we're a quarter of the way through our series, I thought I'd take a moment next time to take a look at the Boy Wonder and his presence in the legend of our hero.

Batman: TAS, episode #17: Two Face, part 1

 

I suppose it only makes sense that our story about Two-Face would have to be a two-parter, not only because of the significance of the character in The Batman's oeuvre, which became even further magnified in the modern era, but also because of its tragic nature. (Fair question as to why the hyphen was dropped from the title, though.) To its extreme credit, BTAS has mostly avoided the standard comic book fare of the "origin story". When we've seen new, major characters (mostly villains), they've pretty much swung right into action, with that credit extended to the audience's awareness of who and what they are. However, one of the main exceptions was with the new version of Mr. Freeze, as the series took time to lay the groundwork for a different image and the tragedy that surrounded his emergence. That's decidedly not the case here, as Two-Face has been among the most prominent of Batman opponents since 1942. But the near-Shakespearean tragedy that embodies Harvey Dent's transformation into the ruthless Two-Face has also been consistent. Consequently, I think it was almost necessary for the series to break with form and, like Freeze, show the circumstances surrounding Two-Face's creation, even if we've seen it all before. It's genuinely too good a story not to tell.

The switch here to the usual approach is that, in this case, it's not the standard superhero approach of a single event radically changing the character's outlook along with his appearance. There is no radioactive spider that changes everything. Instead, this more mature take on The Batman (like Alfred having a social life, as we saw last time) extends to those around him and Harvey has been decidedly not dealing with his mental health issues since he was young, as is so prevalent among men in our society. Big Bad Harv, instead of being brought to full flower in a sudden accident (or from a single act of malevolence as in the original telling, when a crook threw acid in Dent's face), has already fully manifested within Harvey and is only contained by the DA's force of will. As we see by the end of this episode, the circumstances involving Rupert Thorne, the pressure of campaigning, and indeed The Batman himself are what bring him permanently to the surface. It's a fine measure of American political perspectives when Harvey argues with his psychiatrist: "You know I'm trying to get reelected!" and she bluntly responds: "You're also trying to save your sanity..." Which is more important...?

The episode was written jointly by Alan Burnett and Randy Rogel. Burnett is notable for having been involved in basically every, single DC Comics animated project from the 80s to the present day, in both film and television. He was also one of the producers on every episode of BTAS, so he's intimately familiar with the character and it was his decision to reframe Two-Face in the context of Harvey's already present mental illness in the form of Big Bad Harv. It was also a notable choice to present mental illness as both a common thing and something that there is no shame in admitting to or seeking help for. The fact that it's Bruce Wayne, someone it's safe to say could benefit from a therapist, being the loudest voice in that corner should not go unnoticed. We're given plenty of opportunity to see Harvey's struggles with his alter ego and how he attempts to skate past them, as well, since we open with a classic dream sequence and then, when Harvey arrives at the tense standoff with a clearly heavily-armed opponent, the first comment he delivers to Commissioner Gordon is the flippant and totally awkward: "Hey, Jim! How's it going?" (Maybe if I act like it's just another day at the office, no one will notice how uneasy (and late) I am!)

That's just one example of how well-structured and -paced this story is, even if it's largely devoid of the superhero action that a lot of viewers would expect. Again, it's a mark of the producers' (like Burnett) understanding that the audience is mixed in age and experience. They're telling a tragic story here, not just an explosive (in more ways than one) origin and/or superhero sequence. We still get some of that action in the raid scene and when The Batman attempts to rescue Harvey from Thorne and his men, but the focus of the story is on the inner, mental struggle, not the physical one. It is, of course, gratifying to see them stick with Rupert Thorne as the main "crimelord" element in the series, not least because it means we get to hear the stentorian tones of John Vernon again. The latter is also given one of the best lines of the episode, when he tells his assistant Candice (Diane Michelle): "All men have something to hide. The brighter the picture, the darker the negative." The story is also woven in such a way as to involve The Batman in the outcome. If he doesn't grab Thorne's henchman, do the bullets go into the control panel and lead to the explosion that maims Harvey? (Of course, it's a decent question to ask just what kind of refinery has open tanks of flammable liquid if it's not petroleum? They lean heavily on the old "Ace Playing Card" factory image of The Joker's origins here.) The alternative is that Harvey was killed. Would that have been better than the life of torture and terror that follows?

Notice how these are all face shots. Visual storytelling, yo.

On a technical level, we see The Batman doing the Spider-Man thing when first following Thorne's limo, swinging from buildings to keep up and only later retrieving the Batmobile. That's not typical of the Darknight Detective, since it's way too visible. Also, for the third episode in a row, we get the dangers of the cape! This is becoming a regular theme, as if they were campaigning against the scalloped cloak that is a linchpin of The Batman's image. Of course, it's also a very practical concern, as evidenced by many modern tales in the superhero genre, like Watchmen, Wild Cards, and others. If you don't want to get pinned and killed (or, like Dollar Bill, caught in a revolving door), don't hang this big piece of grabbable cloth off your back. But the episode is also populated by a lot of great, little touches, like the flames only burning one half of Harvey's face in the newspaper when Thorne tosses it into the fireplace. It's obvious, but it plays well. Also, Richard Moll has to be commended, not only for his delivery of the voices of Harvey and Big Bad Harv/Two-Face, but also for the brilliant scream when Harvey first sees his transformed face. That's high-end voice acting.

Even through we're retreading heavily trod ground, this was a great example of a classic Batman story. Next time, we'll close out with part 2.

Batman: TAS, episode #16: Eternal Youth

As I've mentioned before, The Batman is something of a straight man to his enemies' comedy. As much as typical superhero comic stories tend to follow that pattern (e.g. villain appears with new scheme, hero attempts to foil that scheme), the Batman villains tend to have an extra edge to them (usually some kind of psychosis; hence, the omnipresence of Arkham Asylum) that makes them not only the centerpiece of their story, but really the driving force behind it. The Batman, as the constant, is there to weather their storm, but it is still their storm. Whereas the driving force behind many Spider-Man stories is the life surrounding Peter Parker, often interrupted by Electro or The Lizard or whoever, Bruce Wayne's life is above that, such that others have to deal with the travails of life (this is typical DC) before The Batman arrives to set things right. The interesting, personal aspects are elements of the villain, not the hero. This is, in turn, what made Steve Engelhart's stories about the character so good, but which also show up when Bruce has a personal attachment to another character, as with most Catwoman stories. The reappearance by Poison Ivy is, unfortunately, not one of those stories, but instead a pretty standard superhero vs villain tale.

In fact, the most unusual aspect of this episode is that Alfred has a girlfriend (Maggie, voiced by Paddi Edwards.) This is a social development that Alfred had never experienced before this series; not in comics, TV, or film. Indeed, in almost all respects, other than the visit of an occasional family member, Alfred's life basically revolves around Bruce Wayne's; as close to indentured servitude as you can get. Dare I say that the presence of a life outside of loyal service for Alfred is a factor of this episode being written by a woman (Beth Bornstein)? To many writers and fans of The Batman, Alfred is basically an amusing, dependable piece of the furniture. But, if he's a whole character, he also has the same wants and needs that any human has, regardless of how long he's been serving the Wayne family. In fact, it's the length of that time (and his appearances in the mythos) that makes one wonder why this kind of thing hasn't been seen before. At the same time, Bornstein presents perhaps the most prominent of Batman's female adversaries, in Ivy, who is still pursuing her version of environmental justice.

This episode is set up as a horror story in many ways, as well. We get the opening with the woman running in terror, emphasizing the threat of Ivy and her gas gun. Then we get the mysterious invite to the spa, which is taken by total innocents, Alfred and Maggie, who will have no idea how to deal with the threat, unlike The Batman. All we needed was for the spa to be a campground and Ivy to be wearing a goalie mask and we were set. But there are some good pacing moments, too, with the light shining down on The Batman's face when he discovers the spa tape in the penthouse, for example, or when we stare into the terrified faces of the tree statues that Ivy has created. Overall, regular director Kevin Altieri did  a nice job with the tempo of this episode. That said, it is fair to ask why The Batman would allow himself to be taken prisoner by two women with gas guns, when he's faced far more immediate threats (and weapons) throughout his career. It's also worth noting that, despite the usual Bat-fisticuffs utilized against most opponents, in this case he produces rope from nowhere so that he doesn't have to hit the three women trying to kill him. There are still allowances made for the idea of kids being part of the audience (especially young boys) and discouraging violence against everyone isn't quite as important as doing so against women (which is, of course, a far more prominent problem in our society.)

From a visual design standpoint, nothing was particularly notable, aside from Alfred doing the vampire sleep while under the effect of Ivy's drug, and Ivy's costume still lacking its trademark leaves. On that note, for the second episode in a row, we get to see the downside of wearing that enormous bat cape, as Ivy easily impedes the hero with her dart shooter. And speaking of enormous things, one could be forgiven for wondering what will be happening with the mini-Yggdrasil that sprouted from Ivy's serum. It's going to be a pretty prominent landmark and, unless it's intended to be the world version of the giant penny in the Batcave, it's worth questioning what the effect of having a tree skyscraper might have on the local environment that our villain is so concerned with. ("Look what you've made me do to my poor defenseless tree!")

All in all, Eternal Youth is a pretty standard episode, albeit with some nice writing touches and a good sense of style. Next up, we come to another two-parter with the most appropriate villain for a structure like that: Two-Face.

Batman: TAS, episode #15: The Last Laugh

As with any behavior (and relationship), there are gradations. The version of The Joker that we saw a few episodes ago was clearly still a chaotic threat, but it was understated to some degree. If he was approached or felt threatened, you'd see more of the insanity (and danger) shine through. In this episode, The Last Laugh, we get the more "high intensity" version, where not only is his behavior erratic, but it's more demonstrative. He's a little less calculating and a little more prone to explosive moments (sometimes literally.) One would think that Harley is actually a calming influence on him... Alongside our slightly more maniacal Joker, we have the most infamous of his schemes/approaches: the laughing gas; this time widespread enough to cover a large part of Gotham and declared by the Batcave computer (Richard Moll; known for also playing Harvey Dent/Two-Face) as a permanent threat to victims' sanity. This is a classic example of the villain that everyone is familiar with, which would probably explain why it was the fourth episode broadcast in the series' original run. As noted before, the producers were expressing confidence that the bulk of the audience would be familiar enough with who and what The Batman and his closest associates are without having to do any lengthy explanations, unlike someone more obscure, like the Clock King.

This was also another chance to highlight the dichotomous nature of the relationship between our hero and his nemesis. We see that it's April Fools' Day and that people on the highway are in the grip of uproarious laughter- and then we cut to the most dour expression on Bruce Wayne's face. This is the contrast: the steely, immutable, heroic Batman with the chaotic, amorphous, villainous Joker, despite the fact that their outward appearances (menacing bat vs jovial clown) imply the opposite. Indeed, Bruce's resistance to humor even extends to his dismissal of a very out of character April Fools' joke by Alfred, while even The Joker's submarine grins as it floats under the garbage scow. The radio declares "At this hour, Gotham City is in the grip of insanity!" But not The Batman. That's the province of his opposite number, even if those not inured to it (like Alfred) are willing to give into the spirt of the day and become victims of the gas.

Technology is also displayed as a centerpiece of the action, as we see the Batboat used to steer the laughing gas trash away from town and eventually save our hero (Helluva risky shooting job with that laser on the bottom of the river, however), while Captain Clown, the implacable robot servant of the top clown, becomes the primary threat to The Batman over much of the episode. Another example of The Joker's particular mindset is revealed when he displays genuine anguish that The Batman has "killed Captain Clown!" One can be confident that he wouldn't have spared another thought for one of his quite human henchmen who suffered the same fate, but the favorite toy elicits the remonstration. That, again, serves to emphasize the idea that this episode's version of The Joker is the one farther toward the irrational edge than what we saw before. It's on display again during his flight through the waste plant, as he's completely unconcerned with the potentially fatal results of sliding down the incinerator chute as he grabs the convenient rope to swing away from a guaranteed death. Even his thugs don't appreciate his excess, as they roll their eyes at his various puns: "Look who's come to trash the place!"

What also helps reveal that this was an earlier production is that the themes are all-encompassing, both those specific to the episode ("Jewels 'R Us" is the store robbed by The Joker) and to the series as a whole (Café Noir is seen in the opening pan across the city.) Interestingly, they also tried out a more modern, funk beat behind the score at three points; all of them when The Joker (the fight and chase through the disposal plant) or his activities (the initial release of the gas) were central to the action. When you're first establishing your series and its tenets, one of them being the orchestral, Elfman-inspired score, it seems a mildly odd gesture to the Prince-written funk of the Batman film to deviate from what would otherwise be the standard throughout the series. In that same vein, the episode also takes time to reestablish the norms between the two lead characters ("Batman finally told a joke!") when the villain ends up hanging over the fire and rhetorically asks: "Wouldn't let me fry, would you?" and then the reproachful moan when the hero pretends to hesitate, as both know their relationship would never end that way.

In many ways, this is "the standard" of an encounter between The Batman and his greatest foe/opposite number: the bat vs the clown, implacable righteousness vs nebulous insanity ("Justice will be served, Joker!"), but it also never deviates from what passes for normality between the two of them. They've both been here before and they'll be here, many times, again. Hardly the last laugh, as it were. Next time, we get a return visit from one of our villains in Eternal Youth.

Batman: TAS, episode #14: The Clock King

There's a certain standard image that many people have of The Batman and of superheroes, in general. That image is largely of episodic stories centered on a constant. In this case, most people imagine that The Batman is always there, unchanging, and will always be encountering villains in single moments, where the latter have developed the latest scheme that our hero must resolve in order to keep the whole storytelling merry-go-round going. Next time, said villain will be back with a new scheme and we'll do this again. That's a pattern that DC Comics helped to set in stone during their prominence in the first half of the last century. Every issue was a single moment and a single read and plots beyond those 24 pages (if you were lucky) didn't really exist. It's a pattern that Marvel would deliberately stray from in many ways, which overall gave more strength to their setting and characters and explains some of why they eventually replaced DC atop the comics world. But the stereotypical image of superheroes remains in much of the public mind and was most obvious with our main character during the Batman TV show of the 60s.

What makes it unusually effective in The Batman's case is that, as I mentioned before, he's essentially the antagonist in his own stories. He is a constant and he will always be here to try to figure out the latest scheme of whomever the opponent is. In this case, it's the Clock King, who was originally a Green Arrow opponent, but made his Batman debut in that much-reviled (or -loved, as you like) TV series and has stuck with the Darknight Detective ever since. Appearance-wise, he's one of the more mundane of Batman's opponents, but that's because in both the 60s series and BTAS, they didn't show him in his 1970s form:

The 70s, man... However, they did go one step further in comic book naming conventions, calling this version of the character, Temple Fugate (a reference to the Latin tempus fugit ("time flies")), instead of the original, William Tockman.

This episode leans on The Batman in his scientific role, as he ends up doing the MacGyver thing inside the safe in order to break out and continue the pursuit. But it also showed him operating in broad daylight for the entire episode, which is the first time we've seen that in our survey. That, too, is a callback to the former TV series, where good ol' Batman was routinely operating in the middle of the day, removing much of the mystery and menace which is intended to be a key element of his identity in putting fear into the criminals he's encountering. But despite Fugate's mundane appearance (the script takes pains to have The Batman continue to refer to him as "Fugate", rather than his nom du guerre, as he would with many other opponents), he demonstrates a pretty amazing ability to not only face down the hero in single combat inside a constantly moving environment, but also pitch himself off the sides of buildings and land on moving trains. Not bad for a career office worker. Being that uptight presumably keeps one in really good shape.

But that, too, is the essence of "classic" comics, where the idea that an accountant can jump onto moving trains is no more implausible than someone dressing up as a bat to fight crime and this episode engages all of that to the fullest. Indeed, his mundane appearance combines well with the maniacal laugh of voice actor Alan Rachins to almost make Clock King more menacing than the otherwise more bizarrely appearing figures like The Joker. This is, indeed, an average nerd doing very strange things with murderous intent. (It's always the quiet ones.) And this is extrapolated into the plot, where the longest scene is the lengthy fight inside the clock tower, which is very classic DC comics in every respect, since its funhouse-like atmosphere tells you all you need to know about what genre you've sat down to watch, complete with ending pun about the Clock King's return ("It's only a matter of time.") One nice world-building touch was the inclusion of a story in the newspaper Bruce is reading in his limo, where we see that Selina Kyle's assistant, Mabel, is still active on their mission, even if the former is in jail ("Kolus cat rescued.") However, on that same note, we're also never told what Fugate's company actually did or why it would've been subject to a $20 million judgment.

For a character that's been around and regularly produced for as long as The Batman has, you're going to need stories that hearken to a standard, even if it's one that some in your audience aren't really fans of, simply because they reach a broader audience and meet the expectations of many who simply sit down to see a "Batman cartoon." This was one of those episodes, which was still delivered well and had a few high points, but ended up being not exceptional. Next time, the Clown Prince of Crime returns with The Last Laugh.

Batman: TAS, episode #13: P.O.V.

I'm a huge Akira Kurosawa fan and one of his earlier films, Rashomon, is among my favorites. mostly for what it says about human nature and the malleability of memory because of self-interest and miscommunication. This episode is presented in that style, given that Detective Bullock and Officers Montoya and Wilkes are instructed to give their versions of the opening scene: a warehouse robbery and fire, interrupted by them and The Batman. But that theme of miscommunication isn't central to the story here. Instead, it's about an outrageously arrogant police lieutenant and Officer Montoya, one of the few regular female characters of the series, actually having agency over her own actions; a rare event in film and TV of the time.

We're presented with a seemingly normal situation in our noir setting, as Montoya and her junior partner rush to meet Bullock at an impending crime scene, before a fire and fleeing criminals put the scenario into a tailspin. The lurking shadow of The Batman is seen over everything, as one would expect. But then things get weird. First off, we have a ranting Lieutenant Hackle tell them that they've ruined a months-long investigation into a Gotham City drug lord. But, then, why were the collection of criminals at the warehouse conducting what looked like a routine burglary, albeit of a couple million in cash? Were they a rival gang stealing the nameless drug lord's stash of money? One would assume that the nature of the drug business doesn't leave an organized effort short of funds. When the more reasonable Commissioner Gordon starts defending his officers' actions, Hackle turns to him and yells: "Pipe down or get out!" which ain't exactly following the chain of command in most circumstances. Then it's Hackle who declares all three of the on-scene officers to be suspended, which isn't outrageous, but is still kind of unusual with the top brass sitting right there and obviously opposed to the lieutenant's aggressive approach.

But then we get our three different impressions of The Batman: Bullock's, who sees him as a pest and uses his presence to try to cover Bullock's own errors of judgment; Wilkes', who sees him as a figure of myth ("I've heard of him, but I've never seen him!"); and Montoya's, whose considered judgment turns out to be the most accurate: of someone on their side, often superior in capability to the police, but who is still human (and could be, for example, shot in the back and be killed, unlike most DC heroes.) All three points of view are presented as action pieces, with The Batman instrumental in all of them. In Bullock's case, it's about rescuing him from his own ego, despite our first view of the detective as someone eminently capable of handling himself, as he takes down four or five opponents before being trapped and felled by the surrounding fire. Wilkes is more of an innocent bystander, as he seems incapable of ever firing that shotgun that he runs around with, while The Batman saves him, disables a vehicle, and then takes out a fleeing thug while Wilkes watches in awe. Montoya, as befits her perspective, ends up with the most personal interaction, as she actively fights their opponents alongside our hero before needing his help to escape the growing disaster.

The collection of thugs are pretty standard between-years Gotham City here, although it's interesting to note that the big one credited as Driller (he attacks Montoya with the large drill used to crack the safe) not only resembles Lothar from The Rocketeer film of a couple years earlier, but is also voiced by Ron Perlman. What's also interesting is that the leader of this band of hoods (The drug lord? Someone else?) not only remains nameless throughout the episode, but also faceless, even as he's captured. On the one hand, his identity is kind of superfluous to the actual story being told about Montoya. On the other hand, his cardboard cutout presence stands out as one of the things that separates this kind of "mundane" episode from something decent like It's Never Too Late or something brilliant like Appointment in Crime Alley, where every motivating force or character had a name attached to it. In that respect, they could've done more to not only tell the story of how Montoya is an exceptional cop- better than the rookie Wilkes or the jaded Bullock -but also where that fits in to the overall series as a whole. Montoya contributes a ton to the resolution of the whole plot, does so on her own initiative, and is the one who captures the monocled crime lord (Drug lord?) while The Batman conducts an impressive display of destruction by sinking a ship in Gotham Harbor with a forklift. Our story ends with Gordon physically assaulting Lt. Hackle to keep him from further harassment of the officers that Gordon wouldn't order him to back off of earlier.

I think they missed an opportunity with this one, not only to present another female character in the Batman mythos as someone capable of handling her own business (which, again, was sufficient to get the character added to the comics and to Christopher Nolan's films) but also to weave that story into something more consistent with the mythos of the series, so we perhaps knew who these criminals were and what the larger plot might have been, so that this episode was less like a DC one-off and more like a Marvel chapter in a much greater story.