Beechen's Batman Beyond
by aiwac [Warning: this essay contains
spoilers for Return of the Joker and the comic mini-series. Proceed at
your own risk]
Let me start with a personal aside:
I am a huge fan of the world of Batman Beyond. From the very first
couple of episodes, I was hooked. The original concepts and the
interesting interpersonal relationships (especially between Bruce and
Terry) fascinated me. If BTAS perfected the look and feel of a world
that already existed, Batman Beyond created a new one almost from
scratch. This world remains rich with potential for the development of
new characters, storylines and concepts in the realm of Batman.
Best of all, this series produced Return of the Joker, one of the best
Batman movies ever made (in my opinion) – either animated or
live-action. The tight storyline, the usually pitch-perfect dialogue and
the amazing acting kept me at the edge of my seat. The movie's ending
perfectly encompassed the message of the second-generation Batman. If
Mask of the Phantasm demonstrated Bruce's tragic fate to never be happy
and content, RotJ completely upended that message with the
reconciliation of Tim, Bruce and Barbara. It was the perfect show of
what Batman Beyond could do to the world of Batman – changing its
pessimistic direction while maintaining the core of heroism and justice
– with just a touch of darkness and menace.
Needless to say, I was extremely excited when I heard that DC Comics
would be producing a six issue mini-series on my favorite world. My
excitement would not last long. Each new issue further sapped my
enthusiasm for this project until it disappeared entirely. The stale,
nonsensical plot, the grating mischaracterizations and the complete
failure to create any kind of compelling atmosphere all crushed my hopes
and optimism to dust.
I understand that all fictional worlds and stories, especially comic
stories, are open to re-interpretation and renewed insight. Indeed,
there are few comic characters who have received this treatment as often
as Batman. I also realize that meeting the rather high expectations of
the Batman Beyond fanbase, eager for a renewal of the franchise for
years, was a daunting task.
However, this is no excuse for the poor-to-mediocre product I saw before
me. It's one thing to reinvent matters, even if in my opinion they did
not require reinvention so much as refinement. It's quite another to
violate basic rules of storytelling. This is especially grating
considering this series is a poor knock-off of RotJ, a masterpiece of
storytelling (with some of Epilogue thrown in – though that episode was
immensely better in dealing with the subject matter of cloning and
identity). Put bluntly, what RotJ did right, this series got wrong.
To demonstrate this, I have listed three basic storytelling principles
below. In each one, I will briefly explain the principle, then compare
how RotJ and this mini-series pulled them off. Let's begin:
Dramatic Tension
The pursuit of Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. The mystery of Kaiser Soze
in The Usual Suspects. The cat-and-mouse game between Eastwood and
Malkovich in In the Line of Fire.
What do all these movies have in common (besides all being made in the
1990s)? They all successfully maintained what is known as "dramatic
tension" – that mixture of doubt, suspense and compelling storyline that
keeps the reader or viewer at the edge of their seat. Properly done, a
story with a good dose of this keeps us turning every page with
excitement. While dramatic tension is not necessary for all genres, it
fits perfectly with Batman stories, which are usually of the
horror/action/suspense type.
Return of the Joker was a good example of dramatic tension done right.
From the moment the Joker re-appears until the final showdown, we got a
sense of just how much is at stake. His presence hovers over almost
every scene, haunts every major character. Every action he takes is
against people we know and care about. Even when the Joker begins his
plan to annihilate Gotham City, he makes sure to openly declare that
he'll kill everyone Terry cares about first. From beginning to end, we
are desperate for this situation to somehow be resolved, even if we are
unsure how that can happen.
Little of this tension is present in the comic mini-series. If the
villain in RotJ and his actions is the center around which everything
revolves, the villain of the mini-series is barely a side show. His
actions barely register among the characters (except for Dr. Reid and
Amanda Waller, but more on them later) except to serve as another part
in a tedious chase from point A to B to C. We see little sign of the
effects of his killing spree on either Terry or Bruce except to further
fuel the artificial feud between them (more on that below). We see
nothing to suggest that this is anything other than a routine hunt
against an unusually physically adept killer.
Neither the villain's actions nor his identity contribute anything of
value. He was a blood-thirsty brute as both "Hush" and a "Dick Grayson"
clone. His eventual plan to sink all of Gotham City in a massive
earthquake to kill super-villains makes no sense at all, especially
since many of them are superhuman (Inque, for instance) and are capable
of surviving a great deal. This is to say nothing of the fact that
criminals – including the super-kind – tend to thrive on the kind of
chaos and lawlessness created by natural disasters.
What's worse is that the story does little to augment our sense of dread
at this. No flashbacks to the sight of post-No Man's Land Gotham City.
No newscasts with innocent people looking on in horror at the
possibility of impending doom. All we get is a quick, anemic description
of the last earthquake by the real Dick Grayson. Dramatically, it's
about as exciting as going to complain to the neighbors about the loud
noise.
Which brings me to the next rule violated by this series:
Characterization and Character Development
Anyone, even people who are not literature majors or experts, can tell
you that most good stories rest on the shoulders of their characters,
especially the protagonists. If the characters are relatable, complex
beings that act logically, then we can identify with them, feel
their pain and hope for their success. If they have flaws or traumas, we
wish them the best of luck in overcoming them, and if they can't, we
mourn with them. Conversely, characters that are two-dimensional
caricatures can suck the life out of a story and grate on the nerves,
making every minute of reading or viewing into an unbearable chore. This
can be the case even when the plot is well made, which it isn't here.
The writers of RotJ understood this. Their portrayal of the two
protagonists is one of two people struggling with powerful doubts about
each other, but who nevertheless care a great deal for one another. We
see in the beginning of the movie that Bruce already has great faith in
Terry by letting him operate without being monitored; his presence feels
natural. When Bruce does snap at Terry (after trying soothing words of
consolation) and tries to 'fire him', it is understandable and logical.
The Joker was Batman's worst and deadliest foe. He had already ruined
one partner of his. We can fully understand Bruce's motivation for what
he did. For him, history can only repeat itself; it cannot be prevented
or repaired.
The same goes with Terry. The heir to the cowl feels the opposite –
unlike Bruce he is not out just to avenge his father but to redeem
himself. Bruce believes history cannot be changed; Terry is compelled to
believe the opposite or he is doomed. Now faced with the ultimate
challenge and with everyone he knows in danger, Terry must stand up to
both Bruce and the Joker and prove his point.
At the end of the movie, both protagonists have changed and evolved for
the better. Bruce acknowledges Terry's worth as Batman and reconciles
with Tim after years of shutting him out. Terry rests content that he
was proven right in the end and that he is intrinsically worthy of being
Batman. It is a natural, logical end to both men's struggles.
Now, to be fair, the comic series does not do everyone a disservice when
it comes to characterization. Minor players like Dr. Reid, the new
Catwoman and Amanda Waller are a joy to read; Waller's insane obsession
with Batman and the new Catwoman's playful nature are of particular
interest. I hope they will continue to make appearances in the ongoing
series.
However, when it comes to the two protagonists, Bruce and Terry, this
series could not possibly have missed the mark more had it aimed in the
opposite direction. Bruce in particular suffers from a severe case of 'Miller'-itis:
he is a cranky, egomaniacal jerk without a lick of empathy or
compassion, much like the Batman of Frank Miller's later works. In RotJ,
Bruce's doubts about Terry had to do with his possibly getting killed.
They did not affect his sincere appreciation for Terry's dedication or
his bravery. They do not affect the fact that he cares deeply for him.
In the series, Bruce treats Terry like dirt. He questions his
dedication. He yells at him repeatedly. He builds robots to serve as his
replacement. At one point he yells at him that he 'didn't do anything
for him'. He even threatens to hit the suit's paralyzing fail-safe
switch when Terry is fighting for his life against a homicidal villain.
Not until close to the end of the story does he show anything resembling
concern.
This is a complete 180-degree character shift from the Bruce at the end
of RotJ, which according to Adam Beechen is canon in this world. We are
given no reason whatsoever for it. It can't be because of the villain,
because Bruce was building the robots for a while. Nor was it because of
any particular failure on Terry's part, because there is no mention of
any such blunder. The attempt to redeem Bruce at the end by having him
give a 'good soldier' speech when Terry is badly wounded amounts to 'too
little, too late'. This is especially in light of his abominable
behavior towards Dick (more on that later). At the end he is barely back
at square one, supporting Terry – exactly where he should have been from
the outset.
Terry doesn't fare much better. He has morphed back into a neophyte who
complains about his social life. He complains about his exhaustion
constantly. The villain's words of derision seem to have an effect on
him, even though the Joker tried the same tactic and hit a brick wall.
He doesn't feel the like his more mature, experienced animated
counterpart.
This is to say nothing of his poor skills. In the movie, it's made clear
that Terry is a skilled fighter both in and out of uniform – he defeats
Joker's Jokerz gang without the suit in the middle of the movie. Even
his fight with the better-skilled Joker is far from one-sided. In the
series, Terry is defeated, surprised and wounded repeatedly. Formerly
capable of undercover work in the TV series, this Terry does the worst
Mad Stan impression I've ever seen. A good arc would at least have him
slowly improve until he finally bested his foe. Not in this series.
The same goes for Terry's development as a character. In the movie, we
learn more about what motivates him to be Batman – the desire to atone
for past sins. In the series, Terry is Batman just because. No juvie. No
father. He's there just because it's great to be a hero and save people
(does that necessitate being Batman specifically?). This is far from the
depth one comes to expect from Batman characters and Terry specifically.
At the end of the series he has learned nothing and gained nothing, a
Teflon persona with no depth.
Which leaves us with the final blunder:
Central Plot Points
The reason I called the series a poor knock-off of RotJ is because they
both use the same idea – a killer brought to life by way of trauma to a
former Robin. However, while RotJ uses this plot point to compelling
effect, this series' attempt to replicate that effect falls flat in
every conceivable way.
Why is this? What's the difference?
For me, the reason is simple. In RotJ, the Robin story made sense and
served a purpose. Specifically, it provided an answer to the question
Terry half asked in the beginning of the series – "Something happened to
you, didn't it, and it wasn't just that you got old". In the movie we
learn exactly what that "something" was – Bruce's failure to protect
another young partner. The trauma of Tim informs the story just as much
as Joker's presence, and only by ending that trauma do Bruce and Terry
achieve redemption and absolution.
In the series, the trauma is manufactured, an artificial ploy that feels
gratuitous and unnecessary. Even ignoring the fact that it couldn't
happen in the timeline given (the Joker was already dead when he
supposedly kidnapped Alfred), the story makes no sense and serves no
purpose. Like Terry's and Bruce's sudden feud in this series, it is an
artificial attempt to create tension and drama without a convincing
rationale.
Let's start with the part with Dick getting shot. This scene leaves way
too many unanswered questions: Why would Bruce let Nightwing anywhere
near him after what happened to Tim and apparently Silver St. Cloud? Why
would he make such a basic tactical error as jumping in front of him?
Why, after having been visibly emotionally broken by Tim's ruination in
RotJ, would Bruce up and abandon Dick after being so badly wounded?! Is
he really that cold?
The argument that this was necessary for Cadmus to collect his memories
and DNA makes no sense at all. In Epilogue there was no need for such
methods and I see no reason for it here. Worse, the nature of this clone
makes one think that deep down inside the cheerful Boy Wonder is a
murderous psychopath hell-bent on revenge.
The only way this kind of plot could have worked is if the real Dick
Grayson were shown to be better than this. This could have been done in
one of two ways: A verbal showdown where Dick convinces him that he's a
hopeful hero and not a dark, violent lunatic. The other option would be
a conversation with Terry explaining the importance of maintaining
humanity and even humor in the darkest times. Neither event occurs,
because the Dick Grayson of this series also suffers from 'Miller'-itis
style emotional autism and darkness.
I'll be honest. It never bothered me all that much that Grayson didn't
appear in the television series or RotJ. It was sufficient for me to
know that he'd successfully established himself elsewhere as a hero in
his own right. There was never any compelling dramatic reason to bring
him in, and I think having someone as important as Grayson come in
simply as brief fan-service would have been an insult to the character.
That having been said, if one is going to bring Grayson back, he should
serve a permanent, important purpose. Like, say, being a second mentor
to Terry, one who doesn't share the darkness in Bruce and help him keep
his sanity about him. Perhaps he could teach him how to hone his
physical skills with his gymnastics training. Of course, this would only
work if Grayson were true to character and remained a hopeful, generally
cheerful person. As it is, he sounds like he's two steps away from
becoming 'Miller'-verse Batman (especially with lines like 'I haven't
been OK since I was eight years old'). This character does nothing more
than show up, brood, save the city once and leave without making any
impact. It's entirely needless.
Nor is Grayson the only one who gets the gratuitous once-over. Hush, a
major enemy of Bruce, dies simply because he was in the wrong place at
the wrong time, and is left in the street to die like some two-bit punk.
Stalker, Mad Stan and possibly Shriek – all recurring and interesting
(and liked!) Terry/Batman rogues are killed off screen by a villain
no-one cares about. It really feels like there is an underlying attitude
of contempt towards this world, kind of like Bruce's attitude towards
Terry in the comic series.
Conclusion
If I were to sum up this series in a single phrase, it would be: missed
opportunity. While it's by no means the worst story I've ever read or
seen, it certainly provided the biggest disappointment. Ironically, the
failure came mostly from 'playing it safe'. Batman Beyond is a world
that broke free of the mold of the world of young Bruce Wayne. It
created its own rules, characters and a sense of self-irony that does
not come often in Batman's universe. However, it did so by taking risks,
first and foremost by creating a new world almost from scratch and
deliberately eschewing copying old Batman stories and villains (for the
most part). Most of the time it worked, sometimes it didn't, but
ultimately it succeeded.
By merely recycling RotJ and Epilogue and giving characters the
'Miller'-treatment, this series did more than just debase and cheapen
the characters of this world. It did more than just leave us scratching
our heads at the plot holes and gaffes. It betrayed its spirit and
reason for being.
Bruce, Terry and especially Dick deserve much, much better than this. I
can only hope the creators of this series realize that, and fast.
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