Apparently, it's Batman Day. I'm not sure what that means. For me, everyday is Batman Day.
When I was a sophomore in high school, my speech and debate coach loaned me his copy of The Dark Knight Returns. (His first and middle names are Alan Scott, the alias of the Golden Age Green Lantern, who has often been tied to Gotham City, so, kismet, perhaps.) I read the story twice in a single sitting, and, really, nothing's been the same since.
Last week, I started this essay called "When Comics Believed in Kids," and, without remembering that today is Batman Day, I planned on concluding those thoughts with a heavy emphasis on the Caped Crusader. See, Batman's story is one heavily mired in the mores of youth, from the young Bruce Wayne's witnessing his parents murder, to the legacy of Robins and Batgirls that have followed in his footsteps. Arguably, the very core of Batman's character is the unabashed embrace of a child's potential.
Through this lens, you'd think Batman comics could be an endless source of encouragement for kids, yet today's Batman books seem less for a younger audience than ever. Some would trace the "grown-up Batman" to The Dark Knight Returns, with its heady socio-political subplots and "grim-'n-gritty" violence. I even read an article this week that blames the mature themes in ABC's new The Muppets on Frank Miller's Batman! So, did TDKR hastily grow up comics, and all of pop culture?
My answer is simple: yes and no. I don't think Miller meant to ostracize young readers. Actually, I think his intention was quite the opposite. He brought comics back to their roots as a reality-mining medium, utilizing culture to tell a story about gods among men, as all good mythology does. When comics did this at the cusp of World War II, the enemy was easy to identify; superheroes could punch any swastika-wearing villain in the face without criticism of being "too real for kids." The image's violence was overshadowed by the nation's agreement that it was right.
In the mid-'80s, following the moral ambiguity of Vietnam and in the midst of the Cold War, what was right was less agreeable in America. That didn't stop Miller's Batman from doing what he thought was right; the cultural context was just much more complicated. (The swastikas were in different places, for example.) This complexity has been repeatedly misconstrued as "for mature audiences only." Again, I don't think that was Miller's intention; that's just how the audience, and Batman's subsequent creative teams, understood it.
Despite its "more realistic" approach, Miller's Batman work (including Year One) doesn't exclude the sidekick concept at all. In fact, it ups the ante with a young girl as Robin! In the end, Batman effectively saves Gotham from itself with an army of impressionable youngsters; Miller's Caped Crusader sees even the wayward Mutant Gang as an asset in the midst of chaos. Kids can be heroes!
So, to answer the question, The Dark Knight Returns didn't grow up comics, but our interpretation of it did. The mainstream Batman comic book effectively tested the waters with Jason Todd, dismissing Dick Grayson for a snot-nosed rebel, then asking the readership, via telephone poll, "Is this what you want?" This pre-social media meta-conversation with fans sealed the deal: comics weren't for kids anymore.
Don't misunderstand: I know Miller's Jason Todd died, too. In that context, he was dubbed "a good soldier." In A Death In the Family, Jason died bound and beaten, an apt allegory for how comics then perceived their young audience. Think about that -- comics weren't a whimsical parent's purchase, like gum and candy in the drug store check-out line. Comics had their own shops, and cover prices grew exponentially to sustain this new retail industry. Comics locked kids out, just as Jason was, when the Joker's bomb blew up.
Thankfully, comics-inspired media has kept kids' interest in superheroes, without dumbing down the material. From Batman: The Animated Series to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, parents and children alike find cape-and-cowl adventures that can be enjoyed on multiple levels, many times over, like my disintegrating copy of The Dark Knight Returns. It's the comics themselves that have kept kids at arm's length. Many worthwhile attempts exist to recruit young readers, and today's Batman Day is surely among them, but few efforts are more powerful than simply handing a kid a comic book, even an allegedly mature audiences only comic book, like my mentor did for me in high school. Just imagine, celebrating Batman Day by handing The Dark Knight Returns to a child today . . .
A child!
Showing posts with label DC Comics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DC Comics. Show all posts
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Saturday, September 19, 2015
When Comics Believed In Kids (part 1)
Kids today. If they aren't tackling referees during their varsity football games, they're shooting slingshots at traffic on the I-10. Remember the good old days, when kids could be superheroes, too?
When I think of the Texas high school footballers that tackled that ref, or the 18-year-old "I-10 shooter copycats," I remember my teenaged years and find no relation whatsoever. I'm not saying I wasn't capable of delinquency, but even my petty pranks had self-imposed limits. I'd t.p. a house without abandon, but I'd never, say, egg a house. My philosophy was simple: if we get caught in the act, we should be able to fix it immediately. Call me a lazy delinquent, but I didn't want to deal with the cops or any other consequences, if I could avoid it.
Today's youth seem to have a different standard. "If it doesn't get on YouTube, it isn't worth doing." Society's perpetual quest for celebrity is another topic entirely, but in this context it isn't exclusive from the personal sense of responsibility I'm addressing, and apparently mourning.
Surprise, surprise, I'll use Spider-man as an example. When Stan Lee and Steve Ditko created Spidey, they sought to establish a character to whom their young readers could relate. So, when puny Peter Parker gets powers, he doesn't take to the streets fighting crime, but he seeks fame and fortune as a wrestler. That arena could easily be likened to the YouTube or Snapchat of its day, so, in this and so many other ways, Marvel was ahead of its time.
Now, if you know the story, you remember a fame-drunk Peter letting a mugger pass, and this scoundrel soon murders Parker's beloved Uncle Ben. Spider-man pursues the killer, realizes its the mugger he let escape, and vows to fight crime. Now, what if -- Marvel fans are familiar with that question, too -- what if Peter had stopped the mugger in the hallway? Spidey could've pursued his wrestling career and achieved great celebrity with his Uncle Ben alive and well. The responsibility isn't exclusive from the fame.
Lee and Ditko presume that if a youth is capable of realizing his mistake, and willing to spend a lifetime correcting it, he's just that step away from achieving the responsibility in the first place. Peter succeeds a legacy of young superheroes that had it just as hard: Robin, Toro, Bucky, Speedy, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash . . . and that's just off the top of my head. While many of these youngsters were just adolescent echos of their mentors, meant to boost sales, the concept stands: a kid can do just as much good as an adult.
Captain America tested this philosophy every time he broke the fourth wall and encouraged kids to contribute to the war effort by recycling the very comics they just read. The message was clear: you don't have to punch Hitler in the face. Help with whatever you have, and, for those kids in the '40s, what they had was comics. Those kids did recycle their comics, bundling newsprint for the mill like a little newsboy legion (hmm . . .), and while their effort eventually made those old issues scarce and collectible, it also proved them right. Kids were heroes, too!
If comic books continued this legacy today, perhaps those slingshot wielding copycats, at the legally-adult age of 18-years-old, wouldn't try to deflect and defend themselves as "kids that didn't know better," because we would counter that kids actually do.
To be continued . . .
When I think of the Texas high school footballers that tackled that ref, or the 18-year-old "I-10 shooter copycats," I remember my teenaged years and find no relation whatsoever. I'm not saying I wasn't capable of delinquency, but even my petty pranks had self-imposed limits. I'd t.p. a house without abandon, but I'd never, say, egg a house. My philosophy was simple: if we get caught in the act, we should be able to fix it immediately. Call me a lazy delinquent, but I didn't want to deal with the cops or any other consequences, if I could avoid it.
Today's youth seem to have a different standard. "If it doesn't get on YouTube, it isn't worth doing." Society's perpetual quest for celebrity is another topic entirely, but in this context it isn't exclusive from the personal sense of responsibility I'm addressing, and apparently mourning.
Surprise, surprise, I'll use Spider-man as an example. When Stan Lee and Steve Ditko created Spidey, they sought to establish a character to whom their young readers could relate. So, when puny Peter Parker gets powers, he doesn't take to the streets fighting crime, but he seeks fame and fortune as a wrestler. That arena could easily be likened to the YouTube or Snapchat of its day, so, in this and so many other ways, Marvel was ahead of its time.
Now, if you know the story, you remember a fame-drunk Peter letting a mugger pass, and this scoundrel soon murders Parker's beloved Uncle Ben. Spider-man pursues the killer, realizes its the mugger he let escape, and vows to fight crime. Now, what if -- Marvel fans are familiar with that question, too -- what if Peter had stopped the mugger in the hallway? Spidey could've pursued his wrestling career and achieved great celebrity with his Uncle Ben alive and well. The responsibility isn't exclusive from the fame.
Lee and Ditko presume that if a youth is capable of realizing his mistake, and willing to spend a lifetime correcting it, he's just that step away from achieving the responsibility in the first place. Peter succeeds a legacy of young superheroes that had it just as hard: Robin, Toro, Bucky, Speedy, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash . . . and that's just off the top of my head. While many of these youngsters were just adolescent echos of their mentors, meant to boost sales, the concept stands: a kid can do just as much good as an adult.
Captain America tested this philosophy every time he broke the fourth wall and encouraged kids to contribute to the war effort by recycling the very comics they just read. The message was clear: you don't have to punch Hitler in the face. Help with whatever you have, and, for those kids in the '40s, what they had was comics. Those kids did recycle their comics, bundling newsprint for the mill like a little newsboy legion (hmm . . .), and while their effort eventually made those old issues scarce and collectible, it also proved them right. Kids were heroes, too!
If comic books continued this legacy today, perhaps those slingshot wielding copycats, at the legally-adult age of 18-years-old, wouldn't try to deflect and defend themselves as "kids that didn't know better," because we would counter that kids actually do.
To be continued . . .
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Once A Nerd: The Twists and Turns of Action Figure Collecting
Don't miss my latest article on Nerdvana: just click here! (Warning -- Red Tornado makes an appearance. Or four.)
Labels:
action figures,
DC Comics,
Hall of Justice,
Hasbro,
JLA,
Mattel,
Nerdvana,
Once A Nerd,
Red Tornado,
Super Powers
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)




