Batman ’89 (2021) #6

Batman ‘89 ends far better than it should, but still disappointingly. Writer Sam Hamm doesn’t go for an action-packed Batman finale, instead letting Bruce Wayne do the final showdown, which ought to emphasize Billy Dee Williams’s Harvey Dent, only doesn’t. It very strangely reduces Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne material as well. Hamm seems to know Bruce Wayne hasn’t got the emotional heft in the story, so he doesn’t try to shoehorn any in; it’s somewhat admirable not to refocus the comic, but it doesn’t make the comic any better.

Worse are all the things Hamm either doesn’t do in the issue or intentionally avoids doing. There’s a difference; with Catwoman, Hamm avoids; with Barbara Gordon, previously a major supporting player, Hamm doesn’t do anything. She’s not even in the main action, instead relegated to the epilogue.

Not-yet-Robin Drake Winston gets the worst of it. The issue reduces him to third-string, behind Catwoman, and completely avoids the Batman and Robin relationship. It’s like Hamm couldn’t crack the finish, which can work in an ongoing comic book series, which ’89 isn’t, but definitely not in a movie, which ’89 is trying to mimic. It’s too bad.

Still, another outing for the series would be most welcome. Joe Quinones’s art is good (outside, you know, Catwoman’s strange new leggings, which I thought Alfred would have to comment on but doesn’t), and it’s not his fault the series finishes so flat. Especially the end, which has what should’ve been a recurring theme introduced on the very last page, but then no good Batman finale. No place for Danny Elfman music to swell.

I had such high hopes for the series, which I knew would be hard for it to achieve, but I still thought they’d finish it better than they do. Hamm really just doesn’t have an ending for the Harvey Dent arc, and the couple monologues he gives the character are lacking; Billy Dee Williams would do a great job, but they’re not heavy-lifting.

Oh, and the action finale is a visual mess. I don’t know if more pages would’ve helped; Quinones can’t fix the writing with the art, but it’s still a mess.

So Batman ‘89 remains at best an occasionally successful curiosity and a surprisingly major disappointment.

But, more, please.

Superman for All Seasons (1998) #3

Well, I misremembered this issue, and not for the better. I thought Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale were going to do Bizarro. And although they use some of the same characters from the Bizarro origin in Man of Steel, Lex has a very different plan to humble Superman.

Lex is this issue’s narrator. It opens with him getting out of jail; Superman had him arrested for something, it’s unclear what, and now Lex is out for revenge. But he’s not going to clone Superman or steal kryptonite from Addis Ababa; he’s going to poison the city of Metropolis and let Superman feel helpless and alone.

It’s not the series’s first misstep—Loeb stumbled last time when he started setting up this plot line with a pointlessly recurring supporting player—but it’s the first significantly damaging one. Loeb shows his Lex Luthor cards, and he’s got nothing special. At the same time, he takes the focus away from Superman to the degree it’s only minimally about his experience here. It’s very disappointing.

Also disappointing for the first time is Tim Sale’s art. His two-page spreads are for big action sequences, not emotive establishing shots, and his linework changes on them like they’re rushed. And it doesn’t seem like Sale’s particularly proud of some of them either; the other two-page spreads have been signed. Not all of them are in this issue.

There’s no character development for anyone, another problem since Lex narrates, and one might think he’d get some. But, nope, just some uninspired observations: he’s got a God complex and had an abusive father. Nothing insightful, nothing special.

The same goes for the big reveal later on, when Sale has to design a new superhero and does a terrible mid-nineties design. It’s an odd issue on many levels and stops the series in its tracks.

Maybe the next issue will get things going again, but there’s no way to fully recover from this one. I’m bummed.

Detective Comics (1937) #470

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There’s a lot to be said about this issue, but the “highlight” has got to be when writer Steve Englehart describes Batman as the “pensive prince of shadows.” This line comes just before Batman goes to the Batcave and yells, “I’m the goddamn Batman,” to himself as a positive self-reinforcement.

I’m only slightly exaggerating; Englehart writes Detective Comics with a boisterous, entirely unwarranted enthusiasm. Unfortunately, he’s incredibly thoughtless too. The first big swing is Batman stops a jewel heist and, while beating up the crook, tells the villain he’s just defending his municipality of residence and, as a citizen, it’s his right to be a vigilante.

Just then, a process server shows up and hands Batman a subpoena for a grand jury. Gotham’s regular folks have had enough of Batman. The issue implies there’s something shady about these elected officials out for Batman, which makes sense—they’re shitty rich white guys just like… oh, wait, just like Bruce Wayne.

And even if Batman thinks they’re corrupt, shouldn’t he have proved it at some point instead of going rogue? Or letting them operate for decades. So no, “your feast is nearly over” here. But he’s now been duly, lawfully told he needs to knock off the vigilante shit, and his response is exactly what you’d expect from a mega-rich white guy.

Englehart writes Batman as an asshole fascist in Detective, but, you know, for kids. Except when Silver St. Cloud shows up, Bruce forgets about his “I’m Bat-Man, and I don’t like girls” monologue. Then Bruce turns on the sultry seventies predatory charm.

Amid all the nonsense, Batman fights Dr. Phosphorus. The story’s title is The Master Plan of Dr. Phosphorus! but he literally just gases people at a stadium. There’s not much master planning to it. Otherwise, he’s waiting around for Batman to show up and kick his ass. Englehart’s Batman’s a killer too.

Seriously, the whole thing reads like a potentially better Val Kilmer and Joel Schumacher Batman movie. It feels like a pseudo-gritty riff on “Batman: The TV Show.”

Either I’m acclimated to Al Milgrom inking Walt Simonson, or the art’s a little better. Simonson and Milgrom’s costumed Batman art is very, very silly—which the exposition sometimes exaggerates, like when Batman “stands motionless” for seven minutes after being served his subpoena. On the other hand, there’s a little more regular people talking this issue; they’re fine with the Bruce and Silver stuff. Not great, but fine.

The Dr. Phosphorus fight’s weak sauce, though, both writing and art.

What a weird, bad comic.

Superman for All Seasons (1998) #2

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Writer Jeph Loeb pushes a little too hard with the soft cliffhanger setting up next issue; it’s two pages plus a panel, but it feels longer because it ties into the final action sequence. It’s Lex Luthor machinating against Superman stuff, which is inevitable but also one-note. Loeb doesn’t give Luthor any depth; he’s caricature.

It’s also pretty much the only thing wrong with the comic. And when Superman’s around to treat Luthor like a dipstick, it works; the cliffhanger setup is the problem. There’s no Superman in it. Plus, Loeb takes the emphasis away from Lois Lane—who’s narrating—and instead gives it to Luthor. The only real misstep in the lovely comic.

The issue opens with Lois’s narration; she’s talking about Perry White’s reporting advice, then talking about Superman. Accompanying the narration are visuals of Superman flying around the Art Deco future Metropolis on his way to his first adventure of the day, in this case, a missile headed directly towards the city. After saving the day and introducing Lois—in-person as opposed to her voice—to the comic and establishing the animosity between Superman and Luthor, Loeb downshifts and examines Clark Kent, big-city reporter. Lois’s narration continues, more sparingly, as she doesn’t know Clark’s Superman.

When Clark goes home to Smallville for his first visit since leaving—presumably he’s seen Ma and Pa Kent, just not anyone else—he finds he’s no more at home there any more than in Metropolis. There’s a great visual callback to the first issue, juxtaposing Clark and Pa Kent and the proverbial stars in their eyes.

The Smallville visit is very gentle, very sweet. Most of the comic’s sweet, with Superman charming everyone but Luthor, who’s jealous enough of the visitor from another world he’s maybe supplying terrorists and definitely endangering public safety with hastily designed drone heroes of his own.

There’s a lot of nice art from Tim Sale; lots of two-page spreads, some for action, some for mood. Both carry it; For All Seasons is a splendid, casually familiar comic book. Loeb’s Lois Lane narration is near perfect, with only a handful of iffy lines; given she’s narrating but not present, her lines have to at least minorly relate to the visualized action. Loeb does it well every time.

It would be nice to see some of the Daily Planet cast; Lois talks about Jimmy Olsen and White in the narration, but there’s nothing to them besides their presence in her narration. They’re not characters yet.

Some of Sale’s action art is breathtaking. All of it’s pretty darn good; great colors again from Bjarne Hansen.

I vaguely, trepidatiously remember where For All Seasons is going now, but hopefully, it’ll maintain its current level of quality.

Detective Comics (1937) #469

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Why does Steve Englehart’s writing sound like he’s doing a spec script for “Batman: The TV Show” cliffhanger narration? I can’t decide if it’d be better if he’s serious and thinks it’s good writing to treat your readers as infantile or if he’s doing it because he’s being condescending to the material. Either way… lousy start.

Especially since I only started reading this era of Detective for an Englehart run.

Yikes.

From the first page, it’s a lot. There’s the narration, but there’s also Englehart doing a flashback on the second page to right before the first page. Alfred passed out when bringing Batman his morning snack. It appears sensational at first, then, you know, medically concerning. Maybe Alfred hit his head.

Batman can’t get an ambulance because there’s an epidemic all of a sudden. People collapsing all over Gotham, so he rushes Alfred to the hospital as Bruce Wayne because Bruce Wayne “pays his way.” But, again, is Englehart being silly, or did he just finish reading some Atlas Shrugged for inspiration?

A new villain is poisoning the city—Mr. Phosphorous—no, wait, Dr. Phosphorous—and he’s not going to stop. So Batman goes home (his Bruce Wayne caring for Alfred thing does not warrant a scene of concerned Bruce, it’s nonce) and investigates what poisoned Alfred. It takes Batman longer than it should. Like, it’s one of those Bob Rozakis “you-solve-its” only Batman had to cheat on the last page and turn the comic upside down.

He’s able to go confront Doctor Phosphorous, who’s got a hilarious way of poisoning the people, and they have a big fight. Only Doctor Phosphorus is really hot, and it hurts to fight him, which leads to Batman wrapping his non-heat or flame-resistant gloves in his cape. The cape is heat and flame-resistant. It’s a poorly designed outfit or something, doesn’t matter. Neither does Batman’s next way to compensate.

The scene ends with Doctor Phosphorous running off while Batman whines at him to stay and fight; Doctor Phosphorous says you have to come back next issue, silly, it’s a two-parter.

The backup is Doctor Phosphorous’s origin, which unexpectedly ties into the main story. Phosphorous knows the city council guy who’s giving Gordon shit about Batman being a deputized vigilante—a different city council guy than a few issues ago; apparently, each Detective writer has to introduce their own similarly smarmy white guy whine. The city council’s corrupt and caused Doctor Phosphorous to become Doctor Phosphorus (sort of, he’s the one who thought he’d inspect a nuclear power plant on his own). So to pay him back for ruining his life, the city council has to set up Batman.

It’s a complicated, petty politics story arc, with narration written for a very bored narrator to read. At times it feels like Englehart must’ve tested the lines aloud and liked the terrible way they sound.

Big sigh.

Al Milgrom inks Walt Simonson pencils. It doesn’t go well for Batman or the people, but Doctor Phosphorous is all right. The art stylizes the people strangely—some guy’s got Norman Osborn hair—and Batman’s awkwardly bulky. Phosphorous is a glowing skeleton. They do best with him.

It’s a bad comic. Like, even for this era of Detective… it’s a bad comic. What have I gotten myself into?

Superman for All Seasons (1998) #1

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The incredible thing about Superman For All Seasons is it never feels too precious. It ought to feel too precious as gentle, reserved giant Clark Kent ambles through his last spring in Smallville. Pa Kent narrates All Seasons, but Clark’s the protagonist. There’s a scene for Ma and Pa to talk about how Clark’s just getting so strong they don’t know what to do, but he can hear them, so it’s still his scene.

The issue tracks Clark through his final significant changes—flying and invulnerability. The flying gets a big scene—Clark versus tornado—but the invulnerability starts with a haircut. The comic’s got a relaxed pace, with a two-page spread sometimes establishing a familiar scene or location. Downtown Smallville, as it were, or a Metropolis establishing shot. Tim Sale’s art often implores consideration, with Jeph Loeb pacing the writing to match.

Pa Kent’s narration becomes a control of sorts.

The issue ends with Clark in Metropolis, already established. The issue’s supposed to be “Spring,” which apparently means it starts in one spring and ends in another, years later. They skip over the college years if there are any; there’s discussion about Clark’s plans after high school, but once he’s able to fight tornados, the comic doesn’t include them anymore.

The vast majority of the comic is solid, with the weakest scene probably being Clark trying to talk to the Smallville pastor about things. The pastor’s non-answer gets interrupted. Clark’s farewell flight with Lana Lang doesn’t have much in the way of story content, but Sale’s art is so good it doesn’t matter. Glorious night flight beats out intentionally indeterminate talking heads every time.

Superman’s only big action sequence is a violence-free save; Metropolis is an impossible safety hazard, so he’s presumably always busy. Loeb and Sale know how to deliver their moments, but they’ve been saving up for that one. It’s magnificent.

The “cliffhanger” introduces Lex Luthor—sporting his eighties Man of Steel red locks—but otherwise, the issue doesn’t do anything to forecast what’s coming next. Presumably, it’ll be well-paced and often lovely.

All Seasons is off to an exceptional start.

Oh, also—Bjarne Hansen’s colors. They’re enchanting. Again, kind of the point, but it’s also accomplishing its not inconsiderable ambitions.

I mean, one issue in, anyway.

Detective Comics (1937) #468

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At least the art’s better. I can’t imagine how this issue would read without it. Marshall Rogers is still way too design-focused, with most of the action taking place against blank backgrounds, but when there is scenery, it’s excellent. And Terry Austin’s thin, dark inks are perfect, particularly on the Batman pages.

But the writing’s even worse than I was expecting, and I wasn’t expecting much.

This issue concludes writer Bob Rozakis’s Calculator story, which had been running in Detective backups for the last five issues. The Calculator does some crimes, gets arrested by a superhero, hits a button on his chest keyboard, then escapes from prison immediately after. Neither the backups nor the feature explain the Calculator’s powers, but his computer can apparently create physical matter as well as do omniscient computer stuff.

In other words, silly seventies computer shit.

The issue begins with Batman fighting Calculator, beating him, but Calculator confidently going to jail. See, once he hits the magic button, his computer figures out how to forever beat the superhero he’s been fighting. Computers, am I right?

He escapes from jail, and Batman goes to consult all the Justice League members who’ve been fighting him in the backups. They have a big team fight, with some competent but not engaging art; only Calculator still wins. Of course, since it’s a Rozakis comic, he’s going to tease the reader with the solution, but it’s such a silly solution it’s hard to believe Rozakis was talking about it. Until Batman explains, yes, indeed, the ridiculous solution was the inspired gimmick the whole time.

There’s a subplot about Morgan Edge wanting Bruce’s vote for something and Bruce blowing him off. It’s a strangely grown-up plot for a comic otherwise written for eight-year-olds, though all the senseless computer jargon wouldn’t work for an eight-year-old either.

Doesn’t matter. This inane story arc is finally over, and Rogers and Austin are on a quality uptick. Despite exclusively swinging around during the day, their Batman is pretty darn good.

The finale’s punchline is particularly godawful but not a surprise. Rozakis’s script’s terrible.

Luba (1998) #10

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@#$%& Beto!

I very deliberately emotionally steeled myself for Luba #10. Creator Beto Hernandez ended the last issue on such a one-two punch of cliffhangers (no pun), I knew I needed to be ready. Lots of stories were about to come to a head, lots of emotions.

And they do. Lots of stories do come to a head—Beto’s finishing business he started back in Love and Rockets, including Luba and Ofelia’s origin story arc, Poison River—and there are lots of emotions. But Beto’s got some surprises up his sleeve, and he saves the big one for halfway through the issue, at which point there’s so much emotional relief he’s got time to prime up for another one-two punch on the finale. And this time, there’s no “Continued…,” but a “The End.”

Much of the comic is about Luba, though often through her daughters’ perspective. She starts the issue visiting Pipo in the hospital—someone mugging Pipo and brutally beating her is one of the previous issue’s cliffhanger punches—and witnessing the peculiarities of Pipo’s storyline in the comic. For example, Luba’s sister Fritz arrives to console Pipo, who she’s dating, while Pipo’s son, Sergio, who used to date Fritz before Pipo seduced her away, stands in the back sullenly. Outside, Gato—Pipo’s ex-husband, now married to Luba’s daughter—waits for Sergio so they can go get shitfaced together. Pipo’s assault has given them a shared purpose, which we’ll discover later; it’ll be the largest non-Luba-related subplot.

The most significant unrelated subplot—early in the issue before Beto gives away the “twist”—is Venus and Hector going for a walk through a scary forest where there’s a stone marked Frankenstein. It’s a gentle aside with a bit of a bite thanks to Hector having an “ah-ha” moment (eureka, not Take on Me), lots of mood, and lots of personality. Luba’s trying to calm down a still hysterical Venus during the opening hospital visit—Venus’s crying started at the end of last issue when everyone found out about the cliffhangers—and it’s a good bit of character work while laying groundwork for later. Though it’s groundwork on groundwork, it turns out. Beto does a whole bunch in the last two pages of the issue.

Meanwhile, Luba’s feeling abandoned. Daughter Doralis is going to do televised charity work around the world, sister Fritz is going off to Hawaii with her (beard?) husband-to-be, not to mention Ofelia’s no longer going to be around to help. That particular absence convinces Luba’s estranged daughter Maricela to visit—not to make reconnect (Luba’s still super shitty about her gay kids being gay)—but to offer to take care of her youngest siblings. Something Luba’s husband, Khamo, doesn’t think is a bad idea. Without Ofelia around to even slightly referee, Luba’s arguments with Khamo get even more heated.

It’s a hell of an issue for Luba. Especially how much it takes place in her background reactions. She’s rarely the focus of talking heads panels; it’s her kids, her sisters, her friends, but so much plays out for her and from her.

And, obviously, Beto’s handling of the Ofelia stuff is extraordinary.

Luba started a tightly connected anthology, then became a loosely connected multi-chapter narrative, and Beto brings it all together for a complete piece in the end. He forecast the approach last issue when the separately titled strips all wove together, but this issue’s one of his greats.

There’s so much tragedy in the resolution but also so much hope. It’s a magnificent conclusion.

@#$%& Beto!

Detective Comics (1937) #467

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In my youth, I never liked these “solve-the-mystery-yourself” stories. To the degree, I negatively associated them with writer Bob Rozakis. However, I got over it eventually, instead associating Rozakis with bland, cloying stories, much like the feature he contributes to this issue.

The art’s from John Calnan, and the inks are Vince Colletta. I’m unfamiliar with Calnan, so I don’t know how Colletta’d he’s getting, but Bruce Wayne looks like a forty-something accountant, which can’t all be Colletta.

Bruce is going to narrate the story for a mystery visitor. Now, I won’t spoil—because it’s one of the mysteries you can solve—but it’s a white guy with brown or black hair. This comic is pre-Crisis, meaning every DC superhero knows Batman’s identity, and they look alike. Could be Clark Kent, could be Hal Jordan, could be anyone but Green Arrow or Flash; they’re still blonds at this point.

Batman sits down with this mystery visitor and rings for Alfred to bring them breakfast. Then, Batman’s going to tell the visitor a story and see if he can guess the conclusion.

Now, at this point, I still had vague hope for the comic. I figured it’d at least be a puzzling mystery. Then the title of the story– Pick-Up on Gotham 2-4-6!—references Pelham 1-2-3 so I thought we were in for an elaborate heist story.

Nope. Batman’s in disguise on the subway, and some guy dressed as Batman runs through the train car, then exits the train. Batman follows him, chases, fights, fights, chases, returns to train for resolution, then poses the mystery question to his visitor (and the reader). But it’s an eleven-page story, and three or four pages are used on the framing. The mystery doesn’t relate to the fight scenes either, so all the mystery stuff occurs in a page or two. And then some of the solution is less about deductive reasoning than reading comprehension.

As a result, I’m concerned about my youthful reading habits. Or maybe this one’s just not a great Rozakis who-dun-it.

Anyway.

Rozakis’s also writing the back-up, which is more of the Calculator messing with various superheroes. This time it’s Hawkman, who’s running a courier service of sorts. Except, oh, no, the Calculator turns out to be his package. And so they fight, with the Calculator using some of the powers from previous foes, like Elongated Man’s extended bendy arm punch. Coming out of Calculator’s forehead thing.

That costume design is weird.

Marshall Rogers and Terry Austin do the art (though Austin later said Neal Adams inked some of the pages; I wonder if they were the better or worse ones). The art’s better than last time, but still a bit of a disappointment from Rogers. His best panels are all design-work, too, like they’d make great T-shirts, but comic panels… not so much.

The next issue promises the Calculator story will be important, just like every one before.

Detective Comics (1937) #466

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The feature has Ernie Chan and Vince Colletta art and all the visual failings such a pairing promises. But the story’s… oddly… good?

A Silver Age Batman villain—The Signalman—returns for a bunch of themed heists. What makes it interesting is how well Signalman does against Bats. Len Wein writes; Signalman has a lot of bravado speeches, which work. Batman has a lot of descriptive speeches, which do not. Though when Batman’s just got thought balloons, it’s a little better. Especially after Signalman gets the upper hand.

It might just be the Silver Age feel of the story. While Chan’s pencils are still bad, they’re not failing to realize some brooding, dark knight detective Batman; they’re failing to realize Batman stopping a panic at the ballpark. There’s no heavy lifting to the art.

And Signalman’s outfit is ridiculous, so having a better artist on it wouldn’t do any good. The resolution’s disappointing, but it’s an entertaining enough read on the way there. Signalman’s just a colorful villain. He talks a decent amount of good smack.

It’s a totally fine feature against some considerable odds.

The backup’s more of the Calculator series from writer Bob Rozakis. This time he’s got Green Arrow fighting the Calculator, with Elongated Man along as cloying sidekick, and Marshall Rogers and Terry Austin on the art.

I was expecting quite a bit more from Rogers and Austin, but it’s either just okay, visually confusing, or downright bad. Not like, Chan and Colletta bad, but “someone else drew these faces on these heads, and you can tell” bad. The visually confusing parts come with the Calculator’s attack on Green Arrow (also at a ballpark, which they mention in the feature); Calculator is shooting baseball bats out of his head at Green Arrow, who’s breaking those baseball bats with baseball bats.

Rogers does a lousy job staging the superhero action. Though Rozakis’s script doesn’t explain Calculator’s plan at all, just having a plan. It’s bewildering, tiring, and disappointing. The only reason I was reading Detective this early was for Rogers’s backup; I wanted to get the whole story. Silly me.

I probably would’ve bet cash money against ever saying I liked an Ernie Chan and Vince Colletta story than a Marshall Rogers and Terry Austin, but here we are. The only star, obviously, is Wein. He knows how to write that Signalman story and does it well.