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.

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?