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about_facesDuring the 90's, when every title had an Annual and most Annuals had different themes ranging from crossing over into the ridiculous Bloodlines event, giving the characters their own Elseworlds take, or taking a look at the heroes back in the Year One of their tights-wearin' careers, I think the Legends of the Dead Earth theme was one of DC's oddest ideas of the whole decade. Yeah, it's kinda like an Elseworlds, except not. Except sorta. Kinda. What? Exactly.
The idea: Earth is... well, dead, and so are pretty much all of the DC characters (except for immortals like the Shade, who endures through the sheer power of dapper snazziness). But the legends of Earth live on in countless worlds and civilizations, passed down through oral tradition, myth, and legend. It's kind of like Matt Wagner's Grendel, where the character's legacy lives on in a post-apocalyptic future through various tribes, cults, and... um... robots. I imagine that it was borne out of the idea of superhero comics being our "modern mythology," and how these stories might evolve/devolve through the centuries. Yeah, needless to say, this was a bit high-concept, and of all the themes used for the annuals, it was probably the most ambitious.
I've only read about three or four, and just on the basis of those, I'm tempted to dub Legends of the Death Earth to be a noble failure. And me, I love noble failures. I'll take a dozen noble failures over any safe, stable, standard superhero comic any day. I think that's why I've gained a latter-day appreciation for Doug Moench's Batman work. When he's good, he's fantastic. And when he's bad, he still bloody interesting. Which brings us to his contribution to this event, Batman Annual #20: "Fables of the Bat-Man," which has the distinction of looking at the myths and legends of not just Batman, but also his Rogues Gallery:
I like how Harvey looks pretty standard, as does Ozzie, more or less, whereas everyone else are like, "What the hell?"
These are the Rogues as imagined through fables told by an old man to a group of children in a totalitarian dystopia, on their way to being brainwashed in the re-education center. But what the government stooges don't realize is that the old man is using these fables to subvert the system, using the Bat-Man and the Rogues to impart thinly-veiled metaphors about oppression, virtue, and justice. The Joker and Catwoman ones are a bit silly, and the Scarecrow one is just plain sad, but the Two-Face fable is actually fascinating because Moench uses the format to not just comment on themes central to what Harvey Dent represents.
Note: scans are not mine, but have all been taken from this Photobucket account, which I found via a simple Google images search. I'd scan these pages myself, but I lack the capability at present. If anyone has a problem with me using these scans, let me know and I'll remove this post until such time as I can make my own scans.
Yep, it's the 90's.
Did I mention that it was the 90's? Because every single thing about "Darkbird" SCREAMS the 90's. Even in a dystopian future on another planet, the 90's-ification of superhero comics endures. What a depressing thought. But at least, Alfred (the Great!) remains largely unchanged, even if his role here is a trifle on the absurd side, as you're about to see.
Also, who's "The Ogre" meant to be? He seems like the kind of one-dimensional character that Grant Morrison would come up with to just show up with no origin and then vanish. I do like to think that all the henchmen of Gotham could live on as embodied in Henchman, even if he does happen to dress like Toad from the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.
The child-like simplicity of this setting is delightful in its absurdity, but not illogical either. I mean, of course Arkham would be re-imagined as a living Hell, a flaming underworld of myth for all evil men to be sent. Of course, I'd wonder if rehabilitation and parole are even possible, but such concepts have no place in the realms of myth and legend.
As you might imagine, the "Mad Jester" is this legend's version of the Joker. Mostly. He more like the Joker with a dash of the Mad Hatter, as evidienced by his mind-controlling techno-wizardry attributes. He's also apparently known as "The Majester," because Moench presumably came up with two names and couldn't decide on which to use. Just my theory.
Oh he is delightful. I just wanna play with his hair!
The Mad Jester/Majester's fable involves a lot of not-very-subtle commentary on the brain-numbing evils of televis--erm, I mean, "holo shows." Of course, the Bat-Man saves the day because he spends his nights fighting evil rather than rotting his brain on mindless entertainment , leading Old Man Narrator to conclude his tale with the first of his subversive morals to the children:
Thing is, while that moral is directly meant for the children, it also happens to apply even to people who don't happen to live in domed cities ruled by a faceless and fascist police state.
Thing is, the fable could have told with any original or generic villain, as there was nothing particularly "Joker" about the Mad Jester or his scheme. Of the many celebrated angles for the character (including but not limited to agent of chaos, insane performance artist, hated soul mate of Batman, unknowable force of nature, pure satanic evil, etc.), none go into the Joker's myth, nor do they impact the teller's moral. Well, I suppose maybe it reflects the "brilliant criminal inventor of stuff like the Red Hood helmet" aspect as expressed in Englehart and Rogers' Batman: Dark Detective, but otherwise, there's nothing in that moral which can cast any new light on the Joker as we know the character.
That isn't the case with all of the villains' fables. The next one actually plays with recognizable themes from the character we know, as the old man relates the tale of a brilliant Earth geneticist named Selina Kane, who--like a certain Dr. Kirk Langstrom--was a pioneer in the useful and practical field of creating human/animal hybrids.
I did mention that it's the 90's, right? Because it's totally the 90's.
So yeah, thanks to her curiosity (I see wut u did thar!), she became Catwoman with a dash of Man-Bat, and her newfound feline predatory instincts cause her to... um... become a cat burglar? Is that how feline predatory instincts work? Geez, I'd have thought it would make her hunt down medium-sized mammals and wreck up yarn stores. But then, I'm the kind of guy who thinks that giving Spider-Man organic web-shooters doesn't make sense, because that webbing wouldn't be coming from his wrists. It was vindicating to see that the Venture Bros creators agreed with me when they created the Brown Widow.
After finding herself a target of the Bat-Man after she robs prominent Gotham citizen Bruce Gawain, she attempts to seduce the Dark Whateverthehellheis into becoming partners in sexy, sexy crime. Thing is, the Bat-Man actually becomes sorely tempted, getting all tingly in the tights and dearly wanting to be with her. But instead, he betrays Cat-Fem, setting her up to be captured by Warden and Darkbird and sent to Arkham. Dick move, Bat-Man.
Of course, I'd hesitate to call our Catwoman "evil." Selfish, self-absorbed, petty, mean, and/or narcissistic, sure, depending on who's writing her. But evil? Not really, not in comparison to the other villains, who murder and terrorize while Catwoman and Cat-Fem alike are both just thieves. But the myths of old weren't the sort to make exceptions, and nor is the Bat-Man, who seemingly doles out the literal-hellhole-of-Arkham to everyone, regardless of their criminal severity. And even still, that's not enough for some people.
Which finally brings us to the main fable I want to examine:
Am I alone in kinda really loving how pre-scarred Harvey works there? If it weren't for the funky signal logo, you could crop that and have a pretty darn snazzy D.A. Harvey Dent image.
Yes, Bat-Man, because execution is so evil, and it's so much more noble to send them to be forever tormented in Arkham. By the Joker/Majester, whose presence there is specifically meant to torment other inmates. Great, that's much more humane. Y'know, there's an argument that Superman is a hypocrite for refusing to kill but being perfectly willing to send criminals to live in torturous limbo in the Phantom Zone, and it's much the same thing going on here.
So in keeping with the last time Moench wrote Harvey, we see Moench playing with the idea that Harvey was a hard-line crimefighter who thought that Batman didn't go far enough. As with the last time, the amount of tragedy and sympathy one feels for this kind of aggressive, bitter Harvey is directly proportional to how much of a hypocritical, self-righteous dick Batman is being.
Also, poor Eddie. That's the full extent of his appearance here: trussed up, hat ruined, and about to be thrown into a deep pit of fire and sadness. Even in myth, he gets no respect.
And at the very last minute before his scarring, Moench manages to sneak in just enough of Harvey's internal struggle and genuine goodness before it's burned away. In keeping with stories like Eye of the Beholder, Bruce Timm's Two of a Kind, and even crap like Face the Face, there's something to the idea that Harvey's scars could be self-inflicted, a way to truly bring his internal conflict to the outside, forever. I kinda like this this one happened because he was actually trying to DEFEAT his darker side, which might just make this the most tragic take on Two-Face that Moench has ever written.
On top of that, he doesn't immediately throw Split-Face into an anti-Bat vendetta, but has his initially carry out his intentions to fight crime any way he can, no matter how illegally. This is something that the actual Two-Face needs to be doing far more often, rather than playing mob boss or Batman-hunting villain.
The narration on the entire top panel makes me happy with all the ideas it raises. It's rarely brought up that choice and free will is a responsibility, one which Harvey has entirely given up. Now, I vastly prefer a Two-Face who is so broken that the coin is his only way to function rather than the kind who uses the coin to justify his own evil, as Split-Face here pretty much does, but those questions of choice and responsibility are still central to the character of any iteration.
Furthermore, while Split-Face is clearly justifying what he already wanted to do--execute Batman--and was showing no sense of conflict or compunction towards that act, I love that the narrator describes even that evil act as being a necessary evil in Harvey's messed-up mind. Even as messed-up and vindictive as he is, Split-Face here genuinely believes that he's doing the right thing, and that the Bat-Man would only stand in the way of true justice. If you wrote Two-Face like this, and had him going after genuinely monstrous and remorseless criminals, you'd have a pretty damn strong character who's villain-leaning-towards-antihero.
So in a neat way, Moench actually carried out on his premise to depict Split-Face as being both evil and good! But he's not finished just yet, and here's the part I find most thought-provoking from the whole story:
Moench's moral here works for Two-Face whether you depict him as a hollow shell with no true self left, or as a man torn between his good and evil sides. Even in the latter version, which is the version I vastly prefer, Harvey cannot truly be equally good and evil because their deeds do not fairly balance one another. I think we've all seen instances in real life where one bad deed can stain the reputation of a good person who's done dozens more good than bad. So for Harvey, the mere fact that he's WILLING to do evil at all throws him entirely out of balance no matter how balanced he actively tries to be!
If the old man's view is correct, then Two-Face can never be truly half-good, because he will always be on the side of villainy. At least, until he is able to freely choose for himself. An exception would be a version of Harvey like out of DeMatteis' Crime and Punishment, where Harvey's goodness is actually trapped within (and tormented by) the monster of Two-Face, so that switches the dynamic around considerably. Even still, I find this to be a thoughtful and challenging read on my favorite character and what he represents.
Finally, it's also worth noting that Harvey's story is told as the most explicit critique of the government's mind-control usage. Later in the story, it's outright said that the government isn't really evil even though they are doing evil things, and that they truly believe they are doing the right thing. So Harvey gets to be the metaphor for an entire totalitarian regime of oppression and brainwashing! That's... flattering, I guess?
I could wrap things up right here, but I can't resist including the Scarecrow's story too, simply because it's perhaps the most pitiful and pathetic take on Squishy in the whole multiverse. This version literally is a living Scarecrow (while himself being half-bird for unexplained reasons), who was charged with protecting the city's food supply from birds. In truth, the fields didn't actually need protection, since there was more than enough food for all, but "fear is a powerful thing."
I love that he's just so proud of himself!
What he sees is Ice Bird (pretty much just DeVito's Penguin from Batman Returns, although from his name, you'd think that maybe he'd be combined with Mr. Freeze) running into his field, pursued by Bat-Man and Darkbird (no relation). Scarecrow watches in terror as they snatch the villain up out of his own domain and fly away.
What? You just assume that the Scarecrow is a criminal? How do you know he isn't just, say, a harmless and scared little guy who hasn't hurt anybody and just wants to not be afraid anymore? They could consider that possibility, sure. But instead, they decide to scare the piss out of him until he becomes utterly blind with panic that this happens:
Oh yes, how foolish of him not to heed the warnings of the two people who decided to terrorize the poor sap for FUN! The old man's moral to this fable is that the greatest fear is the fear of fear itself, but damn, I think the only morals to come away with here are that even heroes can be irresponsible dickwads, and Jonathan Crane is doomed to be bullied like hell in any universe!
That's the last of the fables, as the children are subsequently picked up for re-education. But then it turns out that the old man is in fact Batman himself--either a robot Bruce Wayne, or the real Bruce Wayne who's now mostly machine--working with the outside resistance to save the children. After a happy ending, we're left with the idea that as long as there are people like the old man to tell stories about the Bat-Man, then legends like the Bat-Man will never truly die.
But really, what did the Bat-Man really do in terms of imparting morals other than not getting laid by Cat-Fem? Frankly, I think there's a lot more to be learned about the villains as portraits of flawed and broken humanity than there is for some mythical and unattainable Bat-Man. Moench certainly convinced me of that, whether he intended to or not.
The idea: Earth is... well, dead, and so are pretty much all of the DC characters (except for immortals like the Shade, who endures through the sheer power of dapper snazziness). But the legends of Earth live on in countless worlds and civilizations, passed down through oral tradition, myth, and legend. It's kind of like Matt Wagner's Grendel, where the character's legacy lives on in a post-apocalyptic future through various tribes, cults, and... um... robots. I imagine that it was borne out of the idea of superhero comics being our "modern mythology," and how these stories might evolve/devolve through the centuries. Yeah, needless to say, this was a bit high-concept, and of all the themes used for the annuals, it was probably the most ambitious.
I've only read about three or four, and just on the basis of those, I'm tempted to dub Legends of the Death Earth to be a noble failure. And me, I love noble failures. I'll take a dozen noble failures over any safe, stable, standard superhero comic any day. I think that's why I've gained a latter-day appreciation for Doug Moench's Batman work. When he's good, he's fantastic. And when he's bad, he still bloody interesting. Which brings us to his contribution to this event, Batman Annual #20: "Fables of the Bat-Man," which has the distinction of looking at the myths and legends of not just Batman, but also his Rogues Gallery:
I like how Harvey looks pretty standard, as does Ozzie, more or less, whereas everyone else are like, "What the hell?"
These are the Rogues as imagined through fables told by an old man to a group of children in a totalitarian dystopia, on their way to being brainwashed in the re-education center. But what the government stooges don't realize is that the old man is using these fables to subvert the system, using the Bat-Man and the Rogues to impart thinly-veiled metaphors about oppression, virtue, and justice. The Joker and Catwoman ones are a bit silly, and the Scarecrow one is just plain sad, but the Two-Face fable is actually fascinating because Moench uses the format to not just comment on themes central to what Harvey Dent represents.
Note: scans are not mine, but have all been taken from this Photobucket account, which I found via a simple Google images search. I'd scan these pages myself, but I lack the capability at present. If anyone has a problem with me using these scans, let me know and I'll remove this post until such time as I can make my own scans.
Yep, it's the 90's.
Did I mention that it was the 90's? Because every single thing about "Darkbird" SCREAMS the 90's. Even in a dystopian future on another planet, the 90's-ification of superhero comics endures. What a depressing thought. But at least, Alfred (the Great!) remains largely unchanged, even if his role here is a trifle on the absurd side, as you're about to see.
Also, who's "The Ogre" meant to be? He seems like the kind of one-dimensional character that Grant Morrison would come up with to just show up with no origin and then vanish. I do like to think that all the henchmen of Gotham could live on as embodied in Henchman, even if he does happen to dress like Toad from the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.
The child-like simplicity of this setting is delightful in its absurdity, but not illogical either. I mean, of course Arkham would be re-imagined as a living Hell, a flaming underworld of myth for all evil men to be sent. Of course, I'd wonder if rehabilitation and parole are even possible, but such concepts have no place in the realms of myth and legend.
As you might imagine, the "Mad Jester" is this legend's version of the Joker. Mostly. He more like the Joker with a dash of the Mad Hatter, as evidienced by his mind-controlling techno-wizardry attributes. He's also apparently known as "The Majester," because Moench presumably came up with two names and couldn't decide on which to use. Just my theory.
Oh he is delightful. I just wanna play with his hair!
The Mad Jester/Majester's fable involves a lot of not-very-subtle commentary on the brain-numbing evils of televis--erm, I mean, "holo shows." Of course, the Bat-Man saves the day because he spends his nights fighting evil rather than rotting his brain on mindless entertainment , leading Old Man Narrator to conclude his tale with the first of his subversive morals to the children:
Thing is, while that moral is directly meant for the children, it also happens to apply even to people who don't happen to live in domed cities ruled by a faceless and fascist police state.
Thing is, the fable could have told with any original or generic villain, as there was nothing particularly "Joker" about the Mad Jester or his scheme. Of the many celebrated angles for the character (including but not limited to agent of chaos, insane performance artist, hated soul mate of Batman, unknowable force of nature, pure satanic evil, etc.), none go into the Joker's myth, nor do they impact the teller's moral. Well, I suppose maybe it reflects the "brilliant criminal inventor of stuff like the Red Hood helmet" aspect as expressed in Englehart and Rogers' Batman: Dark Detective, but otherwise, there's nothing in that moral which can cast any new light on the Joker as we know the character.
That isn't the case with all of the villains' fables. The next one actually plays with recognizable themes from the character we know, as the old man relates the tale of a brilliant Earth geneticist named Selina Kane, who--like a certain Dr. Kirk Langstrom--was a pioneer in the useful and practical field of creating human/animal hybrids.
I did mention that it's the 90's, right? Because it's totally the 90's.
So yeah, thanks to her curiosity (I see wut u did thar!), she became Catwoman with a dash of Man-Bat, and her newfound feline predatory instincts cause her to... um... become a cat burglar? Is that how feline predatory instincts work? Geez, I'd have thought it would make her hunt down medium-sized mammals and wreck up yarn stores. But then, I'm the kind of guy who thinks that giving Spider-Man organic web-shooters doesn't make sense, because that webbing wouldn't be coming from his wrists. It was vindicating to see that the Venture Bros creators agreed with me when they created the Brown Widow.
After finding herself a target of the Bat-Man after she robs prominent Gotham citizen Bruce Gawain, she attempts to seduce the Dark Whateverthehellheis into becoming partners in sexy, sexy crime. Thing is, the Bat-Man actually becomes sorely tempted, getting all tingly in the tights and dearly wanting to be with her. But instead, he betrays Cat-Fem, setting her up to be captured by Warden and Darkbird and sent to Arkham. Dick move, Bat-Man.
Of course, I'd hesitate to call our Catwoman "evil." Selfish, self-absorbed, petty, mean, and/or narcissistic, sure, depending on who's writing her. But evil? Not really, not in comparison to the other villains, who murder and terrorize while Catwoman and Cat-Fem alike are both just thieves. But the myths of old weren't the sort to make exceptions, and nor is the Bat-Man, who seemingly doles out the literal-hellhole-of-Arkham to everyone, regardless of their criminal severity. And even still, that's not enough for some people.
Which finally brings us to the main fable I want to examine:
Am I alone in kinda really loving how pre-scarred Harvey works there? If it weren't for the funky signal logo, you could crop that and have a pretty darn snazzy D.A. Harvey Dent image.
Yes, Bat-Man, because execution is so evil, and it's so much more noble to send them to be forever tormented in Arkham. By the Joker/Majester, whose presence there is specifically meant to torment other inmates. Great, that's much more humane. Y'know, there's an argument that Superman is a hypocrite for refusing to kill but being perfectly willing to send criminals to live in torturous limbo in the Phantom Zone, and it's much the same thing going on here.
So in keeping with the last time Moench wrote Harvey, we see Moench playing with the idea that Harvey was a hard-line crimefighter who thought that Batman didn't go far enough. As with the last time, the amount of tragedy and sympathy one feels for this kind of aggressive, bitter Harvey is directly proportional to how much of a hypocritical, self-righteous dick Batman is being.
Also, poor Eddie. That's the full extent of his appearance here: trussed up, hat ruined, and about to be thrown into a deep pit of fire and sadness. Even in myth, he gets no respect.
And at the very last minute before his scarring, Moench manages to sneak in just enough of Harvey's internal struggle and genuine goodness before it's burned away. In keeping with stories like Eye of the Beholder, Bruce Timm's Two of a Kind, and even crap like Face the Face, there's something to the idea that Harvey's scars could be self-inflicted, a way to truly bring his internal conflict to the outside, forever. I kinda like this this one happened because he was actually trying to DEFEAT his darker side, which might just make this the most tragic take on Two-Face that Moench has ever written.
On top of that, he doesn't immediately throw Split-Face into an anti-Bat vendetta, but has his initially carry out his intentions to fight crime any way he can, no matter how illegally. This is something that the actual Two-Face needs to be doing far more often, rather than playing mob boss or Batman-hunting villain.
The narration on the entire top panel makes me happy with all the ideas it raises. It's rarely brought up that choice and free will is a responsibility, one which Harvey has entirely given up. Now, I vastly prefer a Two-Face who is so broken that the coin is his only way to function rather than the kind who uses the coin to justify his own evil, as Split-Face here pretty much does, but those questions of choice and responsibility are still central to the character of any iteration.
Furthermore, while Split-Face is clearly justifying what he already wanted to do--execute Batman--and was showing no sense of conflict or compunction towards that act, I love that the narrator describes even that evil act as being a necessary evil in Harvey's messed-up mind. Even as messed-up and vindictive as he is, Split-Face here genuinely believes that he's doing the right thing, and that the Bat-Man would only stand in the way of true justice. If you wrote Two-Face like this, and had him going after genuinely monstrous and remorseless criminals, you'd have a pretty damn strong character who's villain-leaning-towards-antihero.
So in a neat way, Moench actually carried out on his premise to depict Split-Face as being both evil and good! But he's not finished just yet, and here's the part I find most thought-provoking from the whole story:
Moench's moral here works for Two-Face whether you depict him as a hollow shell with no true self left, or as a man torn between his good and evil sides. Even in the latter version, which is the version I vastly prefer, Harvey cannot truly be equally good and evil because their deeds do not fairly balance one another. I think we've all seen instances in real life where one bad deed can stain the reputation of a good person who's done dozens more good than bad. So for Harvey, the mere fact that he's WILLING to do evil at all throws him entirely out of balance no matter how balanced he actively tries to be!
If the old man's view is correct, then Two-Face can never be truly half-good, because he will always be on the side of villainy. At least, until he is able to freely choose for himself. An exception would be a version of Harvey like out of DeMatteis' Crime and Punishment, where Harvey's goodness is actually trapped within (and tormented by) the monster of Two-Face, so that switches the dynamic around considerably. Even still, I find this to be a thoughtful and challenging read on my favorite character and what he represents.
Finally, it's also worth noting that Harvey's story is told as the most explicit critique of the government's mind-control usage. Later in the story, it's outright said that the government isn't really evil even though they are doing evil things, and that they truly believe they are doing the right thing. So Harvey gets to be the metaphor for an entire totalitarian regime of oppression and brainwashing! That's... flattering, I guess?
I could wrap things up right here, but I can't resist including the Scarecrow's story too, simply because it's perhaps the most pitiful and pathetic take on Squishy in the whole multiverse. This version literally is a living Scarecrow (while himself being half-bird for unexplained reasons), who was charged with protecting the city's food supply from birds. In truth, the fields didn't actually need protection, since there was more than enough food for all, but "fear is a powerful thing."
I love that he's just so proud of himself!
What he sees is Ice Bird (pretty much just DeVito's Penguin from Batman Returns, although from his name, you'd think that maybe he'd be combined with Mr. Freeze) running into his field, pursued by Bat-Man and Darkbird (no relation). Scarecrow watches in terror as they snatch the villain up out of his own domain and fly away.
What? You just assume that the Scarecrow is a criminal? How do you know he isn't just, say, a harmless and scared little guy who hasn't hurt anybody and just wants to not be afraid anymore? They could consider that possibility, sure. But instead, they decide to scare the piss out of him until he becomes utterly blind with panic that this happens:
Oh yes, how foolish of him not to heed the warnings of the two people who decided to terrorize the poor sap for FUN! The old man's moral to this fable is that the greatest fear is the fear of fear itself, but damn, I think the only morals to come away with here are that even heroes can be irresponsible dickwads, and Jonathan Crane is doomed to be bullied like hell in any universe!
That's the last of the fables, as the children are subsequently picked up for re-education. But then it turns out that the old man is in fact Batman himself--either a robot Bruce Wayne, or the real Bruce Wayne who's now mostly machine--working with the outside resistance to save the children. After a happy ending, we're left with the idea that as long as there are people like the old man to tell stories about the Bat-Man, then legends like the Bat-Man will never truly die.
But really, what did the Bat-Man really do in terms of imparting morals other than not getting laid by Cat-Fem? Frankly, I think there's a lot more to be learned about the villains as portraits of flawed and broken humanity than there is for some mythical and unattainable Bat-Man. Moench certainly convinced me of that, whether he intended to or not.
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