The Unending Joke - Examining the Over-Extended Significance of a Good Comic Book Story

It needs to be said right off the bat (no pun intended) that Alan Moore and Brian Bolland's The Killing Joke is a work of superb craftsmanship and storytelling.  No one can reasonably argue against the book's artistic merit or the fact that it has had a far-reaching influence on the Batman mythology since its publication in 1988.  However, it is also a nasty, mean-spirited story that seeks to deconstruct and undermine what it means to be a hero, and that same far-reaching influence has perpetuated a fairly one-sided view in both fans and creators of Batman and his family of characters ever since. 

Without a doubt, Batman has always been a darker character of varying degrees over the decades since his debut, but Moore added a different dimension to this aspect by telling a story in which Batman's sanity and integrity as a hero are brought into question.  Fans latched onto this concept, which made Batman soar in popularity.  Subsequent writers, influenced by Moore as well as Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns, carried those ideas into the mainstream books.  For all intents and purposes, Batman slowly evolved into a borderline sociopath as his dark psychology became the focus instead of his role as a hero.

In this assessment, only the monthly comic books are included and to some extent the first film series (although they eventually fizzled out into fetishized camp).  The 1990s animated series remained immune from this narrative leaning, probably because the showrunners, Bruce Timm and Paul Dini, had children in mind as the show's core audience and therefore had to strike a balance between the dark and light aspects of the character in order for it to be deemed acceptable for broadcast.  However, the monthly comics through a deluge of writers and artists with an older audience in mind and a far-too-healthy reverence for Moore's (and Miller's) work did not always strike that necessary balance, and the Batman's power as a character has suffered as a result.

Before explaining further, it is also important to note that this darker trend was not unique to the Batman books.  The rise of grittier, more violent versions of some characters cropped up in the late 80s/early 90s and increased the industry's movement away from younger, naive readers towards older, but not necessarily more discerning readers.  This was an audience that looked to Moore's work (particularly Watchmen and The Killing Joke) as a standard for content rather than quality.  Essentially, they wanted more of the grit and violence, regardless of how it may tarnish or atrophy other qualities inherent in the characters.

The attack on Barbara Gordon (aka Batgirl)

The problem has been and continues to be that this complete misunderstanding of what Moore was accomplishing with The Killing Joke and its inappropriate use as a benchmark have limited what writers have been able to do with Batman and his related characters for decades.  And, although Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns cannot be discounted for its influence on the Batman mythology, it is Moore's story that has had the most direct and longest lasting effects on the mainstream books.

In considering The Killing Joke specifically, it becomes clear that the story not only escalates the violent nature of the Joker but also deconstructs Batman's standing as a hero.  While the Joker's violent actions are front and center in the narrative, the story can also be viewed as a series of failures on the part of Batman to do what a hero is supposed to do: protect the innocent.  In the opening scenes, Batman fails to realize the Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum.  That failure leads to the next, which is his not stopping the brutal attack on Barbara Gordon and the kidnapping of Commissioner Gordon.  Ultimately Batman's final and biggest failure is the Joker's rejection of his efforts to reach out and end their conflict, potentially sparing future innocents.

Batman reacts to the Joker's "joke."

The most telling part of this deconstruction is Batman's reaction to this last failure.  In the now famous and much discussed final scene of the story, the Joker tells a joke that is an allegory for the relationship between him and Batman.  Lost in the absurdity of their doomed association, the Joker begins to laugh.  Typically, it would be at this moment that the hero would handcuff the villain or deliver a knockout punch or simply walk away as the police rush in to make the arrest.  Instead, Batman begins to laugh as well, seemingly in agreement with the absurd view of their situation. 

The central discussion about this final scene has always been whether or not the rendered art depicts Batman killing the Joker.  This is certainly a valid point to discuss as compelling evidence is available for either side of the issue.  But, those who get too wrapped up in that debate have missed the significance of Batman's laughter.  This peculiar reaction to everything that the Joker has done as well as Batman's failures to stop any of it completes the dismantling of Batman as a hero.  He has given up on his trademark stoic demeanor - a symbol of his heroic perseverance - and gives in to insanity by laughing.  Even if one says it is laughter through tears, an effort to stave off complete despair, the oddity of his laughter and its close association with the Joker cannot be denied.

The Joker's Sympathetic Life

A far less obvious and more clever component of the deconstruction is the depiction of an origin for the Joker.  In giving the Joker a detailed background laced with tragedy, Moore introduces a level sympathy the character has never had previously and, as some might argue, does not rightfully deserve.  The result is that the reader identifies with the Joker in such a way as to make him the protagonist of the story, at least on an emotional level.  This effect renders the Joker's actions in a new light - he is tragically driven insane by the loss of his wife and unborn child, so his wanting to inflict pain on others is understood, if not justified.

Without question, The Killing Joke brings depth and multiple layers of characterization to the Batman universe.  In a very real sense, Moore wrote a Batman story for adults and levied onto the characters a sense of psychological realism that dismantles all previous notions about them.  Batman isn't a hero - he's a lunatic vigilante who dresses up as a bat and beats up criminals; the Joker may be a homicidal maniac, but there is a level of humanity in him.

All of it is extremely compelling...to adults.  But, child readers do not need the same level of psychological complexity.  For them, it is enough to know that young Bruce Wayne watched his parents get murdered and, as a result, was inspired to fight crime to protect innocent lives.  The Joker is one of the crazy bad guys who Batman has to stop.  End of story.  Unfortunately, in elevating the influence of this one story, comic book writers and artists forgot about Batman's role as a hero in the eyes of these young readers and have since lost much of the character's ability to be a morally good inspiration.

The 1990s animated series kept this idea intact, and the finished work produced some of the best Batman stories ever, ones that capture a timeless quality by keeping Batman first and foremost a hero.  The Christopher Nolan films walk that tightrope as well, although they skew a bit more to an adult sensibility, by accentuating Batman's heroic qualities.

But, the comics have by and large kept Batman dark and the Joker even darker.  In recent years, Batman has become cold, calculating, and even manipulative of those closest to him.  He has shown outright disdain for characters with heroic qualities and distrusts their sincerity. And the Joker, in an escalating series of one-upmanship among writers and artists, has gone from one heinous act to the next, culminating in him slicing off his own face to make himself even more frightening.

No one should argue that comics are just for kids and kids alone and that adults should not have stories geared towards them.  But, why is so much of that necessary?  Especially when there are proven examples of Batman stories that do not always have to venture over that edge.  And, "adult" stories do not have to equal dark tone and nihilistic attitudes  At best, such narrow approaches to the character serve a niche audience and keep him from reaching broader audiences on a deeper level, children and adults alike.  The Batman audiences got in the Batman V. Superman, for instance, looked the most like the dark and gritty Batman of the comics than any other cinematic version thus far, and the movie sank under the weight of its own ponderous lack of heroism and goodwill.

Batman needs to be dark, to have an edge.  It is how the character was conceived and how he works best.  But, Batman also needs to be a hero in his mainstream setting.  He needs to be on the side of good unwaveringly.  Such qualities may not seem like obvious companions, but they can co-exist and have kept the character interesting and relevant since his first appearance.

Note: This was pretty much an off-the-cuff assessment of what I believe has been wrong with the character of Batman for a very long time.  Although I know other trends and circumstances have had an influence, I think most fans would agree that KJ was a turning point in how the character was depicted in his main family of books more so, I would argue, than even Frank Miller's work.

At some point, I would like to properly research what I've said here and support it with more concrete examples, examples I know are out there because I remember reading them.

Walk To End Alzheimer's - Why I'm Doing It

Back in the spring of 2006, I was living in New Jersey with a woman I had been with for a long time.  The relationship was falling apart for many reasons, not least of which was my despondency over not being able to find a teaching job in New Jersey and my general unhappiness at living in that miserable place.  It is no exaggeration when I say that the two and a half years I spent existing in New Jersey are among the worst of my life.

Out of desperation, I started applying for teaching positions in Delaware, where I'm from.  Within weeks, my hopes were raised as I was being called in for interviews at various schools in the southern Delaware area, and I was beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel regarding getting a job to start a career I had been working towards for several years.

Around this time, the health of my maternal grandmother, Mary Ann Vincent, started to deteriorate rapidly.  The previous winter, my mother had responded to a call from a neighbor that Mom-mom was outside in the snow walking around in her nightgown.  She had been outside for so long that she had minor frostbite on her feet, which were bare.  My grandmother spent a few days at my mother's home recuperating.

From there her periods of confusion and disorientation increased.  It soon became very clear that my grandmother was going to need fairly consistent, round-the-clock care.  And, my mother and her brothers knew that was going to mean a major battle with Mom-mom, who was fiercely independent, afraid of nursing homes, and lucid enough at times to know what was going on around her to protest what was happening, even if it was all being done with her best interests in mind.

She was clearly suffering from some form of dementia, most likely Alzheimer's as many of the classic symptoms of the disease were present: loss of short-term memory, sudden confusion and irritability, obsessively repetitive behavior, among others.  Specifically, Mom-mom's dementia also manifested itself in outbursts of paranoia and antagonistic behavior towards her children, particularly my mother, who had taken on the primary role in Mom-mom's care.  In her confusion and fear, Mom-mom was convinced my mother was out to get her in some way or put her in a nursing home or worse.

One small glimmer of light in this ordeal, I suppose, was the fact that Mom-mom remained "normal" with her grandchildren, so none of us felt the brunt of her rage that my mother and uncles experienced.  It was unsettling at times to watch her change like a light switch being turned on and off.  To see her go from spouting some hatefulness at my mother and then look at me and be all sweet and doting the way she had always, sometimes in a matter of seconds, was like watching one possessed.

As such I could talk to her and reason with her to some extent.  I could get her to calm down, to eat a meal, or drink some coffee.  I could also get her talking about something other than her current health situation, which I believe was good for her, although it meant a lot of repeated conversations that necessitated my playing along as though I had never heard them before.

I guess this coupled with the fact that I was traveling back and forth between New Jersey and Delaware for interviews prompted my mother to ask if I would stay with Mom-mom when I was in town to help look after her.  The days I would be there would give my mother some respite and Mom-mom some peace of mind as she seemed to enjoy my visits.  However, it all meant I got to witness my grandmother's deterioration first hand.

It was a pretty brief experience when all was said and done, only a little over a month between my starting to help care for my grandmother to her passing.  As is often the case, other health concerns come to the fore which caused Mom-mom to begin failing physically as well as mentally.  She spent the last few days of her life bedridden and largely unresponsive.

My last real interaction with my grandmother, one in which there was true recognition and responsiveness in her towards me, came about week before she died.  I awoke to hearing a lot of shuffling in her bedroom.  When I went in to check on her, I found she had kicked the sheets and blankets off the bed and had wet the mattress.  I got her attention and told her I would help her to the bathroom.  She mumbled something that I think was, "Bathroom," although I'm not sure.  

So, I helped her stand and walked her to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom.  When I got her to the bathroom door, she put her left hand on my face and lightly patted it, a very tender, loving touch.  She had a slight smile on her own face and looked me directly in the eyes.  She then went into the bathroom.

Knowing this episode meant a severe decline for Mom-mom and that she would more than likely need help a grandson was ill-equipped to handle, I called my mother for help.  She arrived, and together we got Mom-mom cleaned up and settled back into bed.  

I have never mentioned Mom-mom touching my cheek to anyone, not even to my mother, until now.  I think it's because it was such an intensely private moment between the two of us that talking about it seemed wrong.  Even now, I doubt I could have very much to say about it outside of what I've written just now.  Some might believe she was saying a good-bye to me, that maybe she was beginning to accept or understand that she was failing and chose to reach out to me one last time.  That's a nice thought, and it could very well be true.  But, whether or not it is, I do know it was an act of love, one of great affection from her to me, and that's really all I need it to be.

It was this experience and, in particular, that last memory more than anything that prompted me to volunteer for the Alzheimer's Association Walk when the opportunity presented itself to me last year. I set a modest goal for myself and reached it.  This year, I went a little bigger.  Although I find it a little distasteful to end this blog entry with a plea for money, here it is nonetheless.  If you feel so inclined to support my walk, click on the link below.  It would mean a lot to me and the memory of my grandmother.

My Walk Page

Going By the Chapel...

St. George's Chapel in Harbeson, DE - I pass it on my
way to and from work.

On my way home from school yesterday afternoon, I had a strange encounter. As I was passing St. George's Chapel on Beaver Dam Road, I saw a young man sprawled on the brick walkway that leads into the graveyard on the Chapel's west side. Now, I don't mean he was stretched out on the ground, relaxing and getting some sun - no, he looked like he fallen over from being shot in a drive-by and was waiting for the coroner to show up and draw a chalk line around his body. So, needless to say, the image stuck out to me amidst the surrounding greenery and brick. But, before I could fully realize what I had seen, I had driven maybe 200 yards past him. As quick as I could, I turned around and headed back to where he lay.

When I got back to him, I rolled down the passenger-side window and called out to him, asking if he was alright. He popped up, looking dazed and disoriented. He said he had been out walking for two hours and asked if I had any water. I gave him the bottle of water I had and he began chugging it. Before I could ask him if he needed any help, he said a buddy of his was on the way to pick him up. And then the friend pulled up behind me.

The young man gave me back the bottled water, thanked me, and got into his friend's car and drove off. As they pulled around me, he had his friend beep the horn while he waved. I turned back around and headed towards home.

As I got on my way, I couldn't help but wonder what was going on for that young man that would leave him stranded and nearly passed out on the side of the road. Two hours out in the heat was all it took to make him pass out? I hardly think so. Maybe if he was 80-years-old. So, there must have been more to that story. And, yes, I did consider that maybe it was some sort of con or set up, especially when his friend pulled up so suddenly, but I had an overall sense that I wasn't in any danger. And, if that was the intent, something made them change their minds about robbing me. Maybe my hulking physique? My Clint-Eastwood-like intimidation factor?

Regardless, I wouldn't have wanted that to stop me from attempting to help him. As ludicrous as this may sound, I'd rather get robbed knowing I was trying to the right thing than go home and hear on the news how that person died because no one intervened to help.

There isn't much more to the story than that. Just that I am now left with a strong curiosity as to what was going on with that young man and whether or not he finally got the help he needed. I hope I was able to help in some small way at least.

What-to-Watch Wednesday - Before Sunrise (1995)

I have some history with this film.  When I first saw it when it came out in 1995, I was in college at the University of Delaware, and I was at a prime age to relate to everything the characters are saying and doing.  As time has gone on, my understanding of what is actually happening in the film has deepened, but my appreciation of it has remained strong.

Before Sunrise stars Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy as Jesse and Celine, two college-aged vacationers.  They meet on a train traveling through Europe and strike up a conversation.  When the train stops in Vienna, they decide to continue the conversation rather than part ways.  They then begin a trek around the city, sharing experiences, learning about each other, and slowly falling in love.  At sunrise, the two part ways (hence the title) to go back to their respective lives - hers in France, his in America.

What I love about this film and what makes it such a gem is that the story is focused solely on who these two people are and the connection they form with each other.  The plot, such as it is, unravels slowly and naturally as the two characters walk around Vienna, stopping here and there as the fancy strikes them.

The naturalness of their time together as well as the conversations the two have stem from the film being shot on location in Vienna and largely improvised over the course of shooting.  One of Richard Linklater's first films, Before Sunrise has shades of his masterwork, Boyhood, in how it tries to give an unadorned depiction of real life as it happens.

As for Jesse and Celine, they are flawed, likable characters, displaying all the fear, excitement, and arrogance that are part of being twenty-something.  They like each other but are unsure of what it is they are experiencing and struggle between being pragmatic about their situation and their own romantic leanings.  The real beauty of the film comes in the small moments where they reveal their feelings for each other with a stolen glance or shift in body language.  Case in point: watch for the scene in a record store.  It is a brilliant example of subtlety in acting and direction.

Linklater made two sequels with Hawke and Delpy that follow the same premise but pick up with the characters at different stages of their lives.  They are exceptional films as well, but Before Sunrise is the heart of the series.  And, while I appreciate the story Linklater tells with these characters over the course of the three films, I am partial to the ambiguous ending of Before Sunrise and the discussion of possibilities (and probabilities) it inspires.

Untitled

Very much a work in progress. I know what I want to express, but I'm having trouble keeping it from becoming trite and banal. Probably putting it out there and getting away from it for a while will prove to be helpful. We'll see.

What is life
But the wind through the tree of our bodies
Rustling and shaking our limbs
Out of isolated immobility to brief and vibrant
Animation
Feeling tall in the summer sky
What is life
But a transport for our withering leaves and seeded fruit
In a twirl of fear and happiness and excitement
To other locations
Coming to rest - Finality - and finding a root to begin again
And so Life, emotion in motion, begets more Life

Here and Now

I find the present when near you
The past curls up and wrinkles like tissue paper
The future whispers away into a meaningless mist of ideas, unformed and unimagined
And I exist in the here and now
Savoring some morsel
Delighting in some spectacle
Found in the simple act of watching you cross a room

There is a touch of gold, a glowing haze
That heightens the moment

Bringing into relief true relief
The calm of assurance
The freedom of a worriless here and a fearless now

Do I give you this?
Do you look at me and find something reassuring and real?
See in me that which makes you shimmer to life
And I will feel like I’ve been worthwhile

A Car Without an Engine

This is a poem that metaphorically explains why I left the Seaford School District.

A Car Without an Engine

You're trying to drive a car without an engine
And now you've let the wheels fall off.
The body looks good, all shininess and gleam,

Your friends like it, they flatter you and tell you how good it looks,
You even marvel at your reflection on the hood.
But other cars are whizzing by,
And you are falling far behind.

Get someone with some know-how,
A skillful team to get you running.
No? You'd rather sit there, trying to look good,
Like a child on a Big Wheel,
Pretending to go somewhere?

Cars run on combustion and gas,
On skilled maintenance and care.
What makes you think pettiness and sycophantic need
Will move so much metal, plastic, and rubber?

Fine.

Close your eyes and cling to the facade of movement.
But, just so you know
That wind rushing through your hair,
That roar of motion and speed,
Comes from all the cars racing by,
Leaving you behind.