Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Chiroptera Anthro

Spend any length of time with me and I'll probably betray my nerdy background.  There's a certain pride, or solidarity that nerds and geeks have.  A collective passion for their own geeky subject.  I guess in the 80s and 90s before nerd-chic came into being it helped to reinforce the identity of the group, and was seen as a badge.  A vast collection of Superman comics; the ability to name obscure Star Wars characters after reading extended universe novels multiple times over; calculating the optimal equipment for your level 14 mage in weekly Dungeons and Dragons sessions. Nerd-cred.  I'd posit that a basic element of human psychology is the sharing of group experiences in reinforcing and embracing both individuality and as a means to connect with others.  With the appropriate of a variety of sub-cultures into the mainstream, there have been many backlashes.  The much derided hipster attitude to me is an outgrowth of the loss of personal connection and sense of ownership that occurs when something, whether it be a band, movie, television show, video game, or some other media enters the mainstream.  While one's ability to enjoy and consume that media is usually not hampered (in some cases it will though, for example the band that now plays larger sold out venues as opposed to smaller, more intimate events), the personal-ness of that connection loses some of its meaning.  It's a funny contradiction, because a larger audience would permit more enjoyment of that property? Wouldn't it?  In an effort to not cling to (a quite mistaken) sense of ownership of one of my favorite media subjects, let's talk about Batman.

I was recently looking through old photo-albums again, along with watching old home movies, and I noticed something.  I've been a fan of Batman since before I can remember. Literally.  There are movies of me wearing Batman pajamas to bed before age two.  And while I can't remember what began this initial obsession, I think the character of Batman, here in semi-serious consideration, has many social and psychological levels.  Partially due to the amount of writers that have had some say in the Dark Knight's seventy-some year long history, but also because the son of Bob Kane and Bill Finger (I wonder who claims to be Thomas Wayne and who's Martha) has developed layers upon layers over the years into a vastly complex character.  Digging through this psychological strata as a archaeological will have to be left to someone with a far more vast knowledge of comics then I do, I may be a fan, but in comparison to others, I am a mere amateur in things Bat-related.  Rather, I will provide a more broad analysis, corresponding to what facets of the character have resonated with me as I've aged.  I think on a fundamental level, any study will in some degree reflect the work of its author, and so this may provide just as many insights into my psyche as it does into the protector of Gotham's.

Let's start with the basics and get the few people that have been living under a rock up to speed.  Batman is a man who wears a cape and a mask, and patrols his home city of Gotham  at night dressed as a bat using his wit and athleticism to prevent crime.  To my knowledge, in all cases (side stories, one shots, reboots, etc.) Batman is the result of a young Bruce Wayne seeing his parents getting gunned down before his eyes in a random mugging.  Depending on the time and writer, sometimes fear is a main weapon of the Caped Crusader's arsenal against crime, early on in his history he carried a gun, as a billionaire playboy, he also outfits himself with a variety of gadgets and sports cars.  Sometimes he's portrayed as a superhero, sometimes a vigilante anti-hero.  But despite the title of superhero (and an obscene bank account) he is portrayed as an man.  He didn't get hit with radiation, or come from a different planet, and isn't the son of a powerful god.  He's an average, well, okay, maybe exceptional man (the world's greatest detective would have to be just a little special).  He's profoundly human.

As a kid with a simple understanding of the world, it was simple.  Batman is good, the bad guys are bad.  Batman stops the bad guys because the police can't.  He has a cool car, has a cool costume, gets to stay up late and run across building tops.  And do you know how many action figures there are?!  Like seriously, I know I have like 5 or 6 different variants of Batman (yes, I recently checked).  He's got like a scuba suit, and a parachute suit, and one with fold out wings, or that lame one with Michael Keaton in a sweater with a detachable mask (when you're brother got the cool flippy head one), or the animated series Batman with a gyro-copter.  You don't get the intricacies of vigilantism at age six, or due process, or the driving loss of his parents that pits Batman in his seemingly eternal struggle with crime.  To a six year old, Batman just seems to be the adult you want to be: he gets to do what he wants, when he wants, and does it in a way that helps others.  I've read in some forwards (of trade paperbacks) and analysis of the character that in some way, this ultimate childhood fantasy is really that.  Bruce is a perpetual six year old, waging a misguided war on what took his parents who he can never get back.  Much like the Two-Face of his rogue's gallery (which itself reads like the DSM-IV), the character in most cases is amazingly double-sided.  He appeals to children as a awesome adulthood, when the character himself is stuck in perpetual childhood.

To an angsty teenager, the character is an excellent example of a misunderstood and superior intellect. (And don't forget the self-centeredness; I mean sure, Bruce had his backbone broken by Bane, but can't be sharing that technology with the now wheelchair-bound Barbara Gordon).  He is isolated, but because no one else can understand him.  This isolation breeds extreme self-reliance, and consequently responsibility weighs heavy on Bruce.  Like one of the inspirations for the character, Zorro, Batman is a manifest idea that things aren't the way the should be, and that steps need to be taken to improve society.    He is also isolated to protect those he cares about, the secret identity has to be a secret.  In a certain way though, the identity has switched.  Batman is the true character while Bruce is the mask that faces the world.  Here's a guy who gets it, one may think.  He has a goal and he takes the steps to achieve that goal.  He is a model of self-reliance.  However, this begins to break down considering the support that often goes unnoticed, much like reality.  In particular, Bruce's butler Alfred, a striking example of a father figure raised the young Master Bruce after the passing of his parents.  Then there's the number of people to have borne the mantle of Robin, Batgirl, Commissioner Gordon, even at times the "superfriends" (lest we forget).  (In recent issues, he even has an army of Bat-bots, it's so awesome, like they all have these jets built into their feet and- wait, sorry, almost got carried away there.)  Again, the character lends itself to simultaneously opposed readings, at quite often the same author will use both of these traits in characterizing Bruce.  It's an odd dichotomy, but one that can work in the correct balance.  The lesson to be learned in self-reliance and motivation, but not at the expense of shutting out support.

A more mature reading may bring to light the deeper social issues that have always existed in the Batman mythos. To deal with the most obvious facet first, the nature of vigilantism, and in a larger context a police and legal system that can't deal with the thicket of crime, and in may writings has been corrupted by it.  While Bruce may see Batman as a necessity to combat the crime that runs rampant through Gotham, it's a very fine line between justice and a personal vendetta.  And this fanaticism may actually be doing more harm than good.  Sure, he may have good intentions, but waging a one-man guerrilla war against crime may actually cause an escalation in the seedy underworld's response.  Not to mention all the legal rule bending that would have to take place to actually prosecute the people that he apprehends.  (Or the property damage!)  I feel this is similar to much of the political discourse that occurs nowadays.  Sound-bites and misguided lip service that fails to address the real cause of problems.  Sure, driving around a car shaped like a bat with a jet-turbine nestled inside of it is probably a fun waste some time at 3:30 on a Tuesday morning, but it fails to take into consideration the cause of crime.  Sometimes this is addressed, most recently, Nolan's take with the Dark Knight shows how Bruce is aware that the city needs something more than what he can provide.  While Bruce knows that Batman impacts the city, he's aware that more needs to be done.  The character works as both a almost-fascist highly independent, self-sufficient, ends-justify the means uber-man as spouted by Rand, or as an apologetic temporary solution to a larger social injustice.  And herein lies the the appeal of the character for me.  The duality, and impressions that the character leaves with us are more akin to reflections.  Staying true to my nerdy roots, it's much like Yoda plaintively said in 'Empire' when asked by Luke what awaited him in the cave on Dagobah: "Only what you take with you".

When it comes down to it, I don't mean to suggest that Batman as a character is shallow or empty.  No, rather, I think the character is deep enough that he elicits different responses from different people (or even different responses from the same person over the course of their life).  Batman is an independent, individualist who does what he wants, but is a child at heart.  He has a sense of right and wrong, but will cross over into grey areas to combat what he sees as injustice.  He recognizes the obsession that some of his foes have, but has his own obsessions to deal with.  He set a goal for himself, but only after his life was changed forever.  As a character he has substance, but much in the same way he deals with his nefarious friends, he exists as a imposing figure, with edges that bleed into their surroundings.  Edges that leave room for interpretation.  And this is just one of many.

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