When Batman “died”* in the pages of Final Crisis #6, I think everybody knew that the cape and pointy-eared cowl would pass to Dick Grayson, the original Robin/Nightwing. Tim Drake, the current Robin, is too young and doesn’t smoke nearly enough to cultivate that Christian Bale-y voice. Jason Todd, the unlikeable , brutish Robin II who was killed via a reader poll in the late ’80s, was back from the dead and mentally unstable – a bit too mentally unstable to take the reins from a guy who wears tights and beats up clowns and guys dressed like animals because he wants his dead mother to love him (think about that). None of the other possibilities ever really made much sense. Which is one of the reasons why the Battle For the Cowl event that filled the gap between the end of the Crisis and notable comics writer and Scotsman Grant Morrison’s drug-addled return to Batman with June’s Batman and Robin #1 was simply not very good.
With two issues under its utility belt so far, Batman and Robin has been an incredibly fun ride. Morrison has always been the kind of talent that, for me, does his best work in the sandbox of a licensed character, and each of his collaborations with artist Frank Quitely are noteworthy, a rule that Bn’R does nothing to disprove. In fact, this is some of Quitely’s best superhero work – much more kinetic than the admittedly great All-Star Superman (another collaboration with Morrison), full of inspired touches, like sound effects that are integrated into the action – after Robin smashes into a wall in issue #2, the spiderweb of lines radiating out from the impact spell out the word SMASH.
Morrison’s writing isn’t quite on par with All-Star Superman, but considering that #10 in that series is one of my top 5 favorite single issues of a comic book ever, that’s a tough act to follow. But it’s easy to get caught up in Dick Grayson’s mix of enthusiasm and trepidation about taking over the Bat-mantle, and even easier to love 10 year old Damian Wayne’s near-constant air of malicious glee as he insults Alfred and reminds everyone about how he was raised by his mother’s League of Assassins. Damian, too, is a character at juxtaposition with himself – he’s his mother Talia’s creature without a doubt, but has rare, glimmering moments when he’s trying to be his late father’s son. Instead of the normal status quo, this temporary reprieve from Bruce Wayne is refreshing because of the new dynamic between the titular duo here – both are learning how to be who they’re going to be and learning how to tolerate each other. In a sense, Morrison has ruined Batman, but in the best and most enjoyable way.
While I’ve slowly been whittling DC books off of my pull list, Batman and Robin is the first one that I’ve added in at least six months, and with my comics dollar going a shorter distance each week, that’s the highest praise I can muster.
*I, for one, don’t expect comic book death to last any longer than is dramatically expedient, having been trained in the twists and turns of fakeout cliffhanger deaths (“Cyclops is dead!”/”Cyclops is alive!”) and implausible resurrections by a life of X-Men fandom. Not to mention that Morrison showed Batman alive and well, just temporally displaced, in the very next issue of the title in question. The impermanence of death in a fictional universe where a karaoke machine from the future can destroy a god is not, nor should it be, shocking.
