Bookslide III

Sorry about the babble last night.  People shouldn’t post sleepy if they’re going for content.  They shouldn’t post with only a half-hour before they have to leave and a huge craving for Pop Tarts, either.  HOWEVER, it’s only 1:15 in the afternoon, so if I put this post on hold for my Pop Tart craving, it will still get finished in time, and with about 50% more of a chance of coherence.

Okay, so fifteen minutes of typing, then Pop Tarts, then all the stuff I need to get done, then more typing, then Dexter, then bed.  That actually sounds like a nice day, doesn’t it?

So yesterday I babbled a bit about Batman–let’s say “as a concept,” because that sounds like a nice euphemism for “off the top of my sleepy head.”  Today I want to talk a little more about the cast of Bat-characters and their depth and motivations.

First off, there’s Bruce Wayne, who basically doesn’t exist as a person in most continuities.  He is, as I said yesterday, the mask of the two personas.  He’s the body and, yes, the legal name, but he’s not the “true self.”  In the Burton Batman movies, he’s sort of a vague, absent-minded professor (which I really, really enjoyed; you’d never believe anyone that dippy would be Batman, but the personality was also very much the lost boy that Bruce Wayne easily could have been his whole life even without the Bat-persona); in other media, he’s the male Paris Hilton, but with actual business sense.  Sometimes.  Now that I think about it, Paris Hilton would be a really good mask for a superhero, wouldn’t she?  You and I would never believe that Paris Hilton was a superhero.  And, silly us, we think, “Why can’t people SEE that this person is this hero?”  Well, if someone revealed the hero to be Paris Hilton, we’d all be pretty shocked, wouldn’t we?  Interesting.

So from there you’d think that Bruce Wayne has no motivation, since he doesn’t even really exist, but I would have to say that’s not true at all.  Bruce Wayne wants to forget.  His entire persona is set up that he’s always busy doing something–whether he’s working hard or hardly working.  I don’t think that Batman, the great detective, the one who understands human nature, would just say “Okay, he’s just this guy who parties a lot.  No one will figure it out!”  Instead, Bruce Wayne is living denial.  He does not have to think about the legacy that he isn’t living up to, he doesn’t have to think of the horrible death of his parents, he doesn’t have to think about yesterday or tomorrow.  He only has to think about the next deal or the next check to write or the next girl.  This is also a very good reason not to settle down: that would be too much like looking around and seeing what might come next, which might be the pain and loss that comes from starting a life without your parents there to support and encourage you.  From another angle, he’s the perpetual rebellious teenager because there’s no one there to put limits on him.  (See also: Alfred, who I’ll get to.)

I mention this because after a couple of decades, no one’s free from psychoanalysis.  What began as “I shall dress as a bat-man and fight crime” has become a 20+ year exercise in following a broken man as far as he can go, so far as the audience comfortable.  But Batman’s just the tip of the Bat-iceberg.  To fully understand Batman, especially in the comics, you also have to look at his created family.

Alfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne’s butler and, in a sense, Batman’s partner in crime.  Ignoring his origins in the comic (bumbling, comic relief) and focusing on how he’s been seen for decades now, he is both Bruce Wayne’s employee and Batman’s father figure, close enough to chastise but not close enough to be able to stop Batman from going down his chosen path, no matter destructive it gets.  This is why, although most people would say that Alfred’s loyalty is his primary motivation, I would say it’s tied in with a whole lot of guilt.

Being a father figure is difficult (see the Robins, when I get to them).  Being a father figure who’s in the employ of your fake son has to be a big pain.  I THINK, but I’m not positive, that you can see this in Batman Begins, but I haven’t seen it since it was out in the theaters.  Alfred cannot step out of his role as the Wayne family servant to take charge of young Bruce’s upbringing, so when he comes home ready to fight crime in a FREAKIN’ BAT SUIT, Alfred’s screwed and he knows it.  His loyalty draws him in; his guilt keeps him there.  This guilt grows as Alfred ineffectively co-parents the Robins with Batman–as the homey mother-figure he does fine, but when Batman makes bad decisions, Alfred doesn’t stand up to him.  You know, I’ve never seen Alfred as a mother-figure before I started writing this, but it certainly does give one food for thought.

My bff roommate has decided to turn up the TV downstairs to the level of “his deaf mother” (which I think is like, 37 by the TV’s actual volume count), so I’m starting to lose my train.  The Robins tomorrow, Doctor Eon.