The only DC brand that's ever
mattered to me is Gotham's Dark Knight, whose character has endured
any number of batty (hee!) sea-changes over the years. In his case,
DC manages to at least toe the line. Writer Scott Snyder holds to
Grant Morrison's mostly-reverent approach to storyline, giving
readers a nameless, faceless formidable foe that appears to have the
upper hand on the anally over-competent Batman. This collection
(Volume 1, The Court Of Owls) is a first act, which requires the Batman
be wounded and potentially down for the count, with readers wondering
how this could possibly reach a pleasing resolution. It works, albeit
on the same emotional level as watching one's favourite team lose the
first three games in a play-off series, and no deeper.
Greg Capullo's artwork brings the edge
that the material desperately needs. His primary stylistic impulse is to strike a
balance between Frank Miller and Todd McFarlane.
Again, “reverential” is the word
that comes to mind, and since the execution is done with such brio it's an entirely laudable approach.
But midway into Batman's direst crisis, the style slips into something more akin to Mort Drucker, portraying our hero in carricaturish proportions that render him as something comically pitiable.
But midway into Batman's direst crisis, the style slips into something more akin to Mort Drucker, portraying our hero in carricaturish proportions that render him as something comically pitiable.
Batman rouses and rescues himself, of
course, but the visual effect is surprisingly intimate — an insight into Bruce Wayne's humiliated point-of-view, certainly, but also a subtle acknowledgement of the
reader's complicit participation in the hero's degradation.
So, yes, full marks from me, too.
Here's hoping the other 51 can hitch up their tights and pull in a
few more readers, because it would be a shame to see the entire DC
edifice collapse on top of their sole compelling storyline.
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