Batman #112, published in December 1957, features three 8-page stories: "The Signalman of Crime", "Batman's Roman Holiday", and "Am I Really Batman?", which the intriguing cover (if extremely predictable for the Silver Age) is derived from. The first story is the debut of the Signalman, a Batman villain at the bottom of the D-list but with the potential to become one of his greatest adversaries. The tale itself is typical of 50s superhero stories - innocent, fun, silly, extremely simple, at best mildly memorable. Phil Cobb, inspired by the gimmicky foes of Batman's rogues gallery, decides to give the whole supervillain thing a shot. Cobb dons a ridiculous costume covered in signs and symbols; now calling himself "the Signalman," he begins a crime spree, leaving clues behind. As you would assume, Batman and Robin easily put the clues together and apprehend the villain before his next big heist.
In the last Time Travel Tuesday, I briefly talked about the enormous importance of semiotics and branding to Batman's mission (you can read more in-depth analyses here, here and here, among other places; I'll probably get around to writing on it in detail at a later date). Well here we have a villain whose entire gimmick is based around the nature of symbols, on how we perceive and process them. Imagine Foucault, Derrida, Eco and (of course!) Chomsky all wrapped into a single super-expert who one day said to himself, "hey, these skills could be really useful for perpetuating an environment of crime." Or at least, "hey, these skills could be really useful for deconstructing that Batman guy."
Okay, so let me tell you just a wee little bit about my Batman story idea. It involves a group of individuals who, backed by a cabal of obscure Batman foes, decide to achieve the peak of human perfection and become Batman-like vigilantes themselves. The story stems from the idea I proposed about the Batman Revenge Squad from the last Time Travel Tuesday, and taps into the quasi-Nietzchean themes at the heart of most interpretations of Batman, with the twist that it is both unfair and useless for him to be the exemplar of fully achieved human potential if no one else can reach it (writers are always trying to apply Nietzsche to superheroes, but Batman is one of the only characters where his writings are actually applicable. Comics scribes should probably, y'know, actually read Nietzsche first, especially before they try to associate his work with Superman just because it's how some folks translated Übermensch). Of course, these pseudo-Batmen end up not being up to par with the real deal, because the Dark Knight's motives are entirely selfless and constructive, while theirs is a product of self-interested, self-conscious entitlement. Besides, he's the goddamn Batman. So these pseudo-Batmen end up being unwittingly used by the cabal in a drawn-out, almost-successful attempt to destroy our Caped Crusader once and for all.
Wow, I was right about it not sounding nearly as good after actually writing it out...
Anyway, the Signalman would serve as the cabal's symbols expert; he would be the one to educate these faux-Batmen on the importance of image. After all, if you take the Bat out of Batman, well he becomes a lot less interesting and impressive, right? He becomes just Man, a Punisher who doesn't kill, or a Defendor, just some weirdo who could never get over one traumatic childhood event. He becomes the bloodied Bruce Wayne from "Year One," weakly slouching in his armchair, furiously ringing his bell as he hangs on to dear life, in dire need of a totem. So Signalman would be the one to come up with the Batman Revenge Squad costume designs, the stylized logos and the themed gadgets. Meet and beat the Dark Knight at his own game. The Signalman would ensure that this essential aspect of Batman was transferred over to the cabal's Nietzschean experiments, and would teach them how to use these semiotic assets to symbolically and literally defeat Batman's essence, which permeates Gotham as if it were completely enveloped in his cape.
The Signalman's costume needs a bit of sprucing up, though. On a purely superficial level, the color palette is bloody awful. Much more importantly, the signs that cover the costume need greater significance, a clearer thematic purpose. In #112, they are almost entirely astrological in origin, making him seem like the Zodiac killer with Asperger's. When the character was brought back in the 70s, they were given greater variety - I can see a treble clef on there, as well as geometric shapes such as stars, crescents and diamonds. This still doesn't do the trick, and it may even be a step back. Finally, the symbol that adorns his chest is...a filled-in circle. A void, an absence. A lack of a palpable symbol. That simply will not do; it both undermines what the Signalman is supposed to be about and is just plain boring aesthetically.Okay, so let me tell you just a wee little bit about my Batman story idea. It involves a group of individuals who, backed by a cabal of obscure Batman foes, decide to achieve the peak of human perfection and become Batman-like vigilantes themselves. The story stems from the idea I proposed about the Batman Revenge Squad from the last Time Travel Tuesday, and taps into the quasi-Nietzchean themes at the heart of most interpretations of Batman, with the twist that it is both unfair and useless for him to be the exemplar of fully achieved human potential if no one else can reach it (writers are always trying to apply Nietzsche to superheroes, but Batman is one of the only characters where his writings are actually applicable. Comics scribes should probably, y'know, actually read Nietzsche first, especially before they try to associate his work with Superman just because it's how some folks translated Übermensch). Of course, these pseudo-Batmen end up not being up to par with the real deal, because the Dark Knight's motives are entirely selfless and constructive, while theirs is a product of self-interested, self-conscious entitlement. Besides, he's the goddamn Batman. So these pseudo-Batmen end up being unwittingly used by the cabal in a drawn-out, almost-successful attempt to destroy our Caped Crusader once and for all.
Wow, I was right about it not sounding nearly as good after actually writing it out...
Anyway, the Signalman would serve as the cabal's symbols expert; he would be the one to educate these faux-Batmen on the importance of image. After all, if you take the Bat out of Batman, well he becomes a lot less interesting and impressive, right? He becomes just Man, a Punisher who doesn't kill, or a Defendor, just some weirdo who could never get over one traumatic childhood event. He becomes the bloodied Bruce Wayne from "Year One," weakly slouching in his armchair, furiously ringing his bell as he hangs on to dear life, in dire need of a totem. So Signalman would be the one to come up with the Batman Revenge Squad costume designs, the stylized logos and the themed gadgets. Meet and beat the Dark Knight at his own game. The Signalman would ensure that this essential aspect of Batman was transferred over to the cabal's Nietzschean experiments, and would teach them how to use these semiotic assets to symbolically and literally defeat Batman's essence, which permeates Gotham as if it were completely enveloped in his cape.
Stick the triangular all-seeing eye from the back of the $1 bill in the middle of that circle - now we're getting somewhere! Fill his suit with recognizable signs that reveal just how much these images saturate and dictate our lives; corporate logos like the McDonald's golden arches and brand icons like the Pepsi symbol (screw royalties and copyrights, they'll never know!). Show us how much power they sway over us, both literally and in our imagination: the Freemason insignia, pentagrams, religious and occult icons, the mysterious, esoteric signs that continue to captivate us, to spawn the conspiracy theories about Illuminati and whatnot we voraciously consume in our Da Vinci Codes and National Treasures. Or, in a more personal interpretation of the foe, perhaps Signalman's suit is covered solely with the different iterations of the Batman logo from over the years - actually, the simple filled-in circle over his chest would be very appropriate here, appearing as if the stylized bat was ripped from its yellow oval, suggesting an inherent emptiness and meaningless to the Bat-brand.
But let's get back to what this post was supposed to be about. The next story, "Batman's Roman Holiday," introduces Carter Nichols' Time-Ray, which sends Batman (or "the Great Batmanus," as he becomes called) and Robin to Ancient Rome. It's a weird, fun, nonsensical adventure filled with camp and way out-there sci-fi. Typical Silver Age fare, which as always makes it a matter of personal taste. If you like these kinds of stories, be it for the nostalgia or the sheer zany lunacy, you'll enjoy this one a great deal. If you're the type who only likes the grim-n'-gritty, "realistic" urban vigilante Batman, don't expect to get much out of this issue. DUH.
The Time-Ray is a very interesting introduction into the Bat-mythos, and is the second key element from #112 to appear in my fanwank, albeit more as a convenient conceit than anything else. The story would ideally span across the entire pantheon of Batman's mainstream continuity, featuring the digging up and re-contextualization of stories as far back as Detective Comics #27. The idea here is that nobody actually shut off Nichols' Time-Ray, and for years it's just kept going and going and going in a dilapidated secret lair. As a result, time has gone completely out of joint in Gotham City. Too bad the Clock King is part of the cabal; he seems to be the only one aware of what's going on, using his master understanding of the situation to endow the Bat-imitators with a level of training and experience that took Bruce Wayne his entire career, his entire life to achieve. The Time-Ray is pretty much an easy, abstract way to explain away how Wayne could raise all those Robins and Batgirls, how he could accumulate all this knowledge, all these skills, have all these amazing adventures over almost 72 years of publication through wildly different eras and not age appreciably - without going into obsessive, Geoff Johnsian continuity porn retconning. Because good lord, that stuff is just the worst.
Finally, we've come to the most interesting story of the bunch, "Am I Really Batman?" Like the vast majority of Silver Age DC stories, the central theme of the tale is the sanctity of identity under fire. What makes this story stand out is its wonderful inventiveness; it is a well of creativity without indulging in the over-the-top, kitschy decadence that defines so many of its peers. Somehow, even throughout all the ludicrous - and riveting - plot twists, the story remains believable. I was wracked with suspense, wondering what would happen next, and found myself actually caring about Bruce Wayne's existential plight. Usually, the extent of my reaction to a good Silver Age DC story is an endearing appreciation of its Silver Agey-ness, similar to the way I can ironically appreciate the Lifeldian proportions and over-the-top, grungy indulgence of a 90s comic for its Dark Agey-ness. "Am I Really Batman?" truly is a standout tale in the early-Silver Age Bat-canon, one whose influence we can clearly see in Morrison's run on the Batbooks. Definitely worth checking out in a reprint.
Ahh, and now to begin my homework. 2:47 AM here in NYC...better late than never, right?
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