Batman and Dracula

Batman and Dracula:  Red Rain by Doug Moench, Kelley Jones, Malcolm Jones III, Les Dorscheid

What an obvious idea—why have Batman and Dracula never met before?  Perhaps because of copyright restrictions, but the combination is inspired, for they are really two sides of the same coin, aren’t they?  The writing tone and the artistic tone of this tale from 199s owes much to the recently-ended ‘80s rather than Batman:  The Animated Series; Frank Miller and Alan Moore are the inspiration for the urban depravity.  The art is more derivative than either The Dark Knight Returns or Watchmen, but it is also quite arresting and eerily Gothic.  I like that it can make Batman look nightmarish but Bruce Wayne look, well, very much the attractive ‘80s yuppie.  Also, the Dracula here reminds me a lot of the one that Gerard Butler will portray in Dracula 2000.  

There’s an amusing character named Ariane who is a primer in vampire lore.  As such, it’s easy to see more Buffy in Tanya the vampire who’s also a vampire-hunter than Anne Rice.  The red mist addition is a clever one (a low-tech version of the microwave emitter in Batman Begins).  In fact, there’s even a glimmer of Twilight’s inspiration in Tanya (with perhaps an unconscious nod to porphyria).  The ending will not be a surprise to anyone who has seen “Tooth and Claw” but it’s nice at least to think that Batman could defeat the supernatural as well as Gotham’s worst thugs.

Catwoman: On the Trail of Catwoman

It was a pleasure to reread Darwyn Cooke’s Selina’s Big Score; I had forgotten what a good story it was.  Selina’s world without Batman is sufficiently complex, and Cooke writes her so well, that is easy to follow one of the characters, Slam Bradley, the private detective, into “Slam Bradley: Trail of the Catwoman,” which takes place before and concurrently with Selina’s Big Score.  Slam must have become a favorite character with DC readers, as I understand he continues appearing throughout the Catwoman stories.  It’s easy to tell why:  He’s hard-boiled, right out of Raymond Chandler, with guts, personal morality, and a soft spot for Catwoman, who has been presumed dead.  The Mayor hires Slam to verify the deaths of both Catwoman and Selina Kyle (remember, the only ones who know her identity is us and Batman).   

In the middle of Slam’s gumshoe work, he gets paid a visit from Batman, followed by one from Selina herself (where Selina’s Big Score dovetails with this serial).  What follows next is “Anodyne,” where Selina struggles to come to grips with the Catwoman part of her personality, and with the help of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, she transforms into a do-gooding Catwoman, complete with new costume (how this all fits in with Catwoman:  When in Rome is beyond me).  There’s a surprise return from a villain in “Anodyne,” but more importantly, there’s Holly and Karon, Selina’s friends and allies.  It goes without saying that the art is phenomenal—there’s something very ‘50s Pop Art, while it’s still being recognizably set in Noughties Gotham.  Best of all, Selina shows compassion, something she’s always had for ladies of the night, but not necessarily for anyone else.  “Trickle Down Theory” continues in this vein, though Selina soon learns that there can be unexpected consequences to her dabbling in detective work and crime-fighting. It also introduces a character who will be important in later dealings with Black Mask.  “Disguises” is told from Holly’s point of view and involves corruption within the Gotham police force (so, nothing new!).  

All in all, Trail of the Catwoman is a very strong start to this series, and a lot of extraordinary talent has gone into it.  I definitely recommend it.

One more thing:  much as I love Harley & Ivy, the art is very much in the style of the pin up, and although Catwoman and her friends are undeniably sexy, they never seem to be caught in exploitative poses in this volume, which I think is a plus!

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

If the stories are clues, and the mystery is Sherlock Holmes, then a reader can come to the conclusions that contradict the “common knowledge” mythos that surrounds 221b Baker Street. 

               

Firstly, Holmes’ attitude toward women.  In this, he is both strikingly chivalrous and possesses a deep sympathy for women who are victims of tyrannous men (usually their fathers).  He becomes almost a father figure to Miss Mary Sutherland in “A Case of Identity,” to Miss Helen Stoner in “The Speckled Band,” and to Miss Violet Hunter in “The Copper Beeches.”  He also acts with great solicitude toward Miss Kate Whitney and Mrs St Clair in “The Man with the Twisted Lip,” even though neither lady shows the self-sufficiency or intelligence of the single ladies previously mentioned.  Indeed, it is independence in women, especially those forced into employment, that impresses Holmes, especially in the case of the confused governess in “The Copper Beeches.”  Still, these kinds of attitudes are not wholly surprising (unless one wants to imagine the entire male population of the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries as hard-hearted misogynists—many of the villains in these pieces certainly are).  Holmes also seems to have sympathy, to an extent, for the women whose motivations have led them astray, such as Miss Hatty Doran in “The Noble Bachelor” and Mary the niece in “The Beryl Coronet.”  However, we should not imagine this empathy confined to only one gender, as it’s Holmes’ affinities with young men which is usually instrumental in saving them from wrongful punishment, like Arthur Holder in “The Beryl Coronet” and young Mr McCarthy in “The Boscombe Valley Mystery.”  However, by saying “affinity” I would probably offend Holmes, given he insists all of his powers are purely intellectual/scientific.  If he was honest with himself, however, I think he would admit experience à instinct which, with the right application of the Scientific Method, can be very useful in detective work.

Now, we’ve talked about women and Holmes in general, what about THE woman?  Irene Adler has become a postmodern cult figure, so it surprising to find in “Scandal in Bohemia,” Adler is unconventional only in the sense that she is an actress with a slightly quicker brain than Holmes’.  She behaves in a sorrowfully stereotypical manner when she takes the “poor, wounded clergyman” into her home.  And yet, this is probably what impresses Holmes about her; just the right touch of conventional femininity (nowhere is their evidence that she is particularly radical, subversive, or graphically sexual—she behaves in pretty much the manner any stage personality in her position would have; the difference being she got away with it) matched with a penchant for disguise.

While several of the stories were insubstantial fluff (“The Red Headed League,” I’m looking at you) I was pleasantly surprised to get past the notion of Holmes-in-London:  several of the stories are better if you were familiar with the US in the 1870s, or Australia at about the same time, and my favorite story, “The Speckled Band,” brought Indian fauna to rural England.  Holmes and Watson did not hesitate to pursue crime and villainy to the provinces.  Holmes made full use of his ability to go undercover, as in “The Beryl Coronet,” “A Scandal in Bohemia,” etc.  “The Noble Bachelor” was one of my favorites, simply read as farce, but “The Engineer’s Thumb” did not really seem to fit—as a suspense story, certainly, but there was very little detective work going on. 

Watson began to annoy me a little.  Holmes was constantly telling him to “observe,” and though Watson got marginally better, his progress was so slow, I wonder sometimes that he was much help at all!  And that brings s to another fallacy about Holmes:  the brooding misanthrope.  Far less than in Sign of Four was I struck by Holmes’ annoyance, impatience, or boredom.  The Holmes of these stories is a humorous man, who can even give a Christmas-themed mystery with a happy ending in “The Blue Carbuncle.”  In a few places, he seemed to dismiss the police and make fun of them, as personified in LeStrade, especially during “The Noble Bachelor.”  Yet overall, he remained remarkably courteous to all; in fact he could spare a lot more time for governesses like Miss Violet Hunter than he could the King of Bohemia and Lord St Simon.     

Home Truths

Home Truths has proved to be one of the best, if not the best, Companion Chronicle. Big Finish has recently made it obvious (to me, anyway) that it can think wonderfully outside the box, with the last series of Eighth Doctor/Lucie plays, and while the Companion Chronicles in general excel at doing that, this one stands out particularly for subverting expectations in many ways. With influences as diverse as M R James, Chimes of Midnight/ “Ghost Light” and Ray Bradbury, Home Truths captures both elements of Doctor Who—forwards and backwards in time—to create, I would argue, an addition to that line of rare sideways-in-time adventures.

Without giving too much away, it combines all the elements of a fireside yarn, a ghostly house, a Gothic tale-within-a-tale (the isolated atmosphere of “Miss Kingdom”’s house reminded me of “Usher Inn”), a mystery, with an excellent meta-twist. Jean Marsh returns to the role of Sara Kingdom, pooh-poohed as an official companion by some, and creates such an elegy on the character that her legitimacy can never be doubted again. Guerrier has gone to real pains to imagine Sara Kingdom’s past and to make her come alive as a woman, not just a companion. Like Charley in Chimes of Midnight, she has a revelatory moment of coming to terms with time and trauma.

The frame story is not only necessary but more complex than it originally appears. It nicely offsets the ultra-modern story Sara tells in flashback about landing with the Doctor and Steven in a strange house. The play is quite a frightening on with old-fashioned chills. Despite some tense moments, Home Truths is almost a story where “everybody lives,” though at a cost. It alos sets itself up nicely for a sequel, which the popularity of the release then made possible.

I would include this up there with Frostfire and The Mahogany Murderers as the best of the Companion Chronicles.

The Great Space Elevator

Jonathan Morris wanted to give us something wholly of its time—the short period when Troughton, Hines, and Watling graced the screen in futuristic black-and-white—and that knowledge of period is definitely the strength of this Companion Chronicle. It truly feels like a TV adventure that, but for budget constraints, could and would have been produced. The only difference is that it lets Victoria, who is, after all, telling the story, get a more heroic role, relegating Jamie to a bit of silliness, and allowing her to save the day. The plot is simple and very “base-under-siege” with a strong emphasis on science—in that way it dovetails very nicely (but unknowingly) with The Four Doctors, which I listened to recently.

Deborah Watling does a competent job playing Victoria, the Doctor, and Jamie, but the guest artist, Helen Goldwyn[1], is totally wasted on a boring and not very dramatic part, which forces Watling to carry almost the entire play on her own. It ends up feeling a bit like the linking narration of a lost episode.

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[1] Helen Goldwyn is much used by Big Finish, playing everyone from Dr. Evelyn Smythe’s student in Doctor Who and the Pirates! to aliens in Storm Warning to Christine in Phantom of the Opera.