Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again (Batman)

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4 out of 5 stars

Not what I expected December 19, 2001
97 out of 108 found this review helpful

Just to let you know where I stand, I'm a former comics collector who tired of the excesses of the medium and its perpetual recycling of characters and storylines. However, I admired Frank Miller's "Dark Knight Returns" for its cinematic storytelling, sharp wit and unexpected vision of a world that no longer wanted superheroes. Set three years later, "The Dark Knight Strikes Again" presents this world in an even more nightmarish fashion that I found both intriguing and repellant. Here, a grotesque Lex Luthor has quietly siezed control of the presidency (for what ends, we're not yet sure), Superman plays his pliant pawn, and the exiled Batman decides he must upend this future society drunk on prosperity and a soft form of fascism. This first chapter begins as Batman and a band of Bat-themed revolutionaries free several imprisoned heroes. And as an old fan, I found Miller's reimaginings of stock DC characters fascinating. The Flash now is bitter and cynical. The Atom, long a third-tier character, is recast as a gutsy tough guy. And I was pleased that Miller allowed Superman to state a convincing case for siding with the despots (which still fit the character's more simplistic, utilitarian philosophy). What I found even bolder--and, in the end, most difficult to swallow--was Miller's deliberately crude drawing style. He no longer delineates characters as much as simply suggests them with scratchy etches and thick blotches of shadow, and pays only lip service to realistic perspective. At its best, this style brings a weighty and disquieting quality to the book that you rarely find in comics. I occasionally was reminded of Picasso's late-period pen-and-ink work. And it certainly is appropriate for capturing the corruption of this future world and the moral ambiguity of these characters. But I also found that this jarring style impeded the storytelling; I often had to puzzle over panels to figure out what I was looking at or how one image related to the next. (And I don't even know how to address Miller's apparent fetish with humungous shoes.) However, I have to admit that I want to pick up the next issue. To find any work in the superhero medium so original and deeply unsettling is, in the end, a compliment.

1 out of 5 stars

A Bizarre, Disappointing Rehash January 16, 2005
55 out of 79 found this review helpful

One and a half stars, to be fair. *The Dark Knight Strikes Again* does contain some promising passages and, at the very least, is an experimental turn for Frank Miller concerning the evolution of his artwork. But as a whole this book is a massive disappointment, suffering from a re-iteration of themes already fully developed by its predecessor, an often sloppy and quite bizarre approach to the visuals, and the overall impression of a loosely coagulated collection of ideas churned out to sell - for this graphic novel adds nothing to the re-inventive mythos Miller helped pioneer in *The Dark Knight Returns:* if anything, *TDKSA* is a baffling stain upon that magnificent vision.

Now, I should admit that the DC universe never held much appeal for me - `Make Mine Marvel' was the slogan I adhered to in my early-teen comic collecting (late 80's) - so take the following words with a grain of salt. To wit: DC's collection of hoary uber-heroes and melodramatic visual sense, coupled with a lengthy, confusing and not-at-all consistent history, crossed my threshold of pulp-endurance, even as a pubescent wish-fulfillment consumer. The more realistic xenophobe motifs of the X-men (Claremont-era) and the psychological Jeckle-and-Hyde persona of the Hulk easily put the shallow dichotomy of Clark Kent/Superman to shame - utilizing constant McGuffins to give conflict to an immortal cheapens the overall construct and tellingly reveals the inherent weakness of the `power-gamer' ideal. But Batman, despite his somewhat ridiculous costume, was the obvious exception to DC's horde of peacocks and powermongers - lacking alien DNA or divine intervention, Bruce Wayne was forced to rely only on skill and smarts to conquer his opponents; and, most importantly, he was driven by demons that could never truly be appeased. Batman was, to me, the Genzu-edged outcast to Superman's butter knife ubiquity, the Dark Knight of palpable angst.

Thus was I attracted to Frank Miller's revision of this classic superhero in *The Dark Knight Returns,* a book true-to-form to the character's history, yet startlingly modern, with comments on late-80's Reagan-spin and the general aura of paranoia and excess that dominated that decade. Moreover it was powerfully written and drafted, and rightfully became an instant classic of illustrated literature. It still holds up today. So when I (belatedly) learned of this follow-up, *The Dark Knight Strikes Again,* I purchased it without consulting the current opinion-bank of the internet - to my regret.

*TDKSA* starts promisingly. A welter of images crowd the first couple pages, with Batman narrating the decline of world affairs while media-memes ply to consumer needs and totalitarian slogans are announced from the current Head of State. "Where are our heroes?" Jimmy Olsen nervously demands, addressing the prevalent concern of our 21st century mass-consciousness. Yes, promising stuff - but the decline begins almost immediately after, and I pinpoint the artwork as its cause. Miller employs a neo-manga garnish to his typical artistic technique, and the affectation of it gives the book, as a whole, a distancing effect; it's surreal and occasionally beautiful stuff, taken individually, but the overall impression is one of detachment - of the reader being consciously and constantly removed from the action and events and, eventually, the underlying storyarc.

It doesn't help that, as the graphic novel progresses, the feeling of `been there, done that' increases exponentially. Miller ended *The Dark Knight Returns* on a graceful, poignant note, a near-perfect conclusion to the lifework of Bruce Wayne. In *TDKSA* we are presented with the same conflicts, the same struggles and character-arcs, and the whole affair begins to reek of a rehashing - and a vastly inferior rehash at that. Batman fights Superman again. Batman battles the bitter draught of time, so as to complete his mission. The earth's champions are persecuted/blackmailed into helping the devious antagonists. All of this was done before, and better. Moreover, Batman's general absence in favor of the whole DC titan-squad (Wonder Woman, the Flash, Shazam etc.) limits any growth or insight into the central figure supposedly driving the plot; perhaps this is a good thing, as Miller seems incapable of exploring or expanding Batman's psyche in the few panels where he does make an appearance. It can be argued that the author doesn't need to, for he did a more than proficient job in the first volume, but this leaves us with the inescapable realization that, since it was done so well in the original story, why does there need to be a sequel at all? (...Aside from the obvious monetary benefit).

I'm borderline on the artistic approach, as well. The computer-assisted background design is interesting and generally successful, and the inking is some of Lynn Varley's best work to date, but often it feels like candy-coating a turd (please pardon the grotesque metaphor) - Millar's draftsmanship comes off sloppy and hurried, worse even than the direst passages of *Ronin.* And the delicate juxtaposition between manga surrealism and detail-oriented panels is shaky at best and jarring more often than not.

Finally, and most damning of all, the book as a whole feels skin-deep. A number of interesting themes are introduced, usually off-the-cuff, and abandoned in a likewise manner - a frustrating flaw that, when put in context to the bizarrely unsuccessful artwork and general rehashing of *The Dark Knight*, make this the least of Frank Miller's oeuvre to date.

Fans of the original should avoid at all cost - especially considering the $20 charged for this uninspired mediocrity.

5 out of 5 stars

Rage, rage!--against the Dying of the Light November 29, 2005
16 out of 24 found this review helpful

The Batman is Dead!

So it begins with Frank Miller's latest exegesis into the infernal, night-gaunt machinations of Gotham's great Detective: the Black Prince, the Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne, billionaire socialite turned night-stalking Vigilante. Rebel, anarchist, crypto-fascist, psychopath, Terror that stalketh by Night.

The Batman. RIP, no less.

Anyway, when "Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again" lurches into garish, gory life, the Great Detective is no more: hounded to earth by the Feds, hunted as an unsanctioned rogue, scourged from the streets of the City he defended, cleansed, purified, ruled by Terror and Justice. Heart exploded.

Vicki Vale writes up his society page epitaph, which means The Batman's death must be real: former Commissioner Gordon sputtering about how the City itself murdered Bruce Wayne, the Penguin blubbering, Selina Kyle telling Gordon to 'preach it', the Mayor, grabbing for a barf bag, bolting for the door.

But what, really, is Death? If you're a bat, a creature of the Night and Justice and Vengeance, a scorned Rebel Angel, buried deep, waiting and plotting?

DK2 is just plain twisted, warped, wonderful sick brilliance. Some---fans of the original Frank Miller masterpiece, even---have hurled acid barbs at this psychedelic little act of defiant genius, and declared it a contradiction of the Dark Knight Returns's neo-Gothic darkness.

Get serious.

Next to this little kaleidoscopic funhouse of Hell and High Water, "Dark Knight Returns" is a Boy Scout Jamboree. The Dark Knight Returns---don't get me wrong, a brilliant, wicked-lean piece of work---was an epic of pure, aged, smoldering Rage: Rage at a City whose works were rotten and clogged with Crime. Rage against the Predators tearing the flesh of the Innocent.

But this: this, my friends, is a work of Pure Madness. It's something like---the Dark Knight Ends the World. No Deus ex Machina here---just pure Deus Ex.

But let's back up for a second and talk about the vision: let's say you're Frank Miller. You---more than anything that came before---are pretty much single-handedly responsible for bringing The Batman back to life. So whaddya do for the second outing? More of the same?

Not if you're Frank Miller. You go a little mad: you take risks. You retain colorist Lynn Varley, and you unleash a kind of psychotic aurora borealis of color into your pages, the darkness struck through with screeching greens, purples, reds, the colors of Armaggedon. And you spike this new world with the underpinnings of the Last Days: The Batman striking from Hell's Dark Heart at the Criminal Rulers of a not-so-Brave New World.

So in a nutshell: it has been 10 long years since anything has been heard of the Dark Knight---and then, suddenly, his epitaph. Alfred's grave grows thick with weeds: his former Robin, Carrie Kelley, has doffed the cap and elf-boots and taken up the mantle of Catgirl. Crime is way down! Consumer confidence is way up! Democracy is on the March, batting down Evil-Doers and those who aren't "with us"! The Dow has spiked above 50,000!

The President talks about Morning in America, even though the clock is set at 1 minute 'til Midnight, and the President himself might very well be nothing more than a blip of cleverly-constructed CGI.

And so, the Detective's Plan: be careful, be quiet, be discreet. Work from the Tomb. Open up the cages on the pantheon of heroes: free The Human Atom, unleash the Flash (now in biker spandex!), let Plastic Man out of the carnivorous charnel house that is Arkham Asylum, break the Marxist Green Arrow out of Harley-Davidson reunion hell, and send a quark-broadcast greeting card to the Green Lantern, beat some sense (again) into Superman---and send 'em all right up the old exhaust port as a great big Middle Finger to the Powers that Be.

I'm not gonna tell you who *They* are. You'll guess soon enough. And that's not even the most interesting plot-point in DK2.

See: Batman has a stalker. Somebody is going around in drag as The Joker and slashing up the new superheroes. Positively *ruining* their old sh*t. Wanna know who?

I'm not telling: suffice it to say that it's remarkably disturbing. So much so that I'll wager not a single filmmaker---oustide of Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, and Frank Miller---has the cojones to put it up on screen. Too Dark. Scare away the kiddies. Sink the Box Office.

Anyway: ignore the haters---DK2 is a kiss on the back of your neck at midnight in a cemetery. It's an insanely gorgeous, succulent, sumptuous feast for Batman freaks. It's not for everybody: the art---mostly grotesque, constantly freakish, reminiscent of Bill Sienkiewicz's way of making the putrid and chaotic manifest on paper way back in Elektra---might prove to be a real bar for you.

It's also, I think, a deeply personal work of Art: full of Rage, bloated like a spider's adomen with poison, Anger, Hatred for the hypocrisy that wraps its dirty, rotten, stinking, seeping self in the Flag these days. It might be insane, and it almost certainly has an evil grin and carries a gas can.

Dylan Thomas wrote that Old Age should burn and rave at close of day: the Dark Knight sees his bet and raises the old Welsh hoss---in spades.

Long live the Batman!

JSG

1 out of 5 stars

Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen... December 21, 2002
15 out of 18 found this review helpful

I used to be a hardcore fan of Frank Miller. I mean, growing up through the 80's and 90's, I would just buy anything with the guy's name on it cause you could always trust that it would be great. Longtime comix fans know what I'm talking about. You didn't even have to flip through the pages of a new Frank Miller book at the store to see if it was worth buying. You could just bank on it. A new Frank Miller book was ALWAYS worth buying. Great writing. Great, powerful artwork. He was a modern master of the form. For years and years, this was true. But... the first time I remember thinking "Ooo, Frank - You dropped the ball on this one." Was about halfway through his book "That Yellow Bastard", around 1995 or 96. The artwork looked rushed and hacked-out. Since then, the quality of his work has only continued to decline. It is to the point where I can no longer justify spending my money on his material. I am convinced that the man has either developed a serious alcohol/substance abuse problem, or he just doesn't care about the quality of his work (or entertaining his readers) anymore. There's just no other explanation. If you think I am being unfair, go back and compare the artwork in "To Hell and Back" with the artwork in the first "Sin City" novel. Talk about your stylistic inconsistencies. It's impossible to believe that this is even the work of the same man. Well, "The Dark Knight Strikes Again" is, for me, the final straw. Look at it. It's a mess. Can you imagine a newcomer to the comics field turning material like this in to their editor? They would never work again. I'm guessing the only reason DC Comics went ahead and published "DKSA" is because they know it will sell based on Miller's (and Batman's) name value, and because they had to make back the money they paid Miller to do this job. Sorry to be so blunt, but as a professional illustrator myself, I can recognize the difference between the work of an artist trying out a zany, experimental new style, and someone who just slopped something out to get it done and over with. This is clearly an example of the latter. Frank, if it's health problems, please try and take better care of yourself. And if you are just bored or sick of writing and drawing comics, please get over it or retire. This is unacceptable.

3 out of 5 stars

An entertaining book, but not as good as the original. December 12, 2001
13 out of 16 found this review helpful

When Frank Miller unleashed The Dark Knight 15 years ago, he took the world by storm with his nihilistic view of Batman and Gotham City. The World's media took notice, and Comic Books were thrust into the Mainstream of American culture.

The Comic industry isn't in such great shape right now, so it's only appropriate that Miller revisit The Dark Knight. (Except The Dark Knight makes barely a cameo appearance in the first book, but that's neither here nor there.)

The story in the first issue mainly concerns Carrie Kelly, the young female Robin from The Dark Knight Returns, now known as Catgirl, as she leads a team of young Batmen in a quest to free a group of Imprisoned heroes. (I won't spoil their identities; that's half the fun.) Miller keeps Batman under wraps until the end, and whan he finally makes his grand entrance, it's very impressive.

The problems I had with the book are mainly artistic: The original Dark Knight was lushly illustrated by Miller; the smallest background nuance was lovingly rendered. The Dark Knight Strikes Again has little more than character art; It seemed like Miller wanted to give Lynn Varley a blank canvas to computer color, which I found kind of cheesy, to be honest. And on the writing front, faithful DC Comics fans will see the Lex Luthor twist coming a mile off....Frank, in the current DC Universe, Lex is the President of the United States! Making him the puppet-master of a hologram President isn't much of a shocking plot twist.

I don't know if this book isn't as good as the original, or if I'm just more mature than the 15 year-old that devoured the Dark Knight the first time around, or what...I just know that I kind of felt let down. The book was good, but nothing special. I'll stick around for the conclusion, though....I think Catgirl is the cat's meow.

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