At first, I thought The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture was written by an individual who had sympathy for nerd culture, a person who recognized that underneath the flame wars and strange hobbies was an appreciation for a culture of imagination, innovation, and creativity. It is not. It is written by a reactionary snob, a culture warrior who wants to foist his idea of aesthetics and meaning onto the rest of the world. Glen Weldon comes across as a cultural “Karen” in this book. The Caped Crusade is well-researched and offers many valuable tid-bits, but once the comics industry is described as successful beyond the kiddie audience, Weldon’s bias gets more and more pronounced through the remainder of the book.
Initially, it seemed like the book’s history was lovingly crafted. Even when he cited evidence from earlier years that might support Fredric Wertham’s homoerotic notions of that Batman, he seemed to put such references to the side (at least, until he covers the definitively flamboyant Joel Schumacher film versions of the property). But before that portion of the book, Weldon hadn’t revealed his true colors. When Julie Schwartz was remaking DC Comics in 1965, I had reached a point where the few comics I bought were Marvel so that I could trade (as loans) with my friend who was so invested in Marvel that I remember riding with his family when they stopped at a drug store. He asked his Mom to get him any of the kind he liked from the spinner rack and she responded, “Yes, the one with the characters in the rectangle of the upper left corner.” So, I hadn’t realized that they had killed off Alfred Pennyworth with a boulder and brought in Aunt Harriet (p. 64). I thought television had done that in the next year.
Weldon weaves a compelling yarn about the early appearances in comics, as well as the most interesting (and fair) account of what ABC television was trying to do with the television series. I remember the excitement we all felt about the series because it was a comic book character, regardless of the campiness. The account in The Caped Crusade rings true, especially when television producer William Dozier said that television, “…is a merchanidizing medium not an entertainment medium.” (p. 89) I had never heard of the ABC premiere party where avant-garde artist Andy Warhol and pop artist Roy Lichtenstein seemed indifferent to the show, but loudly cheered a Corn Flakes commercial (p. 90). I also had never heard that it was the stunt double and not Adam West who sported the beer belly (p. 90n).
I was impressed with the Grant Morrison quotation on p. 102 about fans who wanted comics taken seriously: “These were teenagers who began to insist that comics could and should be for adults, mostly because they didn’t want to let go of their childhood and had to find a new way to sell its pleasures bak to themselves….” It certainly fits Weldon’s thesis that the fans who wanted the maturing of comics were the destroyers of the medium. Weldon gleefully expounds upon the circulation drop from 36 million total paid circulation of comic titles to the mid-20 millions by the end of 1969 (p. 103), but doesn’t seem to consider that this could have been a generational cycle or, more ominously, that the next generation might even read less [I’m not saying that this was the cause of the drop—just pointing out how Weldon has grasped the one-size fits all cause because it fits his thesis.]
But where the book really gets ugly for me is when Weldon makes Frank Miller’s Dark Knight Returns either the poster boy or master villain for what he disliked in comics. “Miller combines a penchant for Wagnerian bombast with a reductionist’s eye for form: this is Batman reduced to iconography.” (p. 133) Even while I think there is such a thing as too gritty and I have purposefully avoided seeing Superman vs. Batman and the third film of the Christopher Nolan trilogy, I still think Miller’s graphic novel was a masterpiece. Weldon did not: “This is Batman-as-inkblot, an endlessly interpretable figure who accepts the meanings projected onto him by authors and audience alike. He can uphold the status quo and violently overthrow it.” (p. 139) Then, after noting that Miller gave Batman an ending, making it a story more than an adventure, he undermined his own point by writing, “The nerds wanted adventures, but the normal wanted stories.” (p. 139) Yet, he has been arguing that Miller has given the nerds what they wanted (Yes, but he gave nerds and more what they wanted. I know lots of “normal” who didn’t like comics who truly savored Miller’s work, as well as Moore’s that came later.) Weldon didn’t like Dark Knight: Year One either, though he almost conflates Miller with the Marvel formula by noting: “Miller knew that a hero is least interesting when he is most effective.” (p. 143)
Weldon shows where his heart is when he waxes enthusiastically about the near-perfect Batman, Batman: The Animated Series, the only Batman product in the film/television medium that he felt truly succeeded in meeting the aesthetic of nerds and normal: “It’s more than a cartoon. It’s Schrodinger’s cat.” (p. 188) But he has to move on from there to deal with the abominations known as Batman Forever and Batman and Robin. The problem is largely found in Joel Schumacher’s attitude: “They’re called comic books, not tragic books.” (p. 189) They are called comic books and my relatives all called them funny books, even when they were full of war stories, horror stories, crime stories, and superhero stories. That doesn’t mean that they have to be “funny.” It also doesn’t mean that they have to be so strait-laced that even children know something is wrong. Weldon was right to refer to Superman as seeming like “…some kind of Mormon dinosaur.” (p. 191)
In all fairness, Weldon does observe the boom in comics in 1993 (11,000 comic shops ordering 48 million comics per month—p. 194). But these were the same dark comics that he earlier lamented as the cause of the decline in the late ‘60s to early ‘70s. He also looses all journalistic objectivity when he objects to the Warners people whoring out to McDonald’s. “To stay in the good graces of the corporation whose spokesclown pimped saturated fat to children like a whimsical chalk-faced avatar of arteriosclerosis, Warners promised that McDonald’s officials would be granted the ability to review the next film’s script before filming began.” (p. 198)
Let me note that I liked his line about Internet (now social media) interaction before we get back to considering Weldon’s knee-jerk biases. “It was discourse as RPG [role-playing game]. Users for whom face-to-face interaction proved trying or discombobulating could compose elegant, crystalline prose that elucidated their positions with cogent wit.” (p. 207) Well, that era of elegant, crystalline prose didn’t last long. In fact, like the “good old days” that people talk about, I don’t remember that era existing and I was on early user groups. I agree with the posturing as what you may not be as per an RPG, but the rest of the statement is suspect. I also loved his dismissal of the Batman & Robin film as featuring “Kabuki-like-emotionalism.” (p. 215) But from there, I hated the book.
The Miller follow-up to Dark Knight Returns (usually called DK2) gets even harsher treatment that the original DKR. “Miller’s story is a faint and thready signal that only too willfully gets lost in the visual noise: …” (p. 223) He then gets snarky at comic readers as a whole: “The old saw that any nerd’s favorite comics are whatever he or she was reading at age thirteen carries the weight of truth.” (p. 225) Well, I realize this is anecdotal evidence, but at 13 I was reading Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, The Mighty Thor, Sgt. Fury and the Howling Commandos, and the adventures of Sgt. Rock in Our Army at War. Today, my favorite comics are titles like Alan Moore’s Providence, Mark Waid’s Black Widow, The Shadow in both the Dark Horse and Dynamite incarnations, and Ed Brubaker’s The Fade-Out.
As for Weldon, he can’t even admit the success of Batman Begins without whining about Batman being the dark, brooding badass that nerds wanted and undermining some of the profound lines by wishing for a “moratorium on abstract nouns.” (p. 244) I did appreciate his recounting of the use of twenty fake websites laced with clues and games as a promotion for The Dark Knight movie (p. 248). As I noted earlier, I didn’t see the third movie of the trilogy. I didn’t like the Knightfall storyline (even though I read it in novel format) and thought Bane was too much. At first, I thought Weldon was piling on when he talked about the reactions to the Aurora shooting by writing, “Batman is a character who engages our darkest selves—the fear and violence we carry with us, the sudden desire for bloody vengeance that so easily seizes us…” (p. 257) but he goes on to say: “But though he lives in darkness, Batman is not of it. He was birthed in a senseless act of violence, but his mission, his life’s work, is to prevent such acts….” (p. 257).
But then, he immediately goes back to his verbal crucifixion of Frank Miller’s All-Star Batman & Robin: “…Miller’s narrative purpose, whatever it might be, never quite manages to rise above the background noise of his crazy macho bullshit.” (p. 266) Weldon seems much more enamored with Lego Batman than Miller’s Batman because Weldon is in love with Batman as “Idea.” (p. 285) Indeed, he even closes out the book with the idea of a cos-play Adam West Batman as being “perfect.” Suffice it to say, Glen Weldon is not my Batman critic.