PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological, metaphysical, psychological*
For all three of its seasons, the Cartoon Network series BATMAN:THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD served up a tongue-in-cheek version of Batman distinct from either the camp aesthetic of the 1966 show or the "noir swashbuckler" approach of the 1990s animated series. Indeed, in a Comics Alliance interview, producer James Tucker said, "We wanted to make it the show we watched when we were kids. Brave and the Bold is the show I thought I was watching as a kid. I didn't get all the jokes, so everything was deadly serious."
And yet, there's a lot of humor in BOLD. But it's the humor of the hipster-insider, who can gently mock the familiar tropes and yet still invest them with sincerity-- something the camp teleseries only did intermittently. Batman often makes wry comments about the absurdity of his own situations, in a way Adam West never would.
Of course, Adam West wasn't constantly encountering nearly every legacy character from DC Comics, from space aliens to quirky robots to mystical menaces from the long-dead past. The tongue-in-cheek approach allows the reader to credit that the relatively powerless Batman can navigate all of these situations, counter all these super-powerful threats, with nothing more than his wits, skills, and a handful of utility belt weapons.
Tucker and his fellow showrunners followed closely the template of DC"s "revolving teamup" title, THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD, which for most of its run focused on Batman having done-in-one crossovers with various DC characters. Thus there are almost no continued stories in BOLD, and only one or two continuous character arcs, like Batman playing mentor to new hero Blue Beetle. This discontinuous approach was the way the comic book game was played at DC Comics for roughly the company's first forty years, and significantly, most of the characters are adapted from the three "Comic Book Ages" during that era. But there's a strong attempt to emulate what many call the "Silver Age wackiness" of the 1960s, when the staid DC authors began to loosen up in an attempt to fight their competitors.
Only hardcore DC fans will appreciate the dissonance of having, say, Batman team up with western hero Jonah Hex to thwart the JLA-enemies, the Royal Flush Gang. Indeed, most of the episodes start with short teaser-vignettes like the one just mentioned, that have nothing to do with the main story of the episode. The teasers exist just to prepare the viewer for all the improbable character-and-concept collisions, whether they know DC history or not.
Most of the episodes are good, airy fun, eschewing any noir atmosphere for a Bat-aesthetic I've termed "Candyland Batman." In the same interview quoted above, Tucker also mentioned that they sought to make the action elements resemble Jack Kirby crossed with Dick Sprang. This was necessary because Sprang, one of the fan-favorite Bat-artists, was prized by DC not for fight choreography but for his fine illustration skills. Ironically, Kirby, despite having worked with DC at various times, was not the sort of fine artist DC editors usually desired. But his in-your-face dynamism certainly enlivens the comparative flatness of the Candyland aesthetic.
There are episodes in which the writers are just a bit too "twee" at times. In "Trials of the Demon," Batman time-travels back to Victorian England. He meets Sherlock Holmes, who immediately deduces that for the hero to dress in a Bat-costume, he must have suffered some terrible childhood trauma.
Some episodes are overstuffed with too many characters to cover up a repetitive plot, as with "Duel of the Double Crossers" and "Journey to the Center of the Bat." On the other hand, "Legends of the Dark Mite," in which the Caped Crusader must contend with the mischief of Bat-Mite, works because Bat-Mite is a manic Batman-fan. Thus when he conjures up a couple dozen weird Bat-villains from several decades, it's an indicator of his obsession. The episode also contains shout-outs to the 1940s Daffy Duck cartoon short, "The Great Piggy Bank Robbery."
That said, the only episode whose mythicity can be graded better than "fair" is "Mayhem is the Music Meister." The titular villain, voiced by Neil Patrick Harris, has the power to enslave anyone who hears his melodic singing (complete with instrumentals out of nowhere). In addition to enslaving Batman's allies Aquaman, Green Arrow, and Black Canary (but not Bats, who's prepared with earplugs), the Meister briefly makes use of such "favored villains" as Grodd, Clock King and Black Manta, and also busts a few dozen briefly seen Bat-foes out of prison. Yet in that case, what makes all the multifarious elements work together is the script's repertoire of differing styles of music, from ballads to show tunes to rock'n-roll. The music numbers are further enhanced by a rare romantic subplot, in which Black Canary pursues the Cowled Crusader, but ends up becoming entwined with Green Arrow (as per the relationship of the latter characters in the comics).
(I note in passing, though, that some fans were squicked out when Batman was also romantically pursued by The Huntress, who in this version was not related to the hero, but who in another iteration was the daughter of an alternate-Earth Batman.)
The show would keep the same basic format for two more seasons. Given its commitment to non-continuous episodes, it sometimes seems to me like a love letter to Batman editor Jack Schiff, who steered most of the Bat-comics for over twenty years, and who arguably promoted the idea of a "hero's rogue's gallery" more than any other DC editor of the Golden or Silver Ages.
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