Dave Wallace12 February 2012
Frank Miller's most celebrated work - 1986's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns - is widely regarded as a turning point for superhero comics. However, it's also such a significant milestone in the history of Batman that it has cast a long shadow over all subsequent interpretations of the character, in both the comics and the hit Hollywood movies. As a result, it's perhaps difficult for modern audiences to appreciate just how revolutionary it would have seemed at the time for Miller to adopt such a grim and gritty approach to the Dark Knight, compared to the lighter and more colourful visions of the character that preceded this story.
Luckily, however, the visceral, immediate quality of Miller's writing and the sophisticated effectiveness of his art ensure that the book is just as impressive today as it was 25 years ago.
People often cite "DKR" as a masterpiece of superhero deconstruction - and rightly so - but it's executed with such an obvious love and affection for the genre conventions that it's clear that Miller isn't trying to belittle the work of previous creators in the field. Rather, he's applying new standards of psychological realism and complexity, taking his examination of what makes a superhero tick to deeper, darker places than mainstream comic books had gone before him.
Miller is careful not to pick Batman's psyche apart too comprehensively, lest the entire edifice shatter and the writer have to face up to the fact that his protagonist is ultimately a grown man who chooses to run around in a grey-and-blue Bat-costume in his evenings. However, he gets under the hero's skin in new, innovative ways, giving us insight into Batman's thought processes in great detail, whilst also daring to allow compelling elements of self-doubt to creep in.
In casting an aged, 40-something Bruce Wayne in the title role, Miller removes the safety net of eternal youthfulness that can rob ongoing, episodic superhero series of any sense of jeopardy. The threats faced by this fallible Batman feel very real, and the relationship with his new (and female) sidekick, Robin, allows Miller to examine the sometimes-reckless actions of Bruce from a more grounded point of view. Even if the kind of maturity and complexity that Miller brings to his superheroics is more commonplace today than it might have been in 1986, the way in which Batman returns to his glory days, empowering himself to take on the world, is just as resonant.
To complain that DKR feels dated today due to its 1980s references and period detail is to ignore the bigger picture of Miller's story. In many ways, the story is just as relevant to recent history, with the bumbling, buffoonish President Reagan sacrificing freedom for security in his pursuance of an unwinnable war against domestic terrorism in a manner which would make more recent Presidential administrations proud. A key element of the story's plot is Bruce's growing political awareness, and an acknowledgement that the traditional superheroic manner of dealing with crime and criminals is ineffective and overly simplistic: that society's ills can't be cured with a fistfight and a smug one-liner. It may be territory which has been covered by other books since, but it's never been integrated as flawlessly with the action and spectacle as it is here.
In addition to the political elements, Miller introduces a lot of subtle social commentary and media satire, parodying the over-simplified, dumbed-down soundbite culture and the hollow cult of celebrity in a manner which now seems more pertinent than ever. Miller's decision to accomplish lengthy exposition through TV newsreaders and talk-shows gives him a perfect window on the world through which he can make some pointed comments about the world, rooting Batman in a reality that we can relate to and showing why Miller feels that society is broken. The creation of an impenetrable slang for the Gotham gangs and the youthful malevolence of many of his thuggish criminals ("A killer who isn't even old enough to shave") successfully creates a chilling threat which feels more like a portentous warning that a mere complaint about the state of the world today. DKR is undeniably a product of its times, but it's also an acute critique of 1980s society, and it's quite worrying to see how accurate Miller's dystopian predictions have turned out to be, 25 years down the line.
The artwork shows a massive leap forwards from Frank Miller's earlier work, an evolution which is as much due to the sophisticated delicacy of Lynn Varley's colours as it is the change in Miller and inker Klaus Janson's linework. Working to a fairly strict layout of 16 panels per page, Miller's pacing is perfect: the storytelling is dense and fast-moving when it needs to be, but occasionally slows right down to examine key dramatic plot points in great detail. The imagery of Miller's story has come to define the character ever since, such as the stark manner in which the murder of Bruce's parents is presented, or the fearful darkness of his childhood fall into the Batcave. (Check out Christopher Nolan's "Batman Begins" movie for evidence of just how influential these sequences have been).
There are more iconic moments in this single story than most creators could hope to achieve in a lifetime - and whether it's the early rebirth of Batman (baptised in a thunderstorm), the grim final scene featuring the Joker, the first appearance of the batmobile, Batman's showdown (and subsequent rematch) with the mutant leader, Superman's survival of a nuclear explosion as he drains the earth of its solar power, or the climactic showdown between Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent in Crime Alley, the power of Miller's storytelling is inescapable. If you've never read the story before, ignore the few detractors who claim that the book only has worth as a product of its time and get hold of it at the earliest opportunity. And if you're already familiar with the book, it's time for another read of a miniseries which only seems to improve with age.
