Different eras, different concerns. I can't help but suspect that the modern-era comicbook would be particularly keen to extend and accentuate the jeopardy of the above scene in which the Batman takes control of the Earth-Two Catwoman's antique Pantherjet. In particular, the fraught process by which the Batman succeeds, and only just succeeds, in breaking into the plane's cockpit would surely be more than not emphasised. We'd have Batman only just managing to get a hand-hold on the Pantherjet as it sped past him; Batman hauling himself precariously onto a wing; Batman with gritted teeth smashing his way into the pilot's seat while the plane drops napalm on a great helpless congregation of late night shoppers, and so on. At the very least, a largely wordless two or three page sequence could be invested in the subject, and, in the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist, such a scene could undoubtedly be enthralling.
But the purpose of Alan Brennert's script for Interlude On Earth-Two is to provide a lean, taut story packed with plot, character and incident, rather than a spectacular shock or two laid down one next to the other in the hope that a story might spontaneously generate itself from all that potentially combustible material. As such, everything on the page is cut right to the bone, and the reader is often trusted to fill in the gaps for themselves between certain key plot points. Though Brennert and Aparo's story is a constantly involving and fast-moving story, it never dwells on the razzle-dazzle of events when the tale itself might be being furthered. Aparo's ability to select the most transparent and succinct image is essential to this process, and his panel's designs are often so clever and unshowy that they appear to be nothing noteworthy at all. Yet the second panel above deals with several challenges which would defeat many an artist. To show the Batman in the Pantherjet's cockpit at the same time as clearly show his destination too is in no way as easy a task as it looks. Achieving that clarity while retaining the urgency of the scene is no little achievement, and it's a far more complex business than simply adding a few speed lines. Particularly impressive is the way in which Aparo suggests that Batman is going to have to haul the jet round to the left, and swiftly too, in order to take out his target. Few artists are confident and competent enough in the basics of their storytelling to show a scene through a vehicle's windscreen from outside the craft concerned. Yet to have not done so would have significantly reduced the energy present in the shot. The same view from the Batman's point-of-view would have been far easier to pull off, and it would have allowed any detail-frenzied artist to concentrate on whatever gadgetry and lighting effects they might care to place on the Pantherjet's instrument board, but that wouldn't have served the story nearly as well. That Aparo's work is so clear and so successful in transmitting a sense of careering speed is a mark of how a fine comics artist can avoid shortcuts and distracting indulgences while increasing the clarity of their work.
The above is another example of a panel which appears to be, for all its clarity and effectiveness, an unremarkable example of storytelling. Yet it's to Mr Aparo's credit that the frame reads that way, for there's far more going on here than might seem apparent. There's;
- the red sun of the new dawn and the clear skies which reinforce the fact that Hugo Strange's menace has been defeated, meaning that the reader's reached the epilogue now.
- a reminder of the fact that the victory has been won at a cost, and that not every issue has yet been resolved, underscored by the reappearance of Starman, who's survived but at the cost of an injury which has left his arm in a sling.
- a wistful Batwoman discussing the fact that she has at least managed to find something of a measure of closure as regards her feelings for the long-dead Earth-Two Batman.
- Batman's thoughtful and as-yet unexplained smile, which foreshadows Bruce Wayne's untypically fond expression of emotion in the following frame.
Aparo's solution is to allocate all that information to four distinct planes within the frame. He begins by placing the rising and yet still partially obscured sun at the focal point of the panel in the scene's background, ensuring that that's the point that our eye will start to read this frame from. (The eye is always drawn to the Batman, as it should be: that's the last element in the story of this panel. But it's also always drawn back to that sunrise too.) Then Aparo presents his characters in a narrow, confined corridor of space described by two imaginary lines which would converge at a vanishing point situated just above Robin's head and just below the sun. This does give a sense of the characters being unnaturally cramped and cropped in the panel, with anything much below their shoulders being left unseen. Yet it allows all the information in the scene to be read as a narrative rather than as a collection of separate events. Instead of presenting a scene of different characters each with their own separate agendas, Aparo's choices lead the eye from the rear of the panel forwards, and that suggests to us that we're seeing different stages in a collective process of the coming to terms with grief. It's a progression which lends everything on show a sense of inter-connectedness and momentum, and rather than dwelling on events with in their isolation slow the narrative, Aparo's design carries us through them and onto the next frame of the story.
And if the predominance given to the head of Batman looks somewhat awkward when the panel is considered in isolation from its original context, you can note - above - that it works brilliantly with what follows. The first frame establishes Batman's presence, importance and expression, allowing the second to effectively feature the back of his head without seeming to deny us the presence of his facial expressions there. And although it might seem counter-intuitive to show Batman's fond kiss from such an angle, Aparo allows us to focus on Batwoman's surprise, as well as upon the contrast between how powerfully built Wayne is and how delicately and chastely he embraces Kathy Kane. His head is titled to the right so that it's angled away from Batwoman's, and his left hand is open rather than closed and clutching, meaning that we understand how uninvasive and unthreatening the gesture of this kiss is. It's as close to over-emotional and spontaneous as the Batman gets, and in that mixture of impulse and restraint, the panel expresses a terrific sense of tenderness and gratitude.
Alan Brennert's stories for DC were more often than not concerned with providing well-loved, and on occasion badly-treated, characters with appropriately touching final appearances. Whether it was the original Black Canary, Supergirl, the Earth-Two Batman and Catwoman, or even the countless billions of souls lost in Crisis In Infinite Earths, Brennert was always motivated to express his fondness for such doomed characters and, after the fashion of a fan as well as a creator, his respect for their fictional achievements. Four years before Interlude On Earth-Two was published, the Earth-One Batwoman had been shown having being unceremoniously murdered in a particularity brutal and dramatically facile fashion. Her life had not been celebrated in the story, and neither had her death been given any meaning at all beyond that of providing yet another victim for Batman to avenge. It's impossible not to see the above panel as marking Brennert's own farewell to the character, as well as his regret that the death of Batwoman in the mainstream continuity hadn't been undertaken with a touch more respect and purpose. Blessed with Mr Aparo as his collaborator, Brennert's farewell in Interlude On Earth-Two was made all the touching.
The Year In Comics Part 2. (The Batman from 1982's Brave And The Bold # 182)
The Year In Comics Part 1. (Robert Crumb's The Book Of Genesis Illustrated.)
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