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All-Star Batman and Robin etc. so and so Volume 1 Review, Part 2: Apparently, I Do Have Standards After All

by  in Comic News Comment
All-Star Batman and Robin etc. so and so Volume 1 Review, Part 2: Apparently, I Do Have Standards After All

So, I was flipping through my cherished copy of the ASSBAR hardcover, just trying to see if there were any scenes in there I hadn’t read about in the kind of detail normal folks read about starlets anatomy and indescretions, when I came across what may finally make me realize, “Hey, this Frank Miller guy, he’s not really writing things that confirm to my specific and rigid moral standards for fictional portrayls of women.” You can find out what it was that made me join the rest of the human race on that after the fold. There will be spoilers.

Yeah, so, I had to flip all the way to the issue where Joker has that bitchin’ yakuza tatoo on his back to find something I was not the least bit familiar with in this book. In the opening pages of the issue, the Joker’s in a bed room with a woman he’s just had sex with. Now, first off, Joker having sex with a woman? I thought gonzo Batman changed a lot between Year One and Dark Knight!

Anyway, she’s a crusading lawyer or something. She says she doesn’t usually do that sort of thing. Human females are kind of a mystery to me, seeing as how many do not visit me in my mom’s basement*, so I don’t know if this is realistic or not. I do have to assume, based on my limited experience, that most career women do not have one night stands with murderous, sociopathic clowns. In full clown make-up. At least Miller acknowledged how out of character that is. Give him points for that.

So, this lawyers just had sex with the Joker, and the light finally turns on in my head; Miller really does write all women as either filthy whores or saintly vigrins (okay, even I knew that one from the first 3 panels of a random Sin City trade. And I guess you have to give him a third female archetype, the bad ass dude with boobs, i.e. Elektra).

Shit, tangents. So, I’m already kind of bemused and skeeved out, and my standards allowed me to unabashedly enjoy DKSA and not care that Vickie Vale was running around in her underwear in the first issue the interent apparently literally read to me panel for panel three years ago. I have a high tolerance for Miller’s sleazier, more questionable stuff. Mainly because deep down, I am a fairly sleazy, questionable person, I think.

But, you know, it’s all fun and games until the Joker casually strangles a woman to death, and then tells his henchwoman, a Chyna-esque heavy with a flat top and Swastikas covering her breasts (holy recurring motif, Batman! He’s been using that since, what, Ronin?), to dispose of that trash, or something equally dismissive.

And now I feel like John Saxon in Enter the Dragon. That makes Miller Han. I have a line, man.

That said, between the fact that I’ve never entirely been able to get on the train of thought that any violence against women, at all, ever, is inherently misogynistic (the one that’s been part of the debate about this sort of thing since, what, Women in Refrigerators, and became real big once Identity Crisis made this sort of thing the new Spider-Man guest stars in the second issue of every new series in superhero comics trends); and the fact that Batman not only verbally abuses Hal Jordan but paints himself, Robin, and a room yellow and beats his ass down in the last issue of the collection; I have a feeling I may yet like this story. I don’t know if my reaction once I actually read the damn thing will be the same as my gut, knee jerk, “No, Frank, no! I used to be able to rationalize your trash, man! You dun gone too far!” outrage whilst flipping through it there.

So, yeah, I’m pretty much going to blog every reaction I have to this stupid vanity comic until I get bored with it or Cronin tells me to stop. Whichever comes first. React accordingly to that news, everyone!

P.S.- Thatrun on sentence that I made a paragraph? The one that could lingusitically choke a monkey? Blame that on Abhay. I’m sort of trying to write like him now. Not an excuse, just an explanation/confession of how much reading his stuff has warped my mind.

*I do not actually live in my mom’s basment. That is an absurd stereotype that does not describe my life at all. Mainly because I live at sea level, so it is physicially impossible to have one, unless you just want an underground pool. Which, given that it is like 175 degrees outside, is kind of appealing right now.

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