[METAPOST] This can no longer be ignored.

If you aren't watching "The Cape", you should be.

I don't mean "you" universally. I mean "you" as in "you people who keep reading this blog".

The Cape is a show on NBC about a costumed figure with no special powers (other than his escape-artist training and the eponymous nifty gadget), fighting against a deranged supervillain and a gaggle of oddities in a baroque city. It is uniformly terrible. But it is also the closest thing to the Batman comics covered here at Batman Completion that I've seen in quite a while.

There are some dissimilarities in the plots, but what strikes me most about it is the same mix of tones and genres that I once referred to in Batman comics as the "Batamari", a rolling, sticky metaphorical clump of culture, images and styles that get remixed and appropriated into the comic. That's really just another way of saying that early Batman has a really, really wide range of stories it can tell and ways it can tell them, such that the same comic can do a story where Batman fights a dragon inside a book of fairytales AND a social realist/gangster tragedy about two Gothamites whose lives tread parallel paths, one good, one evil. It can encompass gangsters, the gothic, propagandistic anti-Nazi stories, the utterly silly, the murder mystery...

I see the same things in The Cape, which has so far mixed in family melodrama, childhood nostalgia, foreign assassins, mysticism, conspiracy theories, an evil circus, a costume party on a runaway train, Tom Noonan, of course superheroes, and so on. It veers wildly in tone from scene to scene and episode to episode, and you never know quite what you're going to get when you tune in.

It is terrible, mostly because something that schizophrenic is really, really hard to pull off, and the writers (and most of the actors) are not even close to being capable of succeeding at it. At its worst, the show is insipid, but at its best, it's a loopy kind of crazy that's impossible not to watch. It is, perhaps, more fun to mock afterwards (I particularly enjoy reading the AV Club's reviews). Nothing wrong with that, of course.

I don't think it's suited for today's viewers, though. Even if it were a better executed show, the concepts are just too ridiculous and too varied to hold an audience. I think these days we're used to more "niche" entertainment--you don't really get the kind of Charles Dickens, all-in-one stories these days. Invent Batman today, and it wouldn't work at all.

Anyway, the Cape's already canceled, and there will only ever be ten episodes of it, eight of which have already aired. But if you like what you've read here, I urge you to check it out before it vanishes. At the very least, play the drinking game. (That's one shot every time somebody says "the cape". I am not responsible for any alcohol poisoning that may occur.)

[Comics]: Batman #7, "The Trouble Trap"

Publication date: October/November, 1941
Author: Bob Kane

[Meta-note: Today's post is extra, and is bought and paid for via the generous donations of Martin, Steven, and Brenton! Thanks for your support!

And now, your irregularly scheduled post.]

--

Today's issue features the most generic and boring lead-in I could possibly imagine. This applies to every single Batman story I've covered to date. Check it out:

"Once again the mighty Batman and his laughing young aide Robin go forth on a chance trail and cross the path of a master criminal. Out of a strange medley of adventures, the Batman and Robin find the proof of an ugly and vicious racket that involves innocent men and women! With their usual disregard of danger to themselves, the Dynamic Duo ferrets out this evil crime-master and brings an end to the strange tale of 'The Trouble Trap!'"


And so, in my hedonistic search for entertainment within the pages of this ancient comic book, like the wealthy courtesans of old, I turn to innovation in an attempt to make the old new again.

So today we begin at the end!

We've already got a moral! And interesting questions. Is that nurse Batman's girlfriend, Linda? Did homework and respect really save the day, or was punching involved? Let's find out!

Earlier, Gordon apprehends the villain's henchmen, still tied up, presumably from an earlier battle, and explains what's been going on: apparently the villain has been hypnotizing people, asking them to reveal their secrets, and recording the results, to use as blackmail against the victims. The villain, by the way, is distinguished solely by his headgear, a turban, and his name, Granda, which I keep reading as Grandpa. Do we ever find out about Bruce's grandparents? Who's to say his grandfather isn't a vaguely Middle Eastern-looking evil hypnotist?

Anyway, what I want to know is, if Granda is blackmailing people for money, why doesn't he just hypnotize them and ask for their banking information? Hopefully we'll find an answer.

Like most Batman villains, Granda is taken out with one punch, following a car chase that is nicely drawn:

Lovely panel. Batman's car is tiny within the frame, but centered and pointed to by the symmetry of all the other elements--the bridge, the trees, the clouds, all drawing your eye to the center. Making this a "wide shot" means your eye takes longer to look through the picture, which in turn elongates the moment of weightlessness.

Since Batman takes Granda out easily once he catches up to him (diving through the window, fist-first? It's a little unclear), Granda must have had some way of slowing him down. What could it have been?

Part of the answer is readily apparent--once again, Batman declines to use the Batmobile, instead jumping into a green police car. Since all GCPD cars are required by city law to be slower than popular getaway vehicles (the Give Crooks a Fair Chance Act of 1935), it's no wonder the chase takes them all the way to the edge of town, where there is apparently a river or something. Gotham geography is still really loose at this point, and I'm not sure when (if ever) DC bothers to pin it down. I'm sure there's a map somewhere.

Anyway, the chase is set off when Granda, cornered, throws himself out a window:

"Not yet, you haven't!"

Batman, moments earlier: "Hah! I bet Robin you'd never throw yourself out of a window, and I've won!"

Silly Granda! No use escaping, your capture is pre-ordained! We've seen it!

Just prior to that, a tense stand-off. Gordon's men arrive to rescue Batman from Granda, whose thug has our hero at gunpoint. "Stand where you are, Batman! A bullet will end your life!" Oh, no shit.

Granda appears to have the upper hand, even though his giant sumo-wrestler-shaped henchman was just defeated by a small boy wearing no pants.

David said to the Philistine, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Batman Almighty, the God of the armies of Gotham, whom you have defied."

The big guy actually did have a sword, but dropped it when Robin used the crystal ball to reflect a bright light into his eyes. It just goes to show you, always do your homework and respect others! No, wait, that's nonsense.

Apparently there were two "Hindu giants" armed with swords, summoned when a cornered Granda pressed the secret "summon the two Hindu giants" button on the floor. Does Hinduism allow for stabbing Batmen and small children? Or working for somebody who is clearly an evil hypnotist? Either way I am amused by Granda holding them back in reserve. Were they just doing yoga in the other room? Did Granda really expect to have a good chance of taking out Batman, and so told his giant henchman to hang back, he's got this? I thought evil hypnotists were supposed to be smart!

I think we all know where this is going. Literally.

Uh-oh. This doesn't bode well. So far Granda's decisions have been questionable at best, and apparently he's about to get dumber...

Earlier, Batman was in another one of his ridiculously perfect disguises. Usually they strain credulity, because I can buy makeup, but a wig hiding Batman's pointy cowl is a stretch too far. This issue addresses my concerns nicely--not only did Batman turn the lights out in order to change (so I can pretend he had his whole costume folded up really really tiny inside his pocket), but in his disguise, "Joe", he wears a hat:

"On the one hand, it's going to be really awkward if I have to keep holding my girlfriend while this dude stabs her to death. On the other hand, my ninja thespian training demands that I not break character. Rock and a hard place!"

Why haven't the police arrived yet? For no discernable reason, they get into a huge head-on collision with a random other car. Without even checking on the occupants of the other car, Gordon and his cops dust themselves off and get going. Yet another narrative contrivance to ensure that this easy-to-defeat villain gets the deck stacked in his favor long enough for a fist fight and a car chase.

Meanwhile, while Granda threatens to stab Linda Page with his pointy, pointy beard--

Look at that thing! It's dangerous and majestic, like a lion with a gun.

--Robin is calling Gordon for help on what are clearly two fake phones connected by string:

Robin: "Commissioner! Granda's kidnapped Linda Page! And the treehouse is almost out of Oreos!"

Gordon: "Son of a bitch!"

How did our heroes let this kidnapping come to pass? As it turns out (or whatever the backwards version of that phrase is--as it were?), this was all part of their plan. Having captured the two of Granda's goons on their way to deliver the captive Linda, Batman decides to use makeup to impersonate one of them and sneak right in under Granda's nose. That part of the plan? That makes sense to me. The part where, instead of punching, he was going to sit back and wait for the police to arrive? Yeah, what? Since when does Batman need the police to do his crime fighting? I mean, we're talking about a man who strikes fear into the hearts of all criminals, which brings us to the best panel I've found in a long time:

Try not to think about this the next time you're driving alone at night.

So why do they have Linda Page in the first place? Apparently Granda has noticed what Linda's been totally blind to: that she bumps into Batman way too often for coincidence. Convinced she knows something he can use to get back at the Bat (who I'm assuming has already interfered with his master plan to hypnotize fashion icons and convince them that turbans are nouveau chique), Granda sends Joe to kidnap Ms. Page.

(His plan once he gets her, by the way, is "Twist her arms until she decides to talk." Dude! You're a hypnotist! As villains go, this guy sucks. He's not strong. He's not smart. He has one power, and he doesn't use it to his advantage. Other than the beard-blade, he's not even visually interesting. What a gyp.)

Earlier, Batman overhears Granda's kidnapping plan:

Note that Batman is actually leaning on a word bubble for support.

Wait a minute, who's "this mugg"? He's a generic crook in a brown suit and fedora, asking Granda the Mystic to look into his crystal ball and determine how to get rid of the Batman--or so it seems. In actuality, he is Batman, once again using makeup to disguise himself. Now I understand why Batman is reluctant to punch Granda--he's not interested in bringing the man to justice at all! He just wants to screw with him, becoming more and more fake people until Granda realizes he's living "The Truman Show." I'm pretty sure the sensation that you're being watched and that everyone you know is secretly Batman is in the DSM-IV. What a nightmare.

This wasn't Batman's first idea; he started off with a different plan, resulting in Commissioner Gordon showing up to Granda's place, looking for evidence of blackmail (he doesn't find any). Batman is apparently operating on behalf of this guy:

"If I wanted to do that, Batman, I would have had my butler call them myself!"

Dwyer, the man in the panel above, explains: He was at a society party, watching the Maid Races, like any other night, when somebody suggested that they all visit Granda the Mystic:

"What do you see there, in the crystal?"

"I see... I see... Aha! It's some douchebag in a blue suit."

As you can see, Granda's hypnotic abilities aren't spiritual in nature; they're probably not even due to him. Clearly it's his "incense", aka hallucinogens. No surprise, then, that Dwyer goes under and blabs about some embarrassing escapade he had in college. "It was a harmless prank then. Newspapers would play it up if they heard of it!" Yeah, right. Nothing harmless happens at college. It's all date rape, coke, and frat parties.

Anyway, Granda shows up later with a record (that's like an album--like a big black CD, with grooves--I mean, it's like if you took an iPod and... oh, never mind), a recording of the hypnotized Dwyer spilling his dirty, shameful secret. (I bet he was in an 'a capella' group.) Granda demands money in exchange for the recording. At his wits end, Dwyer turns to--the bottle. And that's where Batman finds him.

Batman, meanwhile, is hips-deep in a mystery. What connection could there be, he wonders, between "a swami, a hoodlum, a murdered man, two giant Hindus and Carl Dwyer?" (Answer: "I think I know, Brain, but where are we going to find a llama at such short notice?") We already know the connection; but I want to know how Batman came into contact with all these people.

Before Batman talks to Dwyer, he follows a hoodlum from Dwyer's place to Granda's. Earlier, Batman observed Dwyer paying the hoodlum off for a record. But why was he watching Dwyer's house in the first place?

God, that's pretty. Minimalist Batman, and framed nicely too by the doors. Has there ever been a Batman comic in this sort of style?

The clock ticks back from eight at night to that morning, when Bruce visits his old friend, Dwyer. Carl is worried, and it's easy to guess why: he's visited while Bruce is there by a thug, coming to collect. Dwyer begs off until eight that night. Meanwhile, Bruce recognizes the thug as a killer he ran into the previous night, and so vows to return, caped and cowled, to Dwyer's home to watch the payoff.

Finally we get around to explaining the moral of this story. Turns out the moral isn't actually "do your homework"; that was just Bruce being a dick. Before he heads out to visit Dwyer that morning:

Bruce Wayne: Model Parent.

The previous night, Bruce and Robin flee the scene of a murder. A man named Henry Abbot lies face down in the street. Bruce checks his pockets and finds evidence that Abbot's been withdrawing large sums of money at regular intervals lately. (Plus twenty bucks. What? It's not like the dead guy needs it.) Our heroes hightail it out of there to avoid coming into contact with the police. Yes, the police that both of them will separately call into the case. Those police.

Before the real killers make their getaway in a big ol' truck, Batman and Robin tussle with the two giant Hindus. The giants choke our heroes half to death before Batman is able to toss off some gas pellets. It's funny how Batman never uses gas in modern stories, leaving that to be iconically identified with several of his major villains--Joker's toxic gas, Scarecrow's fear gas, and so on. In fact, overall, these first few years have very few Bat-gadgets at all. Most of it's chemistry, punching, and puns. I think a few gadgets would have helped Batman's self-esteem in moments like this:

"Holy cats!" cries Robin. "That is one ugly-ass awning!"

Batman and Robin meet the giants while beating up two gunmen, who have shot and killed a man. And here we are at the beginning:

They watch--and act! Not, you know, fast enough to save the guy. Can't win 'em all, I guess.

Well, that was a fascinating experiment. Sometimes looking at something backwards can show you it in an entirely new light. (Why yes, I am reading "Time's Arrow" right now. Why do you ask?) I found a lot of interesting ideas, particularly the inexplicably missed connections, like the fact that Batman has two random entries into the case, when the second one (Dwyer) is the main plot and would have sufficed. I assume the opening is in there just to conform to the "every story has to start with an action sequence" rule. And I suppose it makes Granda slightly more of a threat, so that he's not just a blackmailer.

There were also a lot of setups that didn't payoff, which I might not have noticed had I read this front to back. Granda not using his hypnosis, Batman and Robin calling the cops in for no good reason, the dead guy from the beginning only getting mentioned again in passing at the end, when Gordon tells Batman that Granda's men confessed to the murder of the victim, who was another blackmailed client about to spill the beans.

And then of course there was the fun of reading the entire story, wondering how "doing your homework" was going to get Batman and Robin out of this one. Well played, Mr. Wayne. Well played.

[Comics]: Batman #7, [untitled]

Publication date: October/November 1941
Author: Bob Kane

Every Joker story ends with a "death", and every one since the first begins with a resurrection. It's like the old serial cliffhangers--they're very strict about going back and showing you how the Joker survived his last defeat without "cheating." If they didn't do this, the stories wouldn't have the same sense of consequence.

When we last saw the Joker, back in Batman #5, Robin threw him off a lighthouse into the icy waters of a turbulent sea. But how did he survive? Well...

Uh...

QUICK LOOK OVER THERE!

Spelling your name backwards as an impenetrable pseudonym? Fool me once....

So anyway the Joker's back in town. And alive. I mean of course he's alive, he always was. There was never any question about that. *cough*

So anyway, a number of practical jokers turn up at "Rekoj"'s office. He weeds out the losers ("I pull hats down around other people's eyes!") and keeps the ones whose pranks are "really harmful", as the narration characterizes them. This would make a good reality show, I think, especially the part that comes next, where Joker asks them all to pick up certain objects on a table:

"Don't bother to verify any of this! Take me at my word!"

And they do take him at his word, even though he looks as if Harry Roat moved from Scarsdale to Gotham in his old age. They believe him even after he removes the makeup, going from "meglomaniacal Colonel Sanders" crazy to full-on "psychopathic clown" crazy, and offers them the amusing choice of working for him (and earning money) or going to jail. "Perhaps death!" he adds cheerfully. The pranksters complain he's not giving them enough choice but I count three right there. Quit whining, pranksters.

So what is Joker's plan for these unfortunates? Why, they're to be back-up singers in his doo-wop band! It's a measure of how crazy these Joker plots can get that you probably rolled with that one. The weird thing about Joker as a character is that the writers allow him to have more important storylines than anyone else--he affects the city, the police, the politics, the people, our heroes, etc., he gets the hints toward legacy and looks back to the past (as the longest running continuous villain, Joker stories tend to take the pulse of whatever's going on in the comic as a whole), and so on... but sometimes he's just another silly Batman crook. I'd argue that the best Joker stories are both--deeper and more interesting than the rest, but still endearingly goofy.

At any rate, Joker starts out small with his gang of pet practical jokers. A few false alarms called into the fire department, switching the cold and hot taps in peoples' showers, tossing counterfeit money into the crowd at a bank--

"Coked-out Groucho Marx is right! This money is fake!"

Apparently Joker plans to get the pranksters "hooked" with these early jokes--they're like gateway pranks or something, and now they're all ready to move on to harder stuff, like carnage and murder. I'm not even sure heroin can do that, let alone an afternoon spent prank calling. And what's Joker's end-game here, anyway? If he's coming up for the ideas for the pranks, why doesn't he just order around some generic goons as usual? If he wants independent actors, that goes against his previous reputation for inventing effective, dementedly clever schemes of his own. I suppose we'll find out.

The next "pranks" cross the line between Improv Everywhere and random, objective-less terrorism: causing auto wrecks by taking down "one way street" signs; shunting a train onto the wrong track, leading to another collision...

"Looks like I picked the wrong month to let my malpractice insurance payments slide. Alright, nurse, I need a rug, some duct tape, and a ride to the dumpster behind Burger Towne, stat. ...no, the ugly rug."

Step 2 of the Joker's plan to do... something or other... is dropping leaflets across Gotham! No "this is the Zodiac speaking" letter-to-the-editor bullshit for the Clown Prince of Crime--no, this is New Media, bitches. (Well, newer.) In the equivalent of a city-wide Tweet, Joker sez:

Ha-ha! I'm responsible for the practical jokes that you have been the victim of lately. I laugh at you, and I laugh at the blundering police who will be unable to stop me from stealing a valuable gem! I laugh at the Batman, who will also try to stop me!

-The Joker

(A little on-the-nose, perhaps, but nobody ever excused Clowny McMurderface of being subtle.)

Soon, Bruce is hanging out in Commissioner Gordon's office, commiserating with him over the insults, when one Henry Verne walks in with another Joker note, this one informing him that his giant diamond is soon to be re-possessed. Gordon decides this is the perfect opportunity to set a trap, apparently forgetting that the Joker has already pulled this trick before, in his very first appearance--namely, the jewel has already been stolen and replaced with a fake. Unfortunately, Gotham City bylaws require all police officers to refrain from reading the script. That's what they need Batman for.

"A date?" thought Robin. "When did this happen? Is there something Bruce isn't telling me?" His brow furrowed with uncertainty.

"Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have stopped at Burger Towne on the way over!"

(Also note that these poor cops appear to have boneitis, in addition to their Joker grins.)

No time to lose! Batman bursts through the front door with a jaunty "H'ya, funnyman!" only to find the Joker holding Henry Verne at gunpoint. All this was apparently just to lure Batman to him, though, for a surreal little joke:

It doesn't really matter, Batman. Either way the only answer is to punch clowns until your fists can't punch no more.

Batman and Robin discover that these Jokers are just goons wearing masks. Meanwhile, the real Joker is across town, stealing an entirely different jewel from an entirely different person. A clever bit of misdirection--almost as effective as just not telling people about your crimes! But of course the point for the Joker isn't the jewel, it's validating his own arrogance.

Meanwhile, back at the increasingly clown-filled ranch, our heroes are tragically overwhelmed by the sheer mass of purple-suited pugilists. Luckily the horde is under orders to keep our heroes alive, so that Joker can laugh at them. Batman and Robin come to a few minutes later, next to Verne's diamond and yet another note.

Robin looks so sad, doesn't he? "Aww, shucks," he thinks. "I'll never own a diamond that big."

I knew it! Henry Verne was just one of Joker's aliases, a clever anagram for Never... uh... Nyrhe? Never Nyrhe? Is that a thing? I guess not.

Anyway the phone rings and it is time for some taunting. It is taunting time.

"You laughing hyena!", while redundant, strikes me as an excellent expression of outrage. Especially when bellowed with pompous indignation.

Interesting--the Joker, that schizoid character, is a little bit Riddler, too. Like everything else, though, his riddles are more narcissistic than clever: upon reading in the paper that Duke Micheal, visiting from some foreign country with starving people, will be given a valise containing $10,000, Batman realizes the answer. When is a Duke not a Duke? When it's the Joker! (Because, you see, the Joker is only an Earl.)

With a ridiculous gee-why-didn't-this-become-a-catchphrase shout of, "Get on your duds, Dickey, my boy!" Batman races out to catch the Joker. But he's too late! Resplendent in his purple and green duds (I love his wide-brimmed hat), Joker bursts his way into the Duke's hotel room, gasses everyone inside, and quickly assumes the Duke's clothing. It would have been cooler if he had Hannibal Lector'd the Duke's face, but I guess I'll have to settle for make-up. (Damn you, Frederick Werther, Time-Traveling Censor!)

hargle bargle is this what our foreign aid goes toward bargle unamerican murder-clowns hargle

As the Joker tries to leave the stage with his ten grand ($144,000 nowadays), he's confronted by our heroes, swinging in in the nick of time. "You see, I solved your riddle!" cries Batman, presaging Patton. B&R punch their way through the guards (who think they're out to steal the money) and then Joker's goons, also disguised in bizarre 1940s corduroy finery. And while they're busy goofing around--

This is the work of a DC writer who agonized for days but never managed to come up with a satisfactory pie pun. It's okay, buddy. For some moments in life, there are no words.

 --Joker is getting away! Instead of using the Bat-Mobile, Batman and Robin just steal a god damn car, God knows why, and naturally it turns out badly for them.

Gee, if only you had access to a REALLY FAST CAR MADE ESPECIALLY FOR CAR CHASES 

Luckily for these two knuckleheads, Joker abandons his car in favor of a train, I'm guessing because it's just more dramatic and exciting that way. Batman's shitty stolen car manages to catch up to the train just enough for our heroes to jump onto the back and enter, seeking their enemy.

Passenger: "Oh we know. Purple suit, clown makeup, evil grin, yeah, it was pretty obvious before you pointed that out."

Batman: "Then stop him!"

Passenger: "That's... kind of your job, isn't it?"

Caught between Batman and an approaching guard, Joker takes a hostage, threatening to blow their head off if no, wait, this is an adventure story. Instead he does this, which is just has guaranteed success written all over it:

This whole panel is pretty great, but I especially love the way Batman's drawn there, so clearly just having leaned out to see where Joker's going, cape drawn back in an arc by the wind. The narration is just superfluous, the image speaks for itself.

Joker's next trick is to decouple the train cars, but Batman and Robin leap easily from one car to the next, staying with him. Batman faces off with Joker on top of the speeding train, like you always knew he would. The two icons trade blows and generic non-quips ("This time you're going off, Batman!" "This is it, Joker!"), and Joker gets in a good punch, knocking Batman down. I've always enjoyed how, for no particular reason, Joker can always hold his own in a fight, unlike a lot of Batman's recurring villains. Usually for Batman the hard part is getting to them; once he's face to face, people usually go down easily. Joker always gives him a few good hits back, or a smashing kick to the head with his spat-adorned shoes. As I said, there's no reason for it, Joker isn't portrayed as being stronger or well-trained or anything. It's just something they have to do in order to make Joker the best all-around nemesis, and I can respect that.

This fight ends fairly soon, however, with Batman giving Joker one solid punch, sending him flying off the train, over a cliff, and into, yes, water below. Joker ragdolls out of view, and we're down to the denouement, as our heroes and our children's role models gloat about how they totally murdered that guy, but maybe not, but probably, but either way, awesome:

"That'll teach him to laugh at me! Also I guess he stole stuff too."

Overall, not a very good issue. There's a basic level of interest and quality that having the Joker around tends to ensure, but I think we were at that level. It didn't feel like one coherent plot, which is a shame, because the joy of these Joker stories is usually how each one is a single, intricate story. This one felt more like four or five generic ideas--Joker's prank war, Joker's army of doppelgangers, the fake diamond, the stolen foreign aid, fighting on a train for no reason--all stuck together. It was goofy, but not deep or important in the way that certain Joker stories have achieved (comparatively speaking). Nor was it all that creative. The pranksters disappeared from the story after a promising set-up, Joker's motivations seemed thin, and judging from Batman's reactions, the clown's real crime was being a dick to him over the phone.

That's the moral of this story, then: don't taunt Batman on the phone. It's just not a good idea. Trust me. You'll get punched.

[METAPOST] Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day, Bat-Lovers! (no, not like that.) Tell someone you love them with these special cards!

[Comics] Detective Comics #55, "The Brain Burglar"

Take a second and read that again. The Brain Burglar. This probably won't be awesome as the image it conjures up: a museum in the dead of night, a silent, sneaky entry by a masked man who Solid Snakes his way into the brain room, carefully unscrews the lids from the jars, and lifts out the squishy pink brains from their telekinetic preserving soup in order to bag them, squelching, in his brain bag, before absconding off into the night...

But, you know, it'll have Batman in it for sure, so, uh, silver lining?

The opening crawl informs me that he's not stealing brains, he's stealing secrets, which I admit makes more grammatical sense. But he's doing so because he's, "worst of all menaces--worst of all criminals... the Fifth Columnist!" But how do you steal secrets? With evil Nazi technology? Of course not! This is the 1940s, when "total war" called for America's mad scientists to step up their game and really make some crazy shit:

"The police didn't want to admit how much they valued it, but then I put them in the machine, and..."

The "truth machine" is to be demonstrated to the public tomorrow afternoon. "I think I told you enough--the rest is a secret", says Professor Henry, which brings us to wonder why he invited a reporter into his lab in the first place. If he had just kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't be in this position later that evening:

"And hurry up! In an hour I have to go drop off my jacket so it can fight the Green Lantern."

Deker is the latest in a long line of evil sciency types to threaten Gotham City, a lineage that goes all the way back to Dr. Death, Batman's first recurring villain. My guess is, Gotham just has a shortage of SWFs seeking BGSs (Bald Goateed Scientists), and so they turn to a life of crime. Girls, see what you do! By choosing the jocks over the nerds, you endanger us all! No, I'm not bitter. What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. So Deker's goons beat the truth-or-dare machine instructions out of Henry, and then they put the professor in the machine for further interrogation, presumably because Deker's thugs get paid by the beating. He should really just put them on salary, get some free overtime out of them.

Anyway Henry spills enough beans to fuel a Third Reich blitzkrieg--the secret principles behind his "atom destroyer" (what?), and... something. This mystery invention, which the comic so badly wishes to keep secret from us, is apparently able to "control an entire army" (newsflash: Napoleon already discovered that, it's called "medals"). I don't know how you could control an entire army with whatever it is (which I will call, oh, I don't know, the MacGuffin, oh look what a random word I just selected out of thin air for no reason at all, how strange), seeing as how they test the MacGuffin by performing a "mysterious operation" on their fellow enemy agents.

Pictured here: Heinrich, of Asskiss, Germany.

Seriously though, are you going to strap the entire Allied military forces down on the table? Where will you find enough doctors? They don't seem too worried.

Over the next few indeterminate time periods, numerous scientists, inventors and such go missing, just like Professor Henry. What man could possibly stop this anti-American menace? Bruce Wayne? Hell no, that guy's got a date.

"Sorry--" is what it sounds like when you rethink saying "Sorry bitch" halfway through.

Linda Page's uncle's bomber factory isn't the most romantic of places to take your distressingly lazy boyfriend, but total war requires sacrifices of all Americans. ...not sure how this helps the war effort, but at least it puts Bruce on hand for when one of the workers goes insane:

"HEAD... HURTS... RONALD REAGAN SMASH!"

Not to worry, though! The crates are fine. And Bruce takes this opportunity to change costumes, from dickish loaf to bat-shaped crime-fighter. (Hopefully nobody will question a discarded $4,000 suit in a plane factory.)

"That's for Reaganomics, you son of a bitch!"

More workers begin going crazy, some of them attacking Batman, some trying to damage the experimental bomber. In response, Batman totally murders them, via giant wheel:

Guess now they're all... TIREd out! Also, uh, dead.

To be fair, Batman respects the seriousness of his actions by not making any plane-related puns. Batman seems like such a respectable killer that Linda even yells at a pretending-to-have-been-unconscious-the-whole-time Bruce for not being more like him. Irony! It's like a giant tiiiiire on your wedding day!

1. How was that a success?

2. If there's a "viciousness" level, why is it not always at the maximum? This is mad science, not Spinal Tap.

Later, Bruce discusses his experience with Dick (no, not like that):

Been huffing the Bat-glue lately, Robin?

(By the way, I do like how Bruce and Dick dress in their respective costumes' colors. As a fashion statement it says "secret identity? what secret identity?")

Bruce is "positive" that the sabotage is related to the missing scientists, because, well, he's read the script. And the paper helpfully has an article about inventor Mason, who might be the next target. Batman acts decisively to save a man's life!

"I suppose I could have just explained the situation with you and let you in on my plan, but this is much more fun."

Later, men with guns come and take Mason to a "private hospital" on the edge of town--where all the missing inventors are currently chained to the wall. Deker questions Mason in the brain machine about the new type of gunpowder he's invented, but before he gets too far, Robin bursts into the room, fist-first. The stunning turn of events here isn't that "Mason" was actually Batman, but that Batman apparently beat the brain machine.

Also, where did he get a Mason mask on such short notice? And how did it fit over his cowl?

B&R knock out the thugs and strap Deker into the brain machine for a quick interrogation. I think he would have talked anyway, he responds to a yes or no question with a long, gloating monologue about how they induced madness (putting a sliver of metal at the base of the brain and then beaming in "jangled radio waves"), their plan for sabotage (get the agents jobs at factories and such, then induce madness), and the next phase of the plan:

"Can one of you guys invent something that'll make this guy stop talking?"

Also there's a giant dirigible from "the Fatherland" bringing more agents into Gotham tonight. Deker goes on for about eight pages, talking about his philosophy of life, his favorite color, and a really tasty-sounding recipe for bratwurst, but I'm gonna do you guys a favor and skip to the bit with the punching.

Something tells me these secret agents would be less easy to spot if they weren't all wearing identical Little German Boy brand overalls.

Unfortunately for our heroes, these men are so crazy they can't feel punches. Oh no!

"Got to... STEEL myself... Wait! No time for puns!"

Spoiler alert: he solves this problem with punching. No, the madman doesn't feel the punch. But he does fall into the cauldron of boiling steel. Batman apparently designates all unpunchables "Terminators" and disposes of them accordingly. Good to know.

Robin, meanwhile, has picked up one too many radio waves to the skull:

I've read erotic fan-fiction that starts exactly like this.

A bit more fighting, and the factory is once again secure for truth, for justice! and so janitorial can get in here to clean up all the bodies.

I don't think Linda would like you as much if she knew what you called her behind her back.

There's some kind of analysis to be done here on comparing the two uses of the word "date", and how the comic sets up a dichotomy between boring, judgmental femininity and exciting masculine adventure, and perhaps even how this mirrors the contemporary American disagreement over whether to join WWII or remain safely isolationist... but I'm more interested in laughing at this:

Gassing Nazis? Now that's irony.

Leaving the Bat-Plane double-parked, our heroes leap into the cabin and start kicking ass.

Disappointed that this fellow's monocle doesn't pop off in shock at seeing Batman and Robin drop in unexpectedly? Don't be.

Yes, that's right. Batman did this just for you, reader.

Batman chases two goons up onto the surface of the dirigible, eventually knocking them off; Robin, meanwhile, stays inside, where the zeppelin commander accidentally fires his gun. Our heroes leap off just in time to fly away from the resulting gigantic explosion in bad-ass slow motion. (Michael Bay, eat your heart out.)

Now that the action is over, however, I want to know what the moral of the story was! Let's ask the denouement panel, which, like someone subjected to the brain machine, always tells the truth:

...

That's it? Really? Not even a "crime doesn't pay"? How will our nation's children learn how to live right? I guess I'll have to step in. Kids? Don't be Nazis. You will get punched, gassed, melted, exploded, and then eventually mocked by a blogger.