It is surprising that we often feel very strongly about the need to defend and justify our beliefs about these underappreciated cultural works. In doing so we are not only defending the things in question but also our own tastes and in some way our validity as social and cultural commentators. It matters to many of us that our friends and colleagues respect our opinions and understand why we believe what we do. Which is why this column is about my appreciation of All-Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder. The often-delayed Frank Miller and Jim Lee ten issue series is almost universally despised by both critics and comic book readers alike but I have a strange affinity for the story. Reviewers generally praise Lee’s artwork but despise Miller’s storytelling. I, on the other hand, appreciate both creators’ work, and find that the two mesh together to create something unique and exciting, the likes of which I have never seen. The narrative showcases a nearly psychopathic Batman who seems to be teetering on the brink of sanity as he drags a twelve year old Dick Grayson into his war against crime. There is nothing likable about this Dark Knight, he’s extremely violent, overly profane, masochistic, and bordering on sadistic. He is not a good guy and may not be a hero. He is a deeply troubled man who tortures criminals, kidnaps little boys, seems to be devoid of empathy, and is only concerned about himself. He is a highly unsavory character who displays many of humanity’s worst traits and is a role model for no one.

The logical question to ask at this point is; if this Batman is truly so unpleasant why do I like the story so much? In truth it is because this version of the Dark Knight has little to no redeeming qualities or social value. To my mind this Batman is the logical extension of many of the Caped Crusader’s traits taken to the highest degree. Batman has often been portrayed as disturbed, violent, arrogant, and pompous. These characteristics were soft-pedaled or muted by other more desirable qualities in past stories. This book enhances the Dark Knight’s core self and displays how unbecoming such a hero truly would be. I read it as a commentary on society in a post-September 11th world (the first issue was published in 2005.) The narrative asks the reader to consider what price is he/she willing to pay for security and what amount of freedom is he/she willing to sacrifice in the process. I find the effort to be bold and rather forward thinking. It follows the tradition of Miller’s own Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moore’s Watchmen in presenting the negative aspects of superheroes but it does it at an intensity never before seen in a story featuring one of the comic industry’s best known characters. I can understand why some readers are repulsed by the effort but I believe that such feelings are the point of the story. We should be repulsed, the idea that a mentally unstable billionaire dresses as a bat and violently fights crime would bother many of us if these events happened in the real world. I understand that Batman is fantasy and that escapist literature provides an avenue to flee reality for awhile but isn’t Miller’s notion of a maximized Batman something worth considering?

The other reason that I like All-Star Batman & Robin so much is in many ways the opposite of my above way of thinking. This Batman story takes place in the same universe as Miller’s most notable Batman stories: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One, and Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again. When combined these stories create a dense narrative that presents the Dark Knight at the beginning of his career and at the end. This progression is fascinating and allows the reader to see how the Batman from The Dark Knight Returns was created and how he changed. It provides insight into numerous plot points and story details that were before unexplored. Miller has created a sinister universe in which not only Batman has become a super-enhanced version of himself but so too have other heroes like Superman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and Green Arrow. Like Batman, these characters’ core qualities are maintained but are taken to their furthest logical extent. All-Star Batman & Robin rewards readers that follow along closely and connect the dots from previous stories. The narrative also contains numerous Easter eggs from throughout DC Comics history and encourages the reader to consider Batman’s mythos and how the character has progressed since 1939 when he began as a hardcore vigilante.

So, that’s my overall spiel. I doubt I’ve convinced many of you because I imagine a large number of readers find the story to be too distasteful to stick with and also because I didn’t give any concrete examples from the book. The problem is that I don’t think I have room to fit any good illustrations into this column. To remedy this I am going to use future columns to review individual issues of All-Star Batman & Robin and give tangible examples of why I think the narrative is so good. Imagine me as the guy at the party who is trying his best to convince you to rethink something you have written off as inferior. Feel free to argue with me, I’d like the input and relish the challenge. Hopefully the hors d’oeuvres are good, the beer is plentiful, and I don’t have spinach in my teeth.

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Jeffrey Johnson is an avid reader of comic books, watcher of television and film, and an annoying fount of 1980s and 1990s trivia. He received his Ph.D. in American Studies from Michigan State University and has written numerous journal articles and book chapter about popular culture. His latest book is entitled Super-History: Comic Book Superheroes and American Society, 1938 to the Present. He currently lives and works in Honolulu, Hawaii.

I’ve spent the past few days slugging my way through the first half of Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. I tend to read a novel and something graphic in tandem because I am hard to please. Unfortunately, the novel I’ve been reading is The Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s. . . clever, but once I set it down I really don’t miss it. So I guess what I’ve really been doing these past few days is nursing yet another in a series of death colds and geeking out on Modern Family.

The graphic novels I like best are a nice blend of drawings and literature. Artsy. I enjoy two-color comics. Black/white or the Bechdel blue/white. They feel modern, clean. They leave the outfits and hair colors open to interpretation. TDKR’s pinkish reds and sunshine yellows were a weak assault. Like the glaucoma test at the eye doctor. I realize there’s much to be said for being true to the origins of the Batman, but I struggled with how dated it all felt: the sunglasses, the belt choices. I found myself scanning the text and art, the words and sentiments as heavy-handed as fan fiction, not being struck by either. And those mutants read like a filler villain akin to the putty men in Power Rangers. You may commence your stone throwing.

But then, things got interesting. Late in the first book a concerned Gotham citizen is caught on panel saying, “Batman? Yeah, I think he’s a-okay. He’s kicking just the right butts—butts the cops ain’t kicking, that’s for sure. Hope he goes after the homos next” (pg. 45). This panel might have been written to induce a bit of eye-rolling, but what it really does is open a door for a kind of tension to step in. I make it a habit to withdraw support from anything I see as ’mophobic. This includes, but is not limited to, movies, books, bars, bakeries, and heels.

But what if Miller’s not hating? Out of the big three (Spider/Super/Bat), Batman is arguably the most homoerotic of them all. Hear me out here, friends. I understand that we see things not as they are, but as we are, and that beauty is in the queer eye of the beholder and all of that, but I can’t be the only one seeing this. I couldn’t believe it took me the entire first book to realize that I was the problem. I had been reading Batman as straight. Listen, random Gotham citizen, you best give up that wish, baby. The Batman will never go after his own team.

I had unrealistic expectations for the comic. Like a bride on her wedding day I was expecting to live a dream, to realize suddenly the truth I’d always known. Instead I was just alone at the altar in a terrible dress and impossible heels. And Batman was totally my maid of honor. And just like RuPaul, the Dark Knight won me over. I want to be the best contestant his crime-fighting drag race has ever seen.

Suddenly I couldn’t not see the Batman as a homohero. It’s everywhere: all of the Dark Knight panels in which Bruce has a mustache, the panel in which he and Harvey “tumble like lovers,” his elbow-high gloves. And tumble they do, their bodies entwined, embracing as they crash through a window It’s hard to deny the homoeroticism of men wrestling in tight costumes. I mean, you remember high school. For a supplemental example check out Kate Beaton’s revealing portrait of the hero in his off-hours. The Batman I love is also featured as the fabulous spandex-clad rich guy asking Robin for fashion advice in this revealing documentary.

I find I’m still attracted to the idea of classic, masculine, straight Batman, the franchise of power and skintight darkness. Would I buy the t-shirt? Doubtful. Would I marry Robin in a heartbeat? I’ve already bought the ring.

Is it really so outrageous that a tale about a totally ripped dude clothed entirely in a skin tight spandex/armor situation might not love the ladies? This isn’t a threat. My reading Batman as gay is just that. Our heroes can’t always be straight/white/macho/republican. In fact, I prefer mine to deviate. To some extent, I think we all prefer a dark streak in our heroes. The secrets, the hidden identity, the desire for vengeance, all of these things add the shadow of mystery. Take the hero beyond boy scout.

The Joker’s awakening from his catatonic state when the Dark Knight returns, like a villainous sleeping beauty, only hints at the depth of their connection. There’s no denying the blinding sparks when the Joker, biting his lip, addresses Batman as “darling” when first lays eyes on the Bat’s silhouette at the carnival. Or Batman’s suggestive panels on the page next: “Can you see it, Joker? Feels to me. . . like it’s written all over my face. I’ve lain awake nights. . . picturing it. . . From the beginning I knew that there’s nothing wrong with you that I can’t fix. . .” (pg.142). And what’s the nature of the Batman’s psychosis, you ask? “Why, sexual repression, of course.” The exact opposite of the Joker’s lack of restraint. That their battle royale takes place in the Tunnel of Love is no coincidence. Because they could never complete each other and stay who they are, because Batman will never step forth from the cave and strip off his restraint, each attempts to destroy his counterpart. The Joker is left heartbroken and deceased.

Frank Miller is quoted as saying Batman “would be healthier if he were gay.” Maybe he’d just be healthier if he were out. It’s not always shame or denial or fear that keeps a person from coming out. Often it’s ease and a belief that secrecy buys safety.

When I think about hidden identities I think about closets. I think about Clark ducking in to change and emerging in his unitard, freer and braver and ready for life. I think about Bruce entering the cave and Batman emerging.

The entire superhero genre hinges on the concealing of identity in pursuit of truth, freedom, power, really great boots. By day, Batman lives the life men are supposed to emulate. He has power, money, success. At night, he’s the ultimate badass, transferring all passion and aggression into fighting crime, driving fast, cracking skulls. Women throw themselves at him, but he never truly engages. He chooses instead to pursue his criminals, his villains. He becomes deeply involved with his nemeses, plays psychological games, creates obsessive, lasting relationships. Miller famously described the Batman-Joker dynamic as a “homophobic nightmare.” These interactions are what truly fulfill Batman. They complete him.

My advice: shed the mask, but definitely keep the boots.