The Jason Todd Chronicles: Batman #409

(My intention was to upload one of these at least once a week, but several days ago I was struck with an awful head cold that had me miserable and unable to do much of anything for three or four days--and that I am still recovering from. 'Tis the season. *sigh* As a result, I needed to wait until I was a bit more…functional in order to write this overview. So, I’m a bit late, and this is probably awful writing, but here it is!)

Batman #409 starts out right where the last issue left off, with the first page offering a brief synopsis of what happened in a very epic way: “And on one such night, one such year, the Batman’s annual nocturnal pilgrimage to the site of his parents’ murder has proven particularly satisfying. Because he has been able, this night, to place an orphan of the streets into the hands of those who might insure that young Jason Todd not become…JUST ANOTHER KID ON CRIME ALLEY.”

The irony of this is intentional, as we were left off last time seeing Jason surrounded by a bunch of kids who were ready to attack him with Ma Gunn off to the side smoking a cigar. My biggest nitpick is the use of “on” instead of “in” Crime Alley…but I’m assuming that’s just the way they wrote in the 80’s and complaining about it is pointless.

I'd also like to give a gold star to Max Allen Collins for using the phrase "nocturnal pilgrimage" because it's..it's just amazing. 

The next page gives us a tiny summary of what happened last issue with Batman explaining how he ran into Jason when he tried to steal his car tires and then commenting on how he had street starts but needed a conventional education to get anywhere beyond those streets—and that's why he sent him to Ma Gunn’s school. The dialogue mentions that her methods were “unorthodox,” which makes me curious as to what exactly Bats thought she was doing at this school that was odd but not necessarily dangerous enough to worry him.

The Jason Todd Chronicles: Batman #408

You can read the introduction to this endeavor here.

And so we begin with Jason’s first appearance in Batman #408.

Well…technically this wasn’t his first appearance, either as himself or as Robin, but after Crisis on Infinite Earths, many of the books and characters that had been involved were reconstructed or redefined to new or more interesting dynamics and simplification in their stories. The concept worked for all of like, five minutes because it didn’t take long for things to get messy again with continuity errors, retcons, and Elseworlds stuff.

Jason was one of the characters to have his personality and background changed in a significant way after Crisis. As a result, he got a brand-new telling of his origin in Batman #408, which is why this is written as a first appearance. He was basically a brand-new character. Pre-Crisis, Jason was a circus performer like Dick and so much like the original Robin that, aside from his red hair (that Bruce made him dye because reasons), readers couldn’t tell them apart. Which is great if you had problems with Dick no longer being Robin and turning into Nightwing, but not so much if you’re looking to tell fresh, new stories.

Pictured: Originality

The comic is titled “Did Robin Die Tonight?” which I think is a pretty great title as it has a bit of a double meaning here, as we’ll see in a minute. It’s also a great attention-grabber, although considering that the Joker pops up in page one, I think it’s safe to assume that it could have been titled “Batman and Robin Watch Paint Dry” and people still would have been excited.

Context is Important: The Jason Todd Chronicles (Intro)

(I promise at some point this blog will contain things other than my fan-gushing and rambling about Jason in some form or another. I DO have other interests, I swear.)

I’ve written at length about the crafting and marketing of Jason’s character from post-Crisis until his death in 1988, but despite all of my venting and searching for explanations, there’s still a vast majority of people who either choose to accept that Jason had always been a snot-nosed punk or haven’t read his appearances to form an opinion. After seeing many panels of him from his appearances post-Crisis, it’s easy to assume that the soul-crushing hatred had a legitimate reason to exist. But the problem is most of those panels or pages are taken out of context of the larger story that was being told. When you go back and read his appearances in the comics surrounding certain events or decisions, you get a far more complete picture of those events or decisions and the character motivations behind them. As a result, Jason ends up looking a bit more sympathetic as a tragic figure rather than a pain in the ass.

Basically, context is important.

With that in mind, I’m going to spend the next few weeks delving into the full run of Jason’s appearances starting from post-Crisis and ending with his death. This will include just the issues from Batman (#408-#429) for a couple of reasons:

• His controversial character/revamped backstory are told in Batman. All of the “big-name” events he was involved in also happen here, including his death.
• Detective Comics was inconsistent with his characterization and most of his appearances there treat him as Dick 2.0.
• Because of his short-lived tenure (in real world time, he was only around for about two years in his PC form), there aren’t many times where he pops up in other books or stories.
• Tackling more than one book would be too brain-twisting and headache-inducing.

I’ll include analysis when I feel it’s necessary, but for the most part my goal is to provide people with a way to absorb his history without having to go out and purchase twenty different comics. If you find, at the end of this adventure, that you still don’t like him or don’t see why other people do, that’s fine. But I want people to have an informed dislike of him rather than going by the hatchet-job of his characterization between 1988 and 2011 or on the word of some very sour comic readers.

Enjoy the ride.

Source

A Quick "Defense" of the New 52

The following piece was written while I procrastinated and stressed about my finals. It also took about two hours compared to the three or four that I can spend nit-picking every detail of the things I typically post. Basically: it's not my best work here, but it's representative of my thoughts on a subject that's been floating around in my head for a while and wanted to get out. Read with caution.

 
I want to take a minute to discuss a topic that may seem outdated, but keeps appearing the more that I browse the web and lurk on comic book community social media outlets: DC’s New 52 Reboot.

The general consensus of readers falls into two camps: People who absolutely and passionately hate it, and people who have accepted its existence and choose to move on with their lives by reading the good titles.

I would like to stress here, before I elaborate on the title of this entry, that neither opinion is wrong or bad. Everyone has a right to think or feel a certain way about the direction of a company’s platform and approach to their product, especially considering that we are all consumers of said product and should be making educated purchases based on our tastes and overall quality of the work.

That being said, however, I’ve noticed that there continues to be—despite the fact that it’s been almost four years at this point—a considerable amount of complaining, bashing, insulting, and general angst hurled at the New 52 reboot and, to a lesser extent, those who read the titles and enjoy them without any real knowledge of the cannon that came before it.

I’m going to clarify right away that I don’t fit well under either readership label. The first comic I ever purchased on my own and read wasn’t a specific issue—it was a graphic novel—and it was from the 80’s. I have done a decent amount of research and investigation on my own of DC’s history but have read few comics between 1990 and 2011. The ones that I have were close enough to the reboot date that it practically doesn’t even matter; most of what happened in them (in least in Batman’s case) is still in continuity. I am more actively involved and, you know, reading things from the New 52 than I am with the pre-boot.

Part of this is a practicality issue. Volumes of comics before 2011 tend to be either nonexistent, hard to find, or pricey. In the case of Stephanie Brown’s Batgirl volumes, they’re upwards of $50 used. I’m assuming this is because of her “character-in-limbo” status that’s become a bit of a sad inside joke amongst DC readers as she has yet to appear in continuity. But still: fifty dollars?! $20-$30 for a volume is the average for most. Though it may not seem like much, when I can get a New 52 volume for $8 or $9…there’s just no competition. As much as I'd love to read some awesome stories, I do have food and gas and clothes to pay for. Pre-boot volumes typically collect a story arc, event, or crossover rather than individual issues of one character’s comic, which means that even purchasing those volumes I'm bound to be missing chunks of the mundane, non-epic comics (and I like those). Which is a shame, because I have heard wonderful things about Cassandra Cain’s Batgirl run and would love to read it, but I’m not paying $50 for what is essentially six issues and maybe two hours of continuous reading material. Action Comics doesn’t even appear to have volumes outside of the New 52, and Superman is their flagship character next to Batman.

And as much as I think digital comics is a fantastic idea…when there are no volumes and I want to read a large amount of them instead of one or two, $1.29/$.99 adds up fast. I’m also not inclined to buy digital comics—visual mediums like this work better, in my own humble opinion, when you have them in front of you as a tangible object. It’s a personal preference, I know, and I don’t decry or judge those who love digital comics; like a said, it’s a great idea on the whole. It just doesn’t do much for me.

With all of these things being said, I think that the way DC approached the New 52 was a smart business decision. If you look at the state of the comic book industry at this point in time (and even back in 2011), it’s obvious that a large portion of investment has and will continue to be given to the films/television shows that are being made because they are garnering more attention and money than the comics themselves. There is a new generation of audience members that are being introduced to these characters through cinema/television, and both Marvel and DC are attempting to take advantage of this. The New 52, in many ways, is reflective of this shift. The entire idea behind the New 52 was to take characters back to basics so that the younger/newer audience less familiar with what had been going on in comics before could more easily get on board. They wanted to make them fresher and more accessible. Barbara Gordon is known more to the general public as Batgirl? Put her back in the role. No one, other than comic readers, was aware that Dick Grayson spent over a year as Batman? Return his Nightwing mantle. People think that the JLA are a bunch of boring, perfect demi-gods? Start back at the beginning and establish a new dynamic. I’m not saying these were all good changes, but they were certainly intentional.

What’s great about the New 52 is that is functions well as a jumping off point. People often ask, when they’re interested in getting into comics, what a good place to start would be. This is where the reboot helps out a lot. Rather than having to wade through decades of continuity, figure out who everyone is and where they stand, someone can pick up the first volume of Superman or Batman or Green Arrow or Justice League and start reading. After all, Action Comics and Batman were at issues #904 and #713, respectively, when they were restarted at #1. Even after almost four years of continuous storytelling, most of the rest of the DCU is still only at issues #36 (for the core group of comics). This is much, much, much less intimidating than 900 or 700-something. Readers have the option to read back issues from before the reboot because they want to, not because they have to.

What?! What do you mean someone doesn't like me?

Once someone has started reading parts of the New 52 and has become invested in certain characters—and their relationships with others in their particular circle of people—it makes it a lot easier and less stressful to go back and read comics from the pre-boot because they already have a foundation. Yes, some of the characters differ a great deal from their New 52 incarnations, but if someone enjoys New 52 Green Arrow and doesn’t like the pre-boot one, what exactly is lost? Does it make them less of a Green Arrow fan because they prefer the “new” interpretation of the character over the “old?” It still gave them a way into the comic and character, and maybe liking one book will encourage them to read more.

I’m not saying that all of the elements of the New 52 are perfect. I’m not bowing down and worshiping the ground any writer or artist walks on or planning to get a tattoo of the New 52 logo on my arm. There is no one on this earth that can ever tell me the five-year timeline makes any level of sense or that Jason Todd’s origin as some weird “creation of the Joker” isn’t kind of contrived and silly. There are good books and there are bad books. Good writers and bad writers. Good ideas and bad ones. Just like in every other medium, there are going to be variations in quality.

And yes, the pre-boot had some terrible things in it as well. Let’s not forget that All-Star Batman and Robin was a pre-boot book, and no one likes to remember that even exists.

Robin is cuter than Miller's attempts at being a good writer.

The reality is this: The comic book industry has always been eager to reset their universes in order to attract new readers. As I said in a previous post, DC and Marvel are still businesses and they want to make money. If it wasn’t the New 52, it would be something else. Give it another few years and I’m sure they will reset everything again. And I get it: it’s frustrating to constantly have to readjust and re-learn things and deal with change on a regular basis. If DC and Marvel want to continue to be a successful industry, then they have to change. They can’t stay stagnant because people don’t stay stagnant.

But despite all of the change, all of the screwing around with characters and origins and whatnot, it doesn’t mean that the books you loved are gone from existence. I’m sure as time goes on, more volumes of certain characters will be put together and become available. You can continue to love Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain even if they never appear in a single New 52 book (which they really should, but that’s beside the point). The New 52 isn’t the be-all-end-all of comics, and neither is the pre-boot. If the New 52 functions as a great jumping-off point, than the pre-boot becomes more accessible and can grow a person’s love for this particular universe. That’s what it did for me. And isn’t that what’s important—that people can find a way into an awesome medium that has traditionally been known to scare new readers away with its complexity?

Be nice to people who like the New 52 and accept that it’s probably going to change again in the near future. If worse comes to worst, head cannon is a lifesaver.

...seriously, DC, put Steph and Cass in a book. Please.

Batman #424: Is It Really That Bad?

Perspective-defying cover art!

If Jason Todd's tenure as Robin was controversial, issue #424 of Batman probably did little to ease the fury that was starting to boil in the hearts of fans. The issue itself has become a bit infamous amongst the comic community, specifically the Batman community, and I can see why that would be the case. There's a lot of interesting, dark, and unforgiving subject matter to be found in these few pages and more than one of them I can see not settling well with readers, even amidst the dark-and-decrepit 80's comic culture.

I purchased a copy of this issue within the last few days because my ever-growing curiosity and love for retro comics is still going strong, and because I also wanted to see the entire story for what it was, in context, rather than just looking at scans of the controversial last two pages and then reading a synopsis.

The story itself centers around the playboy son of a diplomat, Felipe Garzonas, who sexually assaults a woman named Gloria Stanson. Twice. Batman and Robin arrest him after his second assault (the other one is not part of the story but is mentioned to the cops by Gloria), but because his father is a diplomat, Felipe possess diplomatic immunity and can't be held in custody. Evidence for the assault was also limited to Gloria's testimony and a black eye, both of which are discredited by Garzonas. The rest of the story focuses on Batman and Robin's plan to bust Garzonas on drug charges--in particular cocaine--which will be enough to have him deported back to his home country.

I'll discuss the infamous final two pages in a minute, but I first want to look at the rest of the comic, as there's a lot in here that is really good.

Batman: The Animated Series Review

Let's be real: The 90’s were a terrible time for comics.

After achieving the incredible surge in popularity in the 80’s with works like Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moore's Watchmen, it seemed inevitable that the high would come crashing down. Between the fiasco with Hal Jordan and his Emerald Action Team, Rob Leifeld’s artistic abominations that made him one of the most popular comic book artists of the decade, the drowning of the market in variant and limited edition comics in an attempt to boost value and sales, and the overall grudge-saturated anti-hero violence from Image Comics, the decade managed to paint itself with one hell of a nasty brush. I can’t look at most 90’s comics without getting a headache.

But out of all the muck and mire that swirled around in that cesspool, there were bright spots. Comic book artists, after the split of many of the industry’s most popular that led to the creation of Image Comics, began to gain more creative control over their work. Tim Drake, regarded as the best Robin by many fans, got a solid ten-year-plus tenure and his own comic (yes, I consider this a bright spot) after Jason Todd was...removed from the role.

And of course, 1992 introduced the world to Batman: The Animated Series.

Often ranked one of the greatest animated series of all time by various news outlets (second, in many cases, only to The Simpsons), the show has been praised for its adult tone, clever and intelligent writing, voice acting, and impressive design work. The impact of the show’s story lines and characters have been seen in everything from films to other television shows to even the comics themselves. For many people, this version of Batman is the definitive. The sound of Kevin Conroy as Batman and Mark Hamill as the Joker still plays in their head whenever they read the comics. The show continues to be loved and cherished by the fans that grew up with it and even newcomers that are looking for something good to sink their teeth into.

I was not one of the lucky souls to be able to experience this show first-hand. By the time I was old enough to comprehend any kind of television other than Sesame Street and The Muppets, it was closer to the 2000’s and I only caught glimpses of the show on Cartoon Network before changing the channel to Spongebob or Rugrats because apparently I was a very shallow child. That being said, I consider myself the ideal candidate to look at this show objectively. I have no nostalgia attached to it and up until this past spring I couldn’t have cared less about how great everyone made it out to be. So with my unabashed love of superheroes and comics now flying through my veins like a potent virus, I spent the last four months--FOUR MONTHS--tackling this show from episode one.

I would love to do an in-depth look at this show, but given the sheer size of it and the fact that this post is already massive, I can only start with a general overview. Maybe one day I will take on a more narrowed and focused review, but this is as detailed as I can get at the moment. Sigh.

DC's Greatest Failure: How A Bad Marketing Stunt Tainted Jason Todd's Character

It’s no secret that sometimes, in an attempt to garner more fans/customers/attention, companies will lay out big stunts or features that are designed to impress the masses. Most of the time, these events go the way of anything viral on the Internet or social media: they bring in people and press for a few days and then disappear from existence only for those companies to plan something else in the years following that will make an even bigger impact. But every now and then, an idea can be taken to the extreme and find a way to derail itself. When that happens, companies are left scrambling to pick up the pieces and employees are scrutinized until a supposed perpetrator is found. They make a public apology or just do their best to sweep the situation under the rug, praying that their slip-up won’t hurt sales. Yet, despite all their efforts, the stigma of that mistake never fully goes away. Unlike with a successful gimmick, people can’t forget the time that a certain company dropped the ball and produced either offensive or hilarious results (depending on your point of view).

The comic book industry is certainly no stranger to this phenomenon. In fact, many of the choices that writers and editors make on behalf of characters, such as costume designs or who will wear the mask, are often controversial enough within their own circle of readers. It takes a lot to do more than simply ruffle the feathers of many comic book fans, although the rise of social media has enabled audiences and writers to interact on a far more personal and direct level than they ever were before. But just like any other company, comic book big shots like DC and Marvel are still, at the end of the day, a business, and their first and foremost interest is making money.

And lots of it.

The history of comics is similar to most other forms of media in that it experienced a rise and fall regularly over the course of the 20th century. After the Golden and Silver Ages of comics in the 40’s-60’s, readership began to peter out, and sales of comics dropped considerably from what they had once been. The 1970's and 80’s brought about a new age for comics for both DC and Marvel. For DC, it was a dark one, an age where many of their superheroes and other characters were receiving re-writes and retcons in the wake of their Crisis on Infinite Earths event that reset their universe in an attempt to consolidate the tangled mess that had become their cannon. Several DC characters had already undergone grittier transformations prior to the event, such as Green Arrow’s Speedy who, in the 70’s, was baptized into the new era by way of a heroin addiction.

Batman #408

Along with Batman’s comic generally dropping itself into the Angst Bucket, the character of Robin was given a re-vamp. After Dick Grayson had left Batman’s side to lead the Teen Titans and become Nightwing (rocking that hideous-as-hell collar), a new Robin arrived on the scene named Jason Todd. His origin story made him a nice little Grayson Clone as a way to let fans adjust to the loss of such a legendary character that many readers had grown up with. The only real difference between him and Dick was that Jason, at the start of his tenure, had curly red hair that was promptly dyed as a way to make himself look more like his previous mantle-holder. After Crisis, the writers at DC found an opportunity to make Jason his own character. They scrapped his copy-cat backstory and replaced it with the tale of a young boy that had been born and bred on the streets of Gotham. His new character spoke with slang speech, had a bit of an attitude, was arrogant, and had more guts than he probably should have had at the tender age of twelve. Hell, he came into contact with the Caped Crusader because he was caught stealing the tires off of the Batmobile.

And as infamy would have it, the most well-known aspect of Jason’s character is that he died. And he didn’t just die--he was beaten within an inch of his life with a crowbar and then blown up with a bomb. Batman arrived in time to find his body and hear the dying words of his mother lament the fact that he was a much better child than she deserved. For well over a decade, Jason remained dead. His time as Robin was memorialized with his costume hanging in a glass case in the Batcave, forever a reminder to Bruce of his greatest failure. Jason was then marred in future comics as the “Bad Robin,” the reckless and impulsive failure who died because he didn’t listen to Bruce.

Note: This was, in fact, approved by the Comics Code Authority

I will admit that Jason’s story was the source of my interest in comic books. After watching his 2010 film and reading into what happened (and I posted a review of that here), I felt I needed to explore what this world of comics was and how Jason fit into it. So maybe I’m biased, or maybe I’m still relatively ignorant. But what I will say is that I came into this scenario with fresh eyes, as someone who had never had an attachment to the previous Robin or even Batman to a large extent. Given the evidence presented in both the movie and the comic that featured his demise, I didn’t see this Robin as anything other than a fascinating, tragic figure.

The infamy surrounding what happened and his later blatantly inconsistent interpretations are incredibly obvious to someone like me, who was neither alive during the time in which he was killed or knew anything about him going in.

So what about those gimmicks I mentioned earlier? Well the entire situation behind why, exactly, Jason was murdered is layered in gimmicks and company nonsense. Along with darker storylines, characters, and settings, the 80’s brought about early experimentation in technology (I imagine that at the time Bruce having a computer in the Batcave was more-or-less impressive to many readers). DC, like everyone else, was interested in finding new ways to use this technology for the sake of gaining attention and interest. One of the new features that they had been toying with was the idea of a phone poll which Dennis O’Neil, the then-editor for the Batman comics, described as “heeding the opinions fans express[ed] in letters and conversations at conventions and comic shops.” It was, essentially, early social media. The gimmick worked by having Jim Starlin, the writer for Batman at the time, set up a storyline, titled A Death in the Family, in which it was left ambiguous whether or not Robin was dead or alive. They then placed an ad at the end of the comic inviting readers to call a hotline number (after being charged a paltry 50 cents) and cast their vote for whether or not they wanted him to die. After the 36 hours allotted to vote, the numbers were tallied: of 10,614 calls, 5,271 wanted him alive and 5,343 wanted him dead by a margin of 72 votes.

As Denny said, “Hail and farewell, Jason Todd.”

The reaction to the stunt was unexpected. In the Postscript to the graphic novel, O’Neil writes:

“One of the pro-Jason votes was mine[...] any essential alteration to a lengthy series would necessitate much redefinition, much editorial scrambling. I was prepared for long hours at my desk if Jason died.

I was emphatically not prepared for the reaction. As soon as the news of Jason’s expiration got out, our publicity whiz, Peggy May, began getting calls from journalists. Dozens of them. For three long working days and part of a fourth, until Peggy declared a moratorium, I talked.”

Not that anyone could blame poor Peggy.

People across the country were outraged. The big question was why they would choose to kill off a child, especially one that was holding the title of one of the most iconic characters in pop culture history.

While O’Neil believed that many readers only voted to let him live because they were under the impression that the Robin they were going to kill off was Dick Grayson, I find that assumption to be unlikely. Dick had been around since 1940 and had become an iconic figure in the DC Universe. He was as legendary and as popular as his mentor, and went on to be successful even apart from Batman. After the reboot, it was still made clear that Dick was a member of the Teen Titans and had taken on the mantle of Nightwing. Very little of his history had been changed. Long-time comic readers would have known that. They would have been, at the very least, familiar with the notion that Dick was Nightwing and Jason was the new Robin.

As for the media backlash, it wouldn’t be all that surprising for the general public to assume that it was the original Robin, since comic politics and retcons weren’t exactly common knowledge. But again, O’Neil implies that much of the anger and vehemence from the media came from the disdain for the stunt itself, rather than because it was Dick Grayson. O'Neil remarks in the Preface to A Lonely Place of Dying:

“…one reporter claimed that the whole event had been rigged—that, in fact, we had decided on Jason’s demise ahead of time and staged an elaborate charade… several colleagues accused us of turning our magazines into a ‘Roman circus.’ Cynical was a word used. And exploitative. Sleazy. Dishonorable.” 

People were upset and offended by the nature of the crowd-sourcing tactic, viewing it as what it was: a gimmick designed to garner attention. A reporter for The Globe and Mail wrote an article mocking the stunt, saying:

"How far will this go? We picture an author drafting a scene in which a private eye is to rush headlong into a gangster’s hideout rather than wait for the police, but the shamus won’t budge. He won’t touch the doorknob. He’ll sit on the front stoop and insist that no self-respecting character would be so dumb as to walk into certain danger all by himself, and that if the author wants to press the point he should hold a poll of the readers and see whose side they’re on.” 

O'Neil later went on to emphasize the fact that they didn't kill a human being, child or not: “First of all, let me speak to the shock: We didn’t kill a real kid. This is paper and ink.” There’s no mention of it being Dick; just that is was a child, a child that was brutally murdered at the hands of a psychopath for no other reason than because he knew it would hurt Batman.

Reader reaction to Jason’s time as Robin has also been pegged as virulent hatred. Many comic fans and employees of DC insisted that Jason was seen as a whiny, annoying usurper of the Robin mantle up until his death and that many people wanted him out of the picture. In the special feature short Robin’s Requiem: The Tale of Jason Todd, found on the Blu Ray copy of Under the Red Hood, Judd Winnick (who later went on to write Jason’s resurrection story) remarked, “Let them put their money where their mouth is: if they really don’t like him this much, we’ll leave it up to them if they want to kill him off.” The assumption was that readers had it out for this young kid born and bred in Crime Alley, yet Denny O’Neil’s commentary in the Postscript contradicts that idea:

“This Robin, Jason...well, we didn’t know how people felt about him. Some seemed to like him, some didn’t. Others were suggesting that The Batman commemorate his fiftieth birthday in 1989 by reverting to what he had been when he first appeared, a relentless loner. So we had a character whose popularity was, at best, uncertain, and we had a telephone experiment we wanted to try.” (emphasis me).

Uncertain. Not, “hordes of screaming, angry fans wanted to see this kid bathed in blood and left for the buzzards.” Sure, there will always be a group of people who dislike a specific character for various reasons, and I personally believe a lot of the hatred that did surface towards Jason was rooted in the feeling that Jason had taken the role of Robin away from Dick who had been a fan favorite for several decades and not so much that he was “annoying” or “bratty” or “a little snot.” Winnick even admits that the notion of making the character unlikeable came after they decided to kill him. A decision like that is borne out of a desire to justify an action taken, and that is why I believe much of Jason’s legacy has been tainted by anger, hatred, and victim-blaming. It isn’t out of ignorance on the part of the writers; it’s out of a desire to make Jason Todd look like he deserved death in order to shift the blame from the writers and DC.

The irony of their argument against Jason is that there are plenty of examples of people who liked Jason or who, at the very least, thought he had potential as a character.  One reader even wrote to say that he insisted on dialing the Kill number because he wanted to see if they would actually do it, not because he didn't like the character.

After the media explosion, DC was forced to backpedal faster than a circus performer on a unicycle. Reading some of the commentary is hilarious because it’s incredibly obvious that everyone involved--O’Neil, Starlin, and other people in charge of what has been dubbed The Stunt--tried desperately to place the blame for Jason’s death on anyone but themselves. Unfortunately, that included the character himself (despite the fact that O’Neil, again, contradicts himself by saying that he was just “paper and ink” and then calling comics the “post-industrial equivalent of folk tales” that “must evolve...or become irrelevant to the real world they mirror.” Way to go, Denny) and the fans of the comic. The Postscript even opens with O’Neil’s protest that became a mantra in the days (and decades, really) following Jason’s death: “We didn’t kill the Boy Wonder. The readers did.” On the back of the graphic novel, three out of seven quotes explicitly state that the readers are the ones at fault for what happened, all of which would have been chosen by the people who put the novel together. The fact that the infamous “guy with the MacIntosh who rigged his computer to vote every few minutes” story continues to surface and is cited by many of the creative staff as the real reason Robin died again speaks to the company’s desire to hot-potato the blame to someone--anyone--else. Never mind the fact that they were the ones who set up the hotline and Jim Starlin even openly admitted to hating the character of Robin (on more than one occasion it’s been stated that he wanted to give Robin AIDS).

The whole situation just makes me picture a handful of little kids being caught in the act of painting a wall by their mother and when asked who did it, they all pointed at the paintbrush.

In the decades that followed, Jason continued to be beaten with the “bad Robin” stick, with various characters calling him reckless or impulsive or brash or disobedient or anything that could possibly justify his death. It was almost as if there was an unspoken policy that Jason be depicted--whether in flashback or through conversation--as deserving of his death as another means to establish a reason for his demise. He was re-written as a punk, someone who was asking to be killed because he dared to act like an actual child and have emotional problems after the death of his parents. There's even a scene in Gotham Knights #43 (which I do, all things considered, think is a genuine and decent story) where Jason is seen smoking and Babs (Batgirl at the time who was asked by Bruce to get an emotional reading from him after the incident with a certain diplomat and a certain balcony) calls him out on it. Even Batman, who blames himself for what happened pretty regularly in cannon, is still always being told by someone that “he did his best” and “there was nothing else he could have done” to prevent Jason’s demise by other characters. It seems DC isn’t very fond of making one of their heroes out to be a human being that makes mistakes, let alone one that resulted in the brutal murder of a twelve year-old.

Gotham Knights #44

It would be an amusing look at how marketing affects story lines and characters if it didn’t result in the ugly reality of an emotionally traumatized child being blamed for his own death that came out of his desire to protect his rotten mother who sold him out to the Joker and put him in the situation in the first place.

Why would they do all this? As I mentioned above, DC comics is still a company that is out to make a profit on their books and characters. Having their writers or--God forbid--their most popular characters made out to be anything other than positive role models would be a death wish. The back-pedaling they did after The Stunt and the subsequent retconning of Jason’s character speaks to that. “If his murder was justified--if he was just a punk that couldn't listen and had an attitude and SMOKED--then the unholy mess that came from it was really just people overreacting. It wasn’t OUR fault. We just have really vindictive readers. Now go by our new issue of Batman. There’s a new Robin and he’s NOTHING like Jason--he’s rich and awkward and not socially adept, just like many of our readers!”

And perhaps the greatest irony is that their biggest blunder, the character who died because some writers and execs needed cannon fodder for their gimmick, came back to life in the early 2000’s and experienced unprecedented popularity, according to Judd Winnick:

“When we re-introduced Jason Todd as the Red Hood, I was surprised at how many of the readers liked him and liked him in a way of liking him as a hero. Basically, the best way to put it, was they thought he was cool. And that was not really my intention.”

I wouldn't exactly describe this as "cool;" more like disturbing. But okay.
Batman Annual #25

So where does that leave Jason? Well I think the blatant reality of marketing getting the better of a character has pulled out from the shadows a desire of many people to defend Jason. His anti-hero status and the fact that audiences were so willing to accept him (generally speaking) says that the culture at large is changing their perspective on troubled characters. More people are jumping on board the Sympathy Bandwagon or, at the very least, are willing to set aside the twenty-something years of convoluted interpretations to welcome Jason Todd into the realm of “cool anti-hero.” And even now, there are still many readers who are interested in seeing Jason overcome his anger and vengeance and mend his broken relationship with not only Batman and the Batfamily, but DC fans as well.

Hail and farewell Jason Todd? I think not.

Quotes from Robin's Requiem: The Tale of Jason Todd were taken from here.

Other graphic novels/comics include:

A Death in the Family (1988) by Jim Starlin
A Lonely Place of Dying (1989) by Marv Wolfman and George Perez
Gotham Knights #43 & #44 (2003) by Scott Beatty
Batman Annual #25 (2006) by Judd Winnick
Batman #408 (1987) by Max Allan Collins

Why I Like Comics (And Why That Shouldn't Be a Big Deal)

The other day, I got into a discussion with my thirteen year-old brother about why I liked comic books, specifically DC comic books and characters. I spent ten minutes trying to defend myself, offering my opinions and thoughts and perspectives, explaining that there are quite a variety of factors that make me interested in that particular company’s creations, and how he probably would like them if he gave them a chance.

He promptly responded with “Batman’s the only cool DC superhero. All the rest are stupid. And you’re weird for liking them.”

Then he walked away.

These kinds of exchanges are not unfamiliar in my house. I grew up with criticism all around me, whether it was from my parents or my brothers, about every little thing that we did. Music choices, movie preferences, television show interests, even down to the things we wore were always open for scrutiny. My family has always been good at picking each other apart, not realizing that we’re doing serious damage to our confidence.

With that being said, however, it’s not fair to place the blame entirely on my family for the level of insecurity and frustration that I feel on a regular basis towards my own personal interests. Despite the fact that “tolerance” has become a big buzz word these days, more often than not the people I come across are quick to give others stink eyes or strange looks when they bring up something that they’re interested in that doesn't fit what that person would deem "normal." I've kept my love of comic books to myself in the majority of social situations for this very reason. Add to into the mix that I'm female and it's just one step away from "social suicide" to say anything about how I harbor a deep affection for Batman and his various family members.

There are several reasons why I am interested in comics, and while I don’t think I should have to justify myself to the world, I’ll explain anyway because it will help make my point later on.

Above all else, I am a writer, and comics are—when stripped down to their basics—books. They are comprised of characters, plots, conflicts, antagonists and protagonists, settings, themes, symbols, and dialogue. It just so happens that these elements are transferred through a visual medium, one that focuses on telling a story through images and speech rather than text. They are far more direct than books in that sense, but they still offer everything that an actual novel does; they just do it in a more succinct way, capturing characters and action in images and speech bubbles rather than pages or paragraphs.

Yes. This is silly.

Comics are also far more complex than people realize. For whatever reason, there still seems to be a stigma that follows the word “comic” around like a stagnant, offensive odor. I can understand where the assumption that they are “silly” would come from—back in the Golden and Silver Ages of comics, there were certainly more outrageous plots and campier characters. The problem is, you have to look at those comics from their cultural context. That’s what people wanted. They didn’t want dark, heavy, or complex themes coming from their ten minutes worth of entertainment that cost them a nickel. They wanted buff men in bright costumes to beat the crap out of villains and criminals because that was simple and easy. The world at that time was either suffering from the backlash of WWII or experiencing a morality crisis that came with the fifties and sixties. Having a rigid example of Good vs. Evil that reinforced the idea that there were still genuinely good people in the world was necessary.

And while many of the traditions of those characters still exist if for no other reason than because “it’s tradition” (keep in mind, many of the DC characters have been around for over fifty years), there are so many other elements of comics that have evolved with time. For one thing, female heroes are becoming far more common than they used to be, with fans even backlashing when a writer who portrayed a well-rounded female character was fired from the comic (she was rehired two weeks later). It isn’t perfect (Starfire’s costume design in Red Hood and the Outlaws is kind of...well, whorish), but the fact that there is even a fan base for a female character who fights crime like a badass is a step forward.

The story lines and characters are far more complex as well. In my own humble experience, I feel that DC tends to lean towards the more psychologically disturbed characters than the brute force fighters. But there is still a level of inner turmoil no matter what way you look at any comic book superhero. All of their stories are, at their core, about sacrifice—they are committed to saving the lives of others no matter what the cost, and many times that means their own life. There’s a reason so many of them have tragic back stories; it takes one hell of a traumatic event to bring a person to the point where they are willing to dedicate their life to beating people up and protecting innocent pedestrians who mean nothing to them in the scheme of things. Helping others and handing out justice to those that deserve it becomes a replacement for the things they’ve lost, be it family, friends, or even a part of their body. This is why the villains in each superhero’s life become such a huge part of their story: stopping them is their entire purpose. It’s their reason for existence. It just so happens that the villain has made whatever their mission is their life purpose and the incongruence of their goals creates conflict—physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s personal. One cannot exist without the other.

Then there is the concept of the secret identity, which is probably in and of itself an opportunity for a psychologist to have a field day. Heroes are often fighting the line between who they are as a superhero and who they are as Joe Shmoe. Unlike in the early days of comics, the person underneath the mask is a key player in the story. There is still a life that superheroes fight to keep when they aren’t lurking about the streets. For many of them, the juggling act required to have any relationship outside of their fellow crime fighters is too much. Those that they care about will always be at risk and there will never be enough time to dedicate to both crime fighting and loved ones. Spiderman could be considered the quintessential example of this conflict, as his comics tend to focus on that element of his character quite a bit. But what I think sums this idea up the best is the fact that they are established as human beings. They are living, breathing characters that struggle with the roles and responsibilities they’ve placed on themselves and what the world demands of them.

Heck, there’s even a part in Robin #156 that openly deals with suicide and shows Tim Drake (Robin/Red Robin) admitting to the fact that yeah, superheroes aren’t always 100% confident in what they’re doing and that he sometimes needs to talk to someone, too.

Then of course there is the influx of anti-heroes that have been present in literature since the dawn of time but really get noticed in comics because of the definitive nature of “good” and “evil” that still exists as the backbone of every comic storyline, regardless of how much those values are toyed with. Characters like Deadpool and Red Hood are fascinating because they aren’t black-and-white hero or villain. They are redeemable, but never manage to draw a line between good or bad (not to mention that Red Hood has received more positive feedback as his new character than the poor kid ever got as Robin—which I think is unfair, but that’s another conversation for another day).

In a culture that is morally ambiguous, where values and codes of ethics are changing on an almost daily basis, you’d think that these kinds of stories would be ideal. Especially nowadays, with the onset of the Internet that has allowed people to stretch their identity and find meaning and acceptance in places and amongst people like never before, it seems almost obvious that someone who plays tug-of-war with their identity would be appealing to the masses. Yet, there is still a stigma surrounding the notion of “crime fighting” and “superheroes.” People I know have even said that they are only willing to see superhero movies because “the comics are stupid.”

Again, I ask: Just what is it that makes them any more “stupid” than other elements of pop culture?

Just so I can make my point (and a little bit out of spite and smugness), here are the synopses of a variety of pop culture icons that have been loved and cherished by millions of people across the decades (taken from Wikipedia because I’m too lazy to write all of them out):

“The series, named after the titular character, chronicles the adventures of a young wizard, Harry Potter, and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, all of whom are students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The main story arc concerns Harry's quest to overcome the Dark wizard Lord Voldemort, who aims to become immortal, conquer the wizarding world, subjugate non-magical people, and destroy all those who stand in his way, especially Harry Potter.” [Link]

“Players of the games are designated as Pokémon Trainers, and the two general goals (in most Pokémon games) for such Trainers are: to complete the Pokédex by collecting all of the available Pokémon species found in the fictional region where that game takes place; and to train a team of powerful Pokémon from those they have caught to compete against teams owned by other Trainers, and eventually become the strongest Trainer: the Pokémon Master.” [Link]

“In the story, a group of freedom fighters known as the Rebel Alliance and led by Princess Leia, plots to destroy the Death Star space station, which carries a planet-destroying capability created by the Galactic Empire. This conflict disrupts the isolated life of farmboy Luke Skywalker when he inadvertently acquires the droids containing the stolen plans for the Death Star. After the Empire begins a destructive search for the missing droids, Skywalker agrees to accompany Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi on a mission to return the Death Star plans to the Rebel Alliance and save the galaxy from the tyranny of the Galactic Empire.” [Link]

“In a world where summers span decades and winters can last a lifetime, the Westeros crown comes with a price. Betrayal, lust, intrigue and supernatural forces shake the four corners of the Kingdom, from the scheming south and the savage eastern lands, to the frozen north and the ancient Wall that protects the realm from the darkness beyond. Kings and queens, knights and renegades, liars and noble men vie for power in the bloody struggle for the Iron Throne.” [Link]

“A teenager is accidentally sent 30 years into the past in a time-traveling DeLorean invented by his friend, Dr. Emmett Brown, and must make sure his high-school-age parents unite in order to save his own existence.” [Link]

"A young girl, destined to slay vampires, demons and other infernal creatures, deals with her life fighting evil, with the help of her friends." [Link]

I’m not judging any of these stories. In fact, some of them I find to be delightful in and of themselves and have nothing but respect for the fact that they managed to achieve popularity despite their “unconventional” plots. But my point is this—how is it that someone who loved Harry Potter or Star Wars can claim that comic books are any more ridiculous or outlandish than some of what is presented in those stories?

I would be ignorant, of course, to assume that comic books were the only things still receiving terrible backlash. And to that, I make my next point:

The fact of the matter is our culture has reached a bit of a paradigm shift: what was considered “nerdy” or “lame” has practically turned itself on its head. Now, the norm is for people to watch shows like Game of Thrones and play video games like The Last of Us. The San Diego Comicon is practically impossible to get into, and Cons around the world have reached enormous levels of popularity with the ever-increasing variety of fandoms that they celebrate. To obsess over something is standard rather than faux pas. It’s the reason websites like Tumblr and Reddit exist—and continue to flourish. The entire “nerd subculture” has made its way into mainstream media, improving along the way and creating stories and characters that are far more complex than they ever were before. I mean seriously, have you SEEN video games these days? I am not ashamed to admit that the first time I saw the trailer for the new Mortal Kombat video game, I thought it was for a movie (and I was really much too excited about that for my own good).

So then why is it that we are still criticizing others for the things they are into? Why are Cons still slapped with the “nerd” label when they represent everything about our culture that is now normal? Why is it less cool to read comics about a vigilante who dresses up like a bat at night than to play a video game where a man drags a teenage girl across a post-apocalyptic America that is being ravaged by infection that turns people into zombies?

It isn’t just hypocritical; it’s down-right asinine.

Still, I would be ignorant to assume that a blog post by an anonymous person on the Internet will have any effect on the culture at large. But for those of you reading this, my final words are this:

Before you criticize what someone likes or refuse to try something because it looks "dumb," stop and think. Then, look in the mirror. There's bound to be something you like that is just as unconventional as what that person you're judging is into. Celebrate individuality and the multiple interests of others. If Tumblr can do it, so can you.

(Also, seriously, do you know what comics look like these days? They're freaking gorgeous.)

Teen Titans: A Review

 

I really, really wish children television networks would stop trying to create shows for children.

As counter intuitive as it sounds, the way that networks approach the creation of television shows that are designed for kids is becoming ineffective. I get it—as a writer, it’s important to know who it is you want to take part in your creation because it gears the entire project in a specific direction. Someone who wants to write for teenage boys probably wouldn’t jump on the teen romance bandwagon, and another person interested in the young girl readership wouldn’t have much luck writing about giant robots that smash each other to pieces all the time. Everything that is thrown at the wall and considered for production on networks like Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network needs a specific age bracket tacked onto it in order for the writers, animators, and producers to know how to set up and develop each episode. Having specific people in mind when creating a show helps to keep it focused.

My problem, however, is that this line of thinking can only take you so far, and television networks have become far too reliant on the status quo of “girls like Barbies and pink and cute things” and “boys like cars and fighting and heroes” that they limit themselves in terms of what they will and won’t allow on a show based on what focus groups and marketing tell them interests a particular type of people. After all, it’s a business, and networks create shows to make money. When they can no longer do that, they will drop the show from their lineup, often leaving behind angry fans.

 

In the case of Teen Titans, a show based on five teenage superheroes who live in a T-shaped tower and fight crime as one team, the original target audience was the six-to-twelve age bracket, a section of the population that, at the time, Cartoon Network thought was being largely ignored because of the popularity of shows like Samurai Jack and Justice League which were geared more towards pre-teen and teenage boys. According to Executive Producer Sam Register, the goal with Teen Titans was to create “a good superhero show for kids,” and this idea is prevalent in every episode of the show. What sets it apart from many other shows at the time is that it ended up reaching a larger audience than what the network intended. That younger group of kids remained, but as the show progressed and gained attention, the general audience expanded into a much larger fan base—and one of its primary elements were teenage girls.

Disney Count Down #42: The Black Cauldron (1985)

 Ah, and here we are at The Black Cauldron.

I have mixed feelings about this movie, and I think the rest of the audiences in 1985 felt the same way. It’s considered Disney’s greatest failure, grossing only a measly $21 million dollars in North American theatres and costing the studio $25 million to make.

The history of what it was that happened to make this movie such a head case is long and convoluted. In 1983, Ron Miller, an employee of Disney’s film division and Walt Disney Productions president since 1980, was promoted to chief executive officer. He was the replacement for Card Walker who, during his reign, spent most of his time letting the film division of Disney fend for itself and focused his efforts on the new Disney World theme park that opened in 1971. While there wasn’t much indication that the company was having financial troubles, especially since Disney World was such a success, the general consensus of the outside world was that of a theme park first and the—mostly unsuccessful—creation of films second.

With the Star Wars franchise sucking box office dollars from most other films at the time, Disney realized that the new target demographic that needed to be reached was the teenage male crowd—the ones that were spending their money on things like Star Wars rather than cartoons and would rather attend their grandmother's Bingo night than be caught dead watching a Disney movie. With this in mind, the material presented in The Black Cauldron makes a lot of sense. There would be darker themes, more violence, no music, and the story headed by a teenage boy. At this time, new technology called APT replaced xerography that had been used since the late 50’s and allowed for a broader range of color manipulation and well as more lines and styles. It would also be shot using Cinerama, which hadn’t been used since Sleeping Beauty and has yet to appear since. In a word, this film was expensive.

When Ron Miller was eventually kicked out of his position (as it was clear that not many people seemed to like him), he was replaced by Michael Eisner who brought with him Jeffery Katzenberg. Katzenberg was put in charge of cleaning up the stagnant, festering puddle of mediocrity that had become the film division, weighed down by the costly movie they were supposed to be putting together. Katzenberg arrived to find The Black Cauldron in a complete and utter state of disaster. The film had been created by two separate divisions that didn’t have much contact with each other, resulting in a convoluted and nonsensical plot as well as left many famous animators—including Glen Keane, Tim Burton, Ron Clements, and John Musker—either running from the project or almost taken off because of the bickering. Katzenberg ordered that fully-animated scenes be cut from the movie, something that had never been done up until that point, after realizing that what he had was something unmarketable in its present state. Producer Joe Hale objected, so Katzenberg took the film into an edit bay and carved parts out of it himself. The rest of the development was hustled along to completion until its release in July of 1985.

While it would be easy to disregard this movie as something that was just a big flop on Disney’s part, it’s not a complete waste. The ideas and mythology behind the film are interesting, namely because they come from borrowed material. In this case, it’s Lloyd Alexander’s novels entitled The Chronicles of Pyrdain. The film pieces together the events of the first two books in the series about a young boy named Taran who is put in charge of watching over a pig named Hen Wen who has the ability to see the future when her snout is dipped into water. Through a series of events, Hen Wen is captured by the Horned King who wishes to use her seeing abilities to find the Black Cauldron, a magical device that will allow him to take over the world with an army of undead soldiers. Taran goes on an adventure to rescue her, meeting a combination of friends along the way.

The biggest problem that I have with this movie is the characters, which I think can be credited to the fact that the story itself is a bit of a mess. Despite the simplified explanation I gave above, everything that happens within the 80-minute run time is so poorly-paced and confusing that it’s impossible to even have time for proper characterization. Instead, we’re left with a bunch of questions. Taran desperately wants to be a great warrior, but doesn’t seem to have a motivation to do so. Were his parents killed in a village raid? Did his dad fight in the army? Were any members of his family involved in fighting in SOME WAY? We don’t know. The only thing we’re given is that he ended up with this old man and pig and now wants to be a hero. How are we supposed to root for him? There’s nothing there for us to grab onto.

Then you’ve got Princess Eilonwy, who, bless her heart, is so incredibly useless that you know the only reason she was in the movie in the first place was to cater to the female demographic. She spends the entirety of the film just looking pretty and being nice, never picking up a sword or a shield, or heck, even a rock to help Taran as he’s getting his butt kicked by the Horned King’s henchmen. The only time she does anything serviceable is when she patches up the Luter’s pants. Then, when Taran criticizes her for being a girl and not knowing anything about swords, she blows a tantrum and then proceeds to go cry under a tree. Not to mention the fact that she was also taken prisoner by the Horned King, and yet no one is looking for her. She’s a princess—wouldn’t it make sense for there to be an entire army hunting her down? The girl is gone for possibly weeks and yet makes no mention of home, her family, or the fact that somebody has got to give a damn that she’s missing.

The side characters, Luter and Gurgi. Gurgi looks like the bastard child of Einstein and Geppedo after being injected with dog DNA:

...and sounds like someone punched him in the throat, henceforth severing his vocal chords and producing a sound that makes me choke just listening to it. The Luter is also meant to be comic relief, but in a more subtle and sensible way. He isn’t nearly as rage-inducing as Gurgi, but he doesn’t do anything, either. There’s no real reason for him to be present. At all. He’s just another body Taran has to cart around with him.

And of course you have your villain, the Horned King, who is totally a rip off of Maleficent, except male and lacking skin. Even his minions look similar to hers, minus the whole pig thing:

But instead of an eerie, silent crow perched on his shoulder, we get an irritating, borderline psychotic side kick that is regularly strangled because apparently everything that goes wrong is always his fault.

Aside from the characters, the storyline itself is awkward and strangely paced, with much of the action just sort of launched at Taran and his gang without much warning. The ending is very Deus Ex Machina--forced and very weird, bringing back the revival of a character that probably would have been better off staying dead.

The animation as a whole looks fine, but there are moments where the colors are so saturated that it’s hard to not get lost in everything that’s on the screen. And speaking of animation, the influence of a particular man can be seen all over this film: Don Bluth. You might know him through his other more famous movies such as The Secret of Nimh, An American Tail, Thumbelina, and of course, The Land Before Time. He was also the front runner for the popular arcade game, Dragon’s Lair, which included various scenes of graphic deaths of the main character involving fire or acid or being eaten by something (and of which I have many fond memories of playing). But holy dear gracious, does The Black Cauldron feel like one of his movies. Bluth’s philosophy was that kids could handle anything as long as it had a happy ending, something that you can see played out in every single one of those movies I listed above. There’s a large element of darkness in everything he touches, which can be great if used with care. The problem with The Black Cauldron is that…well, the darkness isn’t. It’s dark without really needing to be, swallowing the flimsy characters and making the bleakness almost unbearable.

Perhaps that’s what ultimately ended up killing The Black Cauldron and forcing Disney to pretend that it never existed: It’s the most un-Disney film they could have possibly put out, and for many people, that just doesn’t cut it. I would argue that it’s a great movie to check out if you’re into animation (even though it’s dark and Don Bluth-y, the animation IS still beautiful) or in a particular brooding mood. If you’re looking for a happy, Disney-esque feel-good film, skip this one.

My Thoughts on Season Three of Korra

I’ve seen the trailer twice now, and I have to say that I like what I see.

Korra’s history has been…tumultuous. Season One was met with general positivity, with a few elements here and there that weren’t handled with the same kind of fineness that we saw in the predecessor (namely that horrible, forced romance subplot). Season Two divided a lot of fans in terms of liking and disliking what was presented. For now, I’ll say that most complaints towards what happened in Season Two are valid. There were a lot of slip-ups, character inconsistencies, and some-what lazy or disjointed writing. On the whole, however, Korra still remains strong enough to stand next to Avatar, and I’m glad to see the fan base is still on fire.

As for my own opinions regarding the series, I was (and still am) generally pleased with most of what Korra has given us. The Head Honchos' decision to run as far away from Avatar in terms of story lines, characters, and world-building is a bold choice that is, for the most part, rewarding. I won’t go so far as to say it’s perfect or even as good as Avatar, but it’s built itself up to be something great on its own, and that’s the best I could ask for in a spin-off series that is, for television, largely unprecedented.

Now, in regards to Season Three: Given the history surrounding the show, this season has a lot on its shoulders. Thousands of fans are crossing their fingers that this one will be the most solid of them all or that it will at least be good enough to bring some lost fans back. After watching the trailer, there are a few things I’ve concluded about this season:

1. Change is being taken seriously. There were apparently a lot of execs at Nick that wanted things to go back to the way they were at the end of Season Two, and because Mike and Bryan are now experts at bucking the system and convincing the network their way is better, that isn’t going to happen. We can see even from the montage of moments that this world is going to look very similar to what we know, but everything involved is going to be much different. In a good way. There’s obviously a lot going on in this new world that involves spirits and people, and it doesn’t appear that any one element is going to be the villain—or the good guys.

2. There’s going to be a crapton of action. Seriously, in the entire two minutes of the trailer, I think there were maybe a total of ten seconds that showed us something that wasn’t action. And that’s good—they’re bringing in more of the elemental fighting that (for me, at least) seemed lacking in the past two seasons. We get to see some more earth and airbending, as well as some other alternate-type benders. Apparently Combustion Man wasn’t the only of his kind.

3. THERE ARE AIRBENDERS. I’m not going to jump onto the Skeptic Bandwagon here, but I DO have some reservations about how they’re going to explain that. I don’t want a cheap plot thread that says “Oh, actually, we can just turn on airbending in people with this certain power.” I’m not sure how else they can suddenly have an army of airbenders when last we knew there were only Tenzin and his kids, but maybe they will impress me with some off-the-wall answer.

4. The animation/music is looking phenomenal. Watching this trailer in HD is amazing. The Korean studios are working their butts off and it’s obvious with the quality that is seen in this animation. It’s still undeniably Avatar, but it’s polished, sharp, and colorful. The backgrounds are highly detailed and beautiful, making this world look so fleshed out and epic. The music, as usual, is beyond remarkable, and given the way it’s presented in the trailer, looks to be as well-synched with the action as the last two seasons. We’re no longer in the pre-industrial cutesy Avatar music; these are fighting tracks. And that’s pretty awesome.

5. ZUKO IS IN IT. Fangirls everywhere are drooling over his little cameo in which we get to see him as an old man and a bad-ass firebender. I’m curious as to what role he’s going to play in this season. Hopefully they won’t treat him like an awkward throw-away character and play it as a cheap fan service. Uncle Iroh’s appearance last season had that reaction from some, and while I disagree with that, I DO think that Zuko has the potential to be that way. I have faith in the Korra team that he won’t, but I suppose we’ll find out.


Overall, I’m excited. I still have faith that this will be a solid, cohesive season. Now if we could just get a release date. That’d be great.

And here's the trailer for those who haven't seen it: