Let’s Play and Vlog Reviews: Doki Doki Literature Club Part 6, My Hero Academia 3-4, and Ducktales S2E5-6!

The video posting swarm continues! Here’s three:

Some Let’s Play… well, I was going to say action, but it’s a visual novel, so.

Another commission for Benny Blue:

And a bonus video:

Reminder that Patreon backers can request commissions, see these videos 4-5 weeks early, AND see Near-Apocalypse articles four MONTHS early! 

Here before (Legends of the Dark Knight)

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It’s still October 10, 1998, as The New Batman Adventures contributes its part of the block with “Legends of the Dark Knight,” a series of homages to takes on Batman from outside the DCAU, most notably Dick Sprang and Frank Miller, embedded within a frame story about a group of children arguing over their differing ideas of who Batman is and what he’s like.

The art style shifts–along with the fact that nowadays this episode is generally watched on DVD, Blu-Ray, or streaming–obscure something important in the episode’s structure, however, an unusual choice to not align the embedded stories with the act break. Both commercial breaks occur at cliffhanger moments in their respective embedded stories, which is not unusual–but after the breaks, we return immediately to the embedded story, which is. Most shows either time their act breaks to fall between embedded stories, or start the next act with a brief return to the frame story before continuing the embedded story, both for the same reason: people tend to change channels during commercial breaks, and they might not recognize the embedded story while channel-flipping.

This is one of two choices that jumps out as odd. The other is the incredibly mean-spirited caricature of Joel Schumacher as a child who appears briefly between the first and second story. Admittedly, as we’ve discussed, Schumacher’s Batman films are pretty mean-spirited in themselves, but that’s still no cause to depict him as a skinny, androgynous, mincing gay stereotype. Generalized misanthropy is one thing; homophobia is quite another.

Insofar as there is a reason for the character Joel to exist, it’s to reject the Schumacher take on Batman. The trio of kids we’ve followed reject that take unanimously, while the other three–Nick’s monstrous conception, Matt’s Golden-Age old chum, and Carrie’s dark, hulking bruiser–are each rejected by two of the children. Yet all three are not-uncommon interpretations of Batman. Nick’s is the Bat, the inner demon unleashed onto the outer world, Matt’s typical of Batman comics of the 1950s or the 1960s TV show, and Carrie’s is The Dark Knight Returns.

In other words, while the two embedded stories are homages to or pastiches of interpretations of Batman from outside the DCAU, the framing device is primarily about rejecting them. Like Joel, whose interest in Batman is depicted as superficial and precociously sexual, the three children we follow through the framing device misunderstand Batman because they each see only part of who he is–the frightening lurker in the shadows, the protector, the violent vigilante. Even after seeing Batman, they argue, because each sees only the aspects of him that they described.

It is the frame that makes the art. (More precisely, art is that which is presented as art by an artist to an art-public; the framing is where the “presented as” happens.) Each of the two segments is a homage or a pastiche if taken as an isolated unit–especially the Miller-influenced one, much of which is a near-verbatim recreation of part of The Dark Knight Returns–but neither actually is an isolated unit. Both are emboited within, and therefore transformed by, the frame story; the rejection is part of the homage. Much like Animaniacs before it–and remember, many of the same people worked on both–the show is acknowledging its forebears while declaring itself to have moved beyond them. The DCAU Batman is the complete one, the true Batman of whom all these others are only partial reflections, imperfect copies. Batman-as-monster ignores his humanity; the friendly neighborhood Batman ignores his darkness; the murderhobo Batman ignores his light.

By contrast, this episode argues, the DCAU Batman is the Batman, the complete Batman. He wears and wields the Bat, but there is a man within, not a monster. He is a highly capable hand-to-hand combatant, but he also makes quips and uses gadgets. He will act to protect children, but he’ll also leave an arsonist hanging off the side of a burning building, at serious risk of death if fire-and-rescue and the police don’t arrive quickly. He is a figure in the shadows, ambiguous, amorphous, difficult to entirely pin down, flitting about the edges of the narrative until it is time to insert himself surgically into it. (The one gem of truth in the Miller pastiche–this is an operating table, and Batman’s the surgeon. It’s the nature of the patient that Carrie/Miller gets wrong.)

It is a bold move. This episode declares the DCAU interpretation of Batman to be the definitive take, the best of all worlds. All the evolution of the character over the decades, all the shifts in perspective as times and tastes and writers changed, distilled down to a Bruce Timm design and Kevin Conroy’s voice. It isn’t the first time they’ve implied this–Gotham’s anachronisms have always implied a distillation of the eras–but it is the loudest and clearest. And they’re not wrong.

Which is yet another reason to replace him.


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Retroactive Continuity: Animosity vol. 2

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And we’re back! Sorry for the lengthy absence; this was a hell of a summer, but everything should be smooth from here!

Commissioned essay for Shane DeNota-Hoffman

Where Animosity vol. 1 was about establishing animals as an oppressed but rising underclass, vol. 2 is much more about showing us the various ways in which humans and animals have adapted (or failed to adapt) to the new reality that, whatever form civilization is to take, it will necessarily contain both. Nowhere is this more clear than the lengthy guide at the back of the book that describes what is happening in all the states of the U.S. and DC, as well as many other countries around the world. The highlights here are the “horse lords” of Kansas, a ruthless regime ruled by a triumvirate of horses that dominates the state and is beginning to expand into neighboring states; the beloved elephant matriarch who rules much of North Africa in a seemingly benign, utopian dictatorship maintained by a secret alliance with mosquitoes that spread malaria to her enemies; the Mad Max biker gangs that rule Ethiopia, led by a hyena matriarch in a blood feud with the elephant; and the penguin microkingdoms that squabble over control of Antarctica.

All of these are postapocalyptic scenarios in which oppressed people claim power for themselves, which of course is the core concept of our equation of apocalypse and revolution. At the same time, they all show the core problem: to claim power is to become the oppressor. The horse lords create a traditional empire; the elephant something more utopian and the hyena something less organized, but they all end up creating regimes maintained through violence. The penguins fragment into many tiny kingdoms, but a kingdom is still a kingdom, maintained through coercive violence whether it governs a hundred people or a million.

Other scenarios abound. There are places where humans scheme to undo the Wake, which is in essence genocide against animals, and places where animals scheme genocide against humans; places where humans have driven out all animals and now face starvation; places where humans and animals work together to try to understand what’s happened; places where animals rule, or humans rule, or humans and animals cooperate.

All have their flaws, even cooperation.

Most obvious are the flaws in the human-animal cooperation that is the “dragon” cult Jesse and Sandor encounter in teh first couple of chapters of this volume. Humans in animal skins and animals in human skins, working together to devour any animal or human that enters their territory, led by a giant red acid-spitting vulture. It’s undeniably weird, and extremely comic-book-y, but it’s also readable as oppressor and oppressed teaming up–but only to declare themselves a new hegemonic power and begin literally feeding on every outsider they meet. The most prominent example of this in real life is probably large religious organizations of that invite people of many races to join–but as part of an Us that defines itself oppositionally to a Them, or a grand narrative that demands adherents try to assimilate all others into the group.

This then prepares us for the contrast of the more ecumenical group at the waterfall in Virginia. This group is friendly, open, and cooperative, inviting humans and animals alike to gather, rest, and discuss philosophy, religion, and news of what’s happening elsewhere in the world. At the same time, though, the leader is gently but unwaveringly insistent on his own religious interpretation rooted in Christian texts, reminding us that while “ecumenical” is frequently used as if it describes a cooperative venture of people of many different beliefs and worldviews, its dictionary definition refers to cooperation between multiple Christian churches, and in practice it generally means “multiple kinds of Protestants and maybe some Catholics if we’re feeling generous.” There is no violence here that we see, but there are still norms, still demands for a curretn kind of behavior and, even more, a certain kind of person.

Even given apocalypse and a chance to do better, are we doomed to keep making the same mistakes over and over?


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Connecticon 2019 Schedule

First off, I’m doing much better with this break, and I’ll be back in full force next month! And speaking of next month, I’ll be presenting panels at Connecticon 2019 in Hartford, Connecticut July 12-14. This will be my last time presenting at a fan convention–after this, I’m retiring.

But I’m going out with a bang! Here’s my schedule (subject to change if Connecticon moves things around):

Friday:

  • Fullmetal Alchemy: The Real-World Alchemical Tradition and FMA: 10:30-11:30 AM in Riverside 2
  • Anime Doesn’t Exist and Trek is for Girls: Fandom Secret Histories: 1:30-2:30 PM in Cityside 4
  • Break the World’s Shell: Apocalypse and Anime: 4-5 PM in Cityside 1
  • The Answer and the Question: The Radical Aesthetics of Steven Universe: 7-8 PM in Cityside 3

Saturday:

  • Queering the Monster: Sympathetic Others in Fantasy and Horror: 2:30-3:30 PM in Cityside 1
  • Lesbians, Flowers, and Free Will: The Anime of Kunihiko Ikuhara: (with the von Hoffmans and Judith & Natalie) 4-5 PM in Riverside 1
  • My Little Pony: A History of Gen 4: (with Viga) 5:30-6:30 PM in Riverside 1
  • The Duel Named Revolution: Making Sense of Revolutionary Girl Utena: 7-8 PM in Riverside 1

Sunday:

  • The Near Apocalypse of ’09: Trauma, Heroism, and Apocalypse in the DCAU: 10-11 AM in Cityside 1
  • The (Surprisingly) Good Place: How a Network Sitcom Became the Best SFF on TV: (with Viga) 12-1 PM in Cityside 4
  • Lost in Transmission: A History of Accidentally Transgender Narratives: (with Katriel Paige) 1:30-2:30 PM in Riverside 2

For those who’ve seen my panels before: Fullmetal Alchemy is unchanged, Fandom Secret Histories is about 2/3 new content, Break the World’s Shell is updated, The Answer and the Question is redone from scratch, Queering the Monster is new, my portion of the Ikuhara panel is content I cut from both panel and book version of Duel Named Revolution, My Little Pony is new, Duel Named Revolution is unchanged, NA09 is heavily revised, Surprisingly Good Place is new, Lost in Transmission is new, and my intent is to record all of these and post them slowly over the next year.

Also: now you know why I came this close to total burnout this month, heh. ^_^;

Pause

As you may have noticed, I haven’t posted NA09 in a week, and I haven’t posted video in even longer. Short version is, I have a lot going on at the moment, and my stress levels hit the point where it was seriously impacting my physical health. So, I’m taking a vacation from blogging and video-making. I’ll resume with the regular schedule in July. I’ll be spending this time working on shorter-term projects and polishing my stress management skills.

Wasn’t just that you got old (Knight Time)

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It’s October 10, 1998. Monica still tops the charts, while Antz still reigns at the box office. In the news, Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet is indicted for human rights violations; he will be arrested within a week. No U.S. official ever faces the slightest repercussions for backing the coup that put him in power or for providing financial and technical support for “Operation Condor,” in which a Chile- and US-led multinational covert action to assassinate prominent Latin American leftists resulted in the deaths of sixty thousand people.

Speaking of covert action and distasteful segues, Superman: The Animated Series returns after a mini-hiatus… with essentially an episode of Batman: The Animated Series, given that it takes place at night and is set almost entirely in Gotham. It is essentially a “what if?” episode, the question in this case being “What if Superman filled in for Batman for a case?” This question has, of course, been asked and answered in comics numerous times, but this is its sole DCAU outing.

Coming as close on the heels of “Old Wounds” as it does, it highlights why the production staff may have felt a need to differentiate Superman and Batman, as they really do resemble one another almost exactly. This is a biproduct of Timm’s approach to character design, of course, which is even more visible with female characters–Roxy Rocket at the episode’s beginning is, other than costume, essentially indistinguishable from Batgirl or Harley Quinn or any of a number of others–but the issue still stands: the two most prominent characters in the budding DCAU look basically identical.

At the same time, this episode demonstrates why that differentiation isn’t that important, because in behavior Superman and Batman–and, for that matter, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne–are quite distinct. Robin says that he knows something is wrong with the message from Wayne because he smiles in it–but in BTAS, Wayne smiled frequently, sometimes as part of his unassuming gadabout persona, and sometimes genuinely, particularly in scenes alone with Alfred or Robin. It is only in The New Batman Adventures that his capacity for mirth and joy seem to have entirely evaporated–and thanks to “Old Wounds,” we know that it isn’t as a consequence of Dick Grayson leaving on bad terms to become Nightwing.

This episode highlights the difference between Superman and Batman: the audience has no trouble telling the difference, in part because we were told the premise from the start, but also because of how different they are. Even with Kevin Conroy, Batman’s usual voice actor, playing Supes-as-Bats, the character is notably distinct. In dialogue he struggles to maintain his demeanor, occasionally even breaking into a smile–which Bruce Wayne might have done in BTAS, but Batman did only privately and rarely. In combat, he is much less prone to dodging, lurking in the shadows, and surprise attacks, relying instead on his nigh-invulnerability and immense strength to carry the battle.

Both differences derive from the core distinction in demeanor between Batman and Superman. Batman is a conscious construct designed to project fear and give the impression of invincibility while helping the vulnerable human inside the suit stay alive; he is not just the audience’s protector fantasy, but eight-year-old Bruce Wayne’s as well. Superman, by contrast, is a protector fantasy for others only, as Clark Kent really doesn’t need protection; instead of fear, he projects an air of unassailable confidence–not smugness, but the justified belief that nothing his opponent can do will actually hurt him. These are very different positionalities, and we see in this episode that even given identical character designs and the same voice actor, we can still differentiate them.

Wayne and Kent, too, have contrasting personalities. Wayne, the playboy billionaire, is confident, friendly, and possibly a little dim; Kent the farm boy is earnest and smart, but shy and unassuming. They are, in short, the rich, popular kid and the fish out of water, easily distinguishable as discrete archetypes despite their similarity in character design.

So why the change to Wayne and Batman? Why make him so dour, serious, and solitary, if not to contrast him to Kent and Superman? The answer, simply put, is that the goal is not to differentiate Batman from Superman; it’s to differentiate Batman from Batman.

Terry McGinnis isn’t rich, but he is a middle-class Gothamite, closer in background to Wayne than farm-boy Kent. He’s not dumb by any means, but he’s not the academic or athletic star we’re given to believe Clark was. He is friendly and reasonably popular, but also driven and serious, traits we know Wayne possesses as well.

His similarity to a younger Wayne, diegetically speaking, is why he is chosen as Batman’s successor; the direction of causation is the other way around extradiegetically, but the two facts are still connected. The old Batman needs to be distinguished from the new, not just in experience and appearance, both of which go almost without saying, but in personality. And, too, “crotchety old man whose secret heart of gold is slowly revealed by his relationship with a caring younger person” is a common story arc for a reason: it works, it’s emotionally affecting, and it’s based on a different kind of relationship than media usually depict.

Meanwhile, it’s the 90s. The comics industry is imploding, and one of its desperate attempts to retain relevance is to cater to the angry white boy market by “darkening” characters and lines, which is to say by focusing on characters who are at best assholes, and often nigh-indistinguishable from the villains they fight in terms of destructive impact on the people around them. Batman is relatively tame by comparison, but nonetheless comics of the time played up his “outsider” status and angst.

For Wayne’s arc in Batman Beyond to work, he must become a bitter, lonely old man by its dark future. How better to get him there than by having him transform into the then-current comic book version of the character, and thereby drive away everyone he cares about one by one? The path will be complicated by the interpolation of Justice League, but nonetheless, we are on the road to his status at the beginning of Beyond: an isolated recluse in a city evolved from anachronistic noir pastiche to cyberpunk–if those can even be said to be different things.


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Retroactive Continuity: She-ra and the Princesses of Power S1E7-8

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In past entries on She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, I’ve largely focused on the other princesses, in large part because that’s what the episodes focused on. In “In the Shadows of Mystacor” and “Princess Prom,” however, the focus of the show returns to its main character, Adora. Specifically, these two episodes address the fact that she and Catra grew up being abused by their adoptive mother Shadow Weaver, and examine the impact that abuse has had on them.

The focus of “Shadows of Mystacor” is Adora’s (and, to a lesser extent, Catra’s) fear of Shadow Weaver. In this, she is contrasted very effectively against both Angella and Castaspella. The former doesn’t actually appear in the episode, but she is evoked by Glimmer’s response to Adora describing how, in addition to providing for basic physical needs, Shadow Weaver taught her tactics and combat: “Right, Mom stuff.” Like Shadow Weaver, Angella is stern, demanding, and prepares her daughter for a life of violence and leadership–but she worries about her daughter’s well-being, and her responses to rule-breaking are typically parental, such as punishing her daughter with grounding. Castaspella, meanwhile, is not a parental figure for Glimmer, but she is quite passive-aggressive (which is a form of manipulation), and habitually ignores Glimmer’s words and preferences.

Angella expects a great deal of her daughter and is trying to prepare her; Castespella is self-centered and unpleasant. Neither, however, is abusive, and thereby contrast just how much worse Shadow Weaver is. For example, Glimmer clearly doesn’t want to spend time with Castaspella, because she finds it uncomfortable–but we’ve seen that when Shadow Weaver lashes out angrily in Catra’s presence, Catra recoils in outright fear. In “Shadows of Mystacor” we see why, as Shadow Weaver’s proxies work to frighten Adora so she has difficulty sleeping, then show themselves only when no one else is around, so that the others think Adora is imagining things. This simultaneously isolates her and makes her doubt her own perceptions, two standard abuser tactics, designed to make her more dependent and therefore more controllable.

This is, perhaps, the most crucial, defining feature of the abuser, regardless of the type of relationship within which the abuse is occurring: the desire for nonconsensual control, the imposition of the abuser’s will on their victim. What’s clever here is its contrast with non-abusive ways in which someone who feels a need for control can express that need. In the case of Angella, her desire for safety for her daughter leads to her to try to control her daughter’s behavior through punishments, which is fairly typical–and necessary–for parenting a child. Castaspella’s desire control seems to be more about her own easily wounded feelings, and a lot less healthy, but she also isn’t very good at exerting that control, and merely self-centered rather than actually malicious. Shadow Weaver, by contrast, when she finally realizes that she cannot control Adora, attempts to kill her, just as she will later in the series with Catra. Her “children” have no value to her as people in themselves, only as objects that she can use.

“Princess Prom” shows us the consequences of Adora and Catra’s upbringing. First, Adora is badly stunted in her social development, which is not at all uncommon for sufferers of complex PTSD, which in turn is common in survivors of child abuse. Admittedly, I don’t care for parties either, especially not this kind of party, but Adora actually seems to enjoy the concept, but is intimidated by it. Her decision to treat the party as a military campaign is telling: it terrifies her, because it is a social situation with a large number of arbitrary rules in which she has no power, a recreation of her time in the Horde, and so she deals with it by reverting to the behavior and relying on the skills that were rewarded in her time in the Horde.

Catra has been damaged in a subtly different way than Adora, however: where Adora fled, Catra has decided to seek the same kind of control herself, to move up in the Horde so that she can become biggest bully on the block. She doesn’t want to be free of Shadow Weaver, but rather to replace her, and in essence become her. The fight on the rooftop epitomizes that: literally, Adora might be referring to getting out of their precarious position dangling off the side of a tower when she says “I can get us out of this,” but Catra’s reply of “Oh, Adora, I don’t want you to!” is about much more than that.

Already here it is clear that Catra felt hurt and abandoned when Adora left, and now she intends to make sure no one can ever hurt or abandon her again. We will see more of this when the show finally does an episode focused on her.


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Vlog Reviews: Steven Universe: S5E25-8, Dirty Pair: The Flight 005 Conspiracy, Lego Movie 2

Once again, I failed to post videos last week so doing it this week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me either. Anyway, have THREE videos:

Commissioned by BJ:

Commissioned by Aleph Null:

And a bonus video:

 

ETA: Sorry, original title had next week’s SU video. Fixed now.

Reminder that Patreon backers can request commissions, see these videos 4-5 weeks early, AND see Near-Apocalypse articles four MONTHS early! 

You have to trust (Old Wounds)

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It’s October 3, 1998. Monica tops the charts with “The First Night”; Aerosmith, Bare Naked Ladies, Jennifer Paige, and Edwin McCain round out this spectacularly 90s top 5. At the box office, Antz debuts at number one and What Dreams May Come at number two. Rush Hour and A Night at the Roxbury are at third and fourth, marking the first chart we’ve come across where I’ve actually seen all of the top four movies.

In the news, Europol is established and “pro-market social conservative” John Howard becomes Prime Minister of Australia, so the catastrophic rightward shift in the political winds that started in the late 70s/early 80s is still ongoing.

Speaking of catastrophic shifts, we have the episode The New Batman Adventures has been building to all season, the reveal of how Dick Grayson parted ways from Batman and became Nightwing. That, however, is not the catastrophic shift most highlighted by this episode, as the reason is more or less what one would expect: Batman being controlling, Dick rebelling, Batgirl caught in the middle between her lover at the time and lover to be.

The far more interesting catastrophic shift is that in Batman’s behavior. Since that change was introduced alongside with the changes in his relationship to Nightwing, occurring somewhere in the gap between the end of Batman: The Animated Series and the beginning of TNBA, it was natural to assume that it coincided with the breakdown of their relationship. But it didn’t; if anything, it precipitated that breakdown. The Batman we see in “Old Wounds” (colored, admittedly, by the narration of the very much not impartial Nightwing) is the same as throughout TNBA: cold, distant, manipulative, and calculating. Batman was, of course, capable of being all these things as part of his “I am the night” persona, but privately he displayed warmth, playfulness, and humor. And he still does in TNBA, in his relationships with his family–but “professionally,” so to speak, he is now all Dark Knight, never Caped Crusader.

So, we have to ask, what happened? And a clear answer shows itself almost immediately: Superman happened.

This is true on multiple levels. Extradiegetically, Superman is warm, playful, and funny in Superman: The Animated Series, so to differentiate the characters, Batman is made colder, more stern and serious. Diegetically, the emergence of Superman is part of a general shift into a world where both the characters and the threats they face are more fantastic, more powerful, and more alien. Batman’s world has changed from one where, once he kicks the gun out of an enemy’s hands, all he has to deal with are punches, to one where his enemies’ punches can potentially flatten skyscrapers–and with no guarantee that he’ll be able to tell who can do it, given that Clark Kent of all people is the physically strongest person in the world by several orders of magnitude. He is, in short, scared, and he deals with that fear by distancing others and becoming more hostile and work-focused.

But we are most interested in neither of those levels, but rather in readings that pass between and beyond them. Superman’s arrival wasn’t just Superman; it was apocalypse, revolution, and reinvention. Harley blew up Krypton, and Krypton was the world. The New Batman Adventures isn’t set in Bruce Wayne’s world, but in Harleen Quinzel’s, a place at once lighter and more dangerous, stranger and more open.

And that has Batman scared, because a world that is open is a world less controlled. Though in the past he was warmer and kinder, he was always in control of himself and often of his environment. He was, in most of the senses that matter, Alfred’s son, but he was also always Alfred’s boss. He was Dick’s father, but he chose that role because he saw something of himself in the angry, grieving little boy. He craves control because of that terrible moment when his life was entirely outside his control, and he exerts control by maintaining law and order (read: authoritarian control) in “his” city. He and he alone sorts the city into its four-caste hierarchy: the general populace, weak and helpless; the criminals who prey on them; the police who enact violence against the criminals; and the Bat who hangs over them all.

That his coldness and distance is a response to feeling out of control is demonstrated by his relationship with Batgirl. Theirs is a relationship of power exchange, of control, and with her he is still warm, even teasing. Likewise with Tim, still young enough to be unable to do much without Batman’s approval, and Alfred, to whom he can directly give orders. The only one he can’t control anymore is Dick, and Bruce doesn’t know how to love someone he can’t control.

Which is not to say he doesn’t still love Dick. Of course he does! But love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a process and a relationship, and Bruce is very bad at it with people he can’t control. His only familial relationships are with children he “rescued” and adopted and an employee; his romantic relationships are all with “bad” women that he tries to make “good,” most obviously Catgirl and Talia al-Ghul, but that’s also the role Batgirl takes when she plays the BDSM “brat” in their relationship. The last time he loved someone he couldn’t control, she abandoned him to become the Phantasm; the last time before that, they were gunned down in an alley. Batman is his own protector fantasy, and so his great nightmare is of caring for someone that won’t let Batman protect them.

He simply does not know how to handle Dick slipping out of his control, and reacts poorly, which drives Dick further away. The choice not to tell Dick about Batgirl’s secret identity is a bad one, but it’s understandable in this context: it’s a point of leverage, a way of trying to bring Dick back under control by telling him that he’s replaceable, and to undermine his independence by knowing something crucial about his life that he doesn’t.

The hardest thing to do, when you’ve been hurt, is to allow yourself to be hurt again. To drop the barriers and let go control, to trust another person, depend on them, permit them the power to hurt you as you were hurt before. This is the pain that causes Batman to go down this darker path, one that will keep him isolated and dark, driving away everyone he cares about, right through to his bitter old age in Batman Beyond. He is wrong, and getting wronger, but through this episode we understand why, and can feel for him.

“Old Wounds,” from a synopsis alone, sounds like an origin story for Nightwing. Which of course it is–but he’s the hero of the story, and as is often the case in BTAS and TNBA, the hero is not the emotional center. As a result, this isn’t just an origin story, or even primarily an origin story. It’s something else, something that BTAS in particular always excelled at.

“Old Wounds” is a sympathetic villain story.


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