Three decades ago, in a landmark essay titled Comics as Culture, pop culture scholar M. Thomas Inge argued that jazz and comics were the two art forms that "perhaps represent America's major indigenous contribution to world culture."
In the years since, his hypothesis has been repeated and reworked by everyone from Woody Allen and Clint Eastwood to the scabrous sci-fi writer Harlan Ellison (who felt the need to add musical comedy, detective stories and banjo music to the mix).
Yet, so far no one has made a case for what I've always considered to be a more natural extension of Inge's original argument: Mainly, that comics actually are jazz. And the proof can be found in the humble realm of the superhero comic.
Ever since Action Comics #1 debuted on newspaper stands and magazine racks in the summer of 1938, the comic book superhero has proven popular and incredibly sturdy. The sun has set on countless pop culture sensations over the past 71 years, yet Superman and his ilk continue to thrive in comics, graphic novels and the big screen.
Their secret? Much like jazz, which depends on reinvention and reinterpretation, the successful superhero has come to rely on fresh creative takes to keep fans coming back for more. Jazz has its standards — "Bye Bye Blackbird," "My Funny Valentine," "Stardust" — while comics has its Superman, Spider-Man and the X-Men, all of whom have experienced creative reinterpretation since they first appeared.
Arguably, no other hero has been the subject of as much reinvention as Batman. Created in 1939 by cartoonist Bob Kane and writer Bill Finger, "The Bat-Man," as he was first called, was imagined as a ruthless, cold-blooded vigilante in black-and-grey stockings.
This alpha Batman was driven by vengeance and shared none of the respect for human life that he would come to develop in the ensuing years; in his first outing, he punches a scheming businessman into a vat of acid, pausing briefly to comment "a fitting end for his kind." His first 11 months are spent cutting a bloody path through Gotham City's bizarre underworld, using his bare hands to kill gangsters, jewel thieves, werewolves, vampires and … giant gorillas. And he is by no means gun shy: At one point he machine-guns a gang of berserk monster men.
It didn't last. Unnerved by the popular character's violent tendencies, Batman editors initiated a makeover in the spring of 1940, giving him his own solo comic, a cheerful young sidekick and a newfound reverence for human life. (In the same issue, Batman meets — and beats — a new nemesis called The Joker. and then rescues him from certain death.)
The reboot was a sales success, launching decades of creative rebirth. From the quirky fantasy of the 1950s and the high-camp of the 1960s to the artist-driven reboots of the 1970s (Neal Adams) and Frank Miller in the 1980s — not to mention a smash TV show and seven feature films — Batman has been riffed on so many times that he's become the "'Round Midnight" of the superhero set.
And the most popular of these permutations to date is The Dark Knight, director Christopher Nolan's brooding, billon-dollar summer blockbuster. Nolan's film has been critically praised for its sombre tone and adored by fans thanks to an exhilarating, Oscar-nominated performance by the late Heath Ledger, whose Joker plays out like a terrorist in clown makeup.
Yet, if I had to choose my favourite interpretation of the Batman mythos from the past few years, I'd have look back more than 40 years ago; specifically to the comics contained in Chip Kidd's latest project, Bat-Manga!: The Secret History of Batman in Japan. A book designer/author by day, and devoted comics geek by night, Kidd has pulled off something close to a miracle with this book, managing to convince a major publisher (Pantheon) to print an impressive tome collecting little-known comics featuring an obscure Japanese version of Batman.
Originally published in a weekly manga magazine during the height of 1960s Bat-mania, yet unavailable in English until now, these comics depict Batman as you've never seen him before.
In the hands of cartoonist Jiro Kuwata (known for co-creating the popular Japanese superhero 8-Man), the Caped Crusader operates in a hypnotic Gotham City in which he's forced to fight the likes of Dr. Faceless, Lord Death Man and Professor Gorilla. While he is always victorious in the end (these are superhero comics after all), the route he takes is often unconventional; in one story, he soaks himself in chemicals and transforms into a giant bat-a-rang in order to defeat the shape-shifting villain Clayface; in another, he loses his famed intellect but gains the enhanced powers of a gorilla, which he uses to catch the bad guy; and in an oddly humanizing tale, Batman and Robin, stumped by a case, up and to fly to Jamaica for a little R&R.
Consumed in one sitting, the book is remarkably refreshing and is sure to remind even the most casual superhero fan how weighed-down by unwritten rules a copyrighted character can become. Kuwata may have been aware of these rules, but he was seemingly unwilling to abide by them, and the result is a revelation. If The Dark Knight is the chart-topper, these long-forgotten comics are as unpredictable and invigorating as a John Zorn project. No doubt Bob Kane and Bill Finger would be proud.
Brad Mackay is an Ottawa-based freelance writer and a co-founder of The Doug Wright Awards for Canadian Cartooning.
