It is safe to assume by this point that Superman: the Animated Series is far more preoccupied with action sequences than its predecessor. Batman had so many format-benders, suspense pieces, and psychological thrillers that clearly the now established structure that incorporates an initial confrontation in the first or second act and then a more elaborate showdown in the third was not always the norm. Though it can of course be argued that the restriction of having to have so much time devoted to action sequences leads to tighter storytelling and more room for subtlety than the White Elephant fluff of I Am the Night and It’s Never Too Late, I believe Feeding Time is the starting point for a new kind of dramatically null fireworks approach to episode production that would plague both Superman and Batman Beyond.
The screenplay for Feeding Time is interchangeable with any barebones revenge story scripting exercise about a pathetic, socially inept man who stumbles into an accident that endows him with superpowers, which in turn drive him to enact revenge on everyone in close proximity, so that they may feel the pain he had endured for so many years. This description not only relays basic plot information; it more or less relays the entire story. One may recall Jervis Tetch’s introspective transformation from jittery, bashful, bucked tooth romantic to obsessive control freak, provoked not by any one catalyst, but by a combination of oppressive managerial hierarchy, social insufficiency, and his own research expertise in neurological manipulation. Rudy Jones lacks any such nuance; he is a prototype. He is not believable as a smalltime janitor compelled to work for an egocentric criminal higher-up to get ahead in life. Biographical information about him is crudely disclosed in a first act police scuffle that leads to a chemical vat rupture within minutes.
It becomes clear that his lifelong subjugation and timidity is only necessary insofar as it serves as a basic motivation for sudden super-villainy. Upon fusing with the unspecified purple goop, he becomes the Parasite, a monster with the ability to leech powers and memories from his opponents. Not only is this power unable to be viewed under any kind of thematic lens (transfer of power, parasitism on larger systemic levels, the moral and psychological implications of memory theft, etc.), but as a villain he lacks any objective outside of a general desire to wreak havoc out of some misguided attempt at abstract vengeance (awkwardly elucidated in one of Superman’s you-don’t-have-to-do-this outbursts). It’s clearly an episode for the fight scenes alone.
The first episode in a while to be animated by Dong Yang, Feeding Time is full of blocky movements, iffy poses, and unconvincingly directed violence. When Superman comes at Parasite with a streetlight, instead of going the rational rote and using its verticality to strike from a distance, he holds it parallel to the ground and thrusts it forward with both hands. When Parasite goes in to strike Superman, a shot of him preparing a powerful hit cuts to a confounding long shot that weakly matches the action. Colors are also more muddled than TMS’s palette of appropriately saturated hues and carefully chosen contrasts.
The only worthwhile aspects of Feeding Time are the continuity linkages, the most important of which is Superman’s kryptonite protection suit.
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