(6/01/09)
Watching this episode again, I wasn’t expecting to notice anything new about it. But such is the way with great art that there is always something new to discover. I saw the opening shot, the transition from freefalling snow to the encapsulated majesty of Freeze’s snow globe ballerina. How it evoked that shot from Citizen Kane, as we see freefalling snow only to learn it exists within a snow globe. For both men, the snow globe is a microcosm of a lost love, and whether they know it or not, it is the very thing that has driven them to where they are now. Kane sought to reclaim his lost childhood, whereas Freeze seeks to avenge his dead wife.
This opening shot not only gave me a rich cinematic source of comparison, but it also reminded me of something I once heard, that people love characters who love completely. Even if such love is foolish, or if, in Freeze’s case, it drives the character to brutal revenge, we are still endeared to the character. Freeze isn’t avenging himself. He is certainly disconcerted by the physical harm done him by Ferris Boyle, the villain of the story, but always the emphasis is on Nora, the woman he loved so dearly. In the same way we attach ourselves to Freeze for the love he holds for his wife, we also in a sense forgive him for his actions. As the result of a tragedy inflicted upon him by a cruel man, Freeze isn’t entirely at fault for his current state of being, nor can his violent retaliation be seen as evil. He is, for all of these reasons, the ultimate tragic villain of Batman: the Animated Series, and though I have viewed this episode well over a dozen times, I still get goose bumps when I revisit it.
Batman, then, represents the viewer. As he tries to prevent Freeze from sabotaging Goth Corp, he also makes the attempt to understand Freeze and what has created him. Batman comes to see Freeze as we do, as a tragic figure acting on behalf of a loved one. The only difference is that whereas we might want to see Freeze enact vengeance on such a despicable man, Batman cannot sit idly by and let him; Batman is the reasonable justice that can’t let even the most understandable acts of vengeance come to fruition. And perhaps in a sense, the more scholarly of viewers can view Batman as not just sympathizing with the man, but having total empathy for him. After all, does not Batman describe himself as vengeance? Is not everything he does to prevent crime an act of vengeance for his lost parents? Has Batman drawn a line or does he even recognize that he and Freeze are not so different?
In any case, Batman feels deeply for the man. So deeply, in fact, that he takes time out to pay him a silent visit at the end of the episode. So beautifully conceived is this episode, that even without a word on his part, we understand the purpose and the feelings behind this nightly appearance. If one actually studies the structure, one could come to the conclusion that Freeze is the protagonist and Boyle the antagonist, with Batman as the mediator, striking a moral balance between the two. There is a dynamic interplay at work that sets each one against the other two at varying points in the story. Not one of these characters comes out of it without feeling some pain. As Freeze feels sadness at his missed chance for revenge, Batman forces himself to share in that sadness.
I almost hate to depart from the narrative analysis to discuss production values, but in Heart of Ice, the two are inseparable and wholly complementary. I have always been terrible at describing music; in fact it is a mystery to me how it is achieved. All I can say is that there is a striking beauty to Todd Hayden’s score that makes me feel like I’m watching a movie. The animation is filled with rich attention to detail that infuses itself masterfully with Bruce Timm’s direction. The producers clearly felt that this was an episode worth painstaking effort and it shows in every aspect of production. The feeling one gets from Freeze’s plight is strengthened by the awareness of the passionate production work that serves to intensify every dramatic moment.
Even the best of television episodes often feel marred by that twenty-two minute restriction. But 'Heart of Ice' transcends the mechanics of a television production and comes to life as a work of art in and of itself, not bound by the continuity of the series, nor hindered by the limitations of cartoon censorship. It is truly a rich example of the art of the visual narrative.
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