B:TAS reviews: Tyger, Tyger

(8/29/09)

This is Batman at its most ambitious, for better or worse. Tyger, Tyger is about the line between man and beast, the consequences of playing God, and identity confusion in general. Because these are themes so often explored in literature, I cannot possibly fault the episode for not aspiring to something of novel insight. Therefore the deciding factor is the competence with which it repackages these common themes into some manner of bemusing entertainment.

The first topic is the line that separates man from beast, as the antagonist of the story is a man who engages in genetic engineering experiences, labeled horrific for blurring that line. And yet what does the episode actually have to say about what differentiates one from the other? If anything it makes the case that the problem simply lies in the fact that genetically engineered people or animals lack a distinctive place in the world, unable to assimilate into either human society or the natural world. But this is merely a social ill that does not reflect the extent to which such testing is an infringement on human or bestial identity. What about being truly human is lost when one is infused with animal DNA and vice-versa? This is not explored, and thusly the story’s philosophical overtones go unfulfilled.

The godlike scientist is the self-righteous Emile Dorian, who has figuratively birthed a son, Tygrus, from an endeavor of cold, masculine experimentation. Tygrus is a test-tube creation whose subservience to Dorian is metaphysical rather than biological. Screenwriter Cherie Wilkenson characterizes Dorian as a perverse god, someone who creates for his own indulgence. Tygrus’ rebellion straightforwardly relays the message that playing God is not meant for man and so often disintegrates into chaos; Genesis parallels abound.

The identity crisis angle is the most effective. It draws a crucial distinction between Tygrus, who cannot revert back to anything, who has been a perversion of nature since birth, and Selina, who can become ‘normal’ again. Tygrus was created as an anomaly of nature and so he remains, someone with the human desires for love and companionship, who sadly cannot obtain these things in his current form. Though ripe with melodrama, the ending is one of the most oddly affecting in all of Batman, perhaps because it is unexpected for an action cartoon. Tygrus decides that he cannot belong anywhere, and so he resorts himself to wandering the island alone. Misty rain, somber music and Conroy’s reading of William Blake’s The Tiger endows the scene with a mellow, tragic poetry.

The costumed characters, Batman and Catwoman, are pawns manipulated by Wilkenson to best convey all of her hackneyed philosophizing. Tygrus meanwhile is an archetypal figure, striking in beauty and prowess but forever alone. I do not believe that the tacked on Most Dangerous Game adventure is exciting, nor do I believe that the themes tackled are examined with a fresh eye. But the episode is strange mix of literary simplification and action-packed childhood appeal. For that it is at least a curiosity.