B:TAS reviews: Riddler's Reform

(12/11/09)

Most of Batman’s villains have some underlying psychological dynamic that humanizes them and consequently skews the viewer’s allegiance. In House of Garden, Catwalk, Mudslide, and Heart of Ice, the antagonists become sympathetic and Batman emerges as a cold representation of law and order. The Riddler has his own complex—he is compelled to commit crimes and leave clues—and yet he lacks a basic human drive or a point of origin for his taken-for-granted diagnosis. He seems interesting solely for his concept, his slick costume, and his wry charisma.

In Riddler’s Reform he has a villain-of-the-week appeal, lacking a motive of the sort that drove him to villainy in his previous appearances. He no longer has revenge as a reason, identity deletion an excuse. He can now frivolously commit crimes and his lack of purpose is chalked up to compulsion. A cat and mouse game ensues as Batman hopes to catch his seemingly reformed nemesis in the criminal act, ever on the watch for clues and puzzles that anticipate his burglaries. Since the writers tend to grant Batman omniscience, the game wears thin rather quickly; soon the chase runs out of steam, Riddler forced to resort to a typical deathtrap. It becomes clear, and the ending drives it home, that we are expected to appreciate him as a ‘deep’ character with engaging psychodynamic issues, rather than simply enjoy him as a cunning opponent.

That my favorite sequence is purely aesthetic and independent of plot reveals the episode’s fundamental flaw. Batman attempts to apprehend two of the Riddler’s henchmen as they descend the side of a skyscraper via window cleaning platform. The rain gives the lights of the Gotham skyline a curious glow, as the lightning adds an undeniable feeling of hectic disorientation. Extreme perspective shots behold the scale of the building at the same time they place the camera within the eyes of the terrorized perpetrators. Such a set piece doesn’t need context; it relies on the specific strengths of animation and storyboarding.

And so while people believe they enjoy the intelligence of the story, the structure, the plot twists, and the apparently layered characterization of the Riddler, I think the main attraction is almost entirely superficial. The geometric designs of the puzzles appease some basic visual delight. The black-and-white toy commercials are humorous. Eerie abandoned toy fairs and riveting action sequences are specially crafted and unique. And even though the dichotomy between warm socialite party and cold rainy city streets speaks some volumes about the Riddler’s encapsulation within Gotham’s financial elite, what stands out about that particular gathering more than his comic facial expressions of lustful surprise and arousal?

Outside of the well-beloved ending in which he is driven to madness, does anyone really care about the Riddler’s dilemma or buy that he has the ability to secure himself within the ranks of corporate tycoons while his thugs carry out his dirty work? He’s interesting so far as he creates fun scenarios and carries himself with a sardonic air of superciliousness. But his compulsion stems from nothing and exists for the sake of his conceptual identity. In the way that Baxter casts him in toy commercials for his surface publicity, so I submit that he is similarly cast here as a glossy, colorful, and charismatic concept of an adversary rather than a true character driven by human complexes or desires.