(12/11/09)
Weighted down storm clouds, a flurry of rain, and a mournful lull of an opening theme begin what is perhaps the most credulous of all of Dini’s villain reform stories. Neither Ivy nor Catwoman, neither Riddler nor Clayface can be dissociated from their complexes, even if those complexes humanize. Two-Face is a rare character that we have seen before his subconscious issue expanded, and whose expressions of original innocence can be glimpsed before the theoretical eradication of his psychosis. Harvey Dent is a good man trapped by his own disorder, and Second Chance reminds us of his existence.
A simple shot of Batman in contemplative disposition implies much about his state of mind, his tragic recollection and unflinching hope that Harvey will be saved. He and Robin stand as guardian angels, passive and intent until something goes wrong. Dini and Kirkland use everything in their power to make us implicitly and effortlessly understand the nature of Batman’s love and sadness for Harvey, and it shows. A newly directed flashback consisting of very little reused animation emphasizes the extent to which the scene has tortured Batman; presumably each time he recalls it the event takes on a more intimate representation.
As soon as disaster strikes the focus jolts from the angelic voyeurism of Batman and Robin to the usual intervention of prototypical thugs who come to snatch Two-Face from salvation. What proceeds are the greatest chase sequences in the series. As soon as Batman and Robin begin their pursuit, the storyboarding becomes the star. A shot of Robin as he launches himself into the air to grapple over an elevated train is a remarkable feat of perspective and timing. As Batman chases his target we are welcome to a frenzy of shots that maintain a particular geography of traffic, as Batman weaves in and out of cars from both visceral horizontal standpoints and aerial perspectives. The best of Batman episodes maintain a balancing act between action and melodrama, and the crew of Second Chance manages this with expertise, letting the former propel the story with tense and dramatic haste while making careful use of the latter for all the effective emotional cues.
The third act, which reveals Two-Face himself as the mastermind, concentrates this alternation into a suspenseful sequence of parallel editing, juxtaposing Batman’s fisticuffs with Two-Face’s obsessive trek through the construction wreckage of the elevated Half-Moon club for a trick-coin he believes to be his own. The barrage of thugs Batman must defeat withholds the outcome, as Two-Face nervously teeters on the edge of the rubble. What might have been a corny Saboteur ledge scene is instead a deeply involved psychological dilemma that rests on Two-Face’s ability to temporarily reject his obsessions.
Almost every other episode that tackles the subject of reformation ends on a tragic note, and while Second Chance returns to square one, it concludes on a note that couldn’t be further from defeatism. Harvey yet again appears, reminding us that, even in the face of anthological conventions, there is still hope for him. The ending also gives Robin a thematic purpose beyond that of the mere sidekick. As Batman has pushed himself relentlessly to pursue and confront Two-Face, Robin fades into the background, only to emerge when Batman needs him the most. Perhaps fitting with the theme of duality, Robin’s support for Batman parallels Batman’s support for Two-Face, and the ending serves as an affirmation of each caped crusader’s intrinsic goodness and determination.
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