Graphic narrative and comics studies; body politics and representations; posthumanism and apocalypse; social order and sovereignty; surveillance studies; disability studies; film and television studies.
Batman and related comics titles have an unsettling habit of signifying moral deficiency, madness... more Batman and related comics titles have an unsettling habit of signifying moral deficiency, madness, or a propensity towards chaos, with visual othering. Members of the Rogues Gallery are represented as freaks, and their criminal antics extensions of their freakish nature. This visual freaking is typically inflicted via trauma, as in the case of Poison Ivy, Two-Face, Bane, and, in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, the Joker, and signifies criminality or insanity or both.
Such representation is not exclusive to villains, either: Batman/Bruce Wayne’s nightly transformation from billionaire playboy to caped crusader, inspired by the murder of his parents, is another example of freaking, but one which can be easily disguised. Unlike Ivy's toxicity or Two-Face's scarring, Batman can shed his freaking as he transforms back into Wayne, re-becoming a normative body. Accordingly, a stark dichotomy of freaking and criminality is established: deliberate and impermanent freaking, as with Batman and his masked allies, is allowed to be good, while accidental and permanent freaking signifies evil. Though scholars such as Geoff Klock and Leslie J. Anderson have approached this dichotomy, a thorough examination of its complexities has yet to be undertaken.
I propose to interrogate this discourse through the character of Harley Quinn, drawing broadly on her comics depictions in the current ongoing series and Gotham City Sirens, and more specifically on Batman: Harley Quinn and Mad Love, as each presents a version of her original freaking. Michel Foucault's theories of madness and confinement and critiques of women and madness offered by Elaine Showalter, Jane M. Ussher, and Tony Maden will inform my analysis, while Rosemarie Garland Thomson and Leslie Fiedler's work on the cultural construction of freaks will serve as my argument's foundation.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn's entry into the freak discourse of Gotham immediately destabilizes it for a number of reasons: her ambition and love primarily motivate her, rather than greed or maliciousness; her former position as a psychologist, and thus a gatekeeper of normalcy; her susceptibility to manipulation preying on her naïve optimism. Most importantly, Harley Quinn occupies a nebulous and poorly-defined region between freaking herself and being freaked by others (in this case, the Joker). As such, she moves easily between the "good" and "bad" sides of Gotham, aiding the Joker in his schemes, working with the Gotham City Sirens (and occasionally Batman) to reform herself, or teaming up with Batman to get back at the Joker. Her propensity for switching sides not only drives the narrative, but, as I will argue, reinscribes freakishness with moral flexibility, inviting more complex representations of extraordinary bodies.
Geoff Klock argues that the enduring significance of The Dark Knight Returns lies in its revision... more Geoff Klock argues that the enduring significance of The Dark Knight Returns lies in its revision of Batman. This revision does not insist upon an entirely new iteration of the character, but rather attempts to cohesively unite each version, articulated in different years, by different creators, for different audiences, into a single figure. By doing so, Klock argues, the details revealed in Dark Knight, such as an armored chest plate or the violence and injury Batman endures, are retroactively understood by the reader to have always already been there.
Zack Snyder’s (2016) Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is a work heavily inspired by Dark Knight, as demonstrated by Batman’s mecha-suit, the use of media and government, and the film’s grim themes and visual palette. Critics almost universally hated it; A.O. Scott pithily remarked that the film was “about as diverting as having a porcelain sink broken over your head”—in other words, not at all. However, I argue, in this chapter, that this is precisely the point. Like The Dark Knight Returns, Batman v. Superman attempts a revisionary synthesis of Batman and his politics, not by armoring Batman or pitting him against a Reagan-ized Superman, but by demonstrating the violence that has always been inflicted by Batman against others.
In interrogating Batman v. Superman’s use and depiction of violence, particularly as perceived and experienced by Superman, I will draw on Michel Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, Jacques Derrida’s Dissemination, and war and terrorism studies, particularly relating to the use of torture in Guantánamo, as well as Steve Brie’s investigation of fascism in The Dark Knight Returns, Will Brooker’s and Neal Curtis’ readings of the pharmakon in Batman, and Curtis’ examination of sovereignty in superhero comics.
Batman and related comics titles have an unsettling habit of signifying moral deficiency, madness... more Batman and related comics titles have an unsettling habit of signifying moral deficiency, madness, or a propensity towards chaos, with visual othering. Members of the Rogues Gallery are represented as freaks, and their criminal antics extensions of their freakish nature. This visual freaking is typically inflicted via trauma, as in the case of Poison Ivy, Two-Face, Bane, and, in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, the Joker, and signifies criminality or insanity or both.
Such representation is not exclusive to villains, either: Batman/Bruce Wayne’s nightly transformation from billionaire playboy to caped crusader, inspired by the murder of his parents, is another example of freaking, but one which can be easily disguised. Unlike Ivy's toxicity or Two-Face's scarring, Batman can shed his freaking as he transforms back into Wayne, re-becoming a normative body. Accordingly, a stark dichotomy of freaking and criminality is established: deliberate and impermanent freaking, as with Batman and his masked allies, is allowed to be good, while accidental and permanent freaking signifies evil. Though scholars such as Geoff Klock and Leslie J. Anderson have approached this dichotomy, a thorough examination of its complexities has yet to be undertaken.
I propose to interrogate this discourse through the character of Harley Quinn, drawing broadly on her comics depictions in the current ongoing series and Gotham City Sirens, and more specifically on Batman: Harley Quinn and Mad Love, as each presents a version of her original freaking. Michel Foucault's theories of madness and confinement and critiques of women and madness offered by Elaine Showalter, Jane M. Ussher, and Tony Maden will inform my analysis, while Rosemarie Garland Thomson and Leslie Fiedler's work on the cultural construction of freaks will serve as my argument's foundation.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn's entry into the freak discourse of Gotham immediately destabilizes it for a number of reasons: her ambition and love primarily motivate her, rather than greed or maliciousness; her former position as a psychologist, and thus a gatekeeper of normalcy; her susceptibility to manipulation preying on her naïve optimism. Most importantly, Harley Quinn occupies a nebulous and poorly-defined region between freaking herself and being freaked by others (in this case, the Joker). As such, she moves easily between the "good" and "bad" sides of Gotham, aiding the Joker in his schemes, working with the Gotham City Sirens (and occasionally Batman) to reform herself, or teaming up with Batman to get back at the Joker. Her propensity for switching sides not only drives the narrative, but, as I will argue, reinscribes freakishness with moral flexibility, inviting more complex representations of extraordinary bodies.
Geoff Klock argues that the enduring significance of The Dark Knight Returns lies in its revision... more Geoff Klock argues that the enduring significance of The Dark Knight Returns lies in its revision of Batman. This revision does not insist upon an entirely new iteration of the character, but rather attempts to cohesively unite each version, articulated in different years, by different creators, for different audiences, into a single figure. By doing so, Klock argues, the details revealed in Dark Knight, such as an armored chest plate or the violence and injury Batman endures, are retroactively understood by the reader to have always already been there.
Zack Snyder’s (2016) Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is a work heavily inspired by Dark Knight, as demonstrated by Batman’s mecha-suit, the use of media and government, and the film’s grim themes and visual palette. Critics almost universally hated it; A.O. Scott pithily remarked that the film was “about as diverting as having a porcelain sink broken over your head”—in other words, not at all. However, I argue, in this chapter, that this is precisely the point. Like The Dark Knight Returns, Batman v. Superman attempts a revisionary synthesis of Batman and his politics, not by armoring Batman or pitting him against a Reagan-ized Superman, but by demonstrating the violence that has always been inflicted by Batman against others.
In interrogating Batman v. Superman’s use and depiction of violence, particularly as perceived and experienced by Superman, I will draw on Michel Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, Jacques Derrida’s Dissemination, and war and terrorism studies, particularly relating to the use of torture in Guantánamo, as well as Steve Brie’s investigation of fascism in The Dark Knight Returns, Will Brooker’s and Neal Curtis’ readings of the pharmakon in Batman, and Curtis’ examination of sovereignty in superhero comics.
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Such representation is not exclusive to villains, either: Batman/Bruce Wayne’s nightly transformation from billionaire playboy to caped crusader, inspired by the murder of his parents, is another example of freaking, but one which can be easily disguised. Unlike Ivy's toxicity or Two-Face's scarring, Batman can shed his freaking as he transforms back into Wayne, re-becoming a normative body. Accordingly, a stark dichotomy of freaking and criminality is established: deliberate and impermanent freaking, as with Batman and his masked allies, is allowed to be good, while accidental and permanent freaking signifies evil. Though scholars such as Geoff Klock and Leslie J. Anderson have approached this dichotomy, a thorough examination of its complexities has yet to be undertaken.
I propose to interrogate this discourse through the character of Harley Quinn, drawing broadly on her comics depictions in the current ongoing series and Gotham City Sirens, and more specifically on Batman: Harley Quinn and Mad Love, as each presents a version of her original freaking. Michel Foucault's theories of madness and confinement and critiques of women and madness offered by Elaine Showalter, Jane M. Ussher, and Tony Maden will inform my analysis, while Rosemarie Garland Thomson and Leslie Fiedler's work on the cultural construction of freaks will serve as my argument's foundation.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn's entry into the freak discourse of Gotham immediately destabilizes it for a number of reasons: her ambition and love primarily motivate her, rather than greed or maliciousness; her former position as a psychologist, and thus a gatekeeper of normalcy; her susceptibility to manipulation preying on her naïve optimism. Most importantly, Harley Quinn occupies a nebulous and poorly-defined region between freaking herself and being freaked by others (in this case, the Joker). As such, she moves easily between the "good" and "bad" sides of Gotham, aiding the Joker in his schemes, working with the Gotham City Sirens (and occasionally Batman) to reform herself, or teaming up with Batman to get back at the Joker. Her propensity for switching sides not only drives the narrative, but, as I will argue, reinscribes freakishness with moral flexibility, inviting more complex representations of extraordinary bodies.
Zack Snyder’s (2016) Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is a work heavily inspired by Dark Knight, as demonstrated by Batman’s mecha-suit, the use of media and government, and the film’s grim themes and visual palette. Critics almost universally hated it; A.O. Scott pithily remarked that the film was “about as diverting as having a porcelain sink broken over your head”—in other words, not at all. However, I argue, in this chapter, that this is precisely the point. Like The Dark Knight Returns, Batman v. Superman attempts a revisionary synthesis of Batman and his politics, not by armoring Batman or pitting him against a Reagan-ized Superman, but by demonstrating the violence that has always been inflicted by Batman against others.
In interrogating Batman v. Superman’s use and depiction of violence, particularly as perceived and experienced by Superman, I will draw on Michel Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, Jacques Derrida’s Dissemination, and war and terrorism studies, particularly relating to the use of torture in Guantánamo, as well as Steve Brie’s investigation of fascism in The Dark Knight Returns, Will Brooker’s and Neal Curtis’ readings of the pharmakon in Batman, and Curtis’ examination of sovereignty in superhero comics.
Such representation is not exclusive to villains, either: Batman/Bruce Wayne’s nightly transformation from billionaire playboy to caped crusader, inspired by the murder of his parents, is another example of freaking, but one which can be easily disguised. Unlike Ivy's toxicity or Two-Face's scarring, Batman can shed his freaking as he transforms back into Wayne, re-becoming a normative body. Accordingly, a stark dichotomy of freaking and criminality is established: deliberate and impermanent freaking, as with Batman and his masked allies, is allowed to be good, while accidental and permanent freaking signifies evil. Though scholars such as Geoff Klock and Leslie J. Anderson have approached this dichotomy, a thorough examination of its complexities has yet to be undertaken.
I propose to interrogate this discourse through the character of Harley Quinn, drawing broadly on her comics depictions in the current ongoing series and Gotham City Sirens, and more specifically on Batman: Harley Quinn and Mad Love, as each presents a version of her original freaking. Michel Foucault's theories of madness and confinement and critiques of women and madness offered by Elaine Showalter, Jane M. Ussher, and Tony Maden will inform my analysis, while Rosemarie Garland Thomson and Leslie Fiedler's work on the cultural construction of freaks will serve as my argument's foundation.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn's entry into the freak discourse of Gotham immediately destabilizes it for a number of reasons: her ambition and love primarily motivate her, rather than greed or maliciousness; her former position as a psychologist, and thus a gatekeeper of normalcy; her susceptibility to manipulation preying on her naïve optimism. Most importantly, Harley Quinn occupies a nebulous and poorly-defined region between freaking herself and being freaked by others (in this case, the Joker). As such, she moves easily between the "good" and "bad" sides of Gotham, aiding the Joker in his schemes, working with the Gotham City Sirens (and occasionally Batman) to reform herself, or teaming up with Batman to get back at the Joker. Her propensity for switching sides not only drives the narrative, but, as I will argue, reinscribes freakishness with moral flexibility, inviting more complex representations of extraordinary bodies.
Zack Snyder’s (2016) Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is a work heavily inspired by Dark Knight, as demonstrated by Batman’s mecha-suit, the use of media and government, and the film’s grim themes and visual palette. Critics almost universally hated it; A.O. Scott pithily remarked that the film was “about as diverting as having a porcelain sink broken over your head”—in other words, not at all. However, I argue, in this chapter, that this is precisely the point. Like The Dark Knight Returns, Batman v. Superman attempts a revisionary synthesis of Batman and his politics, not by armoring Batman or pitting him against a Reagan-ized Superman, but by demonstrating the violence that has always been inflicted by Batman against others.
In interrogating Batman v. Superman’s use and depiction of violence, particularly as perceived and experienced by Superman, I will draw on Michel Foucault’s Discipline and Punish, Jacques Derrida’s Dissemination, and war and terrorism studies, particularly relating to the use of torture in Guantánamo, as well as Steve Brie’s investigation of fascism in The Dark Knight Returns, Will Brooker’s and Neal Curtis’ readings of the pharmakon in Batman, and Curtis’ examination of sovereignty in superhero comics.