Batman's Law
A Dark Knight Returns Love Letter
Trauma rains down from the heavens as it seems God has forgotten about Gotham. 10 long years, a beast has been locked away in the basement of Bruce’s psyche. A cinematic retelling places a megaphone to the shrills of every torturous crime imaginable, only to be deafened by the taste of high-end scotch.
Tears from casualties are valued more than gold, begging The Rotten to rip families apart. Bloody hands maim morality, leaving mercy mangled on the pavement. Frank Miller obscures the lines between disarray and structure as the scenes are depicted without borders, without limits.
Mr. Miller slams you face-first into a pile of dystopian lunacy. Blurring hues and sections while stirring hysteria amid the masses. Lies are televised daily as talking heads utilize deception to promote their cause. Violent tendencies tend to bury compassion 6 feet under. Deviousness has poisoned the well as the smell of iron lifts from the panel.
It’s Calling
It’s snarling, it’s screeching, and I lose track of the creature as frames absorb light. It scratches his eardrum lightly at first, just enough to notice. Bruce knows what this feeling is, and it will grow and fester.
Stenciling tension by dropping you in the turmoil of retirement. The Shadows have come to claim Bruce, and with Miller manipulating the traditional comic book layout, it comes for you as well.
Cities howl in melancholy during their daily dismemberment. Each plea pushes a needle deeper into the eardrum. Visions of the bodies piling up by the second rob Bruce of a peaceful night’s sleep.
Faith leaves premises when one witnesses a tragedy up close. The Dark Knight Returns(film) tells a story as old as time. Grasping the fact that most have come to know The Caped Crusader’s origin, but it matters not. Similar to Bruce, Jay Olivia(director) drags you kicking and screaming right back into Crime Alley.
A lead-induced cyclone rips the roots of tranquility from the ground. Crimson mixes with polluted raindrops as a boy’s pain becomes a man’s anguish.
Decit’s gnarled fingers wrap around the spine of society. Its digits tighten at any moment of happiness. Selfishness and savagery are pulling this geriatric out of his mansion, regardless of volition.
Farewell Sweet Youth
Wrinkles sliced so deep in Bruce’s forehead that it sends me checking for slivers of silver. A black mane reduced to yarns of grey after decades of vigilantism. Amnesty from the curse of age is reserved for those already in the ground.
The pep in his step morphs into buckling of the knees as adversity has had plenty of time to adapt. The film highlights that the only thing awaiting this senior citizen is a combination of scapels to for teeth and fist of stone.
At first glance, you wouldn’t have assumed Bruce would be a threat to those from the stars. A God-Slayer turned thrill-seeking hobbyist, Wayne is a brittle shell of the titan he used to be.
Harden by the forge of ferocity, I question whether or not he has ownership of his own sanity. Conducting the demise of his peace, Gotham relishes the darkness. It bathes in chaos; it demands order.
Just A Flesh Wound
Miller's dark style of storytelling manifests the dynamics of an older man living in his younger days. How age constricts flexibility and mangles viability. How determination can crystallize the knuckles or how osseous tissue will thicken by a community’s despair.
Agony pulls you in as blood leaks from the panel. Bruce’s body can go through the worst torment, but the mind never withers. Collagen is nonexistent, as his skeletal framework is greased by sheer willpower. Dirt, debris, and anger clot the wounds as PTSD is served with a morning cup of coffee. Death is inescapable for some, but a nuisance for The Knight.
Shades of yellow bring memories of daffodils. Aggressive weeds that regrow even after a date with the blades of a lawnmower. Persistance incarnate, the flower remains steadfast in its ethos. A battle-ready warrior may not find it flattering to be compared to a bloom of blonde, yet Bruce handles-
Strikes that bruise his organs
Metal that pierces his flesh
Pressure that chips his teeth
Heartache that twists the veins
- but there isn’t a quote for his tombstone. The turf is different, more blood thirsty. Precious Gotham has been in the care of slaughter and apathy, and its citizens are praying for a savior.
Demon Hunter
Pupils replaced with an amberish gaze brings your sins to the forefront. They’re paired with wings stretched between a ghostly Patagium, that disrespect the notion of gravity while hunting the wicked.
Clashing colors swirl in a mouth of inferno, lighting the spark in my own heart. I feel the heat of the story burning away my tolerance for bullshit. Though I’m away from the disruption, I feel the need to make a difference.
Everyday there’s a chance see his parents or our lost loved ones, and the opportunity is lost more than Gotham itself. Time slows all, but stubbornness pushes the pedal. Thwarting the reaper’s attempts to collect The Bat’s bounty, Bruce will offer his soul when the job is finished. Gotham needs a Champion, one who isn’t afraid of death or the loathing that will inevitably be tied to their symbol.
Soak in the Hate
Some with vocal cords will despise my actions and spit on the art we love. Having a heart on TWITTER (Does anyone really call it X?) can have a wave of bots torturing your serenity. Owning a soul can have people recklessly release negativity into the world. Freedom of Speech transforms into terrorism. It’s comical to see judgment from those who shower in agitation.
Miller’s approach to a classic Stars & Stripes politician speaks volumes to our current situation. Colloquial language is used in a professional setting to ensure realism from an in-office actor. At the bottom of our bank account, a drain is formed, and a spear of mourning impales the heart. But were told everything is going GREAT.
Brute force and “Security” become justification for conquest and plunder. Man with more folds than lies rallies the youth to break treaties, set traps, and hail bullets. For Batman, sending natural disasters from light-years away is required.
Emphasizing the massive amount of pandering, I love the way Miller pierces the veil of corruption so blantly. Creating lines of deviosness so sharp one risks a papercut.
Eyes and Ears
Demons walk the streets, and some of them in uniform. Savor the blessing of sight and embrace the reality that some news outlets are engaged to duplicity.
Liberated from a bureaucracy’s motives, The Bat is free from the restrictions of the ground. Their version of safety is being in a bunker, surrounded by their cowardly principles. While the true grit of The Cowl shines on Miller’s riot-driven pages.
Splinters of a broken firearm and unfired bullets ricochet through Miller’s design, declaring that man’s limitations only exist within the mind. Miller’s words spoken through Batman are meant to inspire. Imbuing them with the spirit to cherish the innocent. So simple to ignore the struggles of the commoners. To let injustice strangle their privileges and bludgeon their rights only fuels the frustration. Organization is needed before fury’s lust for carnage becomes overwhelming.
Authoritarian dreams are filled with visions of our failure. As silk sheets cocoon their atrocities, they sleep tight. But their nightmare is alive, and it’s angry, and it is the Law.
-Thank You So Much For reading
Please check the references so you're able to enjoy the full pieces by these artists/directors. Please support your local comic store! and artists like Frank Miller, whose entire Dark Knight Returns series is one of amazement.