Batman: The Killing Joke, by Alan Moore/Brian Bolland

1988 wasn't the start of it, but that year definitely had a hand in it. The "it" was the development of comics beyond the super-hero funny books. These new books were mature, graphic, and in the end, important--at least as far as the growth of comics as a real form of literature. And at the forefront of this movement were a few of the most respected and valued writers comics--and truly the world--will ever know. I'm talking about Frank Miller and Alan Moore.

I couldn't tell you--without stopping to go through some back issues--what Frank Miller was doing in 1988, but among Alan Moore's achievements was the instant classic Batman: The Killing Joke, a simple, 46-page glossy paper book, illustrated by the wonderful Brian Bolland. Whether he knew it at the time or not (and I'm inclined to believe he did), this little one-shot story about yet another of the Joker's breaks from Arkham Asylum, Gotham City's home "for the criminally insane" (and with the assistance of Frank Miller's own Batman: Year One, 1986-87, and The Dark Knight Returns, 1987) was about to take Batman (and comics in general) onto a whole new level of craft. From this point on, there was no more denying it: as much as I hate the cliche, comics weren't for kids anymore. Some of them, The Killing Joke for example, might not be for kids at all.

What would take to send you over the edge? That's the main point of this story.

The plot is simple enough. The Joker has once again escaped Arkham Asylum. While Batman is trying to track him down, the Joker has kidnapped Commissioner Gordon, and shot his daughter Barbara (who's days of being Batgirl are apparently now over; the bullet leaves her paralyzed from the waist down), then stripped her, and taken some pictures. Back at the Joker's "hide-out", a rundown carnival, he strips Gordon and forces him onto the Ghost Train where he tries to convince the commissioner that the easiest way to deal with the pressures of life is to just loose your mind.

"So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit. You can just step outside, and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away . . . forever."

The ride leaves the commissioner a shaking mess--probably due to the blown up pictures of his naked, bleeding daughter the Joker has projected onto the walls of the Ghost Train ride. Very soon Batman arrives. There's a showdown, a chase through the house of mirrors, and the book's final confrontation where the Joker tries to convince Batman that they're both more similar than they thought, all of their problems reducible to one very bad day on both of their ends, a bad day buried somewhere in their past that led them to the lives they chose to lead, Batman's leading him to don a rubber suit, the Joker's leading to madness. Batman counters with an offer.

"It doesn't have to end like that. I don't know what it was that bent your life out of shape, but who knows? Maybe I've been there too. Maybe I can help."

In the end, the Joker is just trying to justify his own insanity by proving that ANYONE can be driven crazy.

This is a wonderful story and anyone who's ever read Alan Moore's work (especially his Miracleman and Watchmen stories, or his graphic novel From Hell which spawned the movie of the same name just a couple years ago) knows it goes deeper than just the plot I've laid out here. Alan Moore is a genius at getting under the surface of the story. In the end, we're left wondering if maybe the Joker's not right, if maybe the choices we make in our lives during the course ONE BAD DAY can so drastically alter everything that follows.

When he thinks he's ruined Commissioner Gordon, he tells Batman, "I've demonstrated there's no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day . . . You had a bad day, and it drove you as crazy as everybody else . . . only you won't admit it. You have to keep pretending that life makes sense, that there's some point to all this struggling. God, you make me want to puke." And it's here we realize he's right about one thing. Anyone familiar with Batman's origin knows that's exactly what happened, a bad day (anyone who doesn't know the story by now, why don't you?)

And what was the Joker's bad day? That's the subplot, the Joker's real origin (maybe it's the real one, we don't know. He tells Batman sometimes he remembers it one way, sometimes another) which is just as tragic as Batman's. He was a struggling comedian living in Gotham's slum with a pregnant wife. He gets the chance to pull one big robbery and set himself up in a new place in the good part of town. The day it's set to take place, his wife is killed in a "million to one accident". Faced with this, he no longer needs the money and wants to back out, but the thugs who brought him into the deal won't let him. The robbery goes bad and the Joker jumps into a vat of chemicals. When he comes out the other end, his skin is bleached white. His hair is green. His face is paralyzed into the evil grin we all know. And his mind is forever lost. One very bad day. And one great story.

Helping Moore along are artist Brian Bolland and colorist John Higgins. Brian Bolland is terrific. The first two pages alone, 18 speechless panels, convey more with facial expressions (not to mention the "You don't have to be crazy to work here--but it helps!" sign on the receptionist's desk. Nice touch!) than some artist do in 5 pages of action. The shadows are deep. The rain makes you want to shield your eyes. The ONE panel showing the commissioner's bondage is terrifying. There's also the shock on Barbara's face when she opens the door and finds the Joker standing outside, another perfect illustration. But Bolland does his best work later, after Gordon has come out of the Ghost Train. Over a simple 8 panel spread, the Batmobile arrives, headlights glaring. Batman emerges while the Joker's gang flees. The Joker never moves. In the background, Commission Gordon is naked and sitting in a cage in the middle of the fairgrounds. And then the Joker smiles, and this one panel is the most evil I've ever seen him. Alan Moore and Brian Bolland both took full advantage of the chance to go beyond what normal comic books allowed in those days, both in story and art. The dialogue is fierce. The pictures are horrible. Both in a good way.

This is definitely a book even the most anti-comics reader can enjoy, and if you can get a copy, you're doing yourself an injustice in NOT doing so. That goes for ANY of Alan Moore's work.