Panel Vision - Thrillkiller

Edited by Robert Beach

It’s time once more for everyone’s favorite genre of Panel Vision: topical oddities. One of the curious attempts by modern TV to remain relevant in an era of streaming and binge watches has been a revival of live performances. This has seen a mixed bag of success and interest, but last weekend, the format saw a fairly major success when NBC produced a live performance of Grease.  I don’t really care for Grease myself, though the production did give me cause to remember a very good Elseworlds comic that DC produced called Thrillkiller.

 In case you’ve never heard of them before, Elseworlds were an imprint of DC comics that re-imagined classic characters in situation that couldn’t fit into standard continuity. They’d take a character like Superman and show us what might’ve happened if he had landed in Soviet Russia or Gotham City instead of Kansas.  Thrillkiller, written by comics legend Howard Chaykin and illustrated by the eclectic but striking Daniel Brereton, takes the familiar Batman mythos and drops right in the middle of 1961. 

From the outset, I get that a 2010s revival of a ‘70s musical set in the ‘50s is a weird jumping off point to talk about a comic from the ‘90s set in the ‘60s. Bear with me here. The thing about Thrillkiller is that despite being set in 1961, it’s not really a ‘60s ethos. The vision of the ‘60s that’s become ingrained into the popular consciousness. 

Any given historical era exists in the minds of the populous as an abstracted perfection, and the ‘60s tends to fall into the realm of a time of youthful energy and powerful revolution. A great example of this in comics is Darwyn Cook’s New Frontier, which revolved around the ‘60s as a time of optimism and the birth of the heroic ideal. That certainly fits real elements of the decade like the victories made for civil rights, the counter-cultural revolution, and the advances in space exploration; although, it’s hardly the entire decade. Additionally, Thrillkiller isn’t as fully grounded in the ‘60s as New Frontier as it’s set in 1961. 

Something I’ve long maintained is there’s a 5-year grace period during the end of an era where it’s still unclear whether things that occur are throwbacks to the previous decade or precursors to what’s to come. In the case of ‘50s paranoia, conformity, and consumerism giving way to ‘60s sexual and philosophical revolution, it’s the period from 1958-1963. Thrillkiller is set right in the middle of that transitional period and, as such, is just as much a product of ‘50s malaise and conflict as it is ‘60s idealism and energy.  

That’s the reason for a lot of the blended costume design from Brereton that makes this such a brilliant and memorable read.  Batgirl’s costume is the logical extension of ‘60s freedom that it started out as on Adam West’s Batman show in ’66, but Robin’s costume is designed as something much closer to a greaser or motorcycle punk of the ‘50s. This comes up again in a big way with the Joker, but we'll get to that in due course. 

The basic plot of Thrillkiller is essentially a literalization of the change of decade stuff I just discussed. The book goes to great effort to make sure you’re aware that this isn’t the ‘60s you’re expecting from Woodstock and Forest Gump; defining elements like Beetlemania, Free Love, and Vietnam are still distant tomorrows.  Instead, Thrillkiller is about the conflict between lingering aspects of what is, essentially, ‘50s noir trying to co-opt the optimism and energy of the emerging ‘60s for their own purposes. Most of the overall plot is all about corrupt cops, criminal conspiracies, misappropriated city funds, and various other sundry elements that play like every noir story rolled together. The “wrinkle” of the story is this: instead of a hard-nosed PI or lone honest cop standing against the tide of corruption and villainy from city hall and the mob, it’s a pair of violent youthful vigilantes. 

It’s actually a very clever use of Robin and Batgirl as main characters, taking the angry intercity kid type stereotype that was normally the villain in a lot of ‘50s fair and throwing them trippy costumes and college diplomas and telling them to get to fixing the world. It all adds up to a much rougher and grittier vision of the ‘60s than a lot of folks would like to admit ever existed. The ‘60s place as a time of revolution has, in a way, afforded it an armor against the more realistic and harsh depictions forced upon decades like the ‘50s and ‘70s. 

Part of this is the harsh stuff of the ‘60s came at the end of the decade as things bled into the ‘70s like the Kent State Shooting and the escalation of the Vietnam War. There’s still a tendency to view the era through the weed and LSD-inflected stained glass of Woodstock and the “I Have A Dream” speech, ignoring the much grimier truths of the decade. A big part of this myth of the ‘60s is the idea that energy and optimism of the decade led to sweeping and immediate change. Thrillkiller is basically trying to tear that mythos away with a more realistic acceptance that just because someone really charismatic is in the White House doesn’t mean state officials aren’t still corrupt or bigoted. 

As for the more comic book-y aspects of Thrillkiller, they’re very fun. Batgirl and Robin are rock-solid leads, showcasing just how enjoyable and versatile these characters can be when a titan like Chaykin steps up to bat. Bruce Wayne is present for a lot of the story, taking up the role of the previous generation of heroes. In this continuity, Bruce lost the family fortune in an undisclosed manner and now works as the only honest cop in the G.C.P.D. (aside from Commissioner Gordon) 

The way Bruce is written and illustrated comes off like the hero of a different story, still plugging along in a world that’s quickly outpacing him. He’s strong, square jawed, smart, and the kind of trench coat and fedora hero you’d expect to see in a Noir. He does end up as Batman by the end of the series and then throughout the entirety of the sequel Thrillkiller 1962, but it’s a little unclear if he was always Batman or if its his interactions with Batgirl and Robin that push him to dawn the cape and cowl. 

There are a handful of additional villain cameos like Two-Face as a corrupt cop, Penguin now with a Space Needle-inspired Iceberg lounge, Eddie Nygma as a psychiatrist, and Killer Croc as mob muscle. The real standout, however, is the Joker, now re-imagined as the psychotic wife/enforcer of Gotham’s lead mobster. I know a lot of folks like Martha Wayne Joker from Flashpoint, though that’s because they somehow missed Flashpoint is a garbage series devoid of any merit. Thrillkiller’s lady Joker is the best female version of the character. What really sells this vision of the Joker is how much it feels informed by the conception of the Joker that was emerging at the tale end of the ‘90s to become the dominant iteration of the character. 

From 1996-1997, Jeph Loeb penned one of the most influential Batman stories of all time with Batman: Long Halloween. Even more than its spiritual predecessor Batman: Year One, Long Halloween crystallized the fan conception of Batman’s history and impact on Gotham city. This is the story where ideas like Batman driving out Gotham’s mobsters making room for the freaks and super villains became really crystallized; in addition, the Joker is king of this concept. It’s basically the same playbook Christopher Nolan drew from for his conception of the Joker as a living embodiment of Gotham’s shifting criminal landscape in Dark Knight. That’s the vision of Joker present in Thrillkiller. Only here, she’s informed by the greater sense of transition from ‘50s to ‘60s culture. 

Aside from being the most psychedelic and insane aspect of the entire story, lady Joker also acts as the perfect foil for Batgirl as she’s the only other woman in the cast who comes off as a representative of the sexual liberation. In fact, the female characters overall are far more indicative of the oncoming decade than the men who each represent some retrograde icon of the ‘50s. Bruce is the stoic detective; Gordon is the sheriff; Robin is the motorcycle greaser as only Joker and Batgirl seem endemic of what’s coming next.  

The same goes for Black Canary when she shows up in the sequel comic. The sequel, overall, doubles down on these elements, revealing Joker to be a lesbian when she gets her own Harley Quinn. None of this ends up diluting Joker’s villainy or credibility as a villain as she often comes every bit as psychotic and violent as her mainstream counterpart. In a lot of ways, she plays like a fusion of Poison Ivy and Joker: manic and deadly while also being seductive and powerfully in control of her own sexuality. 

All of these elements are excentuated by the incredible artwork from Dan Brereton. Brereton is one of the most under-appreciated major artist in just how beautiful and unique his work is. His stuff has this striking painted look to it that you can’t find anywhere else. It sports a more angular and aesthetically grungy look that gives it a stylish and pulpy look compared to the painted work of contemporary Alex Ross.  

Brereton’s color work is equally incomparable, just a perfect blend of warm oranges and reds with these smoky blues and bright neon greens. The entire comic is filled with beautiful art like this. It's a deliciously stylized experience that perfectly encapsulates the overall comics emphasis on the changing of time periods of ‘50s to ‘60s. No one else could’ve drawn Thrillkiller and made it look this perfect and compelling. 

Thrillkiller was a popular comic in its time, and like fellow hit elseworlds Red Son, Justice Riders, or In Darkest Night, the universe was eventually integrated into the overall DC Multiverse.  It doesn’t really get as much focus as it ought to given the stew of interesting topics and ideas that could be explored with gritty ‘60s re-imaginings of other DC heroes to play off of things like the Civil Rights Movement, Stonewall Riots, Space Race, Bay of Pigs, or Vietnam.  I highly recommend checking out both the original and the sequel comics for a great example of the harsh, honest ‘60s story we’re only now starting to tell in other mediums like television or movies; you won’t be disappointed.  

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