Just how do they do it? Really? Only a week after the internet wowed itself into a spasm over Rucka/Williams’ Detective Comics, and completely overshadowing this week’s Big Event from Marvel, here come Morrison and Quitely (and hey! Is this the first time since New X-Men that we’ve had two issues from the pair come out in successive months? Cause for celebration!) to give everyone a timely reminder that we shouldn’t be getting any fancy ideas, because yes, they still entirely rule mainstream superhero comics.

Batman & Robin is just ludicrously confident, unfathomably entertaining comics. It may not have the depth and subtlety of the rest of the writer’s Batman run, but it’s immediately a far more enjoyable read – because it knows that a comic can be intelligent underneath, but still plug directly into the “pure childlike glee” synapses of the brain and thus appear about a million times as effortless as something more overwrought. And even while it’s telling a straight-batting, gloriously fun Batman adventure, it still shows no small amount of experimentation in the way the story’s being told. It almost seems like the series’ gimmick is for there to be a new little storytelling trick each issue – so in #1 we had the inspired use of sound effects as part of the artwork (repeated here in an absolutely wonderful panel of Robin slamming into a wall, the cracks in the plaster spelling out “SMASH”), but the new one introduced here involves pacing in the action sequences.

Quitely’s always been a strange one for this – something that characterises his work is the way that he seems to capture individual frozen moments, rather than directly expressing movement (it’s why – for example – in this issue, when showing Batman setting off a fire extinguisher in a goon’s face, he draws individual droplets rather than a continuous “whoosh” of foam), and yet due to his ability to choose exactly which moments to portray, there’s always still a vivid sense of motion. Similarly, his recent work has seen increasing use of full-page-width panels (barely any panels in this issue sit side-by-side), but due to his placement of items within the frames, everything still feels “active” as your eyes naturally scan left-to-right. Still, though, it’s a technique that – on its own – doesn’t necessarily seem conducive to fast, energetic action scenes (something that B&R is already making a forte) and so this is worked around by judiciously splitting dialogue across word balloons – and even panels – when successive frames are showing a quicker-paced series of moments. It works tremendously well for the issue’s main fight scene, and even better, is contrasted smartly by the slower, dialogue-packed panels as Dick and Alfred ruminate in later pages.

Those pages, incidentally, represent the best thing about an issue that may not have quite the same immediate, “wow” impact of its predecessor, but which is still, of course, an unadulterated joy throughout. Having never really had the chance to fully play with Alfred during his main-title run, Morrison is clearly recognising here the need for a voice of authority and experience to counteract the (wildly different in manifestation, but still shared) youthful exuberance of Dick and Damian. The butler (sod that… the father figure)’s “pep talk” here is lovely, most notably when describing Batman as a “role” and holding up the cowl Hamlet-style, and marks for perhaps the first time a genuine attempt to set out why Dick’s version of the identity is different from Bruce’s – this is not, after all, a speech that he would have given to his former charge.

Even the return to textbook brattishness of Damian can’t harm the sheer unadulterated pleasure of reading this book. The fact that the series is by Morrison and Quitely meant that a certain level of simple, objective quality was always going to be a given. But that it’s already shown the capacity to continually surprise, and perhaps even to exceed expectations, could be the greatest delight of all.

You know, I’d have been minded to open this review with a grumble about the lead character of the world’s longest-running continuously-published comic being unceremoniously booted out of the pages he made his own just so that DC could shift a few more copies of a story that they chickened out of giving its own series and effectively sat on for a couple of years. But it turns out that them doing that is actually a bloody good idea, if it means getting more people to read this – because it’s actually kind of excellent.

Primarily, as I’m about the millionth person online to say, that’s because of the way it looks. No two ways about it, this is a beautiful, incredible-looking comic. If JH Williams III showed with his “Club of Heroes” collaboration with Morrison (not to mention the all-too-brief stint on this very book back at the start of Dini’s run) that he had the potential to tell dazzlingly atmospheric noirish Bat-stories, then it’s here that he opens up and fulfils that potential. It’s not even one particular element that does it – it’s the entire package. Naturally the character work and draftsmanship are as classy as you’d expect, making for a sumptuous feast for the eyes, and one for which colourist Dave Stewart deserves just as much credit – but his storytelling is magnificent also.

This isn’t so much in a Quitely-esque, moment-to-moment kind of way, though, as it is the way he uses the composition of panels to trigger mood in the reader’s mind. The gorgeous, dark epics that stretch across the pages whenever Kate is Batwoman – layered blacks and greys broken up by evocative slashes of her white skin and the brash, orange-red elements of her outfit – use unconventional panel layouts, but strung along a theme that deliberately causes a “flash” in the reader’s mind: you can’t help but think “bat” as your eye scans across the jagged lines. All of a sudden you can almost see what Simone Bianchi’s been trying to do in Astonishing X-Men, only… you know, done properly. Even better, though, is the contrast between these scenes and those featuring her out of costume. The colours get sunnier and brighter, the panels go back to conventional boxes – and not even with the jarring effect of a turn of the page, but instead in a left-to-right progression across a double spread. It’s bravura stuff, it really is.

Still, even as the issue is entirely worth buying for the art alone (and it’s not often I say that), it’s lucky that the story is pretty decent as well. It’s a bit difficult to figure out exactly where it’s supposed to take place – Batman and Detective should never take place in entirely different timeframes, and there’s “Batman Reborn” branding on the cover; yet the Batman who appears feels more Bruce than Dick, and references to the precise time that’s supposed to have elapsed since we first saw Kate are vague at best. That said, despite the fact that she’s only made fleeting appearances since her overhyped debut in 2006, Rucka does a good job of leading us into this as a new setup – it’s a well-played “issue one”. We learn as much as we need to about her character (and come to that, her experiences in 52 seem to have lent her a welcome sense of humility), personal life and “hero” setup – right down to her “Alfred” figure, an apparent father with whom she shares her masked life in an interesting, militaristic way. As far as I’m aware, this character is entirely new – but again, we’re given all we really need.

That said, for all the decent character setup, I can’t say that the opening “case” has much of a hook – the “Religion of Crime” idea isn’t desperately interesting (and I honestly can’t recall where they spring from originally – are we going back to 52, and the people who stabbed her, here? A bit more of a refresher would have been nice), and “Alice” is well designed but drawn almost entirely from a combination of existing cliches. Even so, this is a mightily impressive start to the run (to say nothing of the fact that, hey! Detective is (sort of) an anthology book again! And the backup story is a Proper Detective Story about ReneeQuestion! And it’s drawn by Cully Hamner! And it’s quite good as well!), and in tandem with Batman & Robin (not to mention an acceptable if unspectacular range of peripheral books), you have to say the Batbooks are looking in splendid condition. Bruce who?

DC appear to have finally cracked the problem of how to get the purchasers of single issues to still fork out for the trade, in this collection of the bizarre fifties Batman tales which fuel Grant Morrison’s run on the book. Even without the introduction by the writer, a cursory reading would make the connections obvious, and the result is an essential purchase for fans of Batman R.I.P. and the epic story that surrounds it. The only slight quibble is the admission fee, but the resolutely un-decompressed storytelling going some way towards remedying disquiet.

The twelve stories reproduced here, mainly from writer Bill Finger, vary drastically in tone. DC has struck a careful balance here, including a few choice examples of this era’s surrealism alongside the expected stories. Although the sheer bizarreness of seeing Bruce Wayne assisting a south American country resist the rage of a rainbow-powered monster offers some entertainment, the greater draw is in those stories more open to modern reinterpretation.  The story ‘A Partner for Batman’ is initially striking due to the amount of unintentional gay innuendo it contains, although by the time that a passer-by has remarked on how Batman and his new older Robin replacement “can do things together”, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that the scripter knew exactly what he was doing.

The adventures that Morrison has directly recast are the main draw, with the original Zur En Arch tale the most obvious inclusion. The one downside to this process is that it’s now impossible to fully appreciate ‘Robin Dies At Dawn’, probably the strongest story in the collection, on its own merits. The infamous isolation chamber experiment is now seen as having a scope far beyond that depicted on the page, being relied upon to account for must of the strangeness in this entire volume. The appearance of the ‘Military Doctor’ is the final nail in the coffin of a contextually-faithful reading. Having a minor character retconed into the embodiment of Satan is unfortunately the sort of thing that tends to leave an impression. The original appearances of the Club of Heroes largely escape this fate, with the Club’s unironic tone completely removed from their Morrison incarnation.

‘The Superman of Planet X’ has been widely distributed online, and given how essential that tale is to understanding Batman R.I.P., it was probably only the promotional emphasis on the extremely gritty Nolan film that prevented the release of The Black Casebook this time last year. You wouldn’t see the successful combination of this price and poor paper stock without the hook of Morrison’s run, but this remains an essential purchase.

I’ve covered the Action Comics strand of “New Krypton” less than the other two main titles so far, primarily because… well, it’s not been hugely interesting, frankly. I like the idea behind the new Nightwing and Flamebird, but they’ve singularly failed to convince as characters. Can this annual, shedding light on their backgrounds and origins, improve matters?

Well, yes and no. On its own merits, and as a self-contained story, this is quite an entertaining read. And yet it still doesn’t really make me desperate to read much more about Christopher and Thara, because despite giving them some amount of background, it’s not really about either of their character at all. Instead, it’s about the mythological figures that have come to dominate their lives, and a shared connection that isn’t really to do with either of them as people at all. Thara is at least given something of a story – and there’s still definitely potential in her as a character, particularly if her relationship with the Zor-Els is played upon - but the religious angle it swings into, following the story of her parents, isn’t hugely fascinating. And Chris, meanwhile, simply remains all kind of wet.

Despite this, though, what’s admirable about the book is its attempt to expand the mythology of Krypton with a fable. One of the things that’s stood out about World of New Krypton is the work that’s been put into defining (New) Krypton as a place and a culture – for too long it’s hovered vaguely in the background without anyone pinning down what the place was meant to be like, but Robinson and Rucka are clearly relishing the opportunity to build an entire alien world and culture, cherrypicking elements from the various interpretations over the decades. Giving even greater significance to the “Nightwing and Flamebird” legend (for the uninitiated, the characters were originally Batman and Robin-esque masked identities that Superman and Jimmy Olsen took on, later to inspire Dick Grayson when looking for a new identity) works well, and seems like the sort of thing that was planned all along – although the justification for setting up Chris (still kind of, technically, a child) and Thara as being a mythologically-linked “couple” doesn’t quite come off.

It’s a fairly decent-looking book, too – DC seem to have been building a team of similar-looking artists to hop on and off the Super-titles, and I suppose if you can’t get Renato Guedes to draw everything, you might as well get some lookalikes – in this case Pere Perez. It’s not spectacular, but it does the job, and features a fairly pretty colouring job – even if the early pages look perhaps a little too much like a Marvel book (and that’s not just because of the way Ursa is made to look so much like Maria Hill). Speaking of the Superman II lot, there’s an intriguing development with Non – I’m not sure if it’ll get followed up on, but it at least shows a bit of movement away from the cut-and-paste job that was done when sticking the characters in Action in the first place.

I can’t say this necessarily justifies a whopping $4.99 price tag (even at 40-odd pages), nor does it really make Action Comics anything other than the third-tier strand (along with Supergirl) of the current story. But if you’re sufficiently interested in Superman background mythology, it’s worth a look.

And so Paul Dini’s long-serving and generally rather good Detective Comics run is the next brought into line with “Batman Reborn”. Only… wait, no it isn’t. Because despite carrying over various aspects of that run – Dustin Nguyen as an artist, the presence of characters such as Thomas Elliott and Harley Quinn – this isn’t Detective Comics. This is Batman: Streets of Gotham. By my count now the fourth ongoing Batman book (if you still count Detective itself as a Batman book, which I bloody do in much the same way as Action Comics is a Superman book) out there – and we’re not just talking the “extended Bat-family” that could take in Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Batgirl, Gotham Central and anything else at various times – there are now three books starring the Dark Knight, along with Detective rolling along without him. This is early ’90s territory, people.

Anyway, since Dini has been forced into a title change, he sort of needs to come up with a slightly new hook – so we bounce around scenes with Jim Gordon, and a very Frank Miller-esque sequence featuring a pubescent prostitute and an overly violent, shadowy, trenchcoated vigilante figure, and some of it’s told from the villain’s point of view (in this case the Firefly, a character I’ve always had an amused affection for in much the same way as, say, Mysterio – but who’s perhaps treated a little seriously here) and Harley shows up for apparently no plot-related purpose (which is fine, because it’s Dini). I suppose if the intention is for the series to show the “on the street” reactions to the new Batman and Robin, then it’s not a bad idea – but this conceit is let down by featuring the pair in scenes that are firmly from their perspective, and at their usual level.

Dini’s also off to a slightly shaky start in capturing the dynamic of the, er, dynamic duo. His Grayson works quite well, over-talkative and more of a standing, observational figure; but I’m not so sure he’s got the memos on Damian. Shouting “Gotta go!” while running away from the same conversation ( in which he’d earlier not contracted the phrase “I am” shows a distinct inconsistency of voice, and referring to his new mentor by first name rather than surname seems a little too friendly for the aloof brat. That said, the first appearance of the pair, accosting a fleeing Ms Quinn, works rather better, so let’s not lose hope entirely – but the spark and dynamism of Morrison’s Batman and Robin is lacking.

This certainly isn’t bad – and it’s a more enjoyable read than Winick’s opening salvo on the main title – and Nguyen’s work is strong as ever (credit, too, for actually attempting to be consistent with the details of the Quitely costume designs where other artists might not have bothered). There’s a curious trick whereby the inking and colouring style changes in order to present a more “arty” final splash page – I don’t know how deliberate it is, and it’s slightly jarring, but it’s a lovely image even if it’s not made clear what the cliffhanger’s trying to show us. Of the non-Morrison titles, then, this just about edges its way into pole position for the “also read” slot, but it’ll have to work some if it’s going to be a must-buy.

Quick mention too of the fact that this is the second (last week’s Booster Gold and Blue Beetle the first) of DC’s books to try out this new scheme of having a short backup feature of a similarly-themed, recently-cancelled character. I still don’t care enough about Marc Andreyko’s Manhunter to click hugely with it (Kate is too similar to a bunch of superior Marvel characters – Jones, Drew, Danvers, Walters – to really stand out), but bringing her to Gotham is an interesting idea, particularly if the character connections in her out-of-costume life are maintained, so we’ll see. And I’m fully in support of the whole “Second Feature” idea, if nothing else.

So, Battle for the Cowl is over, Dick Grayson is wearing the mask, and Grant Morrison took us into an inventive and exciting new era last week with the first issue of Batman & Robin. Time for Judd Winick’s run on the main title to take account of the new status quo, right?

Er, not quite. Because Winick’s first issue is, in fact, basically the missing fourth chapter of Battle for the Cowl. Or not even that, really. If Morrison’s B&R rendered Battle pointless by breezing into the new status quo with a couple of panels’ explanation, Winick goes one further and flat-out replaces it. We all knew Dick was going to end up as Batman, so the path to that point given here is far more straightforward, without all that needless faffing about with Jason Todd – it’s just about the contingency plan that Bruce put in place, and Dick wrestling with the decision of whether or not to accept it. And the thing is, I can’t really argue with Winick deciding to replace Tony Daniel’s story – although an easier way might have been simply to write the thing himself – because whereas that was bloody rotten, this is at least only mildly rubbish.

I mean, it at least has a point. It at least attempts to do something with the various characters and their facing up to a world without Bruce – it’s true that the overwrought, borderline-emo Dick is a regression from the character we read about last week (and that’s endemic, really, of the fact that this issue really should have come out first – purely chronologically it’s much earlier, even setting up Dick’s residence in the penthouse), and that what is a nice moment with Alfred (”My son has died”) is a bit of a rip of something Tomasi did better in Outsiders – and there’s actually a progression, development towards Dick’s decision to take on the role, something that Battle singularly lacked. It suffers from coming out a week after Morrison showed how to do a great Batman comic simply by being fun – because it’s not fun in the slightest, it’s moody and angsty – but at least it doesn’t suffer from being moronically stupid, so it’s genuinely an improvement on Winick’s recent work.

There is one way in which it’s weaker than Battle, though, and that’s in the work of “superstar” artist Ed Benes. Regular readers will know I’m not a fan of his style anyway, but there’s usually some level of technical proficiency there – sadly, there’s none of it on display in this issue. Figures are sketchy, awkward and inconsistent, storytelling is basic and workmanlike, and Dick’s hairstyle changes by the panel. The overall look isn’t helped by a muggy colouring job, but it’s clear from two panels in particular that Benes is far from on his top form – firstly an utterly wretched version of Alfred as he looks folornly at the Batman and Robin costumes in glass cases, and then a final-page splash that should be exciting and inspirational, but which just leaves you wondering where the traditionally lithe, former acrobat Grayson got his Liefeld-esque arms and legs from.

I suppose we should be grateful that Winick has rolled up on the main Batbook again, and it’s not an unmitigated disaster. It’s not particularly great, and nor does it give a compelling reason to exist when we’ve got Batman & Robin out there, along with Paul Dini doing what will presumably be a continuation of his Detective run under any other name. But at least it’s not Titans, and that’s about as close to a compliment for Winick as you’re going to hear from me.