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.

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.

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.

The second part of Neil Gaiman’s brief foray into Gotham certainly delivers conceptually, but the implementation of his light-bulb moment leaves a little to be desired. You can’t quibble with the level of thought that’s gone into this companion to Alan Moore’s Superman classic, but it regrettably feels a little artificial, due to the on-the-nose delivery of the central conceit.

Even before the arrival of the demonic medic, there was always something rather biblical about Grant Morrison’s run on Batman. Within the space of a few issues, Bruce Wayne faced an unwelcome prodigal son and had been smitten by an alluring Jezebel. All the talk of transcendental meditation couldn’t disguise the writer’s examination of whether Batman would fit into a Christian perspective. Gaiman takes this theme and provides a very different viewpoint, with the second part of ‘Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?‘ presenting a strongly Buddhist conception of the Dark Knight. The central conclusion is a truly brilliant one, arguing that Bruce Wayne’s actions are so perfectly balanced in terms of karma that the only possible next life for him is to be reborn as himself. The genius of this idea comes from the resonance it has with the dozens of retellings of Batman’s origin story that there have been over the years. More than any other superhero, Wayne is integrally tied to his past, and Gaiman’s idea is a superb way of acknowledging this.

Unfortunately, what DC has published is precisely that: an idea, not a story. The dramatic device of Batman’s funeral is soon discarded, with little of the Planetary-esque flitting between conceptions of the Batman canon that characterised the opening segment. The writer is soon reduced to having a narrator actually telling the title character the message of the story, being unable to find a way to convey it through events. Gaiman has only done half the job here. He’s told a story about Batman, but not a Batman story, and it’s unlikely that the unique view he gives of the title character will persist in the absence of a memorable narrative to hang it on. It’s hard to think of a way in which the situation could be remedied and stay within the “two single issues” format- there’s no room for the bold statements that the late Mrs Wayne makes to have been rooted in the various deaths related to the reader during the funeral. By trying to imitate a classic too slavishly, DC has squandered the chance for another to be born.

I’ve spent about half an hour trying to open this review with a discussion of the current publishing circumstances of the Batman franchise. And I’ve failed miserably, because it’s making my head hurt. How did things get this complicated? Why did DC decide to let Grant Morrison kill off Batman and then hand over the immediate aftermath to an entirely different set of writers? How will Morrison’s return to the books be played? Why is the first issue of Battle for the Cowl being published before the second of the “last” issues of the titles it was supposed to be temporarily replacing? And perhaps most importantly, why are we supposed to care about DC doing a run of Batman books without Batman in (simultaneous with a run of Superman books without Superman in) if they’re not at least being handled by a writer with a degree of subtlety, intellect and interest in layered and in-depth storytelling? Why, indeed, was the project set up without a firm (and notable) writer in place, leading to it ending up in the hands of artist Tony Daniel? Didn’t the exact same thing happen to Marvel when they suddenly found themselves in the uncomfortable position of having to hand over a couple of issues of New X-Men to Chuck Austen?

So instead, I’m going to ignore what the series may or may not mean for the wider context of the titles over the upcoming year and beyond, and instead just try and take it on its own terms as a comic. But it has to be said that doing so strips it of almost anything interesting that one might say about it. It’s not spectacularly bad, or anything, but nor is it particularly good. It rolls along happily on the wave of “competence” that basically summarises Daniel’s entire career at DC. It sets up and lays out its premise effectively, it makes an admirable attempt to check in on the various corners of the extended “Batverse”, and it has the odd nice touch (such as the style of costume that Tim decides to wear as “Batman”). It rattles along with some decent action scenes (although by the closing page we’ve advanced story-wise about as far as that analogy from Blackadder Goes Forth), and for the most part (with the exception of an overreliance on stock action “poses” taking up half-pages) Daniel’s art is stronger than it was for fair chunks of his Batman RIP run.

At the same time, though, the plot is hardly as engrossing as you might expect (Tim is concerned about a nutso guy dressed as the last of the “three Ghosts” claiming to be Batman, Dick is moping around, and the Black Mask – really? Is that the best you can do? – is rounding up Arkham’s villains for some nefarious plot or other) and it fails on a number of the fundamental characteristics of convincing storytelling. It’s not enough to simply decide you want to use the Black Mask as your villain without giving a vague reason for why he’s not as dead as he was in his last appearance. It’s not really acceptable to have Oracle be essentially responsible for the death of a teenage girl by forcibly ejecting her from the Batmobile only for her to be eaten by Killer Croc and let the entire thing pass without comment (and while we’re at it, I think I’ve long since grown weary of female characters being eaten by monstrous villains in superhero comics, thanks). If you’re going to write a story that features Damian, it would help if you’d actually read the previous issues with him in (especially the ones that you drew) so that you don’t just have him speaking with the voice of an ordinary brattish teenager. And narrative non-sequiturs, such as Tim suddenly showing up halfway through the issue in the aforementioned Bat-outfit, only work if you’re doing something intelligent with them. Otherwise they just look like you left out a few pages somewhere.

If Battle for the Cowl had a truly compelling reason to exist, it wouldn’t matter that it was no more than a competent (if flawed) comic – there are plenty of those out there, and it would simply sit alongside all the rest as at least worth a look for those interested in the relevant franchise or character. And it wouldn’t matter if it served no real purpose in terms of furthering the overall storyline, either, if it were at least better-executed (the Gaiman story, for example, would probably fall into this category). As it is, though, it manages to mark itself out as less-than-essential reading even for those of us who were entirely gripped by Morrison’s run – and it’s impossible to shake the feeling that from now until the Scot’s return, the entire franchise is doing nothing other than treading water.