If you’re not enjoying Batman & Robin, I really have to wonder what you’re doing reading superhero comics at all. It runs on sheer exuberance, expanding the “figurative exploration of the Batman myth” theme of Morrison’s earlier run on the main title in a way that is simultaneously more simplistic and accessible, yet also arguably deeper and richer. And while it’s liberated by the absence of its central figure, it’s steadily making itself more and more about him, heightening anticipation for his eventual return.

Yet at the same time, if there’s one hope that comes out of this series, it’s that the status quo doesn’t simply revert back when Bruce Wayne reappears. At the beginning, that seemed like the expected state of affairs – Tim Drake was only temporarily relinquishing the Robin cowl to Bruce’s brat of a son for the duration of this series, and a year or so down the line the “proper” Robin would be back. But now, well, Damian’s not the only one wondering if “[his] father will let [him] stay on as Robin”. Quite against expectations, the little tyke has made his mark on the role, and unless Morrison decides to bring his story to an end (a possible end point is ominously hinted at by the reintroduction here of Talia), he’s rather sneakily (compared with the usual fanfare that accompanies a bona fide new version of a costumed hero) become an actual part of the mythos. Tim’s just going to have to find something else to wear when he gets bored of dressing like Dr Midnite’s younger brother.

Returning from his jaunt to his home isles, meanwhile, Morrison gets to pick up a character thread loosely dangled in earlier issues – that of Sexton Oberon, the mysterious masked detective known as the Gravedigger. What’s pleasing about this conceit is the way it works as in inversion of the way writers usually handle the idea of Batman-esque characters showing up – the focus is always on vigilantes that go around duffing up the bad guys, essentially replacing the “fighting” side of Batman; rarely does anyone bother, however, to put a new detective on the scene. There’s also, of course, another of those “who is it really?” questions, with dialogue from Dick planting the idea that it’s someone already known rather than a new character. Going by his mannerisms, speech patterns and dress sense, I’d guess at James Robinson’s version of the Shade, but somehow I doubt that’s the case. It’s another little mystery to chew on, though, not least because we’re still in the dark as to his ultimate motivations.

An inability to rely on the art (I mean, really, having Tan in between Quitely and Stewart was just asking for unfavourable comparisons) has sadly prevented Batman & Robin from retaining grade-A excellence throughout so far, and Andy Clarke probably falls somewhere between the quality scales of his predecessors – he’s decent, and at times great, but falls down on some instances of character work: when in-costume, Damian simply looks too much like Tim Drake, and his Talia is particularly odd-looking. Dick and Alfred fare rather better, and there’s a good atmosphere to the whole thing – as well as a cracking overhead landscape shot on the title page that winds up looking almost like a Chris Sawyer isometric strategy game, yet somehow still works – but there’s a jolt late on when a piece of storytelling, involving Dick and a trap-door, is rather unclear (still, it’s nice that for once in an issue of this comic, the difficulty in following isn’t caused by a balloon-placement error).

Concentrating more intently on the wider mythos-building, this issue lacks the giddy thrill of the previous arc – but it’s nevertheless exceptionally strong work once again. There’s a focussed excellence that seems to have been drawn out of Morrison by the switch to a dedicated series, as opposed to the patchy glimpses of genius that were witnessed in the pre-RIP issues of the main title, and it’s a shame its time is nearing the end – because unless he’s got another All-Star Superman or Seaguy waiting in the wings, it’s hard to imagine him topping this with his next work.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that in each of Batman and Robin’s three-part arcs, the middle issue is slightly weaker compared to its brethren. Issue #8 – part two of Blackest Knight – reviewed here but a fortnight ago, certainly wasn’t a bad comic by any stretch of the imagination; but the concluding part of what might just be the series’ best arc so far makes it look positively Liefeldian in comparison.

This is a stormingly good comic. For one thing, it reveals the truth behind #8’s feint – the suggestion that, having had one issue of a mindless Batman clonezombiething wordlessly fighting our heroes, we were going to get more of the same this time out. Not a bit of it. The creature coming to terms with the scraps and remnants of Bruce’s own memory being eaten away by the physical collapse of its brain is an inspired bit of writing, and if certain stretches of “dialogue” are perhaps retreads of the same sort-of-but-not-quite-speak that Morrison has used before in the likes of We3 or All Star Superman (”AAA. HEER. U. RRRR.”), it nevertheless makes for a compelling – and somewhat terrifying – menace.

Not that the monster gets all the best lines, you understand. That this is an issue running on the pure unabashed joy of comicsness is clear even as the protagonists are fighting the rotting cloned corpse of their beloved father. The Damian and Alfred Show continues apace, and it’s startling just how much the former has become a three-dimensional and entertaining character since his father’s death; while the latter has always been a three-dimensional and entertaining character, and gets the line of the series (”Your delirious rampage is at an end, sir!”) while wielding a cricket bat. At the tail end of our jaunt to the UK, there’s even time to fit in a little bit of character work with the Knight and Squire (can we have their miniseries yet?), and Morrison also seems to have remembered to write Dick Grayson a bit more, with a couple of lovely moments here and there.

More than anything, though, this issue (and this series as a whole; and, come to think of it, Morrison’s entire tenure) is a comic about Batman – the idea, the legend, the icon – even though the character of Bruce Wayne doesn’t appear in it. Whether it’s the clone’s half-constructed memories (in a really quite excellent spread by Stewart that merges and splices various famed Bat-characters and imagery), or Dick growing into the role (a proper smile on his face as he swings in to rescue Damian and simply enjoys his team-up with Batwoman) even as he’s acknowledging that the time is near for him to hand it back, this is about Morrison finding putting the core elements of the mythos through a new and exciting – and ever-so-slightly cracked – looking-glass. And yet, that it’s still so purely and unashamedly enjoyable entirely on its own merits – and entirely devoid of any external context or prior knowledge – is probably its greatest strength of all.

My interest in DC’s straight-to-DVD animated features – New Frontier, Green Lantern: First Flight and the like – has been piqued recently with the release, to a generally positive reception, of Justice League : Crisis on Two Earths. I’ll hopefully be getting hold of it to review here at some point soon (along with, possibly, some of the other films), but in the meantime, reading about it gave me the impetus to look back over one of the comics upon which it’s loosely based – and an early work from one of my favourite creative teams, to boot – namely, this Morrison and Quitely standalone OGN from 1999.

Only the second collaboration between the pair – following 1996’s Flex Mentallo – Earth 2 sees a slightly rawer Frank Quitely than we might be used to nowadays. The traditional and thicker inking calls to mind his work on the likes of New X-Men and Authority – as does the occasional bluntness in some of his facial work, a feature that’s undoubtedly improved over the course of his career. But there are nevertheless some cracking examples of the unconvential storytelling and point-of-view placement that would later define his work, and he’s helped also by an excellent colourist in the shape of Laura Depuy. And the group plane rescue sequence that introduces the JLA to the action is wonderfully choreographed, and the sort of thing you could imagine opening a Justice League movie.

The story itself, meanwhile, is something of a fun romp – perhaps a shade lightweight (if well-suited to the book’s length, which feels roughly equivalent to a three-part miniseries) but nevertheless constructed around a cracking hook. It’s not just that it’s a parallel universe where everything’s flipped, as there’s a long tradition of that in the DCU anyway (whatever you might say about DC in relation to other comics publishers, alternate realities are something they’ve always done best) – but rather, the individual, smaller high-concepts and twists that Morrison is able to tease out of that larger premise. It makes sense that even a “good” Luthor would have a certain level of arrogance about him, for example; while the realisation that an “opposite” world would mean a reversal of standard comic book rules about just who tends to win is an inspired moment, shown best by the subtle hints about how even the “good” Commissioner Wayne may be susceptible to unchecked power. Still, the inevitable stalemate brought about by that twist does leave the book suddenly grasping at a fresh antagonist – for both sides – to give its final act some dramatic impetus, and the threat doesn’t wholly convince. But it’s a minor quibble in what is otherwise a terrifically entertaining little story.

Though often overlooked in favour of later collaborations, Earth 2 nevertheless stands as a fine example of what the Morrison/Quitely partnership is capable of. It’s a strong continuation of the lively, well-characterised and idea-driven tone of Morrison’s earlier JLA run, and as a spiritual sequel to that series, stands up there with its finest stories. Whether the film can live up to it (or whether indeed it takes much inspiration beyond the superficial) is another question, but there’s no denying that it’s a cracking bit of source material to want to draw from.

So Batman comes to England in a Morrison and Stewart comic that turns out to be far more relevant than expected to both the overarching longform storyarc of the last few years and (by way of Blackest Night) the wider DCU? It’s impossible not to love this, really, isn’t it? While admittedly lacking the giddy thrills of watching Dick Grayson free-running over boats on the Thames and parking the Batplane outside the Tower of London, the second part – going on recent form, usually the weaker chapter of these three-part stories – of “Blackest Knight” takes place almost entirely underground, concentrating on the devastating effects of Dick’s really rather bonkers decision to dunk something that may-or-may-not be the corpse of Bruce Wayne in a Lazarus Pit.

But Batman & Robin has, in its short run, always been about striking a balance between the darker side of the Bat-verse and a 60s-esque sense of glorious, adventurous whimsy – which is, presumably, why Morrison has seen fit to include a Geordie villain named King Coal (with chimney sweep henchmen whom I’d called “Dick van Dyke-esque” were it not for assuming that a Tyneside-based villain would surely never call on the iconography of Southern softies) and frequent phonetic representations of his accent that can’t fail to amuse. Or an amusingly witty little exchange between Alfred and Damian, who are fast becoming the book’s best double-act (the rehabilitation of Damian continues apace, and I’m particularly amused by the way he calls the butler “Pennyworth” in an oddly respectful way).

Despite the basic core of the story – the aforementioned Lazarus-pit-related failure and revelation concerning the corpse, complete with brief Final Crisis flashback – there are elements that are slightly tricky to get a handle on, and that I suspect will make more sense when reading the arc as a whole, with the benefit of the final issue. It’s also hard to know what to make of the apparent fate of a certain character – if it’s designed to surprise then it does, considering the known publication plans for said character; but on the other hand, in a story that’s specifically about resurrection, the obvious resolution would seem to nullify the impact of the moment.

It’s been a masterstroke having Cameron Stewart around for this arc, too – I’d still maintain that he’s not quite at Quitely’s level, but what his presence has done is to help restore the book to the thrilling glory of those first few issues. His chameleonic style when it comes to successfully presenting the Quitely version of GraysonBatman and the Williams version of Batwoman help root this in the high-quality corner of the recent Bat-verse, and his choreography when asked to draw what might be something of an action comics holy grail – Batman fighting Batman (even though neither of them are actually Bruce Wayne) – superb. As this often simplistically thrilling yet beautifully esoteric series rattles on towards its conclusion, it’s pleasing that there are only a couple of weeks to wait for another issue. And while The Return of Bruce Wayne is doubtless an exciting prospect of a comic, it’s honestly true that Batman & Robin isn’t really missing him.

To misquote a line from an earlier Grant Morrison epic, we didn’t know how much we’d been missing Batman & Robin until it came back. The book took a hiatus in December, for the rather flimsy reason of not spoiling the “Bruce Wayne’s Skull” fake-out, but in truth, the title had been missing in action since the middle of last year, when Philip Tan took on the rotating art duties. Such weak art is now a distant memory though, with Cameron Stewart’s pages of sufficient quality to merit an “As Good As Frank Quietly, Or Your Money Back” tag on the cover.

After being blind sided by Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is in the mood for taking the initiative. Recognising that the madness he presides over will continue until the steadying presence of Bruce Wayne returns, he ropes in a familiar pair of allies to help his desperate attempt to restore the usual status quo. There’s something of a departure from the first two arcs of the series, where Grayson wore his emotions on his sleeve. Here, unusually never emerging from the cowl, his desperation and recklessness are conveyed in the plot of the story, rather than the usual soliloquies. Morrison’s decision to jump right into the action, following Grayson as he saves London from a not-fully-explained threat, adds to the mood, with the feeling growing that the new Batman is merely spinning plates. While the light-hearted caped crusader is now a comfortable mask for the former acrobat, his doubts about his ability to take charge of the situation provide a compelling narrative drive.

Despite the publicity for the appearance of Batwoman in the pages, with Morrison making a pointed comment on the frequency with which the modern character ends up fulfilling her 1950s narrative role of a damsel in distress, it’s Britain’s resident crime fighters which steal the show. The writer has commented on his policy of adding something new to the world of the Knight and the Squire every time he uses them, but here he excels himself, providing a complete rogues’ gallery for the duo. Taking English folk traditions in the same way that the Batman franchise draws upon American, the book gives a glimpse into a scenario that feels instantly right. There’s even time for an extremely obscure Spike Miligan reference in the dialogue attributed to old King Coal’s henchmen. It’s a dazzling display.

As I’ve noted on this site in the past, there’s generally a set way of reviewing comics online. As far as the sequence of paragraphs goes, discussion of the story takes precedence, followed by a look at the art – which itself has the heirarchical structure of penciller first, then inker (if applicable) and colourist (if considered worth a mention). It’s not intended as a sight against artists, merely a reflection of the limitation of our critical vocabularies. However, in looking at Joe the Barbarian, I’d like to flip that order on its head – because first and foremost, it’s the colourist that demands attention. Because once again (for the second time this week, even), it’s Dave Stewart making a book look utterly incredible.

Lest you think I’m doing Sean Murphy a disservice, though, let me clarify – his work is absolutely stellar as well. As strong an artist as he generally is, I’ve never seen him this good before. On more than one occasion in this issue we’re treated to double-page spreads that are simply gorgeously expansive – no mean feat for a book that spends most of its page count living in everyday suburban mundanity. For an artist with such an ostensibly loose and scratchy style when it comes to figures, the level of detail picked out of – and the level of thought and attention put into – locations such as Joe’s bedroom is phenomenal (without ever being done in that slightly over-laboured, Bryan Hitch sort of a way). Panels are constructed, framed, in a meticulous and careful manner. And the icing on the cake is the way it’s given that absolutely gorgeous, washed-out look by Stewart – who copes equally well with the grey and orange of a graveyard in Autumn, or the exciting and lush vistas that open up as Joe’s “fantasy” world makes its ingress into the “real” one. He works as harmoniously with Murphy here as he does with Williams on Detective – and yet in a way so different you’d barely tell they were the same person.

There’s a story in there too, though. Well, admittedly, not much of one so far. Despite being a new Grant Morrison book from Vertigo (always an exciting prospect), it’s not something big and idea-packed and frenetic – instead working from a single (admittedly very good, even if slightly “done before”) high-concept and spending this first issue slowly painstakingly building a mood in a manner that will surely annoy many an impatient reader, but which at least serves an important purpose in truly drilling home a mundane world against which to set the unreal. In a way, it’s not entirely unlike the two issues of his aborted Authority run – quiet, careful and muted in tone, but with enough of a sense that Interesting Things are about to happen – and for the sake of Murphy and Stewart’s stonkingly good work alone if nothing else, we can only hope it lasts for a few more issues than that. On the strength of the art alone, not to mention the $1 price point, it’s hard to call this issue anything other than a must-buy – I’m looking forward to seeing whether the other seven will stay that way.