Daredevil meets The Punisher
The use of limited color palette, monochromatic figures- the stark artwork by Daredevil #183 opens with a claustrophobic set of horizontal close-ups in the disastrously splitting psyche of the school girl on angel dust, whose fall implied by the wide white panel completing Page Three sets off the grimness of the crime story ahead. The one aspect in which it’s escapist resides with Daredevil’s limited super-senses abilities- still amazing-as he explores the hidden layers of the world around him, and the fact that through him, the reader can imagine doing anything graceful and powerful about a very ugly problem caused by very ugly people.
I haven’t gone for preview dirt on The Defenders, save for our convo with Ed Pettis in Hall H during Comic Con International. Yet I seem to recall word that of course, the Punisher, who for some upstaged the second Netflix season of Daredevil, would cross paths with this confederation of heroes. (Just a simple trailer at the end of the Defenders episodes, but Punisher Season One? November!)
He’s bound to be a fascinating epicenter for moral tremors and earth-shattering action. He also addresses something I mentioned in our talk, Uniting Luke Cage and Iron Fist: the consequences that befall characters limited by human ability, as opposed to those who can defy tragedy with supernal power. The Punisher, along with an exploration of the physical damage that alters his psychology- perhaps-bears the armory he does precisely because, other than extraordinary soldiering skill, he possesses no inhuman advantage over his foes. For him, tactical evaluation and lethal force are the barrier between him and fatal failure. There remains a certain recklessness to his approach that allows him a fighting advantage not available to those whose caution requires more thought for self-preservation. It’s an approach nearly indistinguishable from heroic bravery: fearlessness pushes him towards unpredictability. The convenience of certitude, however, is all that separates his valor from villainy, and his tactics make it harder for him to engage foes who might require less than lethal force to discourage their erroneous ways. Not that he wouldn’t just knock out a guy mugging a couple, but he’s less likely to show up in random crime fighting or rescue situations; he’s only around to fight the worst of the gangs with gang-style tactics. There are few chances to see the light following his justice.
Miller/ MacKenzie’s take on the Punisher adds a dimension found in the spirit of his Netflix incarnation. Yet, from his second appearance, Gerry Conway clearly had him going after criminal revolutionaries- others who fight with extreme tactics and extortion-so Amazing Spider-Man #134-5 has the War Journal strategist who plans his campaigns based on intelligence, and that side of him is apparent, too. The version in Daredevil #183 is repositioned most clearly as an antagonist because he’s after criminals now who aren’t crime soldiers; Daredevil considers them unshaped thugs, not organized- people who might grow past the hardened state fueled by drugs, rather than careerists. To this point, he’s never seemed less than a superhero. For one, his early forays in color comics often reference non-lethal weapon use like rubber bullets, but even with the break with Code-approved heroic behavior, open to lethal force, it’s this change in opponents- who are standard trouble for the non-lethal Daredevil-that makes him seem more brutish and unreasonable. The cause and effect that lends people in real life to fantasize about cleaning up the streets with murder and mayhem on the side of right, the wounded sense of justice with its pronounced lack of forgiveness and grave cynicism, becomes the added element that sets him against others living a different heroic code. Spider-Man’s always tried to rein him in during their team-ups, but they are team-ups nonetheless. The Punisher was simply an edgier, provocative ally.
Daredevil #183 and 184 are interesting the more because Daredevil, from his moral high ground, makes an error in judgment. A pacemaker is not a problem that could fool Matt every day. Since it hadn’t been done before, Daredevil could then also make a decision, based on his modus operandi, that is a costly mistake that dedicates his abilities to a compromised position.
This is a gripping way to tell a tale: the figures who might seem heroic to different people are all making morally compromised mistakes. When you know the Elektra saga preceded this- that the title just made a sacrifice play of its most morally ambiguous supporting character- you know Miller’s going beyond tales of heroes and villains. Many DD readers did not see Elektra as a hero of any sort!
And she wasn’t: she was a character, a person, and going forward, this was a pioneering advent. Villains had been portrayed with sympathetic thoughts, backgrounds- compelling motivations (like Kraft’s Scorpio, a sort of Byronic Hero, and of course even a regal Doctor Doom or ideologue Red Skull champions..something...sometimes). It’s the methods, the negative modus operandi, and their collateral consequences that brought them into conflict with the heroes. Elektra by that definition’s certainly an antagonist, and one who drew Matt into a morally grey area- but she’s a post unto herself, is she not? And heroes to follow would often be unheroic by previous modern standards, although, say, Ulysses was a Greek hero that Dante puts squarely in the eighth circle of Hell. Firmly might be a better word, but to say such characters are square pegs in round holes is a simple metaphor to convey their ambiguous classification. The letters page reflects a wide invocation of deep-running emotions.
What I said about where the title’s coming from at this point? DAREDEVIL’s next two issues feature a noir version of Foggy “Guts” Nelson, unaware of his guardian angel present at every turn, and the Stilt Man, who he says it best in his next appearance: “No one takes me seriously!” How’s he supposed to walk, anyway?
The choice of images is one overlapping the discussion of characters. The evil sneer of Peter Hogman opens the first panel-”of course, I’m smiling, I’m always smiling!”- and as we zoom out, we see his grotesque face framed in the Punisher’s scope. We actually start with a cover with Daredevil angrily sneering- and pointing out a pistol, beside the logo: No more mister nice guy-no punctuation needed. So turn that cover- which really makes you wonder, when will anything so shocking happen?-go to Hogman’s sneer- a visual fixation by which Miller will again and again identify him. Evil’s here to laugh at us, to laugh at the law, and decency. Turn the page again, and over the shoulder of the Punisher comes a Ditko-inspired multi-image of the title hero’s graceful violence. The title virtually leaps above his mobile figure, as if meant to be punctuated by the “thwock!” to Punisher’s midsection. And what a title: “Good Guys Wear Red.” They may well end up with blood on their hands.
We’re challenged with the clash between Daredevil and Punisher-type moralities, head on: the bounding hero, skipping right into the face of a man prepared to take out a criminal depicted from the start with no positive qualities. This defense of the criminal gradually unfolds as the mission truly dear: defense of justice.
Graphically, we’re in masterful hands, doing things only comics can: the dropping of unnecessary backgrounds to generate striking graphic design as each page meets your eyes. Speaking of eyes, they’re well-drawn here: Heather’s, full of doubt, searching for discernment; tired assuredness in Mr. Spindle’s; darkness around Frank Castle’s; fear in the eyes of Billy and Coach Donahue in court. Speaking of court, the jury assembled above and left in front of Matt, monochromatic sameness, while Matt offers charm and careful words. His smile’s almost always warm, never angry. Graphics again: that old-time phone cord, connecting and dividing Matt and Heather’s tiers of panels, simultaneously.
Shadows on her face, as she’s looking for love and connection while passing through a shady business world. And hope, man: that last splash page of DAREDEVIL #183 in the park, the lovers, such a ray of goodness. Shadows: sihouettes in alternating panels, as drug-crazed Coach tries to silence Matt.
Dimly-lit unnatural colors on Hogman’s close-up admission of guilt; light, dark divided on Matt’s sickened, worried response. Shadow: DD’s falling fast towards Hogman, who knows: I’ll walk free.
Eyes and that sneer again, stacked to make a three panel monster. And the tower of black lording over the boy Billy, betrayed by law- by the title hero’s error!- stalking the featureless street with a gun.
Daredevil #184. Script, Roger MacKenzie. Art, Frank Miller, Klaus Janson
A gun: Daredevil’s surprise- the cover’s shocking premise- shatters the offered truce with Punisher. Stark color-held figure: backgrounds flee again, Miller centered on the fallen vigilante- whose very gun ends up in Billy’s hands to nearly finish its job. Guess who’s not smiling now?!?
What would be justice for the little boy? In some stories, the stain on his soul would proceed, vengeance, his. But that is no kind of justice in Daredevil’s world. He’ll close with those lines to the little boy (whom he just saved from attempting murder) about the laws we put in place.
Every line of this makes me wish The Punisher crosses paths with Season 2 of the Defenders!
The Punisher was a character I enjoyed, but other than the vicarious thrill of his tactical battles under Mike Baron and Klaus Janson (and later, in War Journal under Jim Lee), I didn’t feel the full sense of pathos for him as a person until I saw his Netflix appearances. Circumstances were crafted to give us some moral cover- as Daredevil uses to his own tactical advantage in #184, the Punisher didn’t kill those he deemed innocent. The level of loathing for human wretchedness invited us over the line to a conservative fantasy of Frank’s courageous odds-defying elimination of villainous scum (though I particularly liked the initially-sympathetic preacher man in The Punisher #4 & 5- after all these years, I remember more details of that adventure than most of his). Politics aside, I think anyone ever picked on or, especially, who felt helpless against a criminal act can find a seductive bit of daydreaming in Frank’s no-holds-barred war against those insulated by force and power from retaliation of their victims.
What I loved was the television show pairs the visceral catharsis with a reasonable suspicion of physical illness damaging the discernment of a courageous man dealing with grief. I thought it was an excellent motivation that made Frank that much more realistic, while drawing into question the audience’s blood-thirsty desires. It went a further step in making a character many of the divided viewers found reprehensible, sympathetic, zeroing in on excellent point-of-view feelings from Karen Page, who has been redeemed from her fallen woman in the thriller/noir ‘Born Again’ comics arc in this interpretation (played so well by Deborah Anne Wohl), where she’s now a crusader inspired by another terrific Miller-era support character, Ben Urich. (I love how Roger Stern also puts Ben into play in several Amazing Spider-Man stories of the time. Lots of Bugle employees are visible throughout the Marvel Universe, but Ben really got in the thick of things!)
Traumatized and threatened, and having already crossed the line herself killing her kidnapper (in a really great scene!), Karen’s still a person representing a sort of norm, despite being recently ripped out of her safe world into the fringe madness. She will doubtless remain a contrasting character, compelled by the Punisher’s methods and the ruthlessness of those they face, yet tethered to thoughtfulness. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but at one point will she surely be tempted to take up the latter?
One last thing: I think everything comes up a notch when you throw these fascinatingly-motivated characters headlong into one another’s paths. The Punisher’s more of a grim cypher of his mission, here, but he’s such a perfect foil for Daredevil. I don’t doubt the field will be pretty well cleared of his heroic cohorts when Punisher Season One arrives this fall. But let’s remember a minute the world from which these ideas sprang (to say nothing of his origins in Amazing Spider-Man under Gerry Conway, Ross Andru, John Romita). In this case, it was a landmark of vital comics storytelling.
"and there will be...a Pun Assured!"
So begins the first appearance as written by David Anthony Kraft...wait, no, I can't Gerrymander that origin, in some con way. (They're friends, people, don't get uptight.) Let's just be Frank. Miller.
I haven’t gone for preview dirt on The Defenders, save for our convo with Ed Pettis in Hall H during Comic Con International. Yet I seem to recall word that of course, the Punisher, who for some upstaged the second Netflix season of Daredevil, would cross paths with this confederation of heroes. (Just a simple trailer at the end of the Defenders episodes, but Punisher Season One? November!)
He’s bound to be a fascinating epicenter for moral tremors and earth-shattering action. He also addresses something I mentioned in our talk, Uniting Luke Cage and Iron Fist: the consequences that befall characters limited by human ability, as opposed to those who can defy tragedy with supernal power. The Punisher, along with an exploration of the physical damage that alters his psychology- perhaps-bears the armory he does precisely because, other than extraordinary soldiering skill, he possesses no inhuman advantage over his foes. For him, tactical evaluation and lethal force are the barrier between him and fatal failure. There remains a certain recklessness to his approach that allows him a fighting advantage not available to those whose caution requires more thought for self-preservation. It’s an approach nearly indistinguishable from heroic bravery: fearlessness pushes him towards unpredictability. The convenience of certitude, however, is all that separates his valor from villainy, and his tactics make it harder for him to engage foes who might require less than lethal force to discourage their erroneous ways. Not that he wouldn’t just knock out a guy mugging a couple, but he’s less likely to show up in random crime fighting or rescue situations; he’s only around to fight the worst of the gangs with gang-style tactics. There are few chances to see the light following his justice.
Miller/ MacKenzie’s take on the Punisher adds a dimension found in the spirit of his Netflix incarnation. Yet, from his second appearance, Gerry Conway clearly had him going after criminal revolutionaries- others who fight with extreme tactics and extortion-so Amazing Spider-Man #134-5 has the War Journal strategist who plans his campaigns based on intelligence, and that side of him is apparent, too. The version in Daredevil #183 is repositioned most clearly as an antagonist because he’s after criminals now who aren’t crime soldiers; Daredevil considers them unshaped thugs, not organized- people who might grow past the hardened state fueled by drugs, rather than careerists. To this point, he’s never seemed less than a superhero. For one, his early forays in color comics often reference non-lethal weapon use like rubber bullets, but even with the break with Code-approved heroic behavior, open to lethal force, it’s this change in opponents- who are standard trouble for the non-lethal Daredevil-that makes him seem more brutish and unreasonable. The cause and effect that lends people in real life to fantasize about cleaning up the streets with murder and mayhem on the side of right, the wounded sense of justice with its pronounced lack of forgiveness and grave cynicism, becomes the added element that sets him against others living a different heroic code. Spider-Man’s always tried to rein him in during their team-ups, but they are team-ups nonetheless. The Punisher was simply an edgier, provocative ally.
Daredevil #183 and 184 are interesting the more because Daredevil, from his moral high ground, makes an error in judgment. A pacemaker is not a problem that could fool Matt every day. Since it hadn’t been done before, Daredevil could then also make a decision, based on his modus operandi, that is a costly mistake that dedicates his abilities to a compromised position.
This is a gripping way to tell a tale: the figures who might seem heroic to different people are all making morally compromised mistakes. When you know the Elektra saga preceded this- that the title just made a sacrifice play of its most morally ambiguous supporting character- you know Miller’s going beyond tales of heroes and villains. Many DD readers did not see Elektra as a hero of any sort!
And she wasn’t: she was a character, a person, and going forward, this was a pioneering advent. Villains had been portrayed with sympathetic thoughts, backgrounds- compelling motivations (like Kraft’s Scorpio, a sort of Byronic Hero, and of course even a regal Doctor Doom or ideologue Red Skull champions..something...sometimes). It’s the methods, the negative modus operandi, and their collateral consequences that brought them into conflict with the heroes. Elektra by that definition’s certainly an antagonist, and one who drew Matt into a morally grey area- but she’s a post unto herself, is she not? And heroes to follow would often be unheroic by previous modern standards, although, say, Ulysses was a Greek hero that Dante puts squarely in the eighth circle of Hell. Firmly might be a better word, but to say such characters are square pegs in round holes is a simple metaphor to convey their ambiguous classification. The letters page reflects a wide invocation of deep-running emotions.
What I said about where the title’s coming from at this point? DAREDEVIL’s next two issues feature a noir version of Foggy “Guts” Nelson, unaware of his guardian angel present at every turn, and the Stilt Man, who he says it best in his next appearance: “No one takes me seriously!” How’s he supposed to walk, anyway?
The choice of images is one overlapping the discussion of characters. The evil sneer of Peter Hogman opens the first panel-”of course, I’m smiling, I’m always smiling!”- and as we zoom out, we see his grotesque face framed in the Punisher’s scope. We actually start with a cover with Daredevil angrily sneering- and pointing out a pistol, beside the logo: No more mister nice guy-no punctuation needed. So turn that cover- which really makes you wonder, when will anything so shocking happen?-go to Hogman’s sneer- a visual fixation by which Miller will again and again identify him. Evil’s here to laugh at us, to laugh at the law, and decency. Turn the page again, and over the shoulder of the Punisher comes a Ditko-inspired multi-image of the title hero’s graceful violence. The title virtually leaps above his mobile figure, as if meant to be punctuated by the “thwock!” to Punisher’s midsection. And what a title: “Good Guys Wear Red.” They may well end up with blood on their hands.
Graphically, we’re in masterful hands, doing things only comics can: the dropping of unnecessary backgrounds to generate striking graphic design as each page meets your eyes. Speaking of eyes, they’re well-drawn here: Heather’s, full of doubt, searching for discernment; tired assuredness in Mr. Spindle’s; darkness around Frank Castle’s; fear in the eyes of Billy and Coach Donahue in court. Speaking of court, the jury assembled above and left in front of Matt, monochromatic sameness, while Matt offers charm and careful words. His smile’s almost always warm, never angry. Graphics again: that old-time phone cord, connecting and dividing Matt and Heather’s tiers of panels, simultaneously.
Shadows on her face, as she’s looking for love and connection while passing through a shady business world. And hope, man: that last splash page of DAREDEVIL #183 in the park, the lovers, such a ray of goodness. Shadows: sihouettes in alternating panels, as drug-crazed Coach tries to silence Matt.
Dimly-lit unnatural colors on Hogman’s close-up admission of guilt; light, dark divided on Matt’s sickened, worried response. Shadow: DD’s falling fast towards Hogman, who knows: I’ll walk free.
Eyes and that sneer again, stacked to make a three panel monster. And the tower of black lording over the boy Billy, betrayed by law- by the title hero’s error!- stalking the featureless street with a gun.
A gun: Daredevil’s surprise- the cover’s shocking premise- shatters the offered truce with Punisher. Stark color-held figure: backgrounds flee again, Miller centered on the fallen vigilante- whose very gun ends up in Billy’s hands to nearly finish its job. Guess who’s not smiling now?!?
What would be justice for the little boy? In some stories, the stain on his soul would proceed, vengeance, his. But that is no kind of justice in Daredevil’s world. He’ll close with those lines to the little boy (whom he just saved from attempting murder) about the laws we put in place.
Every line of this makes me wish The Punisher crosses paths with Season 2 of the Defenders!
The Punisher was a character I enjoyed, but other than the vicarious thrill of his tactical battles under Mike Baron and Klaus Janson (and later, in War Journal under Jim Lee), I didn’t feel the full sense of pathos for him as a person until I saw his Netflix appearances. Circumstances were crafted to give us some moral cover- as Daredevil uses to his own tactical advantage in #184, the Punisher didn’t kill those he deemed innocent. The level of loathing for human wretchedness invited us over the line to a conservative fantasy of Frank’s courageous odds-defying elimination of villainous scum (though I particularly liked the initially-sympathetic preacher man in The Punisher #4 & 5- after all these years, I remember more details of that adventure than most of his). Politics aside, I think anyone ever picked on or, especially, who felt helpless against a criminal act can find a seductive bit of daydreaming in Frank’s no-holds-barred war against those insulated by force and power from retaliation of their victims.
What I loved was the television show pairs the visceral catharsis with a reasonable suspicion of physical illness damaging the discernment of a courageous man dealing with grief. I thought it was an excellent motivation that made Frank that much more realistic, while drawing into question the audience’s blood-thirsty desires. It went a further step in making a character many of the divided viewers found reprehensible, sympathetic, zeroing in on excellent point-of-view feelings from Karen Page, who has been redeemed from her fallen woman in the thriller/noir ‘Born Again’ comics arc in this interpretation (played so well by Deborah Anne Wohl), where she’s now a crusader inspired by another terrific Miller-era support character, Ben Urich. (I love how Roger Stern also puts Ben into play in several Amazing Spider-Man stories of the time. Lots of Bugle employees are visible throughout the Marvel Universe, but Ben really got in the thick of things!)
Traumatized and threatened, and having already crossed the line herself killing her kidnapper (in a really great scene!), Karen’s still a person representing a sort of norm, despite being recently ripped out of her safe world into the fringe madness. She will doubtless remain a contrasting character, compelled by the Punisher’s methods and the ruthlessness of those they face, yet tethered to thoughtfulness. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but at one point will she surely be tempted to take up the latter?
One last thing: I think everything comes up a notch when you throw these fascinatingly-motivated characters headlong into one another’s paths. The Punisher’s more of a grim cypher of his mission, here, but he’s such a perfect foil for Daredevil. I don’t doubt the field will be pretty well cleared of his heroic cohorts when Punisher Season One arrives this fall. But let’s remember a minute the world from which these ideas sprang (to say nothing of his origins in Amazing Spider-Man under Gerry Conway, Ross Andru, John Romita). In this case, it was a landmark of vital comics storytelling.
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