Catwoman #1 – Judd Winick (w) Guillem March (a)
DC Comics, $2.99
If we are to believe the hype and marketing machine of
Time Warner, all their future movie comic properties are returning to
square one with the “New 52”. That
adjective is supposed to instill us with confidence, like New Coke and “Nu”
Metal — remember how much you loved those?
But, snark aside, labels are the least of the problems facing DC’s
relaunch. More problematic is how to smoothly reintroduce an entire universe of
characters in the space of four weeks, simultaneously appeasing the vocal
Internet fanboys and attracting new readers.
More problematic still is how to establish, in 22 pages, morally
ambiguous figures like Catwoman that depend on their storied history for depth
and nuance. In short: How do you solve a
problem like Selena?
Tits.
No, really. While
Judd Winick may be a reality TV douchebag with a dubious track record of
quality writing (see: Batman and Robin, Power Girl, or his shameless cash-in on his friend's death) but here, he nails it… with tits.
Without DC history to fall back upon, he instead turns to
the wider world of Barthesian structuralism and the ancient art of the
striptease. Catwoman is the classic noir
femme fatale, a bad girl who tries to be good, but ultimately still holds
selfish ideals. It’s taken over 40 years
to establish that depth to her character.
Winick and artist Guillem March do it in three panels, by having Selena
show us some cleavage:
According to Roland Barthes, in Parisian striptease the
aim is:
[T]o signify, through the shedding of an incongruous and artificial clothing, nakedness as a natural vesture of woman, which amounts in the end to regaining a perfectly chaste state of the flesh.
The costumes and accessories of the performance serve to
characterize the artiste as sinful and immoral, so through the shedding of
clothes she once again becomes wholesome and moral. So, to introduce us to Selena half-naked,
mid-dressing is really the opposite of eroticism. Rather, we see the woman beneath the cat —
vulnerable and wholesome, saving kittens from an explosion. That we don’t see her face is less an
objectification of the body than it is drawing focus away from the make-up and
codified lust that Catwoman — the costumed persona — represents.
In Barthes’ examination of French striptease, the danger
and sinfulness of the outfit was often exotic, playing upon the ethnic or
societal characteristics of the performer — opium pipes or dresses with
panniers. So, when fully clothed as
Catwoman, Selena takes on the signifiers of modern American dangerous
sexuality. The catsuit and whip with
their connotation of bourgeois S&M play places her as a distant, yet
magical figure (that she is depicted on the cover showering herself in diamonds
only adds to this image of careless wealth and pleasures beyond the reach of
most;) while the dark-red lips and heavily kohled eyes — the only visible
features behind the costume — are classic symbols of lust and sexuality.
It’s not until page 14 that we see the fully-costumed
Catwoman, enough time to establish some backstory in the plot, and allow us to
view Selena as a de-sexualised character. While this may seem like an opportunity for voyeurism or fan-service, the fact that the reveal happens during an action sequence again resists sexualisation. Again, Barthes:
[T]he dance, consisting of ritual gestures which have been seen a thousand times, acts on movements as cosmetic, it hides nudity, and smothers the spectacle under a glaze of superfluous yet essential gestures...haughtily taking refuge in the sureness of their technique: their science clothes them like a garment.
After all, what are superhero fight sequences but ritual dances of surefooted technique? By keeping in motion, our gaze is averted. Of course, in the subsequent, final scene, she has stopped moving and we witness the (new) first encounter between Catwoman and Batman. In the ensuing scene (and this is possibly a spoiler, unless you've been deaf to the selective outrage of the comics blogosphere over these few pages) she seduces Batman and they undress, locked in a passionate embrace.
Thereby, through the codification that has been established, we come to understand their relationship and characters. Selena becomes Catwoman and does dangerous, exotic things that transcend her humble, vulnerable background; Batman sees the villain in the costume and desires her because her appearance speaks to his bourgeois background, and he succumbs to her because the hero in him wants to see the bad girl become good.
Perhaps framing the issue as an elaborate striptease was too risque for a comic rated "teen plus", but as a mature, effective solution to a complex problem, it was a mild stroke of genius.
-- Gavin Lees
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