One of the aspects O’Neil frequently
touched on in his Bronze Age Batman stories was the notion of the
hero as a master martial artist. Prior to O’Neil, Batman fought
like a boxer most of the time, with occasional touches of judo or
wrestling. But even though the author imported into the Batman mythos
many tropes of the martial arts genre, one particular trope—that of
the use of martial arts as a means of personal growth—made no
appearances in O’Neil’s Batman-tales, or, for that matter, in
anyone else’s Bat-tales. The Cowled Crusader needed no personal growth; being Batman was
his entire raison d’etre.
O’Neil did use the "spiritual growth" trope somewhat in
the largely forgettable RICHARD DRAGON title, but not until the late
1980s did he find the proper vehicle to merge his interest in
hardboiled crime with that of Oriental esotericism. Indeed, the
foremost work to spring from DC Comics’s acquisition of Charlton
Comics’ superhero characters was the first run of THE QUESTION,
originated by O’Neil and artist Denys Cowan. To fans of Steve
Ditko’s original blank-visaged crusader, this version must have
seemed a travesty, foregoing Ditko’s trademark moral sbsolutism in favor of a hero who constantly had to “question” everything—culture,
society, and his own inner nature. Indeed, the original hero, as
presented in the first issue, literally “dies” before he receives
tutelage by none other than O’Neil’s previous kung-fu stalwart,
Richard Dragon.
I’ve already praised the metaphysical
questions posed in issue #11, but the two-parter that I entitle “Saving Face”
orients more on the sociological end of things. Following a “grabber”
scene in which an army recruiter is killed while giving his
enlistment pitch, Vic Sage, a.k.a. the new improved Question,
converses with Doctor Rodor, his sometime mentor. Their short
dialogue gives Sage just enough time to make a distinction between
the tortures of coercion and the ordeals of discipline by stating
that “discipline comes from inside.” Then Sage is called away to
the scene of a disaster, where, all unknowing, he has a
near-encounter with his next opponent.
Said adversary is Colonel DeBeck, an
ex-military man full of the desire to castigate the armed forces of
the United States for weakness and lack of discipline. To graphically
illustrate this vulnerability, DeBeck and a small squad of other
disaffected men attack a small detachment of soldiers giving a public
demonstration of their training. Sage can’t reach the soldiers
before DeBeck’s men slaughter them. Later Sage expresses a muted
admiration for the sheer nerve behind the assault. In the guise of
the Question, Sage tracks down DeBeck, but the former colonel summons
his squad, and the hero is captured.
Rather than simply killing the
vigilante, DeBeck tests the resolve of his opponent, burying him in
the earth up to his neck, so that the hero can breathe and speak but
nothing else. Yet DeBeck also claims that he withstood this same
torture in Cambodia, and so promises that if the Question will go
free if he surpasses DeBeck’s record for withstanding the torture.
O’Neil plays fair throughout the
ordeal: the Question gets no lucky breaks or last-minute rescues from
allies. To survive, the hero must use his Oriental meditative
techniques to sink into himself, to escape the torment of being
unable to move while exposed to the elements. He does receive a
little imaginary help from a scorpion, on whom Sage projects the
persona of his teacher Richard. Of course it’s really Sage giving
himself “sage” advice: “accept the discomfort and pain and fear
and cherish it. It’ll only leave when you invite it to stay.”
Without giving away the
well-orchestrated ending, the Question does indeed survive his
encounter with the honor-obsessed murderers, and goes on to continue
his inquiries into other aspects of existence. In an interesting
subplot, Sage’s girlfriend Myra runs for office, and the constant
hectoring of the publicity machine causes her to dream of herself
stripping on a stage before a crowd of horny gawkers.