#however I have done zero research (unlike in a knight's tale)

[finxwrites]

A bard makes his own luck. It’s not quite pithy enough to be a saying, but Eddie says it all the time anyway, because none of the fancier variants he’s come up with cut so cleanly to the heart of the matter.

Some of them do let him imply he’s got luck magic, though, or saints on his side. That can be pretty fun. Demons on his side, too, which can be even more fun. Which one is more dangerous tends to come down to what the locals count as blasphemy in whatever corner of the world he finds himself in, but learning to read the room for that is part of the game.

And it’s part of what he means. Eddie knows better than most what actually goes into a magic trick, and he knows that it’s only one part trickery to ten parts sheer panache. If you know how to hold an audience in the palm of your hand, you really can spin luck out of thin air.

But not in the literal sense. As becomes painfully apparent when he’s hauled before the magistrate for the murder of a girl whose death he cannot explain without sounding like he’s gone mad, or like he really does commune with devils. He does his best, pouring out pleas and assurances and reminders that he’s known here, he’s played in this town plenty of times before, he’s not a killer, he’s never hurt a fly. He does his best, but the magistrate remains coldly suspicious, and the sympathy of the crowd is tempered by uncertainty. One of his accusers is a knight. He’d need a lot more than luck to get himself out of this one.

The magistrate might even be a fair man, because he waits until Eddie’s started to repeat himself before raising his gavel. Eddie’s heart leaps into his throat, briefly strangling his words, at the sudden swooping knowledge that this is it, his chances are through, his luck has run out.

A young voice cries out, “Wait!” 

Every head in the courtroom turns, like this is a play. Dustin stands silhouetted in the open door. Lucas is next to him, hands on his knees, panting like he’s run a marathon. 

Dustin doesn’t waste a moment. He races to the front of the room and launches right into an impassioned defense, swearing that there’s no way Eddie could have done this, no one can even place him at the scene of the crime, he has no reason to want Lady Christine dead and no history of violence—

He goes on a while. It’s really sweet. Eddie’s heart swells a bit. He’s glad he has at least one friend in this shitty town, even if it’s a kid who’s only here for the jousting tournament and who’s only actually known Eddie for…what, four weeks altogether? Stretched over several months of running into each other along the tournament circuit, because for all Eddie disdains the violent sports of his so-called betters, he can’t deny there’s good money in following them around and pandering to their crowds.

Two friends, he amends, as Lucas regains his breath and joins in. He’d honestly kind of wondered if he’d find Lucas among his accusers. Lately it seems like every time Eddie’s seen him, he’s been hanging around Sir Carver. 

Well, he probably won’t be doing that anymore, if the blistering glares Carver is shooting Lucas’s way are anything to go by. At least Eddie’s wrongful death will be good for something.

The magistrate tries to cut Dustin off at least five times, but Dustin is a force of nature. So the magistrate is as startled as anyone when Dustin catches sight of someone at the door and falls suddenly silent. 

Once again, every head turns. Dustin looks so hopeful and relieved that Eddie’s heart rises in his chest in spite of himself. 

Only to come crashing down in baffled disappointment when Lord Steven Harrington, heir to the duchy of Hawk’s Grace, strides in like he owns the place.

Eddie’s higher cognitive function is replaced by a looping refrain of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. He watches in stunned incomprehension as Harrington flashes an easy smile at the magistrate and another at Carver and his little posse without breaking stride. Mike and Max trot in on Harrington’s heels, compounding Eddie’s bewilderment.

What is he doing here? Hawk’s Grace is over a hundred miles away! He can’t be here for the tournament, can he? Harrington was tournament champion three years running, but it’s been two years since he’s been seen in the lists, and he’s definitely not competing this year. Eddie would have heard of it.

Even more mystifying, and a fair bit more pressing, what is he doing at Eddie’s trial?

Harrington reaches the front of the room and cants a disdainful look at Eddie. He sighs, shakes his head in disappointment—it’s almost theatrical. Eddie’s pretty sure Harrington has never so much as glanced his way before today, not once in all the years of tournaments. Eddie would be offended—who saunters into a courtroom just to be rude to the doomed defendant?—but his higher cognitive function hasn’t come back yet.

Harrington greets the magistrate, who responds with bemused politeness. He clearly has no idea what the hell is going on either. Max and Mike have taken up positions behind Harrington and slightly to either side, like they’re squires attending their knight-master. Harrington ignores them as if this happens every day. And then he says, all aggrieved and apologetic, “Sorry I’m late, your honor. What is my man being accused of, exactly?”

If Eddie wasn’t already gaping like a beached fish, that would have done it. He made a weird little gasping noise as he tried to draw breath and failed, because apparently it was no longer just his higher cognitive function that had flatlined.

No one notices. The whole room is riveted by the spectacle of a ducal heir claiming responsibility for an accused murderer. Even the magistrate sounds a bit strangled as he asks, “Your man?”

“My herald,” Harrington says, blithely unconcerned. “I hear there’s been some confusion about a murdered woman?”

[scurvgirl]

The Princess Was Very Proper

Moar Fairy Tale AU!

Part One, Part Two

Worldbuilding

The next day, Adannar and Serahlin finish building the chicken coop and the rest of the day is spent introducing the chickens to their new home and Serahlin to the chickens. He teaches her how to care for the birds and sets up a little caravan of sorts to deliver feed from his home to hers. The mechanical creatures watch them as they handle the chickens, curious. Serahlin is still acclimating to the creatures and is still easily unnerved by them. But she’s polite and doesn’t say anything untoward. Adannar thinks it would take a great deal to make Serahlin break any sort of decorum.

She’s a proper lady, after all.

Days pass in a similar fashion. He comes and helps, and they talk. She’s still largely a mystery to him, and she doesn’t give much away other than she lived in a palace. So not just a lady, but potentially a princess.

After two weeks, Adannar shows up at the cottage, as usual, with a basket of breakfast. Serahlin is already awake and working on the garden they planted last week. She stands up to greet him and the hem of her skirt catches on a bramble, ripping it. Oh dear.

But Serahlin doesn’t look so much as disheartened as annoyed.

“These dresses are beautiful, Adannar, but I keep tearing them. I don’t suppose you have any breeches?” She hefts the skirts up to around her knees and walks awkwardly to Adannar.

“I do have breeches, I can fetch some if you’d like,” he offers, setting the basket of food down on the outside table they built a few days ago.

“Oh you don’t have to go now –

“It’s no trouble! I will leave you to breakfast and go fetch your breeches and then we can be about the day.” He doesn’t mind the running back and forth, or flying really, especially if it means Serahlin will continue to look at him like that. With kind gratitude, gracing him with a smile and a light expression he’s only recently been treated to. In the weeks Serahlin has spent here, she has grown from suspicious to politely reserved to happily smiling at him in greeting, not caring if she stumbles over a rock in the garden or not. It’s a surprising transformation, one that has endeared him greatly to her.

“I do know how to sew, the only practical thing I know, but I know it. If I just had cloth and needle –

“Really, Serahlin, it is no trouble. But I will bring you what you need to sew.” He opens the basket and pulls out a loaf of bread he baked through the night. She hesitates, and he knows he has her. Bread, any princess’s weakness.

He leaves her to her breakfast and rushes off to the glen where he can shift and fly quickly to his lair. He launched himself up into the air and travels at great speed. The wind is with him this morning and helps him along to the lone mountain.

He raids the wardrobes filled with clothes, taking out the slimmest of the breeches. Before the days of the knights and their propaganda, Adannar hosted researchers and other dragons. Sometimes at the same time. Both groups required changes of clothes and over the years, he accrued quite the collection. They’re mostly basic style leather breeches, a few cloth types, but the leather is better, it’ll provide better protection and wear for Serahlin as she traipses about her new home.

Adannar packs a bag then heads back, the bag delicately balanced on a claw. He lands back in the glen and shifts. He’s wearing breeches himself, today, along with a longer style tunic. He is in a good mood when he returns to Serahlin, but the smile on his face quickly disappears when he spies her terrified expression.

“Adannar!” She cries, running quickly to him. All sense of propriety must have left her in that moment, because she flings her arms around him in a crushing hug.

“Ser-Serahlin?” He asks, shocked at the sudden contact. He drops the bag and returns the hug, wrapping his arms around her slim body. It has been…a long time since he has had this much contact with someone with a beating heart. There are spirits, his creatures, but Serahlin is warm, solid, breathing. He feels her breath on him as she holds him tight.

“I saw that dragon and feared the worst! It was all I could do to hide in the cottage and hope for your safe return.” She holds onto him tight and her concern over him is so heartfelt and touching.

He leans into her touch, “The dragon does not bother me, but your concern and hugging is very welcome.” She stiffens at that and pulls back quickly, hands covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to impose! I was so relieved to see your return, I…I must have lost control,” she explains. Adannar laughs and gently takes her hands down from her face.

“There is no worry. It has been a long time since I’ve been touched, any surprise from it is good.” He holds her hands so that they are between his larger ones in a comforting way he once saw of elven researchers that were visiting him.

A blush colors Serahlin’s cheeks, “Still, I let my emotions overcome me. I would never have done this back home…”

“You are not there, you are safe to feel whatever you wish to feel here,” he explains.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, averting her gaze. She pulls her hands free of his and he lets her go without resistance. He can understand her being reluctant to be more open with him, that run and hug and sudden expression was so unlike the Serahlin he has come to know. But it was still her, just a her that wasn’t worried about expression or judgement.

“The clothes!” He remembers, grabbing the bag off the ground. He hands it over to her, “I hope at least one of them fit, if not…we’ll see about stitching something together that does.” She takes the bag and thanks him before darting into the cottage.

Adannar occupies himself by the chicken coop. No chicks, yet, those eggs still have a couple of weeks to hatch, but the rest of the chickens seem happy enough. They have a large enclosure, nice places for roosting – it’s good. They unfortunately can’t let the chickens be free range, too many foxes and other predators around to let them out. He reaches in the bag of feed and tosses it out to them. The birds flock to the food even though they’ve already been fed.

The back-door cracks open and Serahlin steps out, bedecked in her new tunic and breeches. Her hair is pulled into a braided bun and she looks ready to conquer the world. Or at least the forest.

When she first arrived, Adannar knew she was beautiful. Physical beauty is easy, however. There are many in this world who are beautiful. But she has shown to be so much more than that. She is compassionate, tenacious, and despite her upbringing, not arrogant or condescending.

Buoyed by the emotions she brought to the surface with her hug, Adannar beams and walks up to take her hand.

“You look spectacular, the breeches were a wonderful idea.”

She smiles back, “Thank you. I haven’t worn breeches much before, just for my archery lessons. Mother did not believe learning other forms of combat befitted our station – ‘we have people for that, Serahlin.’” She stops suddenly, “and that is not appropriate, I don’t know what has gotten into me today.”

“It’s the forest! It’s Improper Day, the deer are the chasing the wolves, it’s all very wacky,” he says, and she chuckles.

“My mother would never hear of such a day. Heavens forbid someone was ever improper to her.” Her eyes grow distant and she looks at the way she came a month and a half ago. Adannar moves from around the coop to stand by her.

“You do not have to worry about propriety here. I have been alone so long that I don’t even really know what el- people find proper. I’ve been trying to be proper with you, but I’ve mostly been guessing.” He shrugs and gives her a smile. She faces him and her expression turns less wistful.

“You are surprisingly proper for a hermit living in the forest.” Her compliment is sweet and he feels just a tad bashful at it. Compliments were usually levied at him for his draconic form – grand, great, majestic. He’s even been mistakenly called fearsome, but not proper, and not with the soft eyes like Serahlin’s. The expressions he’s inspired in the past ranged mostly from fear to awe, even to pointed mirth, but not gratitude or softness.

Adannar reaches forward and takes her hand.

“I want to show you something.” He leads her down the steps and into the forest. She laughs as they jog along, a free and happy sound.

“I am glad I am wearing breeches and boots for this! Where are we going?” She calls. He guides her past the glen he transforms in then to a bubbling creek.

“It’s a surprise!” He calls back. She laughs and continues to jog with him, following his movements. While dragons grow and stop at maturity overly changing in physicality, the forest is constantly changing. Learning its ways is as much knowledge as much as an art. To run like this means to know how the forest is, all the places to step, places to not step. He guides her through it, not going as quickly as he can, but quick enough to make Serahlin’s face flush and her breathing deepen. She tugs on his sleeve halfway to their destination.

“Stop, stop, I need to catch my breath,” she pants, leaning against a tree. His own breathing is labored but it’s not much for him. If anything, the exertion feels good, he hasn’t done anything like this in so long. He’d laze around his lair, motivation to do anything reaching zero. He looks to her, her breaths slowly evening out as she catches her breath. Serahlin has been a catalyst to how’s he felt these last few weeks. She reminded him of himself in a way. He’s taken to working on his creatures, actually building new ones, after he leaves her each evening. The lair is slowly getting put back in order and he wants to thank Serahlin. As much as she says he’s done for her, he feels she’s done for him as well.

“Normally we stroll through the forest. Change can be good, but this is quite sudden,” she says after her breath returns.

“I want to show you something specific, to thank you.” He takes her hand again and she grows curious, pushing off from the tree to step closer to him.

“Thank me? I should be the one thanking you.”

He can’t truly answer her, so instead and he moves closer and raises his free hand to gently caress her cheek. She swallows and lips part. His ears can hear her heart, once close to rest now speeding up again before they even begin moving.

He pulls his hand away slowly. They resume traveling through the forest, but at a more reasonable pace. She doesn’t speak again, but she holds his hand fast and lingers close. He helps her over the now stream and in only half an hour, her ears twitch and she looks westward.

“Is that…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. Adannar only smiles in response before leading her the rest of the way. He pulls fronds apart and she gasps at the beauty before her.

The waterfall – a great pillar of falling water from one of the highest of the cliffs outside of the mountain range proper. The cliff was covered in a special rock, one that only few could tell was special. To most, the stone appeared average and dull, but he could see it for what it was – an iridescent rock that revealed itself under the right magic. What appears to be dull is actually shining, browns and blues swirling together, making the water shine and appear almost like it’s moving. The pool of water at the bottom is blue, tinged with magic and reflecting the blue of the rock at the bottom.

This waterfall is older than he is. Before light, before dark, before feeling anything, he knew this waterfall and the joy it brought to the animals and people around it. A source of water and beauty, a wonder unlike any other. He remembers seeing for the first time the turquoise and copper colors meeting and feeling so pure and light.

“It is amazing, I…” Serahlin steps forward, down the bank, letting his hand go as she approaches the pool. Can she see it? The colors, the magic? He wants her to, he realizes, he wants her to see the magic that is so close to him, even if it is no longer him. He is no longer Joy, but this…this is part of him. Even he can’t tell her what he is, not yet, at least, he can show her where he began. She doesn’t know it is his beginning, but…he can know enough for them both right now.

Serahlin is totally dwarfed by the enormity of the waterfall but she doesn’t look out of place as she strides down the bank to the water.

“The water has some healing properties. I have woken up with a sore back and a dip in here later, I’m no longer sore,” he says as she dips her hand into the water. When she pulls her hand back she marvels at the loss of the cut on her finger from earlier in the morning. A chicken had bitten her, hard enough to draw blood, and now it’s gone.

“This is…how does something like this exist and we don’t know about it?” She says and something in Adannar clenches in fear. He is fine to share the waterfall, it is just that…it once was bottled and sold as healing tonics. The mystical waters of the Copper Falls, but the property leaves once it leaves the pool. The magic is in the rock, not in the water, that is why.

“A dragon lives in these woods, many see that and do not brave the forest, even if there is this,” he says. It’s true. Many take his living here as a ward against any further excursion. And while it has resulted in his loneliness, it has benefitted the forest. The waterfall is left undisturbed, trees are not cut, animals are not hunted to their breaking point.

But dragons are.

Adannar pushes such thoughts from his mind. This is a good thing, he wants her to be happy seeing this, not morose, and he certainly does not want to dwell on such thoughts. This is a joyous place.

He joins her by the water’s edge. It is an unseasonably warm day, even if they are rapidly approaching spring. The water is beautiful and he knows it is cool. Perhaps it is his draconic blood that makes him run warm, but he longs for a swim.

Sudden nudity for swimming, however, is most likely improper, and he does not wish to make Serahlin any more uncomfortable than she has been.

“I’m beginning to wonder if the dragon is the menace my people has made it out to be,” she confesses and his heart stops.

“Truly?” She nods, then rises from the bank. She walks along the water’s edge, watching colorful fish below the surface.

“It does not bother you, and we are quite deep within the forest now. This waterfall is magical, surely something a dragon would like to protect – yet nothing. I have not been menaced. Only early in the morning do I hear what could be the thunderous sound of wings in the air.”

And Adannar thought she could not surprise him any further. Perhaps…eventually…. What a hope! He offers his arm to her and she takes it. As they walk, he tells her about the area. The waterfall and pool feed into the river down here, but the river continues up beyond the ledge where the water comes crashing down. This waterfall is one of many in a series, it just happens to be the largest. At the top of the mountains are hot springs, surrounded by snow.

“My curiosity is too much, I must know – is there a hidden cave behind the waterfall?” She asks, and he looks down at her. She’s all flushed and smiling, embarrassed but also full of humor.

“Nothing but smooth rock, what a thing to ask,” he answers.

She laughs, leaning into him, “All the adventure stories I used to read all seemed to have secret caves behind the waterfalls. Perhaps a cove filled with treasure, or a hollow where lovers would meet.”

He cocks his head to the side, smiling as he speaks, “There is nothing behind the waterfall, but there is a passage in the side of the pool – it leads to an underground river.” She turns to him, bright faced and excited.

“Really?”

“Really!” He doesn’t mention that said underground river leads to a specific lone mountain in the foothills of the range, but she does not need to know yet. He laughs and nods instead, patting her hand on his arm. “Bioluminescent creatures call that river home, it’s beautiful.”

Her replying expression is equal parts wonder and incredulousness.

**

“How do you know all this?” Serahlin asks. He is a bounty of information and knowledge, the kind only few of her tutors had been. And even then, he seems to know more than a few of them.

“I have lived out here for a long time. There is a great deal to do when you are alone,” he says but his voice wavers slightly and something tickles the back of her neck. Just as it does when someone is telling a lie. Her brow furrows and she stops walking, retracting her hand from his arm.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asks softly, giving him a chance because she wants to believe anything but the worst. But old fears die hard and she feels like there are a thousand eyes on her, just as it was at the palace. Everyone had watched, forced her to play in sick games that only hurt people.

He stops and turns to her, brow pulled together in concern, “Serahlin, I –

She doesn’t let him finish, “You are not from my land, are you?” She asks softly. He shakes his head and she drops his hand.

“And what? Are you from there? Did they send you? Are you just waiting to take me back just when I grow to trust you?” She accuses, getting ready to run. Dammit she knew this was too good to be true, she should never have trusted him she should –

“I was a spirit,” he says and everything stops. Her heart, her mind, her body – everything. His shoulders droop and he drops his head so that she can’t see his face. People who used to be spirits are rare, they only form from powerful emotions and where magic has pooled. It’s not unheard of, but she has only met one other former spirit – her non-Queen mother.

He looks out to the waterfall, gesturing to it dejected, “I formed here, from the joy experienced by the animals and any passerby at seeing this place. I wandered the area as a spirit for hundreds of years before forming my body. I am not from your land, I’m not from another either, however. I am from here, and I wanted to share that with you.”

Serahlin cannot speak. How horrible of her! She can’t…she assumed the worst immediately, ready to run, and here he was simply trying to share this with her. Her heart falls as he turns away from her. She does not feel like he is lying and…it would make sense. She has heard that former spirits like to remain close to where they originated. Memae remained close to the capital, even though it meant her eventual demise, but whether that was because of her origination or her daughters, Serahlin doesn’t know.

She steps forward. Tentatively taking Adannar’s hand, she joins him in looking down at the shimmering water. The fish are a riot of moving rainbows beneath the surface, reflecting light and color.

“I am sorry, I should not have assumed…you have been so good to me, I owed you the benefit of the doubt.”

Adannar looks down at her. His eyes look suddenly very old and the expression in them is inscrutable.

“Thank you. I understand why you are scared, though, political monsters can be some of the most vicious. You are not the first to seek asylum in this forest.”

A silence more awkward and tense than any of their previous stretches before them. She wants to apologize more but she also wants to let him feel. If she were back home, the proper thing to do would to leave him to his room, allow him to feel however he wished then apologize with a gift. Or food. But she has no gift and no food and they not back home.

So Serahlin tries something else.

“My memae was a spirit. Diligence, she was the head of my mamae’s guard – it’s how they met. The…political monsters killed her and my mamae did not stop them.” It is improper to reveal such intimate details of one’s life, but they are far from home. When he looks down at her, eyes softer, she knows she made the right decision.

“I was Joy.”

She gives him her best smile and reaches up to touch his cheek.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Adannar, formerly Joy.”

[slayerbook]

The Dark Knight Eviscerated

Here’s a thought that’s been nagging at me awhile now:

The Dark Knight Returns is the ultimate Batman story. And a significant, worthy piece of Western fiction. The cartoon movie, however, makes some baffling choices.

It’s probably my favorite Bat movie (after the Batman ‘66 one). I’m famously picky about Bat movies. I think Tim Burton’s Batman flicks are basically worthless — influential and significant, but crappy. And the Nolan ones are no fun: No scene can be summarized as “Bad guys are doing bad shit, then Batman drops in and kicks much ass.” (Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a much better Batman movie than any of the Batman movies. And the Bat fights in Bats v. Supes sure are swell, but...)

So unlike ALL other Batmovies, proper director Joy Oliva gave the cartoon Dark Knight Returns enough good action to satisfy. Still: over time, those choices gnawed at me. Some consciously, some not.

The cast is swell, but voice acting is disjointed and awful. Voice Director Andrea Romano is an hero in animation, but man, I don’t understand what she OK’d here. Peter Weller, Robocop himself, voices Bruce. He said he didn’t even read the comics, because he wanted to do his own thing with it. Oooof. I wish he had read it.

But more important: The script. Two things I can't get over, one obvious, one subtle but significant:

One: Cutting the narration, bad choice: If you're going to make a movie from the book, do it. Don't make it something else. Cutting the narration is like them adapting Year One, but totally changing the art style (only to use it in the credits,as if to say "Yeah, we coulda done that, but this is OUR shit — great, right?!"). But here's the one(s) I noticed this month, when I caught it on HBO:

Two, and here’s the kicker: The adaptation does everything it can to soften the political content. And the political content is essential. Not only does the adaptation remove the Bruce quote that serves as a thesis:

Bruce to Clark: "You say yes to anybody with a badge & a flag."

It also removes a nearby line from Oliver, who calls the police “fascist sons of bitches!"

The “badge & a flag” line is replaced with a couple utterly toothless, vague lines about being obedient to the wrong kind of authority. The changes remind me of Alan Moore objecting to V for Vendetta adaptation because the movie fails to mention fascism.

So, in conclusion, the Dark Knight Returns cartoon has stellar action, but fails because it won't say what the book does. The cartoon tells the story, but reduces it to a clash between two big superheroes — two essential American ideologies, not so much.

And I get it: What do you expect from a corporate cartoon?

But still, you know? If you're gonna do the thing, do the thing.

— BONUS: Here’s my full Winter Soldier vs. Nolan Batman piece, after the jump

I wrote this when Winter Solider was a new release, for Diffuser, which tried to be the AV Club for a minute, before the bosses stepped in and f*cked it up:

Captain America Out-Batmans Batman, and It Didn’t Take Much

It’s on. Captain America will go head-to-head against Batman and Superman in the DC heroes’ all-but-guaranteed megasmash crossover, when both franchises' next movies are released on the same day, May 6, 2016. Improbably, brand loyalty notwithstanding, Cap has the advantage if you’re waiting for an emotionally charged, kick-ass thrillride.

 Providing three-or-more thrills a minute, the pulse-pounding new “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” retroactively reduces all Batman movies’ scores by two letter grades. (OK, 2008’s “The Dark Knight” only loses one letter, for reasons we’ll get into). If “Winter Soldier” isn’t the best Super Hero Movie, Super Hero Action Movie, and Comic Book Movie, then it’s certainly in the top 3, in contention with “The Avengers,” “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” and M. Night Shylaman’s underrecognized “Unbreakable” — but definitely not Chris Nolan’s Bat-movies (or Bat-writer David Goyer’s mixed-bag of a Superman reboot, 2013’s “Man of Steel”).

 Captain America’s dark return once and for all shines a spotlight on the glaring fact that Batfans have been hesitant to acknowledge since Tim Burton’s slavishly overrated 1989 Batman: On the big screen, Batman has never been presented as an action hero.

 Both modern Batman franchises have been propelled into cult status through heroic applications of geek gratitude: A decent, dark Batman movie is better than no Batman movie. So the fanboys eat them up. And the people who don’t know any better embrace them as well.

 In retrospect, the Batmovies from the 1980s and ’90s paved the way for the superhero movie as we know it. But as Batmovies, they’re thorough failures. Burton’s first “Batman” was an art film with roughly thirty seconds of action, half of which involved Batman firing machine guns at Jack Nicholson, who was impersonating Daffy Duck, but somehow passed off himself off as the Joker. Clad in a rubber suit, Michael Keaton’s Batman punches a couple guys and almost randomly squares off with a Joker goon who has some martial arts training… for about six seconds.

 Batman 1989 Trailer:

http://youtu.be/HlsM2_8u_mk

 And the rest of the old-school Bat franchise is downhill from there. By 1997’s “Batman and Robin,” even with action icon Arnold Schwarzenneger in tow, the movies had developed into a campy drag-queen aesthetic. The universally derided — yet financially successful — final installment did more justice to Uma Thurman’s Poison Ivy than Batman or Bane. (In itself, there’s nothing wrong with that vibe, but it’s not what anybody wants in a Batflick.) At least Michael Keaton aced the brooding aspect of Batman. With George frickin’ Clooney and Val Kilmer in the Batman role, these supposed action flicks become costume fantasies that are invested in the idea that a person can put on a costume and suddenly become somebody completely different. And maybe that works at night clubs, but not when you’re fighting crime.

 At the heart of those Batflicks is a willful blind eye to physical reality: Someone who spent his whole life training to become Batman would not look — or move — like Keaton, Clooney, or Kilmer. Those movies barely pass the actors off as a billionaire playboy. And the action? Forget about it. The “Batman [’66]” TV series holds up better.

 That said, physical reality didn’t serve the Nolan Batmovies well, either. In 2005, “Batman Begins” provides a origin tale of young Bruce Wayne as a brawler-turned-ninja. And while it features some respectable action scenes, they’re not anything to make a viewer cringe or rewind and watch again. True, Nolan finally depicts Bruce Wayne as a guy who does some pushups. And real martial arts are in the mix, albeit with some stiff choreography.

 Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne escapes the League of Shadows… or does he?

http://youtu.be/Z8tysDC31Yo

 In 2008, the overlong “The Dark Knight” staged a couple swell action sequences, but they weren’t essentially rooted in Batman’s character. The most memorable IMAX-size scene is the Joker’s escape from a police van. In this second outing, Batman doesn’t emerge as an Olympic-level athlete. In fact, the plot’s tech-heavy resolution doesn’t make a very good case for Batman as a Sherlock Holmes-caliber detective, either. The guy in the costume is not doing what Batman is famous for doing.

 Dark Knight Van 2

http://youtu.be/Zg1cDKYmK98

 And the controversial misfire that was 2012 “The Dark Knight Rises”? Batman does fight more in it, but it’s nothing to blog about. Squaring off time and again, Batman and Bane trade rudimentary martial arts moves. The fighting style is realistic for a couple guys that size, but it’s dull.

 Batman’s big move is a thrusting front kick, which he uses over and over again. The technique is devastating when it connects, but you can see it coming all the way from the Triskelion. Batman’s first fight with Bane would be slightly more exciting if was really shot in total darkness. The movie’s climax involves a big vehicle chase, in which a weaponized camo SUV lobs a half-dozen slow-arcing, heat-seeking missiles at the Batwing. And it zooms away. Big whoop. Catwoman’s action had better choreography and revealed more about her character. At some point, Nolan deluded himself into imagining he was making a James Bond movie. “Dark Knight Rises”’ most memorable action sequences involve…

 1) Bane hijacking a plane (with Batman nowhere in sight).

 2) Hines Ward running back a kickoff for a touchdown as a football stadium collapses behind him (with Batman nowhere in sight).

 And

 3) Bane punching the sh*t out of a Tuscan column (instead of turning around, zeroing in on Batman, and displacing the rest of the Bat’s spinal column).

 Bane vs. the Architecture

http://youtu.be/DImh0ac-jdQ

 After all that realistic fighting, Bane can suddenly barehandedly dismantle a stone column? Now, obviously, Nolan made a decision to root his Batmovies in reality. But who cares? What’s more exciting? Tom Hardy, Chris Nolan, and very few invisible wires? Or this boss fight from the videogame “Batman: Arkham Origins”?

 http://youtu.be/OqEqN17zW8s

 Batman, obviously, has endless potential as an action hero. And it’s not like it can’t be done. The only Batman movie with real action scenes that will make you applaud, duck, and empathetically wince is the 2013 adaptation of Frank Miller’s game-changing mini-series “The Dark Knight Returns.” Director Jay Oliva researched real-life muay Thai and mixed-martials arts techniques to choreograph larger-than-life action scenes like Batman taking out an entire SWAT team (granted, they have the aim of Imperial Stormtroopers) and dissecting a feral gang leader who’s bigger and fiercer than Bane:

 Bats vs. Mutants

http://youtu.be/RV18kZIBBZA

 In the movie’s adaptation of the greatest fight in comic-book history, Batman defeats Superman in visceral hand-to-hand combat. (More or less: Bats is wearing an armored suit, and Superman is weakened from a previous nuclear explosion.) Maybe bringing the ultimate Batman story to life requires a cartoon, but maybe not.

 Dark Knight Returns, Supes-Bats pt 2, including steamroller

http://youtu.be/OYBClxNR_fU

 In Rocksteady’s “Arkham Knight,” photorealistic CGI turns Batman into a high-flying, car-jumping, slow-mo leaping, gang-punching, bullet-dodging, man of action (with the aid of some brilliant writing on par with Nolan & Goyer’s best).

 Batman Arkham Knight Trailer

http://youtu.be/wsf78BS9VE0

 Presumably, Goyer’s upcoming Batman-Superman reboot will take its cues from “Man of Steel” and deliver some superspeed hand-to-hand combat. But as of now, no Batmovie’s action scene can be roughly described thusly: “Batman swoops in out of nowhere and punches the bejeezus out of a bunch of dudes in a nimble, über-athletic manner.” No, if you want that kind of action, you need to see “Captain America: The Winter Solider.”

 If you experienced seen the movie yet, we know it sounds suspect. “Captain America: The First Avenger” was a good super hero origin story. But it wasn’t an earth-shaker. Not like “The Avengers, “which sets the bar on superhuman, comic book-style, truly-epic-scale action. But “Cap2ain America” brings the pain better than any franchise since the “Bourne” movies. The action in the new Cap flick isn’t about the Hulk and Thor taking down an invading alien army. No, in “Winter Soldier,” simply put, the characters — guys and girls — kick ass.

 Cap ship scene:

http://youtu.be/6k0kkSHiiPE

 Now that is “Hero drops in from the darkness and punches the bejeezus out of a bunch of dudes in a nimble, über-athletic manner.” The first ten minutes of “Winter Soldier” present Cap as an unstoppable fighter who thinks as fast has he moves. No slow build. The credits roll, and bam. Cap takes out an elite commando unit almost singlehandedly. It’s an apples-to-oranges comparison, but Batroc the Leaper has more moves than Nolan’s Batman.

 Cap vs. Batroc:

http://youtu.be/aHh0XaW0UyQ

 In one fight after another, Captain Rogers, his allies, and foes sinker deeper into a disorienting world of intrigue and escalating stakes. And Cap’s small crew of well-defined characters convincingly fight like they’re in an MMA cage. Flying knee-smashes. Lethal acrobatics. Interpersonal hand-to-hand combat that will leave you ducking in your seat. Intricate weapons-play that might not be believable, but is sure as hell memorable. Captain America even walks up to Batman’s home turf and makes it his. Contrast these two rooftop scenes:

 Cap rooftop scene:

http://youtu.be/zyUTeZVnd2w

 Dark Knight Returns Rooftop Scene:

http://youtu.be/D1zBw86sPk8

 Guess whose is more awesome? Again, perhaps not physically plausible, but awesome. Even without Cap running through walls, which one is more likely to make you want to watch it twice?

 In Nolan’s Batmovies, the Bat Tumbler may have provided some highlights. Batman sures operates motor vehicles a lot. But contrast the Bat-chases with this motorcycle scene from “Winter Soldier.” Of course, nobody could really singlehandedly take out a fighter jet. But the movie makes you believe — if only for a moment — that Steve Rogers could. The real “Superman” movie made a generation believe a man could fly. And the Nolan Batmovies? They’ll make you believe a man can hop into a small flying vehicle and zoom away.

 Cap vs. Jet:

http://youtu.be/RYSgkqc9EWI

 If Goyer and Nolan have seen “Winter Soldier,” they should be losing sleep over it. The spent around $600 million to make three movies that are memorable mostly for their ambience and an unforgettable Heath Ledger performance. Compared to “Winter Solider,” the Nolan Batman films represent the largest wasted opportunity since the “Star Wars Episodes I-III: The Jar-Jar Trilogy.” The ball’s in your court, Bats. We’re eagerly awaiting your response.