HQ / Anthony Misiano
Ask Chris #173: The Trouble With Harley Quinn
Here's a good opinion piece on Harley's character, which I found myself (mostly) agreeing with.
Highlights:
When I say “hopeless,” I don’t mean it in the cute “I’m a hopeless romantic” sort of way, either. I mean that what she feels is utterly, tragically devoid of hope. Because she’s a Batman villain, she’s built around a simple metaphor that’s made to contrast with Batman. Since she’s inextricably tied to the Joker, that core metaphor is built around his, too, and because she was developed and honed in that lean animated series aesthetic that put that metaphor right at the forefront, she’s actually a really fascinating character in a lot of ways. At heart, at the core of what she is, she’s the living embodiment of obsession, in a way that contrasts with both Batman being driven to fight crime, and the Joker’s pseudo-romantic obsession with Batman - and only with Batman.
See, that’s the tragedy of Harley Quinn, the thing that makes her so compelling underneath all the bright, poppy cheer. She’s in love with someone who will never, ever love her back. Someone who can never, ever love her back, because he’s thoroughly obsessed with someone else. It’s something that we’ve all been through, and that’s what makes her so easy to identify and sympathize with. But because it’s an obsession, an addiction, it’s phenomenally self destructive (something else we can all probably relate to), and because it’s playing out in the grand metaphorical stage of superheroes, everything about it is taken to its horrifying extreme.
Ryan North did a great installment of Dinosaur Comics that perfectly captured the feeling of being a kid with a crush and believing that the object of your desire was “objectively the best girl ever,” and Harley follows that to its logical tragic end - the flaws she’s overlooking are that he’s a terrifying mass murderer obsessed with killing the Batman. That is not a solid foundation for a relationship, and when that relationship actually does happen, such as it is, it becomes one of the most genuinely tragic things in comics.
That’s the thing about superheroes: They don’t really do things by half measures. It’s not just that the Joker doesn’t love Harley back, it’s that he doesn’t even see her as anything that could possibly be desired. There’s only one other person in the Joker’s world, and everyone else is just an object that he can use against Batman. And to make things worse, it’s not just that he doesn’t return her love, it’s that he uses it. There’s no “let’s just be friends” with the Joker, there are just things that can be made into deathtraps. He’s every sociopath who broke someone’s heart taken to this huge extreme, manipulative and abusive in a way that’s frightening and disturbing, not because it originates from the shock value of hack writers trying to be mature, but because it operates on the same superheroic, metaphorical level of Batman’s determination and Superman’s kindness. It feels horrifyingly natural in that universe, and it all gets directed at Harley, because she’s the one object that’s always around, because she can’t stop herself from coming back. As far as he cares, she’s just there to open the door.
[...]
It’s when [fans] start idealizing her relationship with the Joker that things go off the rails. They’re not tragically star-crossed lovers, they’re not two people madly in love and united against the world. She’s obsessively codependent and he’s an abusive sociopath. If you finish those comics and wistfully sigh and hope you can find your own Harley and/or Mistah J someday, then you should probably go back and read them again. But, you know, to be fair, taking any relationship advice from an Ask Chris column is probably not a good idea either.
^THIS. So much this.
Either way, this is where you start to see problems from a character standpoint, too. Because she’s so easy to identify with and relate to, and because she rocketed almost immediately to a level of popularity that was pretty evenly split between people who identify with her central tragedy and dudes who just want more sexxxy chixxx in skintight latex, there’s a push to take what looks like a pretty obvious step and recondition her as a protagonist in her own right. The thing is, as obvious as it might seem, it’s not so simple.
It never really works, because it can’t work. Harley orbits around the Joker in the same way that the Joker orbits around Batman. You need to remove him and at least partially resolve that obsession if you’re going to have her as a protagonist, because you can’t really have your protagonist obsessively pining for a character you’ve spent 70 years shaping as a remorseless obsessive and utterly unsympathetic killer. But if you do that, if you remove that obsession, then you’re not only taking away the foundation of the character, you’re also taking away the one thing that makes her so easy to relate to. You’re left with just a standard issue manic pixie dream girl, and that gets real old, real fast.
See, I've always wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment... But surprisingly enough? Her new solo book has been selling like hotcakes right now. And even more surprising - it's a fun read.
---
And...
MR. ANTHONY FUCKING MISIANO.
Here's a good opinion piece on Harley's character, which I found myself (mostly) agreeing with.
Highlights:
When I say “hopeless,” I don’t mean it in the cute “I’m a hopeless romantic” sort of way, either. I mean that what she feels is utterly, tragically devoid of hope. Because she’s a Batman villain, she’s built around a simple metaphor that’s made to contrast with Batman. Since she’s inextricably tied to the Joker, that core metaphor is built around his, too, and because she was developed and honed in that lean animated series aesthetic that put that metaphor right at the forefront, she’s actually a really fascinating character in a lot of ways. At heart, at the core of what she is, she’s the living embodiment of obsession, in a way that contrasts with both Batman being driven to fight crime, and the Joker’s pseudo-romantic obsession with Batman - and only with Batman.
See, that’s the tragedy of Harley Quinn, the thing that makes her so compelling underneath all the bright, poppy cheer. She’s in love with someone who will never, ever love her back. Someone who can never, ever love her back, because he’s thoroughly obsessed with someone else. It’s something that we’ve all been through, and that’s what makes her so easy to identify and sympathize with. But because it’s an obsession, an addiction, it’s phenomenally self destructive (something else we can all probably relate to), and because it’s playing out in the grand metaphorical stage of superheroes, everything about it is taken to its horrifying extreme.
Ryan North did a great installment of Dinosaur Comics that perfectly captured the feeling of being a kid with a crush and believing that the object of your desire was “objectively the best girl ever,” and Harley follows that to its logical tragic end - the flaws she’s overlooking are that he’s a terrifying mass murderer obsessed with killing the Batman. That is not a solid foundation for a relationship, and when that relationship actually does happen, such as it is, it becomes one of the most genuinely tragic things in comics.
That’s the thing about superheroes: They don’t really do things by half measures. It’s not just that the Joker doesn’t love Harley back, it’s that he doesn’t even see her as anything that could possibly be desired. There’s only one other person in the Joker’s world, and everyone else is just an object that he can use against Batman. And to make things worse, it’s not just that he doesn’t return her love, it’s that he uses it. There’s no “let’s just be friends” with the Joker, there are just things that can be made into deathtraps. He’s every sociopath who broke someone’s heart taken to this huge extreme, manipulative and abusive in a way that’s frightening and disturbing, not because it originates from the shock value of hack writers trying to be mature, but because it operates on the same superheroic, metaphorical level of Batman’s determination and Superman’s kindness. It feels horrifyingly natural in that universe, and it all gets directed at Harley, because she’s the one object that’s always around, because she can’t stop herself from coming back. As far as he cares, she’s just there to open the door.
[...]
It’s when [fans] start idealizing her relationship with the Joker that things go off the rails. They’re not tragically star-crossed lovers, they’re not two people madly in love and united against the world. She’s obsessively codependent and he’s an abusive sociopath. If you finish those comics and wistfully sigh and hope you can find your own Harley and/or Mistah J someday, then you should probably go back and read them again. But, you know, to be fair, taking any relationship advice from an Ask Chris column is probably not a good idea either.
^THIS. So much this.
Either way, this is where you start to see problems from a character standpoint, too. Because she’s so easy to identify with and relate to, and because she rocketed almost immediately to a level of popularity that was pretty evenly split between people who identify with her central tragedy and dudes who just want more sexxxy chixxx in skintight latex, there’s a push to take what looks like a pretty obvious step and recondition her as a protagonist in her own right. The thing is, as obvious as it might seem, it’s not so simple.
It never really works, because it can’t work. Harley orbits around the Joker in the same way that the Joker orbits around Batman. You need to remove him and at least partially resolve that obsession if you’re going to have her as a protagonist, because you can’t really have your protagonist obsessively pining for a character you’ve spent 70 years shaping as a remorseless obsessive and utterly unsympathetic killer. But if you do that, if you remove that obsession, then you’re not only taking away the foundation of the character, you’re also taking away the one thing that makes her so easy to relate to. You’re left with just a standard issue manic pixie dream girl, and that gets real old, real fast.
See, I've always wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment... But surprisingly enough? Her new solo book has been selling like hotcakes right now. And even more surprising - it's a fun read.
---
And...
MR. ANTHONY FUCKING MISIANO.
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