By 1969, comic books were transitioning from their silly Silver Age to the more realistic and real-world-relevant Bronze Age. Things were about to get less playful…unless you were the Joker. Though his murder-heavy first story is one of his least funny outings, his return to murder gave him a new lease on life…and on laughter.
Detective Comics #388’s “Public Luna-Tic Number One” was the Joker’s last Silver Age appearance in a Batman comic. He fights Batman and Robin using three moon-themed gimmicks—a giant moon illusion, a gravity nullifier, and a faked moon landing! Hey, it was 1969; everyone had moon fever.
He plans to convince Batman and Robin they face unsurvivable lunar temperatures, thus scaring them to death. No. Really. This is his plan. Despite this, he still asserts he’s sane: "Public Luna-Tic Number One isn't so loony after all!"
This was goofy fun, but the Joker had fallen into a bit of a rut. Here, he obeyed the same one-blank Mad-Libs formula he was following in 1941: “Get a set of gimmicks based on ___ [NOUN], pattern robberies around ___ [SAME NOUN], maybe stick Batman and Robin in a ___ [SAME NOUN AGAIN]-themed trap, get defeated and jailed.”
The Joker’s last 1969 appearance would be less formulaic but hardly inspiring. Justice League of America #77 ("Snapper Carr...Super-Traitor!") is a mix of Silver Age and Bronze Age elements…which don't work together…at all.
Populist politician “John Dough” campaigns against superheroes with a mix of mind control and personal charm. He recruits the Justice League’s teen sidekick, Snapper Carr, and together they try to get the League humiliated, maybe jailed. In the end, “Dough” is exposed as the Joker.
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The emotional linchpin of the story should be Carr turning on the League, and it wouldn’t be the last time the Joker tried turning a good kid against his hero friends.
But the story reaches too far in two different directions. Superhero comics often deal with serious issues, but only when they rein in their escapist innovations a little. Mind-scrambling theater passes and rubber masks just don't mesh with faux-populist politics and adolescent radicalization. It's like Holden Caulfield vs. the Martians. The Joker’s barely present in the story as himself: after being unmasked, he doesn’t say a word.
Thankfully, Denny O’Neil, who wrote this story, would be much sharper when he brought the Joker back four years later.
"The Joker's Five-Way Revenge" (Batman #251) was the first time in decades that the character had oozed real menace. And yet this menace sharpened his humor rather than dulling it.
Gone were nonsensical, trend-chasing gadgets like mind-scrambling debate passes and moon landing mock-ups; in their place were more believable gimmicks inspired by the Joker's “killer comedian” brand, like an exploding cigar that blows up REAL good. For his coup de grace, the Joker brings out a shark, claiming some kinship to the beast due to his own toothy grin.
“Five-Way Revenge” saw the Joker admit he was insane, yet it also codified new rules for his psychology and behavior. Batman, it seems, has survived their many fights not only because he’s awesome, but because the Joker won’t be satisfied with just any death for his arch-foe. No, he has to kill him just right.
This monologue was a setup for many future punchlines. By establishing the Joker's conflict with Batman as one of his main motives, not just an obstacle to his other goals, it broadened the possibilities of future conflicts. In comedic terms, it got him out of his rut.
Good news for the readers. For Batman? Not so much.
Next: The Dark Age.