Sidekick Theory
Most people who know me, know I have a lot of respect for Batman, as a character, as a design, as an iconic brand. Part of that respect is expressed through reading a truly baffling number of Batman comics. Like, hundreds. Possibly even a thousand, if you include Bat-family spinoff series like Robin, Batgirl, Nightwing, Birds of Prey, etc.
The point is, I know my Batman mythology. I can explain odd details about the characters, the supporting case, the gadgets and the psychology, because I’m mildly obsessive about it. In large part, because Batman makes sense to me.
Batman, at core, is about the belief that with enough dedication and preparation, you can become more than what you are.
But I’m not really writing about Batman. I’m writing because of the recent realization that another character, one that most people wouldn’t even be able to identify, is my favourite character in the Batman universe; Tim Drake, also known as the 3rd Robin.
(This, my friends, is what I’m talking about when I say I’m a huge geek)
If Batman is the embodiment of willpower and preparation, each Robin has more or less embodied something else.
The first Robin, Dick Grayson, essentially embodied the concept of being a ‘natural’. He was a child acrobat, and was the most playful and mocking of the characters in the extended Batman universe, because the nearly impossible things he was doing were simple enough for him that it felt like a game. This might not have been the intention, but when you have a laughing, joking child thrown into, and thriving in, the stories Batman is known for, this is the output you end up with.
The second Robin, Jason Todd, was emblematic of comics in the 80s. He was tougher, grittier, a street kid who gets introduced trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile. Jason Todd embodied a refusal to be cowed, a character literally raging against his situation. The story that developed was about trying to get him to channel that rage, to learn to control himself. But (ridiculously due to a phone-in poll) he ended up dying, beaten to death to usher in the reality of a grittier, darker Batman, which is what the people apparently wanted at the time.
The third Robin, Tim Drake, was really poorly defined early on. He wanted to be the world’s greatest detective one day, he wanted to make Batman proud the next, he wanted to save the world the one after that. But as the character developed over time (like, ten years of comics), it became clear that he was not just about preparation, but about strategy and tactics. He had a plan, in almost any situation. It was informed by research, by skill, but this is what intrigued me so much as the character developed; he didn’t win because he knew his opponents every flaw, or because he was the best fighter, or because he solved the mystery - Tim Drake won because he was playing with all the pieces on the board, rather than trying to do everything himself.
(This is where I admit I have read literally every issue of comics published with Tim Drake as a main or supporting character up until about July 2011.)
And this brings me to the concept of Sidekick Theory - that icons inspire, but I wouldn’t want to be one. In stories, in literature, in business, the leader, the symbol, the icon, needs to be perfect. All things to all people. Perceived as flawless, or at least as remote and unknowable enough that their flaws are so unknown as to be impossible to exploit. Leaders, often, need this level of mastery of self, because flaws are contagious - the impetuous leader ends up with followers who don’t think before acting. The arrogant leader ends up surrounded by people who don’t question themselves. The indecisive leader often ends up surrounded by those unwilling to make a decision. The only times icons are permitted to have flaws, is when they are actually virtues that make you vulnerable - like loving too openly, or being too principled.
But people thrive when surrounded by a leader who provides vision and direction without providing a bad example.
This is why I’m always going to want to be around, and to be, a sidekick. Sidekicks don’t need to be ideals, they can be ideas.
Where Batman is a parable on human potential, each of his sidekicks has been an exploration of an attribute, a theme.
Ideally, I’d rather spend the rest of my days as a sidekick, surrounded by sidekicks. A group of people each dedicating themselves completely to compatible themes, characteristics, ideas.
But the key point is that I’d rather work on building an icon, than work for one.
