A Creative Legend Behind Batman Proves That Art Saves Us
The sacred purpose of storytellers in Paul Dini’s “Dark Night: A True Batman Story”
The Backstory
If you grew up like me–a life-long obsessive fan of Batman and the DC Animated Universe (DCAU) — then you know and probably love the stories by writer .
His name is featured all over Batman stories and the DCAU, and his impact on these tales cannot be underestimated. He co-created Harley Quinn, a character known the world over. Wrote iconic episodes of the equally iconic animated series, Batman: The Animated Series such as “Heart of Ice,” “Almost Got ‘Im,” and “Trial.” Helped write DCAU series like Superman, Static Shock, and Justice League. He also helped craft the fan-favorite series, Batman Beyond, and penned the screenplay for the series’ film, Return of the Joker (which is probably my favorite Joker story). For those less interested in superhero tales, Dini was also a routine writer on the comedy cartoons Tiny Toon Adventures and Freakzoid!
In short, Paul Dini’s extensive and influential list of credits have long proven him to be a living legend of animation and comic books. For us Batman fans, he helped shape the character’s importance in our minds.
So, imagine my surprise when, in 2016, I walked into a bookstore and found Dini’s latest work: a comic book entitled, , illustrated by Eduardo Risso. I picked it up and found out the book is an autobiographical story about how, during his time working on Batman: The Animated Series, he was nearly killed in a mugging. My curiosity spiked immediately, but the complimentary quote on the front cover–by the Neil Gaiman–struck me: “. . . a powerful tale of healing and redemption . . .” Sure, the “healing” part seemed obvious, as I was sure the story would talk about Dini’s recovery from the attack. But “redemption”? How could Paul Dini need redemption?
Reading the comic changed my life. Within the pages, Dini crafted a manifesto on the holy power of art. He did so by letting the reader see him for who he really is: not a pinnacle of creative genius, and thus untouched by life’s woes, but a simple man with all-too-familiar pains who can only be free by telling the truth about himself. I keep Dark Night: A True Batman Story as a guiding creative light, and I re-read it every now and again to remind myself why I still write stories and to give my mental health some much-needed hope.
Whether you have read this comic or not, let’s unpack some of the most powerful lessons Dini teaches us that can help you fight your demons and find your purpose as a creative.
The Story in 3 Paragraphs
Paul Dini recounts, to an unseen audience, how in Los Angeles during early-1993, during the writing process for the masterpiece that became Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, he is brutally attacked by two unknown assailants. The muggers, pronouncing their intent to kill him, are so brutal they literally obliterate his zygomatic arch on his face. While this traumatic event would be difficult for anyone to contend with, Dini’s experience is even more fraught, as his physical suffering forces him to confront his immense self-hatred that has stayed conveniently quiet…until the attack.
Being a passionate and dedicated writer with an overactive imagination, Dini characterizes the hurricane of thoughts inside his mind as figments of the characters from Batman: The Animated Series. The Dark Knight’s Rogues Gallery become representatives of his negative thoughts, with the terrible Joker preaching the need for Dini to give up on life. In contrast, Dini creatively frames his positive thoughts as the words of the Caped Crusader himself, who fights to get Dini to not give up on himself. But, as Dini falls further into despair, the struggle to take Batman’s advice becomes harder.
For how could Dini believe in Batman when there was no Batman–literal or metaphorical–to save him from his beating? The idea of writing for something as meaningless as an all-ages cartoon show, once his lifelong aspiration, sounds ridiculous now. Battling PTSD and with his Animated Series and Mask of the Phantasm assignments pressuring him, Dini finds what once came so easily to be immensely challenging. Perhaps worst of all, thanks to the Rogues Gallery’s poisonous half-truths, Dini realizes that, even before the attack, hidden demons had damaged his soul. While they had remained in the shadows, now he must slay them if he has any chance of living again.
The Mental Health Lessons
Dini confesses that, during the attack, a terrible thought flashes in his mind: “You deserve this. The only physical sensation you are worthy of is pain.” As a longtime fan of his work, I could not believe Dini hated himself so much. How could a man who was working my dream career see himself as anything less than how I saw him? But, gracefully, Dark Night got me to realize that this writer was like any other writer: a human being. Therefore, I found a startling mirror into myself.
Dini explains to his mysterious audience that as a boy, he considered himself invisible: lonely, bullied, and non-existent. Except in his head. He lived with visions of his favorite characters from books, cartoons, and comic books–especially Batman. Being such a disciple of imagination helped him grow up to be a successful cartoon writer. To everyone else, Dini had the best job in the world: living and working in Los Angeles, getting paid to roam the infinite realms of imagination and tell stories just like a kid. Yet, in truth, Dini never felt the way he projected himself–the way I always imagined him to be.
While not an anti-social or emotionally underdeveloped man, he lives alone in his apartment, amongst “the trappings of geek nirvana” as proof of his success. He admits what hurt coming back home from the attack was that no one was there to worry about him. Like any lovesick teenage nerd, Dini yearned for romance, and, predictably, always ended up choosing to court women who clearly were no good for him. Immaturely, he touted his romantic interests to his co-workers, until, unsurprisingly, heartbreak found him again. After the rejection, he would throw himself into work, until the cycle began again.
Despite his artistic achievements, Dini views himself only by his failings, best illustrated in a scene that hit incredibly close to home for me. During an Emmy Award ceremony in 1992, Dini is stood up by the shallow lady he was hoping would love him at the time. He and his fellow writers win that coveted award for Tiny Toons Adventures. A superb accomplishment! Yet, all Dini can think of is his latest rejection. He returns home, strips in front of the mirror, and cuts himself with his own Emmy statue in the places he considers are ugly.
In his mind, the work he dedicated himself to means nothing compared to his social failings; his inhibitions to be the confident man he always wanted to be; his reliance on pop culture trinkets to save him. So, when the two muggers attack him, he loses the ability to see anything in the mirror other than a complete, hideous, pathetic loser who deserves to have been beaten.
Such is the terrible power of negative thoughts.
When I read Dark Night, seeing Dini be so honest about his self-hatred was powerful because I have felt much like him. I daydreamed constantly as a kid. Wanted to grow up to become a cartoon or comic book writer–and still do. Was not–and still am not–the most attractive person in the world. When I was younger, I had a very naïve perspective on romance, which led to much heartbreak. I adorned my room with geeky paraphernalia; the more I had, the more my identity and purpose was confirmed. I had an overactive imagination and wanted only to live and work in my daydreams, hoping my creative success would earn me respect and love from others.
Just like Dini, I was imprisoned by a cycle of anxious, negative thoughts that perpetuated my self-hatred because I was unable to see my value in anything but something monetary. Reading Dini cut himself up with his own Emmy, earned from writing a funny cartoon–an accomplishment I would adore achieving–was heartbreaking because I have looked in my own mirror and seen nothing but a hideous hunk of unlovable trash, never mind what anyone said.
At one point, Dini feels so trapped by his fear, anger, and guilt, that the Joker declares: “Welcome back to your childhood bedroom, Invisible Kid!”
Dini’s worst fear is realized and he reaches his lowest point in the story. He asks how he can escape. Batman tells him: “The world is filled with voices other than the ones in your head. Listen to them.” So Dini does. Once he gets outside of his head, he realizes that he is more than his failings and his work.
He is a great writer respected by his boss, Alan Burnett, who never gives up on Dini returning to his old, creative self again. He is a friend to the original voice actor of Harley Quinn, Arleen Sorkin, who is the first to help him after the attack. He is someone who struggles with his emotional problems and PTSD one day at a time. Above all, he stops treating his life as if it were an apology. And so he begins to heal from his trauma and redeem himself from his self-hatred.
I re-read Dark Night because I need to remind myself not to listen to my inner Joker, Two-Face, or Poison Ivy, but to my inner Batman. When I stop listening to those negative voices, I feel like me again. I am able to learn and cry and love myself again. I accept that I do not deserve punishment for not being what I want to be, or what others want me to be; that I am, in fact, okay for being the me my friends and family tell me I am.
But this kind of healing and redemption is difficult, and a constant exercise. Dini finally reveals that the audience he has been reciting his story to is his inner Rogues Gallery. Every now and again he must retell his tale to the demons so that they can be sealed away into his subconscious once again. Another cycle, but a better one than his old cycle.
Give yourself a chance to work through your emotional damage. Know that you can fail and try again and again until you find what you need. Remember that as long as you are honorable, you are, in fact, deserving of love. Always tell yourself you are not your past self, tangible knick-knacks, or monetary success. You are who you are right now, and that is okay.
The Creative Lessons
Ask yourself: why do you create art? Think about your answer before you keep reading.
My answer lies within the pages of Dark Night.
After the attack, Dini starts seeing his job of writing cartoons not as a magical craft but a man-child’s bid to ignore reality. Batman, he realizes, is just a child’s power fantasy who has no value in the real world. Even an imaginary visit from the cartoon character “Ivan Ivorybill” (a copyright-free name for Woody Woodpecker) finds Dini telling his old buddy, “I don’t believe in you, either.” So, he procrastinates his work, hides away in TV and video games, and no longer thinks he can or should write anymore. Because what good can art do in the dark world we live in?
I do not have to remind anyone of the world we live in. It was bad even in the pre-internet days. I will never forget how, in 2020, I bemoaned the realization that no piece of art stopped the cruel insanity of that year. Even now, I struggle with believing in art the way I used to. No song truly changed what I am. No film has helped strengthen my bank account. No television show restored my mental health longer than a week. No comic book healed my scars. No book made my problems go away. No video game has saved children from war, hunger, abuse, or illness. No poem, Art piece, or comedian made a dent in the corrupt, omnipresent corporations and governments that lord over us like farmers do pigs.
Art is just a distraction until the grave. Art does not help anyone. So have I felt too often for 4 years. And so did Paul Dini over 30 years ago.
But after listening to his inner hero say he needs to go out and listen to voices other than his own, Dini and his sister, Jane, go to a record store. A clerk notices his Warner Bros. jacket, and asks if he works for the studio. Dini humbly says he does, having worked on Tiny Toons and Batman. The clerk says Batman is a good show, but he and his wife love Tiny Toons, as the show cracks them up. He says his wife is suffering from cancer and they can always use things to laugh at. Dini asks how the man’s wife is, and the clerk says: “Good days and bad days. Like I said, good cartoons always help . . . Must be great to connect with people that way. You must have the best job in the world.”
The meeting changes Dini.
The Rogues Gallery continues to taunt him, saying he is wasting his life writing “puerile crap.” But, listening to the clerk’s testimony, Dini retorts that people enjoy cartoons and he does, indeed, have the best job in the world. He honestly admits that, before the attack, the work used to be easy, and now he must struggle more to achieve what he used to be able to write. Yet, slowly but surely, Dini gets back to work, helps finish the Batman: Mask of the Phantasm script, and is even able to create a pitch for an untold story of The Animated Series that sees Batman, on the brink of death, realizing the positive impact he has had on Gotham City, and choose to keep fighting rather than give up on life.
Dini testifies that day at the record store saves him from the brink of losing his creative job. His compass is realizing how much his work matters, especially with a character as powerful as Batman. “Batman may not swing to the rescue in real life,” he says, “but maybe the few minutes people spend watching his cartoon makes their day a little better. It’s small, but it’s something. And if I can be a part of something like that, I don’t think I want to walk away from it too soon.” Yes, he still has good days and bad days, and he will never be the same after the attack. Yet, accepting who he is helps silence the negative thoughts in his mind. Acknowledging that there is a Batman inside of him helps him believe in himself and his work again. The hero of his own story. Just like us.
I return to Dark Night when I need reminding of why I continue to suffer and write. Art may not save the world, but art can change the people in it. Comfort them, even heal them. Batman: The Animated Series, as well as the DCAU, continues to inspire me, bring me joy, let me escape the world for just a little bit, and connect with others. I have learned to be a better person through shows like these and their colorful cast of characters. I would not want to live in a world without these cartoons.
Nor would I want to live in a world without any art. Time and time again, art does save, change, and redeem people. The evidence is overwhelming. While evil continues marching on, seemingly getting stronger day by day, the holiness that is the power of art continues to fight back by reminding people who they are and what they can be. In ways great and small, art does change lives for the better.
Dini’s encounter with the record store clerk reminds me what I hope to do with my writing. I want to give people that little piece of grace and joy they need to not only survive their day but make it a good one. Maybe even a great one. I want to connect with people by helping them see and believe that there is good in the world and themselves, not just the bad. I want to make people happy because sometimes that is all it takes to save a life, even if that life is my own.
Proof of my claims is in the existence of Dark Night: A True Batman Story itself. By opening himself up in this comic book, Dini created a true work of art that changed me 8 years ago and continues to give me hope that what I do is not a waste of life. As he inspired me, so too do I hope to inspire others. THIS is a beautiful cycle we should all keep going.
Never forget that this power is in your hands, too. The work will be difficult and you will suffer for your art (not that I need to tell you that, I’m sure). Nevertheless, always remember that while you may never be the success you want to be, if you affect just one person’s life, you have done good in this world. And you never know just how your work will affect others. After all, Paul Dini does not know I exist, that his work changed me for the better. Yet here I am, talking to you, connecting with you.
Your art can be one soldier in the grand army of goodness.
Looking for more conversations like this one? Then OBA Studios is your place to be. and see how the power of stories you tell can change the world.
