In Riddler: Year One, we learn the secret origin behind Riddler from the 2022 The Batman film.
The Riddler: Year One cover by Bill Sienkiewicz. Image: DC Comics
Title: Riddler: Year One
Writer: Paul Dano
Artist & Colorist: Stevan Subic
Cover Artist: Bill Sienkiewicz
This trade paperback review contains spoilers.
It needs to be said immediately: Comics authored by actors who played the titular role in TV or film tend to be … unfortunate. I distinctly recall mashing the escape button ASAP when encountering Patton Oswalt’s try at M.O.D.O.K, otherwise one of the more interesting villains in The Marvel Universe. Danny DeVito’s efforts at writing the Penguin for the Gotham City Villains Anniversary book were uneven at best. Most comic book readers learn quickly to judge these efforts with a grain of salt, more likely representing corporate efforts to use tie-ins to temporarily goose sales connected to TV or film adaptations. There’s every reason to be skeptical of most of these books, which all too often feel like unserious and poorly-thought out marketing campaigns.
And then there’s Riddler: Year One. It may single-handedly change your mind; it did mine. It’s a triumph.
Actor Paul Dano, who played Riddler in Matt Reeves’ The Batman, authored all six books (over 200 pages). Like Dano’s on-screen performance, the Riddler in this mini-series haunts. Released bimonthly on DC’s Black Label beginning in October 2022, the series pairs Dano’s writing with pencils by Serbian artist Stevan Subic. Black Label comics continue to stoke my interest; they are uneven, but when they are good, they tend to be extremely good (the most notable example being Stjepan Šejić’s Harleen, which is in my view the finest work produced on Harley Quinn in many years). Riddler: Year One belongs in the same conversation, offering a new origin myth for Riddler that may accomplish what James Tynion IV achieved for Scarecrow: Crafting a character narrative for which future writers must account. Although the relationship between comic events occurring in Black Label and continuity is difficult to specify, I find it hard to believe that writers of Riddler in the near future can ignore what Dano has wrought in these books.
At my age (young Gen X/Xiennial), the most notable Riddlers with which I grew up include the version in Batman: the Animated Series, voiced well enough by John Glover, and the campy, almost ridiculous representation rendered by Jim Carrey in Batman Forever. Riddler, of course, is anything but ridiculous. His achievements in Zero Year, in which he cast Gotham into darkness, are notable and tested Batman to the limits of his capacity. He plays a significant rule in Hush as well. More recently, Riddler featured in the arc for the Designer in Batman #91 and Batman #92, with artist Guillem March using his horrorcore style to excellent effect in offering a frightening, unpredictable, physically imposing Riddler.
Although the Designer arc was not memorable, the horror version of Riddler provides a tantalizing hint of what Dano and Reeves would do with the character in the 2022 film The Batman. The film utterly transformed my vision of what Riddler could do and be. I rewatched the film multiple times over summer 2024, and my appreciation for Dano’s performance has only increased. The Riddler in the film is utterly terrifying – his first appearance in the dark of the Mayor’s mansion intentionally feels Batmanesque, for he, too, is vengeance. Dano makes this vengeance a central theme of the character and extends that theme in the Year One miniseries.
In the foreword, Dano dispels the notion that the miniseries is a hollow marketing scheme. He notes that his intense work on the backstory for Riddler in the film produced a desire to tell that story in more detail. “For about two years,” he says, “this comic became the center of my creative life.” In this book, we are being treated with something quite different from the usual singleton stories or books written by film actors: A serious, deep, and committed effort to bring to life an origin narrative for one of the most important rogues in Batman’s gallery. The payoff is significant. This Riddler slays.
What a Difference a Year Makes
The Batman opens on October 31, and Riddler: Year One dutifully begins a year prior. Like Batman, trauma planted the seeds of Riddler’s transformation in childhood. At the opening of the books, Edward Nashton seems eons away from that persona. In the film, Reeves intentionally plays Riddler as a possible photonegative of Batman. Riddler certainly believes this to be the case. They were both orphaned, lives forever changed by the structural problems of Gotham. While their lives diverged in important ways, Nashton in both the book and the film sees Batman as an icon and an inspiration. He sees Batman’s efforts to cleanse Gotham of its ills, in service of vengeance for the private wrongs it wreaked on him, as the exemplary path he one day wants to walk.
Like Wayne, Nashton experienced a traumatic childhood. He feels broken, and Subic’s wrenching, almost bloodcurdling art reinforces his pain. We see flashes of rage, fear, grief, self-hatred, and horror slicing into his consciousness. People around him become monsters and tormentors, as seen on p. 13. The empty space of the final panel is especially effective, leaving the reader alone in the dark with Nashton. Subic is also adept in rendering the cityscapes of Gotham as characters in their own right (another point in common with the film).
Like Wayne’s, Nashton’s pain is heartbreaking. At several points in the series, he intones that “[h]e never had a chance” and readers know that he is right. Taught to loathe himself since early childhood, he desperately seeks external validations from vapid business success podcasts and then tries to convince himself that “You are enough.” He does not believe it, eventually answering the call: “NO YOU ARE NOT.”
The Riddler is Born
The narrative that anchors the series explains the origins of the Real Change Project we see in the film. As the film indicates, it begin with Renewal. Renewal is the name of the fund endowed by Thomas Wayne and was intended to support public works, infrastructure, and urban development in Gotham. Gotham quickly corrupts the fund, and it stands to Nashton as a twisted joke. The joke has personal implications, however; Nashton feels betrayed by the Waynes because of Thomas’s promise that Renewal would specifically benefit the orphanage in which Nashton grew up. Renewal never arrived, and instead Nashton was left to endure being awoken, screaming, to the pain of rats gnawing on the tips of his fingers (a memory rendered hauntingly by Subic).
Nashton works as an accountant. He is brilliant but struggles with the socialization needed to climb the corporate ladder; others take advantage of his awkwardness and claim credit for his insights. Eventually, the boss, Mr. Stone, grows wary of Nashton’s questions and assigns him to some forensic accounting for Wayne Enterprises. As Nashton delves deeper into the corruption rotting the heart of Gotham, the strings that tie him to the brutal reality of the world begin to fray. His paranoia and his sense of being surrounded by monsters grows. He begins to accept his rage and his sense of injustice as a form of salvation and self-actualization – he embarks on the path of becoming who he eventually feels he was born to be: The Riddler.
As Nashton unravels the conspiracy, strands link his past, present, and future in horrifying ways. He discovers that his boss, Mr. Stone, is deeply corrupt and works for Salvatore Maroni. Even as he gives in to the darkness and begins his transformation, Nashton maintains a strong sense of injustice. This is why he sees Batman as an inspiration and a kindred spirit; like the Caped Crusader, he performs acts of selflessness, risking himself in order to protect a woman caught up in the drops business (whose father was murdered on Mr. Stone’s orders while Nashton watched). He sees himself as the victim and the coterie of corruption that rules Gotham as the enemy. Forget Renewal; it is nigh time for Real Change and Riddler’s vengeance.
In summary, this is an extremely well-crafted and synthetic series. Virtually everything works. Riddler’s backstory is at once engaging, frightening, and inspiring. Nashton is a complex, brilliant, multidimensional villain, and it is gratifying to find a book worthy of the character. The series dovetails perfectly with Reeves’ worldbuilding and Subic’s demonic style mirrors the unfolding horror. Even the meticulous, disturbing covers from Bill Sienkewicz complement Subic’s panels well.
