There is no question that Absolute Batman has struck a nerve somewhere in the hivemind of comic book readers. The sales figures alone speak to its popularity, with fans and critics revelling in its dark, twisted take on the Batman mythos. Absolute Batman wears its seinen manga influences on its remarkably broad sleeves, but, while reading it, I felt like those influences only made it skin deep, making Absolute Batman a more sanitized, safe version of manga like Berserk.

Sure, both Berserk and Absolute Batman have a similar sense of style and penchant for twisted, over-the-top designs. Both lean into the idea of a hero not only pressing on through impossible odds but also enduring through pain and suffering. Resilience is at the heart of both stories, so I can kinda see where these comparisons begin. However, I can also see where they end.

The core of Berserk has always been Kentaro Miura, and I don’t just mean for his art. It is because the whole comic functions as part of his particular vision. His vision of the plot and the characters is what drives Berserk. He was assisted along the way, but even years after his death, those who carry on Berserk still focus on how to bring Miura’s vision to life on the page. There is a reverence for what Miura wanted

That leads to a rawness that Absolute Batman lacks. Guts is not kind or heroic in the ways that we expect in a fantasy setting. He is, for much of the story, driven to kill by a mixture of trauma and his belief that violence is the only thing he is truly good at. We see him dive to horrific depths in the name of vengeance, which makes his recovery from his trauma more impactful. It is flawed and uneven at times, but that singular vision for the story gives Berserk its soul. The missteps that Miura makes along the way are noticeable but make the series feel more real and honest.

I compare this to the feeling I got from reading Absolute Batman, which tries to use the Batman mythos as the paint for a similar canvas. This is a Batman punts a child overboard a boat because it looks cool on the page and gets a reaction from the reader. He is unaffected by the action and quickly moves on to something else. He shows up on a giant piece of construction equipment because it looks rad on the page, narrative consistency be damned. The only rule is the rule of cool.

Early in its run, Absolute Batman fights a horde of Black Mask goons atop a building. To even the odds, he reveals that the extra-wide Bat Symbol on his chest is, in fact, the head of a battle axe. It is a ridiculous moment that, nonetheless, looks very cool on the page. While this Batman still doesn’t kill, he maims with reckless abandon. There are visceral panels that shock and drive the point home that this Batman is different from what came before… but not too different.

All of these decisions work for Absolute Batman because they get people excited to read the comic, but they only amplify the feeling that this was a universe written by committee, which makes it feel safe and calculated. The Absolute Universe is a deliberate reimagining of beloved characters in a way that evokes a reaction. However, if we took away characters like Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman, would it still be popular? Would anyone care about Large Man breaking arms and punting children? I’m not convinced that Absolute Batman reinvents Batman so much as it leans upon him like a crutch, using that legacy to prop up its own relevance. The decades of familiarity with Batman are a safety net for this comic rather than a springboard that takes it to new and exciting places.

Berserk meanders. It focuses on the small moments between chaos. It changes the characters, physically and emotionally. It gives us time to get to know them before it hurts them and, in the process, us, but then it gives those characters time to grow and to heal. There are narrative risks, some of which don’t pay off, but they are there, and they matter. Miura’s use of foreshadowing was heavy-handed in the beginning, but he didn’t rush into things. He let ideas percolate for months and years before delivering on them.

An example of this is the Beherit, which is introduced early in the series with no explanation of what it is. We know it is significant, but how significant is not clear for dozens of chapters. Because Berserk comes out on a monthly basis (when it isn't on hiatus), this would take nearly six years to even begin to deliver on its significance. Is it a subtle storytelling device? No, but this isn’t about subtlety; it is about Miura telling the story he wanted to, guided but not held back by the corporate publishing machine he worked in.

Comparing Absolute Batman to Berserk is, ultimately, unfair; Berserk has had nearly 40 years to tell its story, with hundreds of chapters released even with its sporadic release schedule. It obviously benefits from Kentaro Miura’s artwork; the man was the best black-and-white artist of his generation, possibly of all time. Absolute Batman is still new and can still grow into something more. But right now, it feels like a pale imitation of something like Berserk. As strong a writer as Scott Snyder can be, here he is held back either by the corporate restraints of DC Comics or by his own lack of ambition to go further than what feels safe.

I don’t think that Absolute Batman is bad; it is extremely effective at what it sets out to do, which is repackage something familiar to an eager public. But that familiarity makes it safe and sterile, free from risks or vision beyond putting the next cool thing on the page. It feels like an attempt to recreate Berserk without leaving the guardrails that guide it towards success, without taking any real risks or showing any real patience. To finish on a pun, Absolute Batman is Berserk without the Guts.

Here's an updated guide on the Absolute Batman release schedule and a guide to all the Absolute Batman villains so far.