An Ode To The Riddler Of The 1960s
It’s been close to a month since I’ve seen The Batman, and it still hasn’t left my brain. I saw it three times within five days, and each time I felt myself gripping my seat in excitement. It really was my dream Batman movie; the perfect culmination of the comics, cartoons, prior movies, and every other existing piece of Batmedia. It’s not often as a geek that you find something that feels like it was made with love by fans, for fans, and this was that for me. And, as expected of your resident fangirl, I have become absolutely obsessed with Paul Dano and his performance as the Riddler.
When I was approached by the Vintage Woman Magazine to write an article about Batman, I immediately knew the topic; I had to write about the 1966 Batman television series. And with Paul Dano taking up as much conversational airtime as Robert Pattinson and Zoë Kravitz, it only made sense for me to niche down and talk about my favorite character of all time. After all, nobody comes to my Tiktok for hot takes on the Joker.
The Riddler is everywhere now. He’s on t-shirts and Pop! key-chains. My FYP is flooded with fancams and thirst posts. My follower count skyrocketed more than it has in a long time the minute I started talking about him. One night while out with friends, the table over was loudly discussing his character over drinks. Paul Dano is even writing his own Riddler mini series. They’re selling Riddler Build a Bears, for God’s sake. The movie versions, the cartoons, the comics; It feels like everyone is coming to me for my thoughts and opinions.
I’m in heaven. A green, question mark speckled heaven.
Not only are we in a period of Batmania, but a Riddler Renaissance as well. A Riddlessance, if you will. This is of course not the first time this has happened. If you look back to the 1990s, you’ll find him on waves of merchandise such as backpacks and t-shirts that are now going for $400. Despite him only being in three episodes of Batman: The Animated Series, that rendition of the character shaped him as we know him today. And of course, who could forget Jim Carrey in Batman Forever (who I believe did a fantastic job, since that’s a question I’m constantly getting).
But it’s the Riddlessance of the 1960s that I want to talk about, with the 1966 Batman television series that saved his character from obscurity.
Everyone, this is Frank Gorshin. I owe this man a good chunk of my personality. Without him, I wouldn’t be the Riddler-loving content creator you know me as today.
You see, prior to the 1960s, the Riddler had only two comic appearances in 1948. With an 18 year time gap between 1948 and 1966, in a time with no internet, the character was likely unheard of outside of a then small group of “Batmanians”. The general audience, who had a decent notion of villains such as the Joker, Penguin, and Catwoman, had no exposure to the “Prince of Puzzles.” He was less than a D lister. So to make him the first villain Adam West’s Batman faced off with in the pilot episode was a big gamble, but one that ultimately worked out for the best.
Audiences loved Gorshin’s portrayal, to the point where his performance became synonymous with the character. Frank Gorshin was The Riddler, and it was a title he took in stride. He was even nominated for an Emmy for his performance as the titular rogue. I’ve seen it speculated that, for a brief period, the Riddler was seen as Batman’s arch enemy and not the Joker (though I can’t vouch for this given that I wouldn’t be alive for another 33 years), and after the 1960’s series, the Riddler was popping up in the comics left and right.
He was bold and brash and unquestionably fun. He was “camp” incarnate.
Though he often sported it in the show, rumor has it that Gorshin found the question mark leotard undignified to the character, and invented the famous green suit that the comics later adopted. I personally think that’s an underdiscussed characterization that Frank imparted on the Riddler: Dignity.
Yes, Frank’s Riddler was manic. He was wild, insane, the kind of camp that defined the ‘66 show. But he still managed to embody this sinister sense of class at moments that I see live on in the character to this day, and even saw in Dano’s performance as well. He was cool at moments, which made the scenes where he was off the walls all the more stark and impressive. He had swagger. Frank Gorshin not only saved the Riddler from obscurity – he reinvented him.
In my opinion, that’s a characterization that defines the Riddler. Edward Nygma is a manchild. Cool one moment, throwing a tantrum the next. One minute he’s this calculative, sinister villain that can bring Gotham City to its knees, and the next he’s a raving madman, almost nonthreatening in his inherent silliness. And I believe we owe that polarity to Frank Gorshin.
The Riddler is timeless, and I think that’s what draws me to him. Invented in the ’40s, refined in the 1960s, and modernized today. It’s that dichotomy that I adore as a lover of vintage. In fact, I think this rendition of the character and show in general shaped me as not only a Batfan, but a vintage gal as well.
I remember being a young teenage girl and watching Frank Gorshin on the Dean Martin Show. Up late in my light pink room surrounded by my meager but growing collection of trade paperbacks, I watched him sing and dance on Youtube, surrounded by these beautiful 1960s women in question mark leotards with perfectly quaffed bubble haircuts. And in that moment, I wanted to be them. I wanted to be all of the molls in the ’60s show – these sweet but villainous babes that hung on his arm and wore colorful vintage clothes and had perfectly pin curled hair and did whatever they wanted. They were fun and classy and everything I wanted to be and look like. I loved Molly’s class, Mousey’s spunk, Moth’s empathy. Perhaps these ladies were just there to be pretty – something for the Riddler and the audience to ogle at – but they were fun, interesting characters in their own right that to this day I enjoy being compared to in my comment sections.
If I’m not dressed like the Riddler’s moll of the week when I leave the house, then I’ve failed myself as a vintage style fangirl.
And what inspires me as a fan is the idea that there very well could have been a girl like me in the 1960s, who saw Frank on her RCA television and fell in love with the character. Maybe she ran down to the corner store in her green mod dress and tall white boots and bought a copy of Detective Comics No. 364 despite the odd looks from the man at the counter. She could have written fanfiction and doodled question marks in her high school notebooks. Maybe she wore a question mark brooch with her cocktail dresses. Maybe she collected the comics throughout her life, until she had boxes upon boxes of just Riddler comics. She could talk comics with the boys and maybe she sat in a small town theater like I did, with her grandchildren, and watched Paul Dano bring a new element to the character that she never thought possible.
There’s an art and beauty to loving a character that has been loved by generations before you. I’m just happy he’s still around. Thanks, Frank.
Addendum: Upon some retroactive research following the submission of this article, I realized I made an error! The Riddler actually had three comic appearances prior to the 1966 show, with his third being 1965’s Remarkable Ruse of the Riddler! This could potentially mean he was a little more fresh in the minds of comic fans, but still potentially obscure to the general audience who otherwise wouldn’t be following the comics.