She is splayed on the floor of a claustrophobic padded cell. Her back curves in a titillating arch, legs slightly bent beneath her. She wears a straightjacket, though it could be a teddy – she is clearly sans underwear. The viewer hovers above her as if peering at her through the roof, or perhaps observing her through a ceiling-mounted security camera at Arkham Asylum. Her makeup is a study in chiaroscuro, red lips traced with thick black liner that slices her smile through white skin. Her eyes are painted, or perhaps bruised; inky, purple-black blotches coagulate around gray-blue irises. Her hair is dyed at the part, forming moieties of black and red tendrils that spill across the ivory cell like colored flame. The outlined panels of the padded cell narrow as they stretch away from the viewer, receding as if to coalesce at a point beyond the floor like the kissing strands of a spider’s web. Which is she, I wonder – the spider or the fly?

I call this one The Mad Scientist.

Alex Hughes

JustSayAH.com

*          *          *

An issue central to one’s conception of this character is an understanding of just when Dr. Harleen Quinzel becomes Harley Quinn. There is, of course, a widely accepted answer: Quinn emerges when Dr. Quinzel steals a jester costume and breaks the Joker out of Arkham Asylum. Is there a precise moment, however, that Quinzel surrenders to the kind of love strong enough to throw away one’s promising career for the affection of a super-villain? Or does she rather slowly succumb to a madness so all-encompassing that she must alter her personality, change her name, and sacrifice her future in order to pursue a relationship with the man she loves? Or, to hear Quinn describe this in her own words in Episode 421 (“Mad Love”), “Face it, Harl: This stinks. You’re a certified nutso wanted in twelve states and hopelessly in love with a psychopathic clown. At what point did my life go Looney Tunes?^[1] How did it happen? Who’s to blame?”

Though other works featuring Quinn sometimes explore (or, more appropriately, create) an extensive backstory, Batman: TAS looks only at Quinn’s history beginning from moments before she meets the Joker. The screen dissolves into Quinn’s flashback, where we first see Dr. Harleen Quinzel: Her shape is familiar, but little else about her calls to mind the jingle bell-capped jester we had seen seconds before. Her face seems naked, minimally makeuped and stripped of its white paint. Where her usual black eye mask lays over bright blue eyes instead sit large circular glasses that tuck into her prim blonde bun. She completes the look with high heels and a white lab coat that dips just low enough to reveal a red blouse and small black tie (her color scheme at least remaining similar to Quinn’s). Joan Leland, one of Arkham’s head psychiatrists, greets Quinzel, who then politely requests, “Call me Harley – everyone does.” Leland gives Quinzel a tour of the facility and mentions her surprise that Quinzel “wanted to intern here at Arkham.” Quinzel explains, “Well, I’ve always had an attraction for extreme personalities. They’re more exciting, more challenging.” Leland, unimpressed, interrupts, “…And more high-profile?” Quinzel is unashamed, countering, “You can’t deny there’s an element of glamour to these super criminals.” Leland hastily corrects Quinzel, stopping her in the middle of the hallway and cautioning her authoritatively. “I’ll warn you right now, these are hard-core psychotics.” As if to emphasize her point, a bespectacled man in one of the rooms behind Quinzel approaches the transparent wall cordoning off his cell and begins happily licking the glass; the women do not acknowledge this curious lapping. Leland continues, “If you’re thinking about cashing in on them by writing a tell-all book, think again.” Cheerful whistling suddenly floats over Leland’s words, drawing Quinzel as if by a mysterious magnetism towards the source of the tune. From within his cell, the Joker stops his whistling as Quinzel approaches and stares, transfixed – perhaps star-struck. He tosses her a gamely wink, but Quinzel does not react, her eyes still wide and mouth slightly open in… shock? Fear? Intrigue? Leland steps into frame behind Quinzel, voice casual. “They’d eat a novice like you for breakfast.” She walks away as Quinzel blushes.

Quinzel is, indeed, interested in “cashing in” on her patients. The Joker – perhaps by having heard Quinzel and Leland’s conversation, perhaps by simply sensing the impulse – somehow understands Quinzel’s intentions and chooses to exploit them. Quinzel finds a rose in her office; attached is a note reading, “Come see me sometime,” signed simply, “J.” Though Quinzel is clearly delighted by the gift in the privacy of her office, she confronts the Joker in his cell with a cutting professionalism. “Care to tell me how this got in my office?” Quinzel asks him, producing the note. “I put it there,” the Joker murmurs, grinning. Quinzel keeps her voice impassive as she threatens, “I think the guards would be interested to know you’ve been out of your cell.” The Joker is the picture of calm self-satisfaction, recumbent on his bed with hands folded under his head as he gloats, “If you were really going to tell, you already would’ve. You know, sweets, I like what I’ve heard about you!” He compliments her name, but she offers only a curt response before turning to walk away. He continues, “[Your name] makes me feel there’s someone here I can relate to – someone who might like to hear my secrets…” She freezes, mouth open in surprise before narrowing into a sly smile as she takes the bait.

This “attraction” to the more “glamorous elements” of the Arkham residents in fact extends beyond Arkham; it manifests not only as a kind of avarice (i.e., “cashing in”), but also as a kind of professional ambition independent of financial motives. This is made apparent in Episode 206 (“The Laughing Fish”) when Quinn addresses the patent office workers as “wage slaves.” This implies that she considers the idea of a standard, 9 AM – 5 PM, corporate job humiliating – that she is instead drawn to careers that entail some level of risk or intrigue. Through both her job as a psychiatrist working with Gotham’s most unfortunate, criminally-bent “hard-core psychotics” as well as her later post as the right-hand officer to the city’s most infamous gang leader, Quinzel first flirts with, then Quinn directly engages in, the penchant for danger and deviance that she ostensibly endeavors to eradicate in her patients. For reasons unknown, something in this cult of criminality speaks to Quinzel, and when she realizes that she can’t beat them, she joins them, embodying the fulfillment of a previously articulated – if not quite understood – fascination.

Quinn indulges her affinity for noir romanticism as a way of rationalizing her own metamorphosis from Quinzel to Quinn. Indeed, Quinzel sees some of herself in the Joker, and must reconcile the cognitive dissonance produced by her duty to help these criminals with her urge to become one of them. She craves notoriety, independence, and a life lived in communion with the darker or more mysterious elements of the human condition – the drive to wield power and incite chaos. However, she is likely unaware of how deeply in her psyche these inclinations are rooted, as she simultaneously harbors complementary cravings for stability and intimacy that complicate her present and her future. In crafting a love story-narrative between herself and the Joker, she accommodates both her longing for the tenebrous life of a super-criminal with her yearning for a loving and fulfilling relationship.

However, as she does not ultimately find this kind of relationship with the Joker, she must justify to herself the dissatisfaction, neglect, and abuse she experiences with her partner. In searching for an explanation for the Joker’s truculence, she decides to scapegoat Batman – the same villain she holds responsible for her ruining her patient’s life. After speaking with the Joker in their sessions at Arkham, Quinzel delivers the following analysis over a montage in which she imagines the Joker’s descent into despair and crime: “It soon became clear to me that the Joker, so often described as a raving, homicidal madman, was actually a tortured soul crying out for love and acceptance – a lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics. And there, as always, was the self-righteous Batman, determined to make life miserable for my angel.” The montage fades on the last vision – a menacing-looking Dark Knight advancing upon a helpless Joker – and we see that she has been doodling on her yellow notepad. She adds a moustache and shades a gap between the teeth of an already unflattering caricature of Batman’s face. As the more of the notepad moves into frame, we see smiling portraits of Quinzel and the Joker just above a large heart inscribed with “J & H.” She continues, “Yes, I admit it. As unprofessional as it sounds, I had fallen in love with my patient.” The frame shifts, and we finally see her face. Her head slumps in shame as she closes her eyes. “Pretty crazy, huh?” An unseen man tenderly responds, “Not at all. As a dedicated, career-oriented young woman, you felt the need to abstain from all amusement and fun. It’s only natural you’d be attracted to a man who could make you laugh again.” Her face alights, relieved, as the frame widens to reveal Quinzel on a classic therapy couch. “I knew you’d understand,” she discloses to her counselor. The frame shifts once more to reveal the Joker in the chair that had, in their previous sessions, been reserved for Quinzel. “Anytime,” the Joker reassures her, voice soft with sympathy. The scene segues into the moment the Joker is re-apprehended after his most recent escape from Arkham, and Quinzel resumes her narration. “Then there was that horrible week when he escaped. The poor thing was on the run, alone and frightened. I was so worried.”  She anxiously scrutinizes a newspaper with a headline reading, “JOKER STILL AT LARGE, BODY COUNT RISES.” We watch as Batman drops a bloodied Joker into Quinzel’s arms; she cries as she cradles him gently. Soon thereafter, Quinzel steals a jester ensemble from a costume shop. After sneaking and smacking her way through Arkham and its cadre of guards and orderlies, she uses a bomb to shatter the glass of the Joker’s cell. As she emerges from the rubble, she shows off her new look: “Knock, knock, puddin’! Say hello to your new, improved Harley Quinn!” She escapes with the Joker in her car, eluding the searchlights and busting her way through the security gate. Quinn beams triumphantly as the Joker cackles; they drive off into the sunset as Quinn reflects, “It seemed like we would live happily ever after.” The flashback fades back into the present, where Quinn is in a trance, drooped eyelids framing a dreamy stare as she gazes into the memories – and perhaps the fantasy – with which she is so captivated. Her daydreaming done, she complains, “But that’ll never happen as long as there’s a Batman around to torment my puddin’.”

Batman makes for a convenient, plausible patsy, given the Joker’s preoccupation with the Dark Knight and how the Joker seems to interact with Quinn only insofar as she is another tool at his disposal to help him toy with the superhero. She truly believes disposing of Batman will rid the Joker of his abusive proclivities and allow her and the Joker to move on with their courtship. In “Mad Love,” when Quinn has Batman chained upside down, inches away from death-by-piranha, she almost apologizes to him. “You know, for what it’s worth, I actually enjoyed some of our romps. But there comes a time when a gal wants more, and now all this gal wants is to settle down with her loving sweetheart.” Batman laughs – which, ironically, deeply unsettles Quinn – and, in a harrowing conversation, presents Quinn with evidence of the Joker’s manipulation: “You little fool. The Joker doesn’t love anything except himself. Wake up, Harleen. He had you pegged for hired help the minute you walked into Arkham.” Quinn is first apoplectic, then woebegone as she listens to Batman elucidate the Joker’s cunning, tears filling her eyes as she begins to understand her role in the Joker’s machinations. But she ultimately cannot let herself accept this conclusion, even when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary; she angrily wipes away tears as she shrieks, “You’re wrong! My puddin’ does love me, he does!” Unsurprisingly, she points to Batman and accuses him, “You’re the problem!” She moves to lower him into the piranha tank, tears still streaming down her cheeks, raging through a manic smile, “And now you’re going to die and make everything right!”

Though Quinn supposedly wants Batman dead in order to retire to a comfortable life with the Joker, she fails to grasp that she perhaps does not have as much of an appetite for a normal, law-abiding life as she believes. For example, in Episode 325 (“Harley’s Holiday”), she finds herself knee-deep in a crime spree within a few short hours of being released from Arkham. Quinn pays for a dress and immediately makes for the door, forgetting to let the cashier unclip the protective tag. A security guard sprints after her, promising her that she can leave with the dress after the tag is removed. However, Quinn is spooked. After just this minor “misunderstanding,” as Bruce Wayne attests – an easily resolved hiccup – Quinn opts to don her jester costume once more and retreat into her villainy, declaring loudly, “I tried to play by the rules, but no, they wouldn’t let me go straight! Society is to blame!” This reveals, perhaps less than her inability to abide by “society’s rules,” instead her deep-seated, unconscious unwillingness to do so.

Quinn’s lack of self-awareness may explain one more puzzling aspect of her presentation: her changing voice. Curiously, Quinzel has a typical speaking voice that then transforms into her high-pitched, hammy accent as she falls in love and works with the Joker. This shift is never more apparent than at the end of “Mad Love,” when Quinn is being re-deposited back into Arkham. The other inmates cluster around televisions that project news of the Joker’s demise as she is wheeled into her cell. When we hear her next, it is Quinzel’s level voice that is narrating her inner thoughts: “Never again. No more obsession, no more craziness, no more Joker.” The orderlies close the door to Quinzel’s cell as she stews, sulking under her blankets. “I finally see that slime for what he is: a murderous, manipulative, irredeemable…” She trails off and turns her head to look at her desk, and we see what has caught her eye: There is a single flower in a slim vase. Looped around the stem is a note reading, “Feel better soon. – J.” Quinzel’s shocked face yields to an expression of loopy contentedness as a smile softens her features. We then hear Quinn’s voice – several octaves higher than it was moments before – emerge from her lips as she finishes her sentence with a sigh: “Angel…”

Though there is disagreement among scholars as to the nature of Quinn’s disorders (some fans even arguing that post-traumatic stress disorder is to blame for many of her behaviors),^[2] I argue that Quinn exhibits signs of both histrionic personality disorder and borderline personality disorder. As her rapid emotional and physical flips suggests, it is almost as if she changes herself and the fundamentals of her personality to live and work with the Joker, adopting a voice and comportment that – for better or for worse – may not be taken as seriously (i.e., may be considered sillier, or perhaps more vapid, so as to communicate to the Joker and those around them that she is subservient). This performativity and the pathological obsequiousness and adulation it implies (not to mention her tendencies towards elements of psychological extremism, as discussed earlier) speak to a psyche on a spectrum. Quinn, is, in fact, operating at an intersection of comorbid disorders.

As described in the fifth volume of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders (DSM-V), histrionic personality disorder is,

A pervasive pattern of excessive emotionality and attention seeking, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

1. Is uncomfortable in situations in which he or she is not the center of attention.
2. Interaction with others is often characterized by inappropriate sexually seductive or provocative behavior.
3. Displays rapidly shifting and shallow expression of emotions.
4. Consistently uses physical appearance to draw attention to self.
5. Has a style of speech that is excessively impressionistic and lacking in detail.
6. Shows self-dramatization, theatricality, and exaggerated expression of emotion.
7. Is suggestible (i.e., easily influenced by others or circumstances).
8. Considers relationships to be more intimate than they actually are.

The ways in which Quinn presents herself through physical appearance, speech patterns, emotional affect, and behavioral choices parallel several features of this disorder. Additionally, her willingness to kill Batman for no other reason than her desperation to be forever the center of the Joker’s attention supports this diagnosis,^[3] as does her insistence that the Joker cherishes her (see the last criterion). Furthermore, a partial diagnosis of histrionic personality disorder would at least in part account for her dramatic propensities. This is consistent with my earlier argument that there are facets of her traits and desires she can neither fully recognize nor entirely articulate – aspects that otherwise inexplicably entice her to the more unconventional, dark, or violent manifestations of humanness and the pursuits that fully exercise this abandon.

Quinn also evinces several hallmarks of borderline personality disorder, which is categorized in the same “cluster” of personality disorders (Cluster B, known in the DSM-IV as the “dramatic-erratic” cluster). According to the DSM-IV, borderline personality disorder is,

A pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, and marked impulsivity, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment…
2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.
3. Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.
4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating). (Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behavior covered in Criterion 5.)
5. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior.
6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).
7. Chronic feelings of emptiness.
8. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).
9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

Quinn’s emotional lability, lack of self-awareness, and dependency on the Joker (or on the notion of their close relationship) all speak to a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder.

In conclusion, though Quinzel’s personal and professional predilections render her transformation to Quinn a relatively predictable evolution, her mental illnesses likely contribute to this metamorphosis. Though she is somewhat cognizant of her atypical mental state – and indeed, at times even seems to embrace it[4] – she nevertheless fails to see how her troublesome thought patterns misattribute blame upon actors that bear little to no responsibility for inauspicious developments in her life. In this way, Quinn struggles to identify and/or orient herself and her circumstances within overly simplistic, binary conceptions of right and wrong, love and hate, and victim and perpetrator.

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^[1] This is a particularly interesting observation, as Looney Tunes and Batman: TAS were both produced by Warner Brothers Entertainment Inc. Furthermore, Looney Tunes episodes were rebroadcast throughout the 1990s – possibly even on the same channel as Batman: TAS when “Mad Love” aired.

^[2] See “Crazy or ‘Crazy’? [sic] A Harley Quinn Annoyance;” Crippa & Hallack; and Goodfriend.

^[3] Though she primarily seeks the Joker’s attention, the antics in which she engages in episodes such as “Harley’s Holiday” and Episode 420 (“Girls’ Nite Out”) establish that she very much enjoys being the center of attention even when the Joker is not present.

[4] In Episode 420 (“Girls’ Nite Out”), Livewire confronts Quinn, her voice hoarse with anger: “Are you out of your mind?” Quinn takes a moment to seriously ponder her answer. Her face puckers in concentration before she smiles serenely and replies with an unperturbed, “Yeah.”