How These DC Villains Should Really Look

The Joker has a pretty packed wardrobe. Batman t-shirts? He's sporting them in Sean Murphy's miniseries, Batman: White Knight. Sleeveless takes on the classic Howie-style doctor's coat? Joker donned one in Batman: RIP. But still, over the decades, a central look emerges: classic suits and tuxedos in green, orange, purple, and red. His first appearance featured a large bow at his throat, purple gloves, and well-pomaded hair; others, such as Alex Ross' interpretation, take his dapper tendencies all the way to formal white tie ensembles. Though artists often add a couple unhinged details to his look — most often mussed hair or outsize teeth — the Joker tends to keep himself as well-turned-out as a Downton Abbey character.

Modern movie audiences have three very different Jokers to consider. Heath Ledger's clown is a mangy monstrosity whose makeup visually flakes off throughout the movie. Joaquin Phoenix's take on the character looks to famous mid-century television clowns like Bozo and Howdy Doody's Clarabell for inspiration. Jared Leto's demonic wild child swaps formal wear for face tattoos and lurid purple coats over a bare chest. Each of these interpretations tells the audience something different: Leto's Joker is more of a mafioso than a mastermind, Phoenix's Joker is a 1970s everyman gone off the deep end, and Ledger's Joker is a nightmarish vision of urban decay. What unites them is that not one of them is as sharply maintained as the madman of the monthlies.

The feline fatale with a taste for the finer things likes to keep it sleek. The Catwoman of the 1966 Batman TV series accentuated basic black with glittering accessories and a striking mask. Batman Returns imagined Catwoman as a city girl pushed to the brink, her madness symbolized by her visibly stitched patchwork of a catsuit. Halle Berry's costume was shredded, but still as dark as the shadows. The Dark Knight Rises depicted Catwoman as a burglar in matte black, accentuated by the sharp points of her stilettos and the cat-eared tips of her goggles. All of these incarnations rest on a dark canvas, using smaller details to do the heavy lifting of her characterization. Most of them (sorry, Halle Berry) have become some of the most impressive superheroic designs on screen.

But the Catwoman of the comics has worn far more than three costumes, ranging from emerald evening wear to royal purple catsuits. For all that, Trail of the Catwoman artist Darwyn Cooke's 2001 redesign was so immediately iconic, it's become the go-to look. In it, Catwoman wears a simple catsuit and a cat-eared cowl, set off by flat-soled motorcycle boots and flared goggles. It's simple and remarkably practical — how often does a slinky villainess get to forego high heels? — but its sleek details make it timelessly stylish. Catwoman's taste might run to the extravagant, but when she's on the job, she keeps things functional.

Remember when the villain of Suicide Squad opened an apocalyptic portal through the art of aggressive belly dancing? In Enchantress' defense, when you're a millennia-spanning interdimensional witch-goddess, you can pretty much make your own rules. That certainly applied to the character's wardrobe, which shifted from rags and tarnished jewlery to a billowing two-piece affair, crowned by a rune-inlaid headdress. Was it the kind of outfit one could do serious battle in? No way. But Enchantress had the sort of powers that allowed her to bypass fisticuffs.

Her comics incarnation, introduced in a 1966 issue of Strange Adventures that announced the arrival of "The Switcheroo-Witcheroo," is a being of great power, capable of teleportation, telekinesis, and a wide array of other such sorcery. Though she's had many outfits, all of them are in her signature bright green and most feature a flamboyant cloak. Perhaps her most unique costume is her very first: a classic witch hat, paired with a harlequin-patterened mini-dress. Not great for the Suicide Squad, but perfect for the swinging '60s.

DC's New Gods are way beyond our conventional notions of superheroes. They've got fabulous powers, extravagant outfits, inhabit the bombastically named New Genesis and Apokolips (can you guess which one's for bad guys?) and wield technology capable of transporting them across dimensions. Steppenwolf is a New God, and his incarnation in Justice League lived up to that race's larger-than-life reputation: He was a CGI colossus of armor, stone, and steel. Beneath his costume he was oddly waxen in appearance, his skin a drained gray crisscrossed by alien grooves. Add in two bony outgrowths off his chin, and you had a truly fearsome-looking opponent.

The Steppenwolf of the comics is similarly grand. His armor is red and black, accented by a skull worn at his waist and red, claw-like stripes atop his shoulders. More notable is the man (or, well, god) beneath the armor: in sharp contrast to the Steppenwolf of the movies, his comic incarnation is notably handsome. He wears a dark beard, sometimes twisted into long, wrapped braids, and tends to grin wolfishly. Both versions are frightening, but for very different reasons: movie Steppenwolf is utterly unknowable, while comic Steppenwolf is a man who, dressed differently, could pass for a hero. Regardless, both versions are not to be messed with — unless, of course, you're the Justice League.

Ra's al Ghul didn't become the head of the League of Assassins through subtlety. No, this is a man who tossed his daughter into the resurrecting Lazarus Pits every time she died in training, deduced Batman's secret identity through sheer brainpower, and is often whispered of as "The Demon's Head" in the byways of the criminally inclined. He clawed his way to power over the course of centuries, infiltrated the halls of the wealthy and connected through genius and determination, and sired Talia al Ghul, herself one of Batman's more formidable foes. Accordingly, he cuts a fine figure: Ra's accents his roguish good looks with emerald green capes bordered in gold, intricately wrought jewelry, and often a lush length of fur. He doesn't need to blend into the shadows: he commands them.

Liam Neeson's portrayal in Batman Begins is a dramatic departure from this rich refinement. There, Ra's takes a far more hands-on approach to his aims, and accordingly, he chooses to blend in through muted suits and dark training gear. He is less the distant master of a thousand deadly hands and more the hands themselves, seeking to add Bruce Wayne to his ranks through subterfuge. Though his subdued aesthetic is indeed appropriate to that approach, one can't help but miss the flamboyance of his comic incarnation. When one can reverse death by a quick dip in a magic pool, why bother with incognito looks?

Supervillain gimmicks range wildly in fearsomeness. Sometimes you get the Joker, essentially the embodiment of chaos, and sometimes, well, you get a guy like Captain Boomerang. It's all right there in the name: dude throws boomerangs. Now, of course, he's pretty darn good with those boomerangs, but no one was exactly surprised to see a guy named Captain Boomerang clad in a well-worn track suit and popped-collar trench coat in Suicide Squad, missing a few teeth and sporting some facial scars. He's a guy who revels in being weird and even a little off-putting, the kind of oddball who fits right in alongside Killer Croc and Harley Quinn. 

Captain Boomerang is just as weird in the comics, but with a good deal more panache. Rather than a ratty tracksuit, he began as a man in a boomerang-patterned tunic, ascot, and jaunty blue garrison cap. Though recent incarnations have favored a more toned-down look, his clothes remain well-cut and elegant, and still often incorporate boomerang patterns and an ascot. He might be strange, but he's going to look good doing it — even when he's bothering his teammates with his boorishness and hijinks. One can only imagine the horror Captain Boomerang of the comics would feel upon glimpsing his motley film self — to say nothing of the latter's preoccupation with unicorns.