A “parasocial relationship” occurs when one party develops significant emotional responses to another without the other party’s awareness, and modern media has played a major role in enabling this phenomenon. For example, Mr. Rogers was such a familiar face in many childhood homes that people genuinely felt they knew him despite never meeting him. YouTube creatives John and Hank Green routinely describe the surreal experience of meeting fans who feel connected to them on a deeply personal level even though the Greens had no idea these individuals existed. And then, of course, there are the famously obsessive fans of professional musicians who experience the intimacy of music and feel bonded to the performer. I honestly thought myself largely free of this phenomenon. There aren’t a lot of celebrities I follow closely.
But then we lost Kevin.
Kevin Conroy began voicing Batman in the early 90s on Batman: The Animated Series, and his performance was so respected that he continued to play the character across multiple media over the next three decades. The Justice League cartoons, the Arkham and Injustice video game series, countless animated movies— they’re all Kevin Conroy. Even in the Batman cartoons where Conroy wasn’t voicing Batman himself, the creative team would always seek out Kevin for a cameo out of sheer reverence.
And what made Kevin Conroy’s performance so great? When first approached about voicing the role, Conroy famously told his agent, “Sure, I’ve always wanted to play Hamlet.” To a trained Shakespearean actor like Conroy, the connection made sense: a brooding young aristocrat grieving the death of a parent and embarking on a quest for justice while clad in shadows— that’s not just Batman, that’s Hamlet! As such, Kevin Conroy approached his performance of Batman in a “kids’ show” with all the seriousness and dedication of a Shakespearean performer playing one of the Bard’s most famous protagonists. Through Conroy’s voice alone, he showed the character’s grief, determination, anger, compassion, and struggles with attachment and vulnerability. Coupled with an amazing art style and a phenomenal supporting cast, Conroy’s performance of Batman singlehandedly raised the bar for children’s television. Batman: The Animated Series remains high art to this day.
Of course, I’m a little biased since Batman: The Animated Series came out at a time when I desperately needed it. From first through fourth grade, I watched the show religiously on Saturday mornings, and every weekday, I would rush to get home to our TV by 3:00 so I could watch the re-runs. You see, I too had lost someone. My older sister had gotten sick in December of 1993 and ultimately died in January of 1995. Not a lot of people in my life really knew how to talk to a grieving seven-year-old, but Kevin Conroy’s Batman did. There was something about the way he worked through his pain— the way it shaped him yet never incapacitated him. And at the same time, I was struck by how this Batman worked so hard to spare others from the darkness he himself endured. In Kevin Conroy’s Batman, I found a more seasoned companion who could walk with me through my own loss.
Decades later, I encountered a concept in chaplaincy: the “wounded healer.” Introduced by Henri Nouwen, the wounded healer is a very human caregiver who binds up their own wounds and draws on their shared humanity in the care of others. As I read Nouwen’s descriptions, I found myself thinking of Kevin Conroy’s Batman and the way he grieved, the way he fought to help others, the way he continually hoped that even the most twisted villains could be redeemed. In my chaplain residencies, I would periodically cite Batman: The Animated Series and show clips of how this character tapped into his own sense of loss to help others. I even keep a vintage Batman comic cover (Detective Comics #31) hanging in my office to remind me daily of this connection.
Kevin Conroy’s Batman has been with me for three decades. He helped me through a life-changing loss at a young age. He provided comfort and guidance in my teen and young adult years. And even now, he still influences my career.
Kevin Conroy died on November 10th, 2022 at the age of 66. We never met. He has no idea who I am. But the world makes a little more sense to me because of his artistry. Thank you, Kevin.
