Batman Begins (2005)

Much like the very long wait for this blog post, there was a very long wait for Batman to hit the big screen again. Specifically, an eight-year wait. Eight years before another Batman film was finally released after the universal drubbing that was laid on Batman & Robin. During that time, Warner Bros. pursued a number of different avenues and approached a number of different directors. Straight adaptations, original storylines, there were a lot of ideas flying around. Eventually, in 2003, Warner Bros. asked director Christopher Nolan, who achieved much acclaim for his 2000 film Memento, as well as his 2002 remake of Insomnia, to take the job. Accepting the role, Nolan opted for an origin story for the Batman, and playing it out in a more realistic setting than had been tried before. The result was the 2005 film Batman Begins.

When Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) was a boy, he witnessed his millionaire parents being murdered, which led him to become obsessed with revenge. After disappearing to the East, where he is trained by ninja cult leader Ra’s Al-Ghul (Ken Watanabe) and Ducard (Liam Neeson), he returns to Gotham City, now decayed and overrun by organized crime and corruption thanks to Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson). Seeking to find the injustice in his city, Wayne uses his wealth and skills to adopt a new persona, one that will strike fear into the hearts of evil men. He becomes Batman.

Right from the off, Christopher Nolan had one pretty clear idea that he was going to build his Batman venture on. Although he has said that he loves Tim Burton’s Batman films for their distinctive style and atmosphere, Nolan still regarded them as an exercise in (superb) visual style over character and drama, which I rather agree with. As such, Nolan made the decision to locate the action within a more realistically drawn world. Taking a cue from some of the more gritty and sober titles in the Batman comic oeuvre, Nolan planned to tell the story of how a young boy, born of a wealthy family, grows up somewhat twisted and haunted by pain and guilt when that family is killed. The overall story that runs through the film is a mixture of different elements from the comics, like Bruce Wayne’s early life and world travels where receives his training (The Man Who Falls), his dealings with Carmine Falcone (The Long Halloween), and his first forays into crime-fighting (Year One). Each of these titles were possessed of the more grounded tone that Nolan was aiming for, and presented a great array of characters and themes to play with.

For help on the script, Nolan worked with writer David S. Goyer, who already had some success with comic book adaptations like Blade and Blade II (we’ll just pretend Blade: Trinity didn’t happen), and who worked the basic chronology of the events from the canon material into a complete story. The pair eventually finished a script that works very well, with each maintaining a sensibility that is unique to themselves but without competing for attention. The idea of fear, an incredibly important part of what the Batman is, is regularly considered for how it can be used. Gotham is a city populated by those who are afraid of something, with only a select few having the willingness to use it to their advantage. Carmine Falcone uses it to maintain his criminal empire; Scarecrow uses it to control his patients/victims; and Batman uses it to destroy criminals and restore order. And therein lies another conflict: both Batman and Ra’s Al Ghul would use fear as a weapon to restore order to chaos, but where Batman’s fearful wrath is more precise and defined, Ra’s Al Ghul is more malevolent and fascistic, looking to turn everyone into a panic-stricken wreck. This nicely underlines just how fine the line is between the two. Indeed, there was a time when Bruce and Ducard were close enough to be family, filling the need for a father figure in Bruce’s life. That Bruce then severs this link, rejecting this surrogate patriarch, both shows his resolve and that he isn’t quite as prepared to become his own man as he thinks. It’s another facet that adds a wonderful sense of texture to proceedings, showing you just how important Thomas Wayne was to young Bruce. In fact, that they spend a full hour developing Bruce Wayne as a character is an indication of just how much importance they place on this aspect of the story.

It’s one of the things I appreciate the most about Batman Begins, and it’s something that most people I know also like: they explain everything. Not just on a level of the emotional and psychological draws on what it takes to turn Bruce Wayne into the Batman, but just on a level of practicality. In Tim Burton’s Batman, the Joker asked that often-quoted question, “Where does he get those wonderful toys?” In Batman Begins, Nolan finally answers. Be it through dummy corporation purchases, his own tinkerings or what is effectively embezzlement, it shows how the Dark Knight assembles his arsenal of gadgets, his suit and… his car. It’s a mixture of the practical and the theatrical that dictates what Batman uses to fight crime and one thing is for sure, if you’re going to take on an entire city’s criminal underworld by yourself, bring a tank. Enter the Tumbler, Nolan’s Batmobile on steroids, a hulking 100mph monster. I’m going to take a moment out from trying to be a grown up here and do this…

The Tumbler is freakin’ awesome. It’s a tank! A tank! I don’t care what it costs, I want one and I want one now! And if Morgan Freeman could be the one to teach me how to drive it, that would be great, thanks.

Anyway, back to mature mode. There’s not a single thing shown that’s wasted. His bat-ears aren’t just for decoration, but to hide a radio receiver; the cape isn’t just for show, but is capable of becoming rigid and used as a glider; and the cowl isn’t just to hide Wayne’s face, but it’s a fully functional helmet. This is the manner in which someone goes to war, not with Bat-nipples, but with Kevlar and a damn tank.

If there was one aspect of doing a Batman film that likely gave Christopher Nolan some pause for thought, it was the design and overall look of the film, particularly in the creation of Gotham City. As I said before, Burton made something special in his films, and Nolan was very open of his admiration for the styling. In Batman Begins, Nolan had to create a look that was distinctive, but also still plausible in his more realistic world. He has done a fine job. Filming on location was a huge part of this, going to places like Chicago, London, Hertfordshire and Iceland. He also had his production team, led by Nathan Crowley, pull design elements from various cities around the world, covering various architectural disciplines, in order to create a sprawling cityscape that looks aged and lived in. The most consciously stylised part of Gotham is the Narrows, the slum area of the city, a grime-covered, dirty brown mess. The difference between this portion of the city and the rest of it highlights the scale of the corrupt devastation that covers Gotham. Arkham Asylum is in the Narrows and, much like the poisoned water supply that flows from its bowels, it’s from here that the fear and despair spreads. I’ll say that I still prefer the superb visual creation of Burton’s Gotham, so excellent in evoking an oppressive atmosphere with little budget, but Nolan’s is at once the more believable one, and still capable of instilling an effective atmosphere, too.

The music of the film would also have provided a challenge. Danny Elfman’s work on Batman and Batman Returns have become so intrinsically connected to the Dark Knight, that it’s near impossible to separate them. Even Elliot Goldenthal’s music for Batman Forever and Batman & Robin has its own distinctive flair. However, considering this film was about wiping the slate clean and reinventing the filmic mythos of the Batman, the pressure was probably a little easier. Nolan hired two fine composers for the score - James Newton Howard, who would handle the more collected character-based scenes, and Hans Zimmer, who would take the action-oriented beats of the film. Honestly, I think the music for Batman Begins is excellent, and much of that can be found in the simplicity of the primary Batman theme. In the themes from Elfman and Goldenthal, the Batman theme is a more traditionally complete theme, whereas the Howard/Zimmer effort is altogether simpler. It’s just two notes, the second being three notes higher than the first, but therein lies a great flexibility. The whole tone of the piece can change with the subtlest shift in orchestration or chord structure. Nothing can take away from Elfman’s work, but this is still superb stuff.

The casting of Bruce Wayne/Batman was a big issue, because it always is with these films. There are certain roles that just seem problematic when it comes to who should fill them because it’s likely to draw snorts of derision from some people regardless of who is cast. Weirdly enough, the role went to someone who actually auditioned for the role of Robin in Batman Forever - Christian Bale. This is a great choice, because Bale is a fine actor, possessed of great physical presence and intensity. It also served as an interesting echo of a previous role. Bale played Patrick Bateman in American Psycho five years prior to Batman Begins, a wealthy and rather goofy yuppie whose nocturnal antics showed him to be a crazed psychotic… not exactly a million miles away from Bruce Wayne. Of course, Bateman was just an entitled lunatic; Wayne has legitimate cause for his mania, and Bale doesn’t let this side down. You can see the various conflicts within him, being torn between losing himself in his anger and bitterness and holding himself as someone worthy of his father’s name, between being taken seriously by his old friend Rachel and being seen as a flippant yuppie douche. Bale shows these different aspects pulling at him, but never to the point of inaction. And to that end, there’s his Batman. The most important thing about Batman has always been how intimidating he is, which Bale carries off nicely. His interrogation scene where he has his victim dangling upside down high above the street is great stuff, particularly his growling delivery of the line, “Swear to me!” The Bruce Wayne/Batman actually seems more like a complete character in this film, being that you can feel sorry for him, be annoyed with him, want him to kick ass, and maintain his compassion throughout, and Bale carries all of this wonderfully.

The supporting cast of this film is the kind of thing people make up as a fantasy roster for ‘what if’ films taking place in their own head. Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Liam Neeson, Tom Wilkinson, Cillian Murphy, Ken Watanabe, Rutger Hauer, Linus Roache… Christ, there are 15 Oscar nominations amongst this lot alone. Michael Caine gives us a version of Alfred that I much prefer to versions of old. Michael Gough was a great, dignified presence in the previous films, but that Alfred was rarely seen to be much more than a butler and assistant to Bruce Wayne, even making some baffling moves like showing Vicki Vale into the batcave in Batman. Hell, the best we ever get as to how important he really is Bruce’s life comes from Batman & Robin, and that’s just sad. In Batman Begins, Alfred is more than a butler; he’s a conscience, a guiding hand, someone who does as much to protect Bruce from himself as Bruce does to protect Gotham from criminals. Morgan Freeman is great, too. Just look at him, you can see just how sharp Lucius Fox is, and how funny he is. Freeman is really funny in this film. Gary Oldman’s Jim Gordon is a rock of decency and integrity, understated and wholly dependable. Again, he’s turned a character of convenience from previous works and made him a person. Liam Neeson is a really interesting choice since he plays someone who is very similar to, but clearly different from his role of Oscar Schindler. He’s smart, classy, distinguished, but he’s a dark soul, driven by the very megalomaniacal sensibility that Schindler sought to undermine. Cillian Murphy is always bankable, and does some quietly creepy work as Dr. Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow. Rutger Hauer does a great smug corporate scumbag, Ken Watanabe is an very unsettling presence (I don’t think that guy’s eyes close once in the entire film), and Linus Roache gives a solid (though generally overlooked) turn as Thomas Wayne.

There are two performances I want to highlight, though. I actually think Tom Wilkinson’s performance is a bit off. To me, he seems like he’s putting on an act, and it’s just never sat right with me. Now, I suppose you could consider that Falcone himself is putting on some sort of tough guy act (he constantly refers to how scary he is, which isn’t really something scary people do), that he should be less convincing as a frightening bad guy when compared to the legitimate threat of Ra’s Al Ghul. However, what this does is make him less of a hurdle for Batman to overcome, and brings down the comparative threat level of Ra’s. Plus, to play with the notions of how convincing Falcone is as a bad guy by having Wilkinson be less believable in the role is something that I think rather exists outside of this film’s purview, given its realistic desires and all. In the end, it still seems to me like an otherwise excellent actor doing a rather hammy imitation of a Chicago crime boss.

Then there’s Katie Holmes, who most people regard as the weak link of the film… I don’t think she’s that bad. She’s better here than she is in a lot of her other roles. The problem with Katie Holmes is that she always looks like she’s a kid. Because she looks so young and is known to most people through her days on Dawson’s Creek, that’s how many continue to see her. Whilst Michelle Williams has grown since her days on the Creek and matured as an actress (and one I’ve yet to see give a bad performance), Holmes hasn’t, still seeming like a child playing grown up. Now, in fairness to her, she actually does pretty well in Batman Begins. She makes a concerted effort to project a sense of maturity and capability in line with the character of Rachel Dawes. The worst that I can really say about her is that I can see her trying to be Rachel, rather than just seeing Rachel. Not really a total triumph then, but she still deserves credit for giving a performance above her usual standard.

I will say that there are some other kinks in the show. For example, a lot of people didn’t appreciate the so-called “shaky cam” approach in the fight scenes. Honestly, this isn’t something that I noticed and so it didn’t bother me, though Nolan clearly heard this critique and chose to change it up for the sequel. Also, the whole microwave emitter device seems too unexplained to work for the purpose shown in the film. The idea is that it uses “focused microwaves” to instantly vaporise an enemy’s water supply, which is how it gets used by Ra’s Al Ghul for nefarious purposes in the final act. Given its capabilities, wouldn’t a giant microwave emitter instantly cook everything in its path? Wouldn’t water, oil, paper, plastic, metal, even people get heated immediately when the thing is turned on? That’s kind of a lot of explaining to hang on the word “focused”. There’s never any explanation given about how this isn’t the case, with everything resting on the likelihood that no one would notice this detail amidst all of the ass-kicking and riots. I certainly didn’t think of it the first time I watched it, but it’s something that sneaks up on you. I suppose that you could just say, “it’s a comic book movie,” which could buy you some leeway, but this does somewhat rest contrary to the more realistic aspirations of the film.

Despite these problems, I will maintain that Batman Begins is a great film, where almost everything is considered and handled in a manner both stylish and intelligent. There’s a wealth of talent throughout the whole endeavour and it doesn’t disappoint as an action film or as a character study, complete with concerns about the nature of fear as a weapon and the line between justice and vengeance. What’s more, this film gave Batman back his dignity and restored the hopes of people who had all but given up on seeing a proper Batman back on the big screen.

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993)

THE DARK KNIGHT FIGHTS TO SAVE GOTHAM CITY FROM ITS DEADLIEST ENEMY

Thanks to the success of Tim Burton’s first Batman film in 1989, an animated TV series was put into development and began airing in 1992. Lasting almost exactly three years in its original run, the series became one of the most respected TV shows of the time, animated or not, and praised for its maturity and faithfulness to the source material. A year into the show, a feature episode that was originally meant as a straight-to-video release was given a theatrical run instead. Batman: Mask of the Phantasm was not a success on its release, largely because of the last minute nature of the theatrical release, but it at least found its feet on home video and DVD, now regarded as one of the best Batman films to be released.

A ghostly new figure, the Phantasm, has begun killing off some of Gotham’s mob leaders, vanishing without a trace in a manner that has people believing that Batman (Kevin Conroy) has snapped. Now hunted by the authorities, Batman must solve the mystery of the murders and regain his reputation. Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne is distracted by the return of Andrea Beaumont (Dana Delany), the woman whom Bruce Wayne nearly married before becoming the Dark Knight. Bruce may now have the chance to give up his vigilantism and return to a normal life.

Although I did watch it when I was younger, Batman: The Animated Series was never a huge part of my childhood watching. As such, it took me a long time before I got round to seeing Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. And it received a fair amount of build-up. I know a few people who are affirmed Bat-fans and said that this film is the best Batman movie of them all, beating out all efforts from Burton, Nolan or Schumacher, though that last one wouldn’t be difficult. And some of this was from people whose opinion I do hold with some respect. Many people on the internet have expressed that same view. Even the Nostalgia Critic, who is a huge Bat-fan, called this film one of the best and most underrated classics going. I’m generally quite good at flattening my own susceptibility to hype, but it certainly seemed like this was something worth catching. That I was able to get it on DVD for pretty cheap sealed the deal. I bought the film and, on arrival, sat down to watch it… and I hated it. Violently.

I could not even begin to see how people could like it, let alone love it. I thought that some of the animation was terrible and that the overall story made absolutely no sense and it was all just a bit dull as a result. Upon voicing my opinion, I was then met with several people who agreed, with a couple saying that, of all the animated Batman features, Mask of the Phantasm was actually the worst. Suffice to say that, since I was really unimpressed with the film, it went back on my shelf and stayed there. However, much like Baise-moi, it was one of the films I actually rather looked forward to re-watching and re-evaluating for this blog. So, here we are now.

One of the things that automatically set me off the first time round was the opening credit sequence, with the title and names being cast over a CG rendering of Gotham, a black city under a red sky. I like the idea, and the attempt to create a thoroughly noir-ish tone right from the off. However, I just can’t past how clumsy it actually is. As the camera slowly moves back, between and through the buildings, there are moments when bits of these buildings will appear or disappear. This is a small criticism in the grand scheme, but it just makes it look so untidy that it put me on a bad foot immediately. If it was smoother, I wouldn’t have noticed, but the fact is that I did. On the second viewing, it still annoys me, but I can deal with it better the second time around.

Overall, the animation that I once believed to be rather poor in places is… well, still rather poor in places. Now, I will say that when it’s good, it’s really very good. There is a real smoothness to it that makes it flow very nicely. Also, the manner in which they have evoked a genuinely atmospheric and gothic sensibility throughout is absolutely wonderful. However, I can still spot what are, again, relatively minor problems here and there that just irked me more and more. For example, there are a few occasions when character shadows are missing. Yes, I know that this is actually being rather pedantic. It’s a small issue generally, and I did say it was on only a few occasions. However, in an animated film that seeks to establish a gothic mood in the visuals, shadows are kind of important, particularly in a Batman story.

Now, there is an explanation for some of these animation problems. As I said earlier, Mask of the Phantasm was only meant to be a straight-to-video release, so was not rendered for a big screen showing. However, when Warner Bros. saw the quality of the project, they decided, late in the production, to put the film out in theatres. They increased the budget so that it could be reformatted for a cinema release, but it still left less than a year to convert the film’s aspect ratio and such. Also, the opening CG city sequence was originally constructed for the TV series, replacing the more time-consuming hand-drawn backgrounds with a more flexible virtual set for characters to use. This idea was abandoned, though some of the work was clearly still there and they thought that it could be used as the opening for Mask of the Phantasm.

I’m not really sure why I find it so difficult to get over these things, especially since so many of them are of a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ variety, but they still jump out at me. It should also be much easier to overlook these flaws with a good story and good performances. But then we hit another snag.

Not the performances, I’ll say that now. There’s a reason Kevin Conroy is regarded as the Official Voice of Batman. Conroy alternates between two voices, depending on whether he’s Batman or Bruce Wayne. Though still clearly the same person, Wayne is lighter, warmer, with more humour; whereas Batman is deeper, colder, more threatening. The rest of cast do a great job, too. Dana Delaney does a great job, as does Hart Bochner as Councilman Reeves, Mark Hamill as the Joker and Stacy Keach as the Phantasm. Really, there’s not a bad show in the voice talent. So that only leaves…

I was never convinced by the story. Whilst I rather liked the attention given to Bruce Wayne’s initial attempts at vigilantism, his guilt over his parents’ death and how generally haunted he was, at no point did I buy into the rest of it, i.e. the Phantasm storyline. I’m honestly still not sure if the film was trying to keep the identity of the ghostly assassin a secret or not, but all I can say for myself is that there was no surprise or tension at all. I knew who it was from the beginning and was only waiting to be told why. I don’t particularly like it when I have to spend almost an entire film waiting for it to catch up with me. That tends to make me bored, and when a film bores me I end up looking at things much harder than necessary, hence seeing flaws in animation.

Also, there are things within the logic of the film that I never bought into, either. For example, the way in which Andrea discovers Batman’s true identity is a leap that’s just too big to accept. When visiting her mother’s grave, she notices Batman watching her. When she turns to him, he leaves. She runs to the spot he was standing, which happened to be the spot next to the grave of Bruce Wayne’s parents, where she then says, “Bruce?” From then, she knows and they both know she knows. Any memories she would have of seeing Bruce in vaguely the same spot, as shown in a flashback, happened over ten years ago, so it’s a bit much to use that as a basis for the connection.

One thing that is nice about Mask of the Phantasm is that it puts a great emphasis on Batman as a detective, which was an aspect of his personality that was never really given much attention in the films. But again, it rather drags out because the final solution is so damn obvious that watching the World’s Greatest Detective plod through the motions, with almost every other character figuring things out before him, is just a bit tedious.

If I’m honest, I still don’t like Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, though my disdain for it is greatly reduced from that first viewing. Much of the problem was allowing the huge amount of hype to affect me, which was my fault and not that of the film. Having my expectations greatly reduced, I can appreciate the film in a much clearer way, like the vocal work, the grim atmosphere and the attempt to treat the audience with a greater sense of maturity, which is ironic considering the direction of the subsequent live-action films (it’s rather strange that the animated film has more respect for the audience than the live-action successors). However, leaving aside my points about the animation, I still don’t like the story, it having only a vague relationship with logic and being as transparent as a really really transparent thing. If you do like it, that’s fine, but I cannot agree that it’s the best Batman film. Better than Schumacher’s? Yes, certainly. Better than Burton’s or Nolan’s? Not even close.

Batman & Robin (1997)

STRENGTH. COURAGE. HONOUR. AND LOYALTY.

I know, I know, I’m horrendously late with this one. Believe me, I never thought it would happen on Batman Week. Still, you don’t want to hear me go on about why I’m late… you, for whatever reason, want to read my thoughts on the fourth film of the original run of Batman films that started in 1989 with Tim Burton’s Batman and ended in 1997 with Joel Schumacher’s Batman & Robin, which has gone on to become one of the most reviled films ever made. Well, you’ve all waited long enough; let’s get to it.

Batman (George Clooney) and his partner Robin (Chris O’Donnell) work together to stop the new bad guy of Gotham: Mr. Freeze (Arnold Schwarzenegger), a sub-zero scientist stealing the city’s diamonds. Tensions appear between the duo, made worse when another villain comes into town, Poison Ivy (Uma Thurman). When the two evildoers join forces, it takes the crime-fighting pair to breaking point.

It’s a bit difficult to find things to say about a film like Batman & Robin. Not because there’s nothing to say about it, be it good or bad, but really just because so many people have already gone to town on it. You go to the IMDb page for this film and you will see a slew of one- and two-star reviews and comments that so thoroughly tear it a new one that it seems unnecessary to go over the same ground. Those that defend it often do so in a manner that’s half apologetic. Even Joel Schumacher himself went on record apologising for the film, and George Clooney said that this was the film that officially killed the Batman franchise. This would seem like a pretty solid statement considering that any and all plans for further Batman films and projects were instantly halted and cancelled due to the critical battering this film took. You have to admit, rarely has a film had such a negative impact as this one. Films cancelled, careers stunted, the Bat-signal decommissioned for almost a full decade… that’s a lot of hate. But is it all justified? Is this truly worthy of the vicious tirades and outbursts it receives?

Well, yes, kind of. However, let’s have a proper look at it and measure the damage of what’s said to be one of the worst films to make almost twice its budget back in box office returns.

Primary writer of Batman Forever, Akiva Goldsman, returned to scripting duties on this film, conceiving of story (alongside Schumacher), character arc and dialogue. Goldsman is such an interesting case study as a figure in Hollywood, but particularly a writer. Most of Goldman’s work as a writer since his beginnings back with 1994's The Client have been as someone who works primarily on adaptations of other works, such as A Time to Kill, Practical Magic, I, Robot, I Am Legend, The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons, as well one foray into adapting a classic TV series, Lost in Space. You may look on these and think to yourself that this guy does nothing but write scripts for awful, but financially successful films. In that case, you’d be wrong, since he actually won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for his work on A Beautiful Mind, which won quite a few other awards, like Best Film and Best Director. So clearly the man has something in him that can produce good work. However, looking at his track history, as writer or producer, specifically on comic book films (Batman Forever, Batman & Robin, Constantine, Jonah Hex), it’s almost all downhill. I mention these things purely to make the point that, for my view, Akiva Goldsman simply doesn’t really get comic book films, though I’m sure he has tried to educate himself in the ways of medium. It could be that he continues to hold on to some worn out notions of stylisation, character, or simply the commonly held belief that comics are for kids and idiots, so any hackneyed storyline is acceptable. This, coupled with his clear orders from producers, director and studio big-wigs to make things more kid-friendly and cartoony, means that Goldsman has produced a script that is an unholy concoction of flat characters, truly grating dialogue, and a story so simple and dull that you would struggle to care less about it.

The tentative steps of trust, partnership and what it means to be part of a team that were addressed in Batman Forever between the two crime-fighters returns again in Batman & Robin, but just feels so much more forced. It’s been over a year since Dick Grayson partnered up with Bruce Wayne to kick Gotham’s criminals in the collective nuts, but they still seem to have a problem with trust, partnership and what it means to be part of a team. Robin wants his share of the glory, but Batman thinks he isn’t good enough yet. Honestly, this whole storyline just makes Robin come off like a petulant child, which sort of worked for the frustrated emotional arc in the last film, but here is very off-putting. And the introduction of Batgirl is just clichéd and lazy. Here, she is Alfred’s niece (rather than Commissioner Gordon’s daughter) who shows up, says something about computers, rides a bike and becomes the latest addition to the team… that’s it. She does have other stuff about wanting to take her dear uncle away from his life as a servant, which is supposed to open things up to be a consideration of family, but it’s completely hollow. Effectively her entire drive becomes ‘I’m taking my uncle away from this life of servitude’ ‘But he’s family’ ‘Well, then so am I’. She doesn’t really earn a spot on the team so much as force her way in through some sort of vague sense of nepotism.

Poison Ivy’s storyline is one born of environmental mania, with Dr. Pamela Isley trying splice the genes of plants and venomous animals to create plants that can fight back against their human predators. However, she is killed by the other mad scientist in her South American laboratory, who is busy creating a chemically-enhanced super soldier called Bane, who is to be auctioned off to the standard line-up of crazies bent on world domination. Three things: 1) The mad scientist creating a super solider bit is so trite that it’s painful; 2) It utterly destroys the character of Bane, turning the super strong and super smart monster of the comics into a walking blunt instrument; and 3) The bit about Dr. Isley being murdered by a co-worker only to be resurrected by the thing she loved in life, thus turning her into a villain defined that thing, is a near carbon copy of Catwoman’s origin in Batman Returns. When Ivy comes to Gotham, she starts using pheromone dust to drive men wild and turn Batman and Robin against each other, but it all seems so unnecessary. Her ultimate goal is make plants rise up against humanity, which she plans to do with a special flower/snake hybrid she created, but then why bother with anything else? She’s already made the plant, and has shown that she can grow things almost instantly and with a minimum of fuss, so getting near Bruce Wayne, messing with the crime-fighting duo, and teaming up with Mr. Freeze is completely pointless. She could have gone to a local park, planted whatever she wanted and had a floral army almost immediately. By showing up and aligning herself with the bad guy, she put herself in the firing line. She’s just thrown in to further aggravate the Batman/Robin conflict. She is almost nothing but plot hole.

The one interesting arc for the film comes from Mr. Freeze, who was a former Olympian turned Nobel prize-winning biochemist. When his wife contracts a deadly disease, he puts all of his effort into finding a cure, but an accident turns him into someone who can only live in sub zero temperatures. He then becomes a villain, but only to fund his own research to cure his wife. This is actually really good stuff, because it’s got heart and tragedy, as well as the moral questions of doing bad for a good cause. However, much like the Poison Ivy origin, it’s also got nothing to do with Akiva Goldsman. This arc was created for a 1992 episode of Batman: The Animated Series called Heart of Ice, which won an Emmy for writing and is remembered as one of the best, if not the best, episodes of the series. It was so good that the comics took this origin on board and has served as the basis for the character ever since. What Goldsman did with this story was utterly destroy it. Partly because it’s supposed to be cartoony and partly because Schwarzenegger was cast, Freeze is a virtual non-stop pun machine (a “machine pun”, if you will) and completely ridiculous. He hangs out in an abandoned ice cream factory, wears huge bunny slippers and forces his freezing minions to sing cartoon songs for him. The small moments of pathos are ruined by crass jokes as soon as they begin to go in the vague direction of genuine emotion. For example, when a lackey interrupts Freeze watching old home movies of his wife, he freezes him solid and says “I hate it when people talk during the movie.”... Christ. Not only does Goldsman insist on utilising every story cliché, every tired plot device, every achingly bad pun going, but he also crushes any scene that tries to break away from this.

And the dialogue… dear sweet zombie Jesus, the dialogue is abysmal. Almost no one is immune from the clunky, awkward, unfunny words being forced upon them. Only Alfred manages to get away from this, but only because he’s British and dying.

You know what? I think I’ve harped on about Goldsman long enough.

Joel Schumacher takes the overblown approach he used in Batman Forever and manages to outdo himself in Batman & Robin. Supposedly before every shot, he called out to his cast “Remember, this is a cartoon!” This is an easy indication as to how he saw these films. As I said in the Batman Forever review, these were his orders from the studio. He was told to make a film like this, but even this was too much. Aside from helping Goldsman come up with the storyline for the film, he has turned the world of Gotham into a campy, colour-blitzed playground for people to jump around. Every character seems to come with their own signature colour, so the instant they show up, the whole lighting scheme in the room changes. In fact, the visuals match the script perfectly, holding the same subtlety and delicacy as using twenty sticks of dynamite of wash a dinner plate. He also compounds his bizarre addition of nipples to the costume designs by adding abs and asses. His casting choices are just as foolish.

Put simply, George Clooney is not a good Batman or Bruce Wayne, simply because he never stops being George Clooney. Bruce Wayne’s charm is actually just Clooney. Batman’s intimidation factor is non-existent because he’s just Clooney. It’s a wholly unconvincing show from someone I’ve seen do some great work before and since. Chris O’Donnell is just a whiny little annoyance. Alicia Silverstone follows Clooney’s turn and shows up onset as herself in a costume. The worst stuff comes from the villainous sector. Arnold Schwarzenegger is as bad as he always is, so there’s little surprise there. The thing that makes it more painful is that his was the most interesting character with the most potential. I’m not sure I really blame Arnold for this, though. He does show signs that he’s trying, but this is just something that's beyond his capabilities as an actor. Uma Thurman doesn’t really get the same consideration. Though not exactly one of the most revered actresses, she can pull off a decent turn when she wants to. The character of Poison Ivy is weak, and the direction was bad, but Thurman is hardly blameless for the twitchy and over-the-top show she puts on.

There are many people that will tell you Batman Forever is the film that truly ended the original Batman franchise, and that Batman & Robin was merely the final nail. Frankly, this is kind of true. Whilst I will hold that Batman & Robin is the worse film of the two, it was Batman Forever that helped pave the way for this one. If Batman Forever had been a flop, Warner Bros. may have changed their tactics again and tried to recapture the darker tone of the first two films, which they at least knew would get them a consistent audience, even if it wasn't as big as they wanted.

I’ll say again that Schumacher apologised for this film, saying that all he wanted to do was entertain. I understand this, as I think we all can. Nor do I really blame him entirely for Batman & Robin, or the demise of the original franchise, mainly because so many other people are equally responsible. Akiva Goldsman, Warner Bros., Tim Burton, the cast, the production crew, everyone who had their hand in making these films that pandered and patronised the audience at every turn. But most of all, the cinema-going public is responsible for this film, and I include myself in this. Only a few complained about the first two films being too dark, but we all had a part in allowing the change to happen. When Batman Forever dropped, we should have called it quits then and there. But we didn’t, the film became a massive success and made the filmmakers think that this is what we wanted as an audience. The most powerful people in the film industry are, and have always been, the audience. We let these things happen, by letting the crass commercialism and juvenile story-telling dictate where the series went.

We should all very ashamed of ourselves.

Batman Forever (1995)

COURAGE NOW... TRUTH ALWAYS...

Eager to keep the success of the Batman films going, Warner Bros. began the process of developing a third title. However, with the third film, there was a massive shake-up in how the films were made. Tim Burton was replaced as director by Joel Schumacher, though he did stay on as producer; Michael Keaton left the lead role, which was filled by Val Kilmer; the writing team was completely changed; new villains were brought in; and the whole tone and look of the franchise was shifted to something much different to the previous two. The reaction to the film was… mixed, with a bit more emphasis on dislike. As you’d expect, I’ll look at how these changes came to be before I talk about what the result was.

Batman (Val Kilmer) has his hands full fighting the criminal escapades of Harvey ‘Two-Face’ Dent (Tommy Lee Jones), former Gotham D.A. who blames the hero for the disfigurement that split his face and personality. Meanwhile, Edward Nygma (Jim Carrey), an inventor at Wayne Enterprises obsessed with Bruce Wayne, snaps after having his work shut down and begins leaving riddles his former boss. Both Two-Face and The Riddler team up to kill Batman and ruin Bruce Wayne. Added to this are the attentions of psychologist with a thing for Batman, Dr. Chase Meridian (Nicole Kidman), and Dick Grayson (Chris O’Donnell), an acrobat Bruce Wayne takes in after his parents are killed by Two-Face, but who discovers his secret.

Beyond the concerns of many critics and fans that didn’t like the first two films, there was a particular group whose complaints were heard: Parents. Obviously not all parents, but specifically those who objected the darkness of the previous films, saying that they were unable to take their children to see such films. Warner Bros., who generally believed the darkness of Batman Returns to be the reason it under-performed, took their comments on board because this was a firm chance for them to respond directly to audience opinion and make the film more marketable, opening the films up to a younger audience and with an eye on more lucrative and widespread opportunities in the toy market. The decision for these changes to take effect was handed down from on high, which then caused a major reshuffle in the production line-up. As you may have read in the last review, Burton was hesitant about doing even a second film, and was a bit more so for a third time out. What effectively sealed his leaving the director’s chair was the mandate to lighten things up, make them more colourful, more approachable for a younger audience. Although he has done some work, before and since, that had a campy feel to it, he was unwilling to make these changes to the world he had established and vacated the position, although he stayed with the project as a producer. To fill the role, Warner Bros. hired Joel Schumacher, whose most recent films (Falling Down and The Client) had done well, and who agreed to drastically shift the overall tone and feel of the project.

When Schumacher came on board, he brought with him Akiva Goldsman, the primary writer of his most recent adapted work The Client. Goldsman teamed with Lee Batchler and Janet Scott-Batchler, who had been brought on earlier to develop a story. Originally, when Burton was still considered the director of the project, the Riddler was the only villain in the film, but when Schumacher came on board, he chose to add Two-Face to the mix. It was also decided to finally introduce Robin to the films. When Tim Burton stepped back, Danny Elfman also did not return, in favour of Elliot Goldenthal. Director of photography duties were also handed to Stephen Goldblatt.

The casting also had a major shake. When Michael Keaton learned that such major changes were to be made to the new film, he decided to leave the project completely (though there were rumours that he asked for a major pay raise, and was turned down). This led to the casting of Val Kilmer, still riding the plaudits from his work as Doc Holliday in Tombstone. In fact, most of the roles were filled by people who were very hot property at the time, like Chris O’Donnell, Nicole Kidman, Jim Carrey, and Tommy Lee Jones, who had also worked on The Client with Schumacher.

Well, those were the most significant changes to the production. How did they fare?

There’s a word that comes up in Batman Forever at least three times, used by a different character each time. A word that is never used in either Batman or Batman Returns. A word that goes a long way to explaining a lot about the approach to this project as opposed to the other two. The word is “Superhero”. With that word, there comes a world of implication, of imagery, an expectation of a particular sensibility that can only be described as “comic booky”. The visualisation, the styling, the manner of how the characters act and relate is all drawn from this one word and everything that runs through it. What’s even more strange is that it seems like the word has been introduced into the series’ vocabulary not just to take advantage of audience expectations, but also to mock and satirise it. When Grayson claims to be Batman and tries to save a girl from a gang, she says to him, “Doesn’t Batman ever kiss the girl?” They kiss, the music swells in a rather insincere manner and then the fight continues. They’ve purposely acknowledged the whole superhero thing just so they can make fun of it, and that just leaves a bad taste behind.

The story has returned to a campy, over the top manner that the TV series adopted in the 1960s and that the previous films actively tried to distance themselves from. The primary narrative drive comes from the Riddler building a giant “box” through which he can steal people’s thoughts, memories and ideas. Right away, this is a million miles away from the more realistic concerns of the Joker, who just wanted to kill people, and the Penguin, who wanted to steal an election and rise to power. And whilst we’re talking about this, over how long a period does this film take place? It would take a very long time for Edward Nygma to build his company, manufacture products, have them in every household, build his giant island complete with death-traps… Seriously, there’s only one mention as to what time of year one particular scene occurs (Halloween), but even that’s just a trite plot device to get the Riddler and Two-Face into Wayne Manor. The part of teaming the Riddler and Two-Face to kill Batman itself is really just an excuse for destructive action scenes. Then there’s Bruce Wayne’s remarkably unsubtle psychological breaks, which have him randomly spouting lines about his parents being murdered right in front of him and how he promised it would never happen to anyone again and how he wanted to strike fear into the hearts of blah blah blah blah blah… good lord. Then there’s the convenient arrival in town of a hot psychologist with an interest in Batman. The actual introduction of Dick Grayson is probably the plotline most competently handled, although the manner in which he finds out Bruce Wayne’s secret and becomes Robin is hamfisted nonsense.

There’s also a use of the most ridiculous pop psychology. Psychological terms like “neuroses” and “scarred psyche” and “alternate personality” are dropped in every now and then to make it seem like it all makes sense, explaining the careful construction of each character’s motivation, but it’s all just surface. A moment like when Wayne sees a bat in a Rorschach test is played to have way more significance than it actually does. Even then, this notion of split identity, with Two-Face and Batman and Chase and that little sleep doll thing, was territory already covered by Batman Returns, and much better.

The characters themselves have simply become caricatures. Batman is still brooding, but he’s no longer the darkly introspective type. He has suddenly developed a desire to openly discuss his traumatic past. This immediately sets itself in opposition to the character of the first two films. In Keaton’s Bruce Wayne/Batman, he was a fairly dark guy, but he at least owned his own trauma and used it to drive him forward. Here, he seems to be just looking for an excuse to tell someone about it. He’s also been given more one-liners to make it more fun for the youngsters (“Can I persuade you to take a sandwich with you, sir?” “I’ll get drive-thru.”). Really, who is this guy? As it is, Val Kilmer does his job perfectly adequately, but that’s part of the problem. He portrays Bruce Wayne as written, but nothing more. He delivers the one-liners well, gets the humour and holds a nice charm, but he’s always much more convincing as Bruce Wayne than Batman, mainly because he’s never really a threatening presence, which is what Batman is meant to be.

For someone who is meant to be the living embodiment of split personality, Two-Face doesn’t have one personality, let alone two. He’s meant to be driven by revenge, but controlled by the whims of chance, hence the constant flipping of a coin, however this is just adopted as an affect rather than a compulsion. There’s a moment where he sits on a couch, flipping the coin to see if he will shoot Bruce Wayne or not. He flips; it lands on the good side. Annoyed by this, he continues to do it until he gets the bad side, where he then promptly pulls out his gun and shoots… this isn’t Two-Face. When the Riddler tells him that he has a “serious impulse control problem”, this is a clear indication that the writers have fundamentally misunderstood the character. Two-Face has supreme impulse control - the coin always makes the decision; he just acts on what it tells him, regardless of what happens. And Tommy Lee Jones is quite bad, spending the whole movie over-acting to the point of aneurysm, desperately chasing Jack Nicholson’s show in Batman. For such a usually bankable actor, this is a far cry from what we know he can do.

The Riddler is also one that has been rather misrepresented. He begins the film in a manner that’s rather appropriate: highly intelligent, massive ego, huge inferiority complex. However, things change as the film continues. Part of the Riddler’s personality was always that he believed he was smarter than everyone else and sought to prove it over and over again, hence all the puzzles. For his plan to revolve around making himself more intelligent by stealing other people’s minds is ridiculously over the top and somewhat contrary to his regular modus operandi. What’s even stranger is how he decides on his Riddler persona. When he first uses his machine on his supervisor and discovers its brain-enhancing power, he yells at him “Riddle me this!”… okay, fair enough. After this, he leaves two separate riddles for Bruce Wayne, each in envelopes adorned with a question mark… once again, okay. However, it’s only after this that he decides on both his costume and name. Why wasn’t that the first thing he thought of? Why did he consider the Puzzler (dressed in crossword robes), the Gamester (dressed as a giant chess piece) and Captain Kill (dressed in army fatigues) before deciding to name himself after the very puzzle he has already used and dressing like the question mark-covered figure that sits in his apartment and workstation? It’s bizarre. Jim Carrey does at least give you something to watch without being too grating, though that line is crossed a few times.

Dick Grayson is… well, he’s okay actually. His motivation is clear, and can at least be both sympathetic and a bit of dick. He’s impulsive, brave, strong-willed, though often infuriating in his ability to not think things through… so, he’s a pretty decent portrait of a young man with vengeance on his mind. It’s rather a shame that he never has any decent moments after actually putting on the Robin costume. Seriously, go and watch it. Before he gets his new duds and cape, he’s adept and handy; afterwards, he makes a bad joke, crashes a boat, gets beaten, kidnapped and then rescued. Weird, isn’t it? Chris O’Donnell’s performance is actually pretty well suited to the brash young man, though this does mean he becomes kind of an ass to the audience.

And Dr. Chase Meridian is, well, she’s quite fickle and a bit of a tramp. Yes, she’s smart because she’s a doctor and she’s tough because she knocks hell out of punch bag in her office, but the most prominent personality trait that shines through is that she’s really quite promiscuous and indecisive. She doesn’t know if she wants Batman or Bruce Wayne, generally deciding she wants to be with the one who isn’t there. And Kidman looks very pretty… that’s about all you can say.

Joel Schumacher’s handling of the film, though no doubt in keeping with what Warner Bros. wanted (i.e. an enormous toy advert), is such a visual and aural assault that it’s difficult to think of where to start. Put in the most all-encompassing terms, it all looks like a cartoon. The colours are all neons and piercing lights, so it’s like Gotham has relocated itself to the main dance floor of a nightclub; action scenes, and some regular ones, are filled with inane stings and sound effects, like tings and squelches and boings; and the character design is ludicrous. One of the most regularly decried decisions was to put nipples on the Batsuit, and it’s a fair complaint. Schumacher said that he wanted to give the suit a more “anatomical” look, which is all well and good but makes no sense in the practicality of the film world. Imagine the conversation between Bruce and Alfred on the reality of that choice:

            Bruce: Alfred, I’ve decided I want nipples on the Batsuit.

            Alfred: What for, sir?

            Bruce: I want it to look more anatomical.

            Alfred: Well, Master Wayne, in that case, how about I put a bellybutton on it,

too?

            Bruce: Well, I…

            Alfred: And perhaps some eyebrows on the face? And some people ears?

How about a birthmark for good measure? You’re meant to be a symbol of

fear to the criminal underworld, not a freaking go-go dancer. You tossbag.

The same goes for the decision to give Robin an earring to “make him look hip.” Okay, kids may think he looks like a rebel, but all it takes is one evildoer to rip the thing off in a fight and he’ll be in trouble. Again, it’s a decision that holds little practical weight in the reality being presented. And when it’s more plausible for a street gang to go around caked in neon face paint than it is for a particular character to wear an earring, you know there’s a problem somewhere.

There are some things Schumacher did better than Burton. As I have said before, Burton was never particularly adept with action sequences, but Schumacher is. The fights and chases do look much faster and more dynamic, although the first fight sequence has an editing rhythm more suited to punching the audience than Henchman #3. However, giving it its due, compared to the previous films, this one is much more explosive and fast-paced. It’s just that everything that surrounds these scenes is pretty bad.

Really, the worst thing you could do before watching Batman Forever is watch the previous two Batman films, since it just highlights the massive gap in style and approach. By comparison, this film comes off as noisy, stupid, cheap and kind of heartless. Even when taken on its own terms, it still falls flat with absurd characterisation, a ridiculously overblown story and a general style that makes it all feel so flippant and disposable. The toys that were sold on the back of this film were more solidly made than this.

Batman Returns (1992)

THE BAT, THE CAT, THE PENGUIN

Next on the list for Batman Week is the appropriately titled sequel Batman Returns, in which Batman… returns.  Following the massive success of the first outing (despite some critical backlash, it took just over $400 million from a $35 million budget), Warner Bros. were understandably eager to capitalise on the public’s desire for further adventures of the Batman. Though neither one had signed on in advance, and were even hesitant to agree to a second film, both Tim Burton and Michael Keaton returned to Gotham for the sequel, bringing along two or three new stars for the ride.

It’s Christmas in Gotham City, but the streets are still plagued with crime, so there is still a need for Batman (Michael Keaton). A new threat comes to the city in the form of the Penguin (Danny DeVito), a deformed psychotic intent on being accepted into Gotham society, aided by crooked businessman Max Shreck (Christopher Walken), whom he coerces into helping him, which includes demonising the Caped Crusader. However, plans are complicated by the appearance of Catwoman (Michelle Pfeiffer), a mysterious figure with a serious grudge against Shreck.

When it came time to make Batman Returns, the initial steps were taken almost instantaneously. Right away the original screenwriter, Sam Hamm, was brought back to draft a follow-up script, which was apparently set to be a direct sequel, picking up where the characters and events of the last film left off, before the decision was made to realise not one new villain, but two – Penguin and Catwoman. Warner Bros. also asked for Tim Burton and Michael Keaton to come back. Burton was hesitant, saying that he would only come back if there was the chance to do something interesting with it; Keaton said that he would come back, but with a better paycheque (clearly still a little irked at the huge amount Nicholson made from the first film) and more to do. Agreeing to all such terms, Warner Bros. coaxed the two back, even demoting the first film’s producers, Jon Peters and Peter Guber, to executive producer status in order to give Burton more creative control over proceedings. Upon his return, and in a move very similar to the first film, Burton’s first act was to reject the initial script from Hamm (in which the Penguin and Catwoman went after hidden treasure), opting to bring in another writer to come up with a new direction. As such, Burton brought in Heathers scribe Daniel Waters (we’ll overlook his writing credit immediately before Batman Returns… Hudson Hawk), who decided to take a different approach.

The script for Batman Returns is actually really good. Whereas the first Batman had the villain try to take over the city, but spend most of his time being annoyed that Batman got the press coverage and the hot blonde, the villains here are driven by something different altogether. Max Schreck is a more classic real world-type bad guy, who holds himself in the public image as benevolent, charitable, a wealthy man with the common touch. However, he is a corrupt and amoral businessman with an insatiable desire for power, in this case quite literally as he plans to build a new and completely unnecessary power plant in Gotham that will drain more energy than it gives. He’s greedy, unscrupulous and, if pushed, murderous.

In the corner of more fantastical villainy, there’s Penguin. Drawn here, Penguin is a thoroughly tragic character, born to wealthy parents, but callously abandoned at Christmas because his hideous form and vicious nature are just too much for them to take. Literally thrown from a bridge whilst still in his basket, the river carries him to the sewers, where he spends most of his life as an urban legend to Gothamites, with a brief stint as a sideshow freak in a travelling circus. Looking to return to the city as a kind of long lost son, he manufactures a rescue of the mayor’s child and, adopting a humble public persona, becomes the new “Golden Boy of Gotham”. All the while, his bitter resentment and ferocious anger see him plotting against the citizens, blackmailing Shreck into helping him re-enter society, and culminating in a plan of such homicidal depravity that even his own henchmen start to question it, resulting in a swift gunshot to the gut. What’s great is that Shreck thinks he can benefit from this, believing he can control the Penguin, pushing him for mayoral election and thereby getting his power plant approved.

The one that no one really figured on was Catwoman, who effectively forces her way into the melee for her own reasons. Selina Kyle begins as the meek secretary (sorry, Executive Assistant) to the callous Shreck, but when she pokes around too much, he pitches her through an office window and into the alley below. Whether she survived or actually died isn’t terribly clear (the debate rages on today), she is revived by cats and comes around very traumatised and supremely pissed off. From here on, she assumes the alter-ego of Catwoman and sets herself on destroying Max Shreck. This puts her in the firing line of Batman and the romantic sights of Penguin; but this equally puts them in her line of fire.

Bruce Wayne/Batman himself is put under some stresses as he attempts to stop Shreck’s crooked deal in business, investigate the origins and motives of the Penguin, put an end to Catwoman’s destructive spree, and engage in a romantic relationship with Selina Kyle. It all becomes more complicated when he is framed for a woman’s murder, turning the city against him.

Yes, there is actually a lot going on in this movie. Characters and motivations are played against one another really nicely. Allegiances are made carefully and enemies are made recklessly, with the regular thematic concern of false personas, split identity and the masks worn for nefarious purposes or self-preservation. There’s also the concern of where the line is between hero and villain. In the beginning, the people of Gotham love and trust Shreck, are hesitantly thankful for Batman, are unsure of the existence of Penguin, and have no idea who Catwoman is. Over the course of the film, Shreck’s credibility will be built and diminished, Batman will be demonised, Penguin will be exalted and cast away, and Catwoman always rests in the zone between hero and villain (her first public act is to save a woman from a mugger, only to then attack the woman herself). All the while, for all of the immorality of their actions, the sheer horror of their plans, we are always given a chance to understand why they do what they do. The Joker was someone who liked to create chaos and terror because he enjoyed it; the villains here have much more relatable concerns, even if they appal us.

Tim Burton, having been given a bigger budget and more freedom to work, has gone wild with grim Expressionist flair. Shreck is a direct nod to two different villains of German Expressionism, with his name coming from the actor who first portrayed Nosferatu, and his look coming from the titular character from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. And though the city no longer exists in the filthy shadows of the first film, it has been replaced with a look that’s brighter, but no less dark for its eerie implication and starkness. I said in the Batman review that he had, in Gotham City, created one of the truly great cityscapes of cinema. The city of Batman Returns is equally impressive, with a thick layer of snow peppering the air and covering the dirt. It’s almost like the city itself has adopted a seasonal mask of snow in the hopes that the citizens will forget the unsettling truth beneath the surface.

He’s also crafted some genuinely affecting moments between these characters. The realisation between Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle of their respective identities as they dance is nicely underplayed, and the final scene with Penguin is, despite him being a monster, achingly sad. And his cast do a great job in capturing these moments. Keaton seems more comfortable in his dual role here, still able to be badass, but human as well. Michelle Pfeiffer is absolutely superb as Selina Kyle/Catwoman, beginning so meek and awkward before tearing through with a confidence and swagger that is seductive as all hell, and without screaming as regularly or as pointlessly as the last film’s heroine. Christopher Walken is an unsettling presence as always, mainly because whenever you look at him, no matter what he says, you know something isn’t right with him, that’s he’s not to be trusted. And Danny DeVito is… okay, before I make my point, I’ll just say this. For his performance in this film, Danny DeVito was nominated for a Golden Razzie, the anti-Oscar, as Worst Supporting Actor. Personally, I think that’s a damn travesty, because he’s brilliant as the Penguin. His physicality, his emotionality, his voice, that vicious streak, that angry stare, there’s not a moment when he’s not convincing… that’s not anti-Oscar material, that’s Oscar material. Damn Razzies.

Danny Elfman even ups his game with the score to Batman Returns, from his already excellent work on the first film. There’s still the dark drive and swell of the music that we had become familiar with, but it’s all become so much grander, with things ranging from the hugely operatic to the quiet delicacy of a trinket box or, more appropriately, a musical snow globe. It is a fine soundtrack that rests underneath all of this.

Honestly, I think Batman Returns is better than Batman. The script is stronger, the pace is improved, the action is handled better (although action scenes were never really Burton’s forte), there’s some actual attempts at depth and subtext in the story and characters, and, although I still really like the dark and grimy look of the first film, I much prefer the look of this film, which has a eerily beautiful, almost elegiac tone. It’s more involving, more eerie, more horrific, more tragic… yes, I prefer the second to the first in almost every way. In fact, this is one of two films that are the contenders for my favourite Tim Burton film ever. Oh, yes.

Batman (1989)

Ladies and Gentlemen... welcome to Batman Week. For this whole week, I shall be looking at the movie adventures of the Caped Crusader himself – the two from Tim Burton, the two from Joel Schumacher, the two from Christopher Nolan, and one animated film. Beginning with the first big one, it’s 1989’s Batman. Following the success of the Superman movie in 1978, there was an almost instantaneous decision to bring DC’s other big hero to the big screen. After spending several years in Development Hell, going through writers, directors and stars, production finally began and the mainstream movie world was introduced to a hero far removed from the campy TV incarnation they were all familiar with. From the vision of director Tim Burton, this is Batman.

Gotham City: a dark and dangerous place, peopled by the poor, the criminal and the corrupt. From this darkness comes Batman (Michael Keaton), a caped vigilante who strikes fear into the hearts of the city’s criminal underworld. When his attempts to stop sociopath Jack Napier (Jack Nicholson) during a robbery, the villain is horribly disfigured after falling into a chemical vat. Having survived, Napier returns to society as the Joker, a full-blown lunatic with a vicious sense of humour. Batman must now stop him from trying to kill the citizens of Gotham.

In the initial stages of the film’s development, the job of writing the script was given to Tom Mankiewicz, who did some uncredited work on the Superman script. Apparently, in the early conception of the project, Mankiewicz decided to stick with the formula set by Superman and created an origin story that was very similar in both beat and structure to the previously successful comic adaptation. However, things eventually changed when the script found its way to Tim Burton, who had only one film under his belt by that point, Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure. Having a predisposition towards darker, more psychologically compromised characters, Burton was not impressed with the script. And to be fair, he’s right. As many have stated, the two characters, Superman and Batman, represent two completely different aspects of heroism and the human condition. Superman is about hope; Batman is about despair. As such, when Burton signed on, his first act was to dismiss the Mankiewicz script and bring in another writer, Sam Hamm, to take a fresh crack at it. Together, they had decided to eschew the origin story path and construct a world in which Batman already existed, with more of an origin being given to the character of the Joker (Burton has always been more fascinated by villains than good guys, but then who isn’t?). An interesting aspect to the proceedings actually comes from this very idea of origins. Part of the Batman mythos has always been the idea that he is as responsible for the rise of specialised crime, brought on by the infamous Rogue’s Gallery, as anything else. Without crime, there would be no Batman; without Batman, there would be no crime. This cyclic notion is worked in as they make Batman literally responsible for the the Joker’s condition (his failure to save him makes him both disfigured and crazy), but eventual revelations show that the Joker was, back when he was still a young Jack Napier, the one responsible for the deaths of Bruce Wayne’s parents, thus leading to the boy becoming Batman. Personally, I think this is very clever, but also a bit of a misstep. On one side, it does run nicely on the one-begets-the-other principle; however, I think it rather detracts from the character of Bruce Wayne/Batman slightly. That Batman is able to finally confront and indeed kill the man responsible for his parents’ death takes away from that feeling of unresolved anger, which is what drove him to become what he is. It still works perfectly well, but it’s just never sat right with me.

It’s rather surprising nowadays to think that there were harsh protests at Burton being given the reigns of such a big film, although it makes perfect sense on a visionary level. There are genuinely few directors working today (or ever, for that matter) who can rival the uniquely dark and strangely beautiful visuals of Tim Burton. Taking heavy influence from the Expressionist style of the German silent pictures of the 1920s, and filtering them through his own strikingly free aesthetic, Burton can truly create a world like no one else, full of a distinctive idiosyncrasy and style. His design and formation of the city of Gotham is one of the genuinely great cityscape visions in cinema, created with the equally talented visionary stylings of Production Designer Anton Furst and Cinematographer Roger Pratt (In fact, so good was the art direction on the film that it won an Oscar). The streets look grim, dreary, compact, suffocating. There seems to be a permanent shadow hanging over the city, even turning daytime into a downbeat visage. The buildings are so close together that, at ground level, you feel like there’s little room to breath or get away. Considering what was reportedly a very modest budget for effects, they’ve made something quite nice. The lack of real budget does sting a little in the action sequences, particularly the car chase when Batman rescues Vicki Vale from the Joker. Since it really looks like there’s not much room to move, it doesn’t have the complete dynamic impact such a scene should have.

The performances of the film are, mostly, quite strong. As much as there were protests about Tim Burton directing the film, there were virtually pitched assaults on the casting of Michael Keaton in the title role. Again, this was due to the fact that most people had only seen him in light comedies and romance films, so the idea of him donning the cape and cowl was absurd (to really understand it, imagine if they cast Adam Sandler as Batman after only three movies… yes, that’s roughly what people thought). However, Keaton does a really good job, giving a performance that’s understated and based on quiet implication. He also does a pretty good job of being threatening, despite the fact that he’s not exactly the most physically imposing type. One thing I rather do appreciate is that Batman doesn’t really send his enemies off with a dry witticism or flippant remark. He just deals with them and moves on because, dammit, he’s got a job to do. He’s not here for fun.

However, if there’ one performance that you remember from the film, it is of course Jack Nicholson. You could say that for virtually every film he’s in, but he was famous for having stolen the whole film, and you can see why. Never one to be shy of stepping over the crazy line, he’s given free reign to play it big. With a character like the Joker, there’s no such thing as ‘too big’. And he does it so well. Only he could hold the wide grin and dead eyes at the same time, all whilst gleefully dancing, singing or committing a massacre, either on people or works of art. You almost can’t really take his threats seriously because he’s so clearly having fun with it all. A lot of the reason that people remember him so much, aside from the performance, is because, as I said before, Burton prefers spending time with his villains. It’s actually still something of an annoyance to some, those easily identified when they refer to the film as "Jokerman."

The other performances are decent, although suffer from characters being less than fully realised. Kim Basinger’s Vicki Vale is interesting to some degree, though it is the characterisation that lets her down. Already a very well known photojournalist (she got the cover of Time magazine), she comes to Gotham to look into the Batman story, but that’s never really sufficiently explained or developed. It feels more like a convenient way to inject her into the story world, where she then spends a fair amount of time being rescued or screaming. There is one moment that should have been bigger, too, when Alfred shows her to Bruce Wayne in the Batcave. As far as the audience knows, this is how she discovers that Wayne is Batman and… nothing. There’s no kind of reaction from either of them. I know that they tried to make everything as downplayed as possible, but this is a huge moment and it lands with all the drama of a marshmallow.

Other supporting characters are okay, but no one really outstanding, again because no one has much to do. Robert Wuhl’s Knox is dogged in a humorous kind of way, but hardly memorable; Billy Dee Williams as Harvey Dent is cool (because he’s Billy Dee Williams), but nothing is done with him; Carl Grissom, played by Jack Palance, is given some ferocity, but he’s a character quickly removed; and even Tracey Walter’s Bob, though somewhat important to the Joker and beloved by many fans, is only memorable because he’s Tracey Walter. Michael Gough’s Alfred is a good presence, though is rarely more than a good-natured old lackey to Wayne.

Burton’s first crack at the Batman character is, if I’m honest, something of a mixed bag. The visuals are superb, without question. The art direction, cinematography and overall atmosphere of Gotham are really something to behold. The character design of both Batman and the Joker are also very good, with both Keaton and Nicholson doing some fine work in their respective roles, although Nicholson clearly steals the show. Even Danny Elfman’s superb music is almost as famous and influential as John Williams’ work on Superman. And yet, for all of this, there is still something unmistakably lacking in the film. Whilst I don’t think it’s a complete triumph of style over substance, it’s certainly looking in that direction. The pacing is very slow, with little real development of story over such a long duration, so it can feel a bit laborious at times. There’s often a great lack of urgency or tension, with the scene in Vicki Vale’s apartment with Bruce Wayne, which then gets interrupted by the Joker, being one example. For me, it all feels much flatter than it should. Much of the problem could have been addressed by being more streamlined in the narrative, such as excising the subplot about Knox and Vale investigating the existence of Batman. If developed properly, this could have been really good, but at this level, it serves only as an occasional distraction.

This all may sound like I’m badmouthing the film, but I’m not… well, not completely anyway. If nothing else, Batman showed that a dark comic adaptation could work with a mainstream audience. It suitably set the standard of the more grim and sinister superhero films that have been built on, with good and bad results, ever since. Yes, I think there are problems with it on a level of telling a completely gripping story, but there’s no denying the importance of the film and it’s impact on the overall culture of the comic book movie.

BASEketball (1998)

TWO GUYS INVENTED A GAME... AND TURNED THE SPORTS WORLD UPSIDE DOWN!

Back before David Zucker became one of the men behind Airplane!, The Kentucky Fried Movie and the Police Squad series, and thus changing the face of comedy forever, he was a regular youngster playing ball with his friends in his driveway. However, the game they played wasn’t the one you would expect. They played a game of their own creation, a weird hybrid of baseball and basketball. As it is, their formative driveway hi-jinx stayed only within that small circle, and Zucker would go on to become a famous filmmaker with his brother and friend. In 1998, though, when he hadn’t stepped behind the camera for a few years, Zucker decided that it was time to share the game of his youth with world.

Two jobless losers from Milwaukee, Joe Cooper (Trey Parker) and Doug Remer (Matt Stone), invent a new game playing basketball, but using baseball rules: BASEketball. After the game gains popularity, and with help from billionaire Ted Denslow (Ernest Borgnine), they form the Professional BASEketball League where everyone gets the same pay and no team can change cities. However, when Denslow dies and bequeaths the team to Cooper, a rival team owner, Baxter Cain (Robert Vaughan), tries to force changes on the game to make more money.

Considering that the film was about the creation and development of a hybrid sport, it seems somewhat fitting that the comedic influence of the project would be something of a hybrid itself. Although it was a project pursued without the aid of David Zucker’s regular partners, brother Jerry and friend Jim Abrahams, his individual comedy stylings are still very well established: a simple storyline crammed with jokes to the point of bursting. To try and compliment this, a new sensibility was added, namely Trey Parker and Matt Stone, creators of South Park. South Park had landed on TV screens the year before and made an instant impression on the world for its crudeness (both in jokes and production values) and its controversy (the show was one of several things blamed for youthful delinquency). Convinced that the show would last only one season before being cancelled, Parker and Stone looked elsewhere for their next project and fell upon Zucker’s new film, which would be his first as director for seven years. Needless to say, the potential for these different comedic methods mixing together did create something of a ripple of anticipation. As it is, South Park wasn’t cancelled, which meant that Parker and Stone, now committed to two different projects, had to film BASEketball by day and make South Park by night.

When I said that Zucker tends to operate with a basic story for his films, I’m not kidding. The script for BASEketball is a thing riddled with cliché and standard set-pieces, which clearly is written in such a manner that the force of personality is what makes the film, and jokes, shine. There are familiar Zucker-isms in there, including his standard cruelty to kids bit that lifts straight from Airplane! (someone accidentally causes a sick child distress) and gags in the background, as well cameo appearances from his old buddies Robert Stack and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. However, there are two things that I find odd about the script. The first is that there are, including Zucker, four credited writers on this film. Seriously, four? Normally when more than two people contribute to a script, it starts to suffer from the old Too Many Cooks Syndrome, making it feel disjointed and unwieldy. But the script for BASEketball doesn’t feel this way at all, if anything suffering from feeling too basic, with little development beyond the simple blueprint of the very familiar story arc. That sure is a lot of no effort from four writers.

The second problem that I have with things is that Trey Parker and Matt Stone clearly had such an integral influence on how this film was made, so it’s seems unfair that they not be given credit at all. For example, the role of Squeak Scolari was concocted by the pair, who insisted that Zucker create a third character for the central unit, and this has a huge effect on how things progress. Plus, so much of their dialogue is so clearly their words and not those that others wrote for them, with the infamous ‘psyche-outs’ being the biggest example of this. When they’re not onscreen, you can bet that it was Zucker and co. behind it; when Parker and Stone are onscreen, there is virtually nothing that isn’t theirs. There are even numerous jokes that refer directly to the pair. For example, when they signed up for the film, many of their South Park fans instantly began calling them sell-outs, so when Joe calls Doug a sell-out, they both get a look on their faces as if they’ve heard this somewhere before. Also, Parker twice breaks out character voices from South Park, of Mr. Garrison and Cartman respectively. There is even a scene featuring a song written and performed by Parker to his own character, which is itself so very much a thing that he would do.

And this rather brings me to a major point of the film. Whilst I do think it’s funny, and laughed several times throughout, there is a clear gap between how funny the Zucker portion is and how funny the Parker/Stone portion is. They’re both funny, but the latter jokes, for all their crudity, are much more effective. Most of the film will give you small laughs and chuckles, but the big laughs come from the aforementioned psyche-outs, which are given all of their punch by Parker and Stone. It therefore creates a weird imbalance in the film, where you spend a lot of the run-of-the-mill, if competently handled plot waiting to get back to the bits you know will be funnier. Now, Zucker has done a good job in keeping the pace up, so the film isn’t a slog, but there’s still the mild sense of impatience that comes through it all. Certainly, there are some jokes that simply don’t work, like Ernest Borgnine singing I’m Too Sexy in his own video will, but there is certainly more funny than not.

The performances are of varied quality. Parker and Stone both put on a very spirited and funny show (although Joe and Doug are likely not a million miles away from the reality of the pair’s friendship); Dian Bachar really commits to the role of Squeak Scolari, being self-effacing, emotional and damn funny (his delivery of the line “I am not a piece of shit” absolutely slays me - seriously, I had to stop and laugh just there); and even Yasmine Bleeth actually regularly hits a decent comedic stride for much of the film. Robert Vaughan is also always a decent bad guy, but Jenny McCarthy comes off the worst, though it’s mostly because her role requires her only to look good and not do too much else.

BASEketball is a pretty silly movie, and the story is as familiar as it can get, but it’s harmless and has still got some very funny stuff to it. It’s the psyche-outs that are the best jokes, so you may end up feeling a bit uninterested when they’re not on, but there is still enough to keep you entertained throughout. Honestly, it’s a perfectly decent Friday-night-with-friends movie, so don’t judge it too harshly.