"WRITER'S CUT": A collection of previously-published posts that have been thoroughly reexamined and re-edited by yours truly. (The following was originally published on November 21, 2016, and has been updated ahead of the soon-to-be-released Amazon/A24 documentary Val.)
One of the interesting things about looking back on the history of comic book characters and their leap to the silver screen is learning about (and from) their respective high and low points. This includes the respective filmmakers' creative control and Hollywood's long reputation of studio interference.
A few years ago, I had written extensively about Batman (the first--and, to this day, favorite--comic book/superhero character I ever remember) and his big-screen interpretations since 1989. In fact, it was that seminal Tim Burton-directed feature that gave new life to the character after a two-decade absence (read my initial review of the film here). Since then, I've had two other fond childhood memories of the character and the franchise: the award-winning animated series that premiered on Fox in 1992, and the 1995 sequel/reboot, Batman Forever.
The original movies from the late-1980s to the late-1990s have generally been criticized for their style over substance, action over story, and villains over heroes. The first movie (which pitted Michael Keaton's Caped Crusader against Jack Nicholson's wild-and-crazy Joker) had an artful-yet-dark tone, for sure. The second film, 1992's Batman Returns, initially upset critics--and eventually numerous soccer moms--with its grim and nightmarish atmosphere, as Bruce Wayne (Keaton, once again) battled both the nasty Penguin (Danny DeVito) and the sensuous Catwoman (Michelle Pfeiffer). This backlash prompted Warner Brothers to aim for a lighter, more family-friendly approach with the next installment--despite the fact that the previous outing, the 1993 animated feature/spin-off Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, was PG-rated. Having rewatched Forever in retrospect, I stand heavily divided on it, as far as I'm concerned.
On the positive side, Val Kilmer is an effecting Bruce Wayne at best, while an interesting and distinct Batman at least. (The Top Gun/Tombstone actor has a hypnotic and mesmerizing voice to begin with.) The motif of duality and split personalities is prevalent not just in Kilmer's rendition, but also in the supporting cast of characters from Harvey Dent/Two-Face (Tommy Lee Jones), abnormal psychiatrist Dr. Chase Meridian (Nicole Kidman), acrobat-turned-sidekick Dick Grayson/Robin (Chris O'Donnell), and scene-stealing mad scientist Edward Nygma/The Riddler (Jim Carrey). Carrey's scenes, in fact, give the film a physically-comedic vibe similar to Nicholson's in the original and Pfeiffer's in Returns. It also helps that Robin's origin story is well told in this 1995 iteration.
But despite a brilliant flashback sequence showcasing Bruce's evident and complex past (along with Kilmer's aforementioned voice and haunting narration), the two disadvantages of his performance are his sex appeal, and the character's lack of mystery and terror. Moments of sensuality between him and Kidman's Meridian are unnecessary, especially when trying to appeal to a broader audience. Plus, the now-infamous rubber Batsuit nipples are more than a distraction, as they are for many other viewers.
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| The newly-styled Batmobile in Batman Forever |
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| George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell in Batman & Robin |
While the complexity of the Caped Crusader does surface at times, all of that really takes a backseat to the popcorn entertainment and action that permeates this movie. The filmmakers have stated that the look of Gotham City here was inspired by the comics of the 1950s, and they even paid clever homage to the first appearances of Robin and the Riddler from that era. On the other hand, one reviewer compared this film's Gotham City to Las Vegas, while producer Peter Macgregor-Scott described it as "Saturday Night Fever on acid." Some of the action sequences (including the stylish Batmobile speeding up the side of a building) are pretty cool and spectacular. But there's, also, the film's biggest disadvantage, in terms of over-the-top pyrotechnics and characterizations (Jones' Two-Face is extremely overkill, I should add). And this "overkill" would unfortunately dominate the critical and commercial disappointment that was 1997's Batman & Robin, and leave the franchise in the dust for a time.
George Clooney (who replaced Kilmer in the 1997 movie) has stated that doing Batman & Robin was one of his biggest career regrets, while O'Donnell summed it up to a tee: "When I made Batman Forever, I felt like I was making a movie. When I made [Batman & Robin], I felt like I was making a toy commercial." Clooney and director Joel Schumacher have since apologized, while recently there has been a demand for a reported "Schumacher Cut" of Forever (said to be much darker and less cartoony than the finished product).
When interviewed years later on the general public's response to both Schumacher films, executive producer Michael E. Uslan (who's been a producer on the franchise since 1989) described it this way:
The best way I can answer that is probably to talk generally about the industry, as opposed to talking specifically about Batman. There are times when you need to step back and realize that movie studios today are not necessarily the same things that they were many years ago. Many movie studios are international conglomerates now. They own everything from theme parks to toy companies to T-shirt companies to video companies. There's a lot of different wheels to be greased. Sometimes, over the decades, the tail started wagging the dog. In some cases, decisions were being guided more by toys and Happy Meals than by creative filmmaking. The danger there is that the entertainment you're making starts to feel like an infomercial for toys, as opposed to great film. Rather than being in a position where a studio dictates that a movie should be light, bright, and kiddie-friendly and family-friendly, with three or four heroes and three or four villains, and each one having two costume changes and two vehicles, to satisfy the toy and merchandising requirement, I think just letting filmmakers-great filmmakers-just go out and make great films, with a belief that if they make great films, you're going to sell merchandising and video games and things anyway, is the best way to do it.
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| Tim Burton behind the scenes of Batman Returns |
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| Michelle Pheiffer, Danny DeVito and Michael Keaton in Batman Returns |
Uslan makes a great point in starting with films first, and then having toys and merchandising spin off from that. I think one of the reasons Batman Forever and its mind-numbing follow-up don't hold up today is because, at the time, they seemed to fulfill the supposed expectations of what Hollywood thought a conventional comic-book movie should be (complete with a hip, pop soundtrack album), instead of allowing filmmakers to bring their own creative visions to life. (The same thing happened with the Superman franchise in the 1980s.)
This is why Burton's respective films in the series stand out, what with their artful, intriguing and provocative undertones. (To be fair, Returns is more episodic, and absolutely not for children.) On the other hand, all of the films here (preceding Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, which brought much-needed dignity back to the series in spades) showcase Batman's adaptability to both art house-style filmmaking and summer blockbuster entertainment (for better or worse), as well as to comic books and animation and other mediums. Personally, I'll take complexity and morality tales over glamour and glitz any day of the week.
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