Revisit: Batman

Revisit:

1989

There have been three distinctive cycles of modern Batman films: the Tim Burton ones, Joel Schumacher’s disastrous attempts and the Christopher Nolan’s recent films, 2005′s Batman Begins and last year’s The Dark Knight, starring Christian Bale, which may be the most acclaimed. The Dark Knight qualifies as one of the bleakest films to ever be a summer blockbuster, anchored by a galvanizing, inventive performance by the late Heath Ledger as the Joker, who received a posthumous Oscar. As much as I respect the rebooted series, it is almost unrelentingly, existentially dark. Batman Begins admirably cleared away the mess that had been made by Schumacher, but took itself a little too seriously, as though Nietzsche had sat in with the writers. The Dark Knight was awfully somber too, but it at least had Ledger’s anarchic, nihilistically comic performance.

Many of the reviews, concentrating on the strengths of the new films, have overlooked the first two films, directed by Burton and starring Michael Keaton as Batman. It’s important to remember that when Batman came out in 1989, the general perception of the character was still tied to the campy, poppy 1960s TV (Pow! Zock!) series starring Adam West in tacky tights. The filmmakers had to reposition a well-known character and, as much as the Nolan/Bale films, they emphasized the darkness and troubled soul of the title character. Granted, some of their work had been done for them by two important, influential graphic novels: Frank Miller’s brutal, beautifully drawn The Dark Knight, in which Batman was nearly as violent as those he fought, and Alan Moore and Brian Bollard’s slim, intelligent The Killing Joke, which focused on the relationship between Batman and the Joker, whose origin is explored in detail.

As with Nolan, Burton was a relatively untested director when he made Batman. He had made two well-liked films that eventually ascended to cult status, Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Beetlejuice, which showed off his quirky sensibility and twisted humor. With Batman, he faced a problem that subsequent directors like Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson have wrestled with: how to make a huge, big-budget, franchise film about iconic characters, while still retaining a recognizable, idiosyncratic directorial style? Part of what makes Batman interesting is this tension. Burton’s touch is most felt in Anton Furst’s production design, which is sleek, black, and stylized; putting the gothic back in Gotham City, and referencing such landmarks of design as Metropolis, Blade Runner and Brazil. Both futuristic and retro, if would prove to be influential in the ’90s, especially on sci-fi/comic book-style films like The Matrix and The Shadow, the latter of which showed us how not to do a superhero movie.

Michael Keaton was a controversial choice for Batman, as he wasn’t a conventional leading man, had done mostly comedies, and was lacking the square-jawed looks of the comic character. Yet I think he’s the most successful. George Clooney was too much of a leading man, Val Kilmer a little too eccentric and though Bale is good, he really only has two modes: brooding and vengeful. It was precisely because Keaton didn’t look like a hero that he made such a convincing one. This is a character who dresses up like a giant bat after all. As Bruce Wayne, Keaton was always a little edgy, a little nervous, as if he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin, but not without a certain humor. Keaton wasn’t afraid to stand out for himself either. In an interview he referred to the hardcore fans who disapproved of his casting as “D.C. Comics fundamentalists.”

Of course, he had a formidable co-star in Jack Nicholson, who received top billing. Nicholson was edging into his self-caricature period; “Jack” the devilishly charming Lothario with the arched eyebrows, sardonic grin and low, insinuating chuckle. Though he is hammy, he gives a better performance than I remembered: a bit goofy, a bit nuts and a bit of showman. Unlike in the newer film, he’s seen before he transforms into the Joker, here caused by a swim in a vat of chemicals. He also, famously, made a shitload of money from this film, taking a share of the profits. His broad, scenery chewing performance does threaten to wrench the film away from Burton and Keaton, which makes it somewhat uneven. Watching it now, it’s impossible not to compare his performance with Ledger’s, which is much more inventive and unsettling. Nicholson plays up the more clownish aspects of the persona. Aside from the leads there is a fine group of secondary actors and some inspired casting: Hammer horror film vet Michael Gough is a droll and dignified Alfred, Jack Palance is a leathery, hissing crime boss, former model Jerry Hall is, well, a model. Kim Basinger as Vicki Vale is pretty, but a little miscast and wan. And don’t forget that the Harvey Dent was first played by Billy Dee Williams.

What makes it still watchable today are the odd touches that you don’t normally associate with huge production. Danny Elfman’s appropriately dramatic score shares time with a series of danceable Prince songs. And it has something that I think the newer series is lacking: style and humor. Though it would be more noticeable in Batman Returns, there is plenty of what had already become a Burton trademark, a dark, somewhat grotesque Charles Addams-type look and humor, which mixed the whimsical and the macabre. Highlights included Joker’s one-way conversation with a charred corpse and the mutilation of paintings at a museum (set to a Prince song) by he and his minions. The only painting that Joker asks them to spare is one by the tortured, visceral British artist Francis Bacon

Though Batman was not the first of the modern superhero movies (Superman was there first) it may have been the first to show that a comic book movie could be made with intelligence, wit and personal style; to show that a big summer special effects action movie could be grounded in the characters. They didn’t have as much technology at their disposal, but the Batman team (and it was a huge production) paved the way for the massive wave of ’00s comic book movies, especially the better ones like X-Men, Hellboy and Spider-Man. As much as anybody, they avoided condescending to the source material and were able to make a film that caught the spirit of a classic character, but also did something new with him. What’s more impressive is that they followed it with a sequel that is better, darker, and more personal. Tune in same bat-time and same bat-website for Batman Returns.

by Lukas Sherman