So while I've already written at length ("The Lighter Dark Knight") about the first Batman film, it felt wrong not to commemorate the silver anniversary to this most important blockbuster in some way.
One question I'm not sure I answered adequately in the previous piece is: was Batman a good film? Does it hold up? I think it does.
Today it's become fashionable to take pot shots at it in much the same way we shot slings and arrows at the Adam West version of Batman back then (and we all love that now, don't we?) It's easy to call it flashy and overhyped and too "Tim Burton-y" (that was Batman Returns actually). As we bask in the glow of the almost-too real Christopher Nolan trilogy this effort seems almost quaint and silly (especially to those born after its release).
First, it's important to recognize the significance of this film within the "superhero subgenre." Now it certainly didn't kick off a wave of comic book inspired films (well, not good ones anyway) but it kept heroes on the map throughout the decade as we waited for that renaissance. The Christopher Reeve Superman films died an ignoble death two years prior, and Batman took up the baton until his series died an equally ignoble death in 1997.
I have seen Batman more times than I can count. It was released at a time when I could afford to watch things over and over….and over. I miss those days. And while the film has aged and is a product of its time under the guidance of a director's very specific vision (that does not appeal to all tastes) Batman holds up.
The film is reverent to its source material, generally. Making the Joker the killer of Batman's parents did not incense me. I understood the desire to increase the tension and enhance the connection between our hero and villain.
Derided at the time as one of the worst casting blunders in the history of the universe, Burton chose his friend and Beetlejuice collaborator Michael Keaton as Batman/Bruce Wayne, and while I was definitely among the naysayers back then, today it strikes me as brilliant.
Keaton brought a gravitas to the role that knocked us all on our collective asses. He brought that simmering rage that is just below the surface in all of us, and showed us how Wayne channeled it and sharpened it to create this other persona that dresses up like a fearsome winged creature to avenge his parents' murder night after night. I'm sorry, but the first time Keaton uttered the phrase, "I'm Batman," will always resonate with me more than when Christian Bale said it in that overmodulated growl of his.
Then of course there was Jack Nicholson as the Joker, the casting decision that tempered the hysteria brought about by Keaton's casting. He was brilliant. He was Jack. He brought exactly what was expected to the role – a role he was born to play. Again, in the light of Heath Ledger's brilliant interpretation it might seem a little Cesar Romero, but look a little deeper. Jack wasn't simply mugging. His Joker is already a homicidal maniac whose disfigurement at the hands of Batman allows his Id free reign over the barely controlled gunsel he once was.
A late replacement for an injured Sean Young, Kim Basinger stepped into the shoes of love interest Vicky Vale, and creates an assured, fearless heroine. She has a nice rapport with Keaton that, while not quite Tracy-Hepburn, calls back to some romantic pairings of the 30s and 40s.
Burton populated his film with a solid group of character actors that lent great support to our principals. A huge fan of Hammer horror films, Burton cast Michael Gough (who starred in the original Dracula with Christopher Lee and countless other horror classics) as faithful butler Alfred. Gough's Alfred was grandfatherly, refined and steadfastly loyal. It's obvious that while he supports Wayne's seemingly mad obsession, he wishes things were otherwise.
Burton chose another fine character actor, Pat Hingle to play Commissioner Gordon. A dependable performer, Hingle didn't get much too do (especially as the series wore on), and was never portrayed as the kind of confidante he was in the comics or the subsequent film series, but his Gordon is a pragmatist who eventually comes 'round to the notion this crazed vigilante could do him some good.
Everyone's favorite scoundrel Billy Dee Williams was cast as Harvey Dent with an eye toward his eventually becoming Two-Face, but Burton left the series and Joel Schumacher eventually cast Tommy Lee Jones in the role. I always wondered what Williams might've brought to the part. Here he's relegated to a lot of expository scenes with Hingle that do little to define the character.
The vision of Burton and the incredible production design of the late Anton Furst do tend to overwhelm the proceedings at times. The film is as visually stunning today as it was 25 years ago. As I implied earlier, Burton went a bit off the rails with Batman Returns (but I am a fan of that film as well). Here he's still a bit controlled and I think that's actually a good thing.
I can't think of another character in American pop culture that has been subject to the wide interpretation Batman has, and at the end of the day they're all valid. This one holds a special place for me because I was completely swept up in the hype and Bat-mania of the time, and for me, the film delivered. I can also admit a certain sentimentality about it, because it reminds me of my life back then – a simpler time, fondly recalled. In their way, the Nolan films seem to fit my life as it is now – more complex, more shades of grey.
We can't go back in time, but a film like this marks time, and watching it can take us back in a way nothing else can. I can hear the strains of Danny Elfman's opening theme and be transported, however briefly, to June 23, 1989, and again feel the chill that went through my body when the Dark Knight dangled an evil doer from a precarious height and whispered (not growled), "I'm Batman."
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