DARK KNIGHT, BRIGHT TOMORROW
Sixty Years of Batman at the Movies
With Marvel Comics virtually haemorrhaging superhero movies over the last five years, those of us who follow such things have been patiently waiting for The Other Mob (DC Comics) to get off their arses and make a film of their own.
After all, Smallville is all well and good (in fact, it’s superb), but there are times when you just want to scream “Put on the bastard cape and fly!” at the screen.
It’s not like DC Comics is exactly short of Hollywood-ready characters (people who use the word “properties” in relation to comic books should be slapped in the face with Hulk Hands). The Matrix trilogy proved, despite itself, that people still want to believe that a man can fly. There’s no reason in hell that a good Superman movie can’t get off the ground. Likewise, characters such as Green Lantern, The Human Target, and Plastic Man would appear ideal for translation to the big screen.
It’s sad, then, that until recently, most of DC Comics’ movies have been trapped in Development Hell, with only Catwoman and John Constantine, Hellblazer, coming close to being shot (which they probably ought to be, but that’s a discussion for another day). Much of the problem has been in trying to persuade big- or medium-name actors to sign on for the major roles. A superstitious and cowardly lot at the best of times, many actors are afraid of how the lingering stink of the comic book movie might affect their careers. I find this amazing, considering the success of films like Spider-Man and X-Men, both so unashamedly comicbooky (in a good way, and isn’t it sad that I have to say it like that?) that you could see the staples running down the middle of the screen. And yet, both movies starred Oscar-winning, critically respected and genuinely bloody good actors. So what’s stopping the rest of Hollywood from signing on the scalloped line?
Perhaps it is the case that actors focus on the negative aspects of appearing in a superhero movie. Typecasting is something to fear, it seems: just ask Lynda Carter and Dean Cain. Also, the notion that these are franchises, not works of cinematic art., is probably hurting the ability of the role to attract top-level talent. Nobody wants to spend ten years playing Mister Terrific, after all.
It is also likely that actors are put off by the relative urban myth of The Curse of Superman, which many attribute to the misfortunes that befell Kirk Alyn, Margot Kidder and Christopher Reeve. Or it may just be that actors have little or no respect for the genre, which may have been more understandable five years ago, when the memory of Joel Schumacher’s monstrous Batman & Robin was still fresh.
But times change. Sometimes, for the better.
So now that Marvel Comics (and former Marvel Comics writers) have shown the way, could the time be right for DC Comics to storm Hollywood with a cowled vengeance? It certainly appears so, as Warner Brothers have announced that Christian Bale is to play Bruce Wayne in Christopher Nolan’s upcoming Batman movie.
Batman, of all the comicbook heroes, is by far the most cinematic. But he’s also the most badly treated. This is a shame, as the Dark Knight was born out of the earliest examples of classic cinema. Bob Kane, Bat-creator, acknowledges Errol Flynn as influencing the characterization of Bruce Wayne, and cites pioneering widescreen mystery The Bat Whispers as being a source of great inspiration for that Batman himself.
First published in 1939, it wasn’t long before Batman leapt out of the comics and into cinemas. After an award-winning (“Yak” awards, apparently) turn in 1943, Batman (and Robin) were turned into a matinee serial in 1949. Neither outing appears to have been particularly high in production values: the Batman costume looked to have been sewn by cold turkey heroin addicts. And according to one account, at least, the stories were written so close to shooting that, if they happened to see something interesting while they were unpacking the cameras, like a train, they would write it into the story and film it there and then. Gonzo filmmaking, twenty years before the term had been invented.
The lead actors in these productions appear to have been unable to parlay their time behind the mask into bigger and better roles, instead ending up in Western Limbo, or Ed Wood movies. But that was in the bad old days, when comics were not only frowned upon, they were downright persecuted.
The next time anyone saw the Dark Knight on the silver screen (we’re skipping over Andy Warhol’s unfinished Batman Dracula, and the curious Filipino creation Batman Fights Dracula), he was anything but. 1966 saw Adam West and Burt Ward lollop their way through Batman – The Movie! A product of its time, with its high camp and pop art sensibilities, Batman – The Movie!, and the associated TV show, were so powerful that not only did they define the Superhero (and, sadly, the Comic Book) in the public consciousness for decades afterwards, but they also fixed a single vision of their stars in the public hive mind, too.
Although, as both West and Ward have been able to work steadily since their time as the Dynamic Duo ended (if it can be said to have ended: they have recently filmed a reunion movie where they, playing themselves, attempt to solve the Mystery of the Missing Batmobile), I doubt if they mind that people still shout “Holy Clogged Toilets, Batman!” when they’re out shopping for Bran Flakes.
The most recent cycle of Bat-features, of course, began with Tim Burton’s inspired 1989 movie, The Joker (and Batman). Oh, I know that wasn’t the real title. But it should have been. The gothporn Batman Returns (1992) shared with its prequel a strong, and at the time, original aesthetic quality. Even if it was entirely impractical.
By removing the spandex that had been so, so unkind to Adam West, Tim Burton had completely removed the title character’s ability to emote. When he was out of the cape, of course, good old Michael Keaton was a blinding Bruce Wayne, part bumbling fop, part borderline psycho. Just imagine if he’d been given a decent suit of clothes to wear as Batman… worst of all, by shutting down the hero to a pair of panda eyes and a grapnel, the villains were allowed, if not driven, to overact their little hearts out. Burton ended up swapping one sort of camp for another.
Speaking of which…
Burton and Keaton were followed on the Bat-train by Joel Schumacher, Akiva Goldsman, and Val Kilmer. Kilmer’s Batman (Forever, 1995) was suitably intense, and a little more well balanced than Keaton’s, although you couldn’t tell from the script, which was pseudospychological bilge of the worst order. The entire film is an exercise in excess: there are too many characters, too many terrible lines, too many loving shots of young men’s crotches and bottoms, and too much of Tommy Lee Jones and Jim Carrey trying to out-twat each other.
Schumacher’s greatest crime, as far as this movie is concerned, was to forget that Camp Batman was yesterday’s news. Warner Brothers’ greatest crime was to let Schumacher make another film.
1997’s Batman & Robin took all the camp excess of Batman Forever, and did it again. Only worse. The script was so derivative that I was surprised that Marvel Comics didn’t sue Warner Brothers for copyright infringement (they were busy fighting bankruptcy at the time). The acting was abominable (Uma Thurman should have been sacked…like a quarterback, and Arnie…well…), the cast even larger, the dialogue on a par with Sunday morning Bible cartoons, and once again, the notion of a “story” was left out in favour of fucking about on ice skates, more close-up shots of codpieces and wobbly bumcheeks, and some out-and-out misogyny (as with Yvonne Craig in the 1960’s – no relation – Alicia Silverstone’s Batgirl wasn’t allowed to punch Uma Thurman, presumably because that would be unladylike). In fact, the only really good thing about Batman & Robin was George Clooney, whose well-adjusted Batman (Clooney was playing himself, really) was surprisingly watchable.
While Silverstone and O’Donnell have hardly lit up the screen with their subsequent roles, the only real casualty of Schumacher’s Folly has been Batman himself. It has taken six years, and several aborted attempts, to bring the Dark Knight back to Hollywood – or in this case, Shepperton.
The hullabaloo over the casting process for Christopher Nolan’s film has been amusing to watch. Some of the names bandied about for the role of Bruce Wayne have been, frankly, laughable (Joshua Jackson? Jake Gyllenhaal? Why don’t you ask me to audition, next time?). However, as with Sam Raimi, Tobey Maguire and Spider-Man, Nolan has found a perfect match for the Batman in Christian Bale.
Bale’s charismatic turn in American Psycho (hand-picked as he was by author Bret Easton-Ellis and director Mary Harron), as well as his convincingly tormented and physically impressive performance in Equilibrium, proves that, given the right script, Bale would (and will) make an excellent Bruce Wayne – and depending on the costume design, a fantastic Batman.
Christopher Nolan, of course, directed the excellent Memento, and the I-quite-liked-it-even-if-it-was-an-American-remake Insomnia. So the notion of him directing a rookie Batman (this film will be discrete and unconnected to the previous series) in a down-to-earth, realistic Gotham (cf. Miller & Mazzuchelli’s Batman: Year One, once tipped for a translation, itself) is a particularly thrilling one.
And given that David Goyer, writer of the Blade Trilogy, and several DC Comics, has signed on to write the screenplay, it may now be time to become cautiously optimistic. It may even be time to put the memory of Schumacher and his teat fetish behind us. After sixty years (!) of on-again, off-again Batfilms, we might even end up with one worth holding onto.
The rest of the pieces have to fall into place, of course – the production designer, the costume designer, the costume itself, and so on – but for a character so steeped in darkness, Batman’s future is looking surprisingly bright…
Review text (C) Matthew Craig
Originally published in the pop culture magazine Robot Fist