Burton's Bat...men (Patreon)

Batman (1989, Tim Burton): 56

Batman Returns (1992, Tim Burton): 60

(Decided to rewatch the first film after all, partly because someone made the case that I should and partly just because it's been nearly 30 years and 20th-century Burton was hugely important to me. Do not, however, conclude from this that you can get me to watch/review over a dozen movies by requesting Freddy vs. Jason. That's not gonna happen.) 

On June 22, 1989, I stood in line for roughly 12 hours waiting to see Batman, arriving at around 10am for a night-before "preview" (not yet commonplace at the time) that I believe started at 10pm. This remains by far the longest I've ever queued for a movie*—the experience was more like a tailgate party, really; my friends and I brought lawn chairs and board games and whatnot—and it's unlikely that anything could have lived up to that ludicrous degree of expectation (which for me had little to do with Batman; I'd adored Burton's first two films and couldn't wait to see what he'd do with a massive budget). Vaguely recall exiting the theater and working to persuade myself that it had been terrific, but it was never in contention for my top 10 list that year, and I hadn't revisited it or even really thought much about it since my stint at a video store in the early '90s. Perhaps watching it now, with all expectations voided and Burton having long since succumbed to self-parody, would reveal that I'd misjudged it in my youth? Seemed unlikely, since I didn't flip for Nolan's Batman films, either (is it Maren Ade's turn next?), but I was prepared for reactions ranging from euphoria to disdain.

It's fine.

Anton Furst's expressionistic production design overshadows (almost literally) every other element, and serves as a reminder that photorealism isn't necessarily a worthy goal when creating imaginary worlds—this Gotham looks fake, but in a way that's more striking and memorable to me than are most contemporary digital cityscapes. And this is perhaps the only Batman movie in which the character really employs visual intimidation as a weapon, endeavoring to strike fear in the hearts of criminals. The cape is mostly a nuisance unless he uses it to appear more imposing, as he does in the opening sequence here; the underworld is unnerved not just that someone's targeting them, but specifically that a giant bat-thing is targeting them. That aspect got lost somewhere along the line. Keaton occupies the suit better than I’d remembered, and lowers his voice to a non-ridiculous degree; his sensibility is perhaps a touch antic for Bruce Wayne, but at least that provides some welcome humor, e.g. silently mouthing "I'm Batman" when Vicki goes to answer the door. Torn on Nicholson, who's all wrong for the role physically and just looks silly strutting around to lesser Prince singles (only "Electric Chair" is a keeper imo, and even that's largely because I'm a sucker for the clavinet), but admirably commits to making the Joker a spastic nutjob, rather than merely slapping some facepaint on his usual mannerisms. Narrative's a bust apart from a few wry details, e.g. newscasters increasingly looking like death warmed over during the cosmetics scare. Mostly it's just fun to see Burton's aesthetic scaled up to blockbuster size—an essentially unrepeatable pleasure, since there's no sense of discovery in his doing it again.

Which brings us to Batman Returns, the sequel that I didn't much like in 1992 and hadn't seen since. Now I slightly prefer it, mostly because there's a first-rate Catwoman movie struggling to claw its way out from all the absurdist political satire and random circus imagery. Pfeiffer's gloriously unhinged performance feels dangerous in a way that DeVito's Penguin can't hope to match, in part because the whole mayoral-candidate subplot, while gratifyingly offbeat, requires him to spend most of the movie striving to appear sympathetic (while still being unpleasantly grotesque). Burton and Waters are most sympatico when Selina's onscreen; I'm not sure which I like better: the pure idea of HELLO THERE becoming HELL HERE or Burton's magnificent staging of it, with Selina smashing the 'O' and 'T' from an oblique angle that seems like arbitrary violence until the long-shot reveal. Trouble is, she's given little to do when not lashing out at traditional femininity or trading quips with our ostensible hero (who barely appears in the first 35 minutes)—her role in the Penguin's plot seems unnecessary, and her general antipathy toward Batman barely motivated. Max Shreck (cute!) grooming Gotham's newest repulsive celebrity for high office is the film's primary motor, and that feels throughout like somebody took a Preston Sturges comedy out of the icebox and left it on the counter until it grew rancid and moldy. Still, I appreciate Returns' blithe disregard for Hollywood propriety more than I once did, and this film's high points tower over its entire predecessor. Even when it gets overly busy and incoherent in the home stretch, I can still enjoy such weirdo diversions as the Poodle Lady sitting in her bunker broadcasting blasé progress reports about the Penguin's diabolical scheme.

Also the orchestra at Shreck's charity ball plays an instrumental version of "Super Freak" as Bruce wanders around looking for Selina and that alone arguably gives Batman Returns the edge.

* Or for anything else, probably. I did wait overnight for Peter Gabriel tickets in 1986, on what I didn't realize until morning was the night that Standard Time kicked back in, thereby adding an extra hour to the ordeal. But that was still probably only nine or ten hours total.