Review of Batman Returns (1992) by Oliver H — 02 Mar 2016

In theory, I should love 'Batman Returns.' As a stickler for all things gothic, Tim Burton and Batman, from an outside perspective everything about this sequel should satisfy my appetites. And yet, after numerous re-watches over the years, each time trying to convince myself that I should love it more than the last, I still don't. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that the reason I don't love it is because it simply doesn't work, either as a Tim Burton movie or as a Batman movie, and in retrospect it's a crying shame that the picture didn't work out the way its director probably envisioned.

I should clarify that although I'm not a fan of his stylistically obsessed Batman movies, I am a great admirer of Tim Burton and his works. Over the years he's been involved in the creation of some of my favourite movies, including his modern fairytale masterpiece 'Edward Scissorhands' (released just two years prior), and later the likes of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas', 'Ed Wood' and 'Sleepy Hollow.' There's no denying his considerable creative talent and ability as a filmmaker, but when it comes to Batman, Burton either lacks interest in the source material, or in this case, seems far more interested in creating a wacky Tim Burton movie than a live action adaptation of Batman's universe. 'Batman Returns' is, for all intents and purposes, a Burton movie that just happens to utilise characters from Batman's universe.

A sequel to the rather generic 1989 original, one thing that can be said for 'Batman Returns' is that it at least has a little more flare than before. Whereas 'Batman' was by most accounts a very standard superhero flick that was fortunate enough to feature an atmospheric setting and a stunning soundtrack, one thing 'Batman Returns' isn't short on is personality. Just a glimpse at a single shot will immediately tell you that this is the result of Burton's overexcited mind, and with a little more guidance, this could have been something truly special. But while watching this I could almost imagine a young Tim Burton behind the camera, staging a shot whilst shouting lines like "Look, Mom! I'm making a Batman movie!" I did, in fact, just accuse a movie of having too much personality, which Burton has clearly demonstrated is possible. Maybe I'm nitpicking here, but the point I'm trying to articulate is that the movie just feels wrong, tonally speaking. Its gothic, yes, but in looks only. Its actual flavour is that of a deranged carnival, casually staging inappropriately gruesome violence against a goofy backdrop that strikes me as a bad parody of Gotham City. Following the commercial success of 'Batman' I fear that Tim Burton's overactive imagination ultimately got the better of him, resulting in a movie in which the director's creative vision outweighs the respect for the source material, and the result is frustrating.

Despite being a sequel, the movie is a completely self-contained experience, barely even acknowledging the events of the first movie beyond a self-conscious quip about Alfred knowingly letting Vicki Vale into the Batcave (a cause of controversy for years among Batman fans.) I sense that Burton had several gripes against his own movie, and 'Returns' is a sort of effort to wipe the slate clean and present his own unaltered vision of Batman's universe. Unfortunately it's a mess. This was the first superhero movie to properly introduce the concept of multiple villains by including Christopher Walken's corporate baddie Max Schreck (presumably named after the actor), Danny DeVito's grotesquely deformed version of the Penguin, and lastly Michelle Pfeiffer's devastatingly sexy portrayal of Catwoman. Quite why these three were chosen is as perplexing and random as the rest of the movie, and none of these characters even work in the slightest.

In a manner that bares resemblance to 'Edward Scissorhands' the movie introduces us to a interpretation of the Penguin born with hideous deformities, before being thrown in a river by his rich but equally repulsive parents. Raised in the sewers by penguins (this keeps getting stranger and not in a good way) Oswald Cobblepot (the character's real name) later seeks vengeance against Max Schreck and his dastardly corporate schemes that involved pouring toxic waste into the sewers (or something akin). After revealing his existence to the world in a deliberately staged act, Cobblepot is eventually elected mayor in a bizarre turn of events, and it's here where the movie really loses its way. Why is this hideous hobo who bleeds black ooze and eats raw fish suddenly in a position of political power, you may ask? Because Mr. Schreck is a man of great influence, and the movie demands a villain in a position of power. I'm in favour of reinventions, but this version of the Penguin is almost unrecognisable when compared to his comic book counterpart. Traditionally portrayed as a stunted, albeit suave and sophisticated nightclub owner, the Penguin was actually one of Batman's more ordinary foes, if you'd be so generous to use that term. This Penguin is as disgusting and implausible as anything I've ever seen, and although the perfectly cast Danny DeVito does a stellar job at bringing the monster to life, I simply cannot abide this version of the Penguin.

Similarly overcooked is Selina Kyle/Catwoman, who is barely saved by the talents of Michelle Pfeiffer, but remains equally as absurd and needlessly fantastical as her chubby accomplice. In the comics Selina Kyle had traditionally been depicted as a poverty-stricken orphan who worked as a prostitute in her younger years, only to later don a cat suit and become a cat burglar in order to make some extra cash. What has always made Batman's rogues so compelling is that most of them, like Batman, don't posses any superpowers, and usually rely on their intellects and individual talents to terrorise Gotham. The Joker didn't have clown powers and so it seems similarly preposterous to bestow Catwoman with cat powers, but that's exactly what the movie does anyway (the screenplay was written by Sam Hamm and Daniel Waters, so Burton can't get all the blame.) After an 'accident' involving a fall off a multi-storey building, awkward and insecure secretary Selina Kyle is miraculously resurrected by a hoard of mangy street cats who chew on her fingers until she returns to life, in what appears to be a bad parody of Edgar Allan Poe. Following her resurrection at the hands of magical cats, Selina suddenly undergoes a drastic personality change, becoming ultra confident and donning a skin-tight latex suit before inhabiting the persona of Catwoman, an antihero/cat burglar with (literally) nine lives. Its absurdities are an unwelcome abundance, and after numerous flirtations with the Batman and cheating death on multiple occasions, it does beg the question: what's the point? While its undoubtedly fun watching Michelle Pfeiffer ham things up to the maximum and spending the remainder of the movie as a horny wreck, there doesn't seem to be much purpose, a sentiment that can be transferred to the movie as a whole.

Perhaps the reason I haven't even mentioned the Batman or Bruce Wayne until this point is because I genuinely forgot about his presence in the movie. The Dark Knight shows up often enough, but just like in the first movie, he lacks any sort of distinguished screen presence. It's not a generational problem; Michael Keaton is just very bland as both Bats and his alter ego, and once again the movie never delves into any sort of depth regarding his character. Not even Alfred is given a fair shot, with Michael Gough's reprisal practically reduced to a mere series of fleeting cameos. But the most unforgivable crime the movie commits? Batman kills people, regularly and willingly, and apparently, without any sort of remorse (he even smiles at one point before allowing a henchman to be blown to kingdom come.) Did the screenwriters even bother to research this character, because they appear to have missed the entire point of the character: namely, he never kills. In fact, the whole point of Batman is that he is character haunted by death who commits his entire life to trying to prevent it, and by so carelessly ignoring this imperative character trait, 'Batman Returns' has sealed its own fate as a poor imitation of Batman and his universe.

More positively, 'Returns' boasts the same qualities as its predecessor in the respect that the soundtrack and visuals are equally stunning. With a Christmas-themed pallet covering Gotham in a winter wonderland-like appearance, and Danny Elfman channeling some heavy 'Edward Scissorhands' vibes there's no mistaking Burton's fingerprints permeating everything. It's beautiful to look at, and if anything, every shot should be framed and admired in a museum. But that doesn't mean the images work when strung together as a motion picture. Add in Christopher Walken as a third addition to the villain cogs, and what we're left with is little more than a Tim Burton Christmassy nightmare masquerading as a Batman movie. I appreciate that Burton and company tried to be innovative and different, and the film at least gets the tone (relatively) right, but I am unable to consider either of the director's ventures into Batman's universe to be anything more than an experimental if misguided attempt at bringing the character to life, and the style-over-substance approach is just too distracting to warrant any kind of sympathy.