Why are we ashamed of the absurd?
“If we have overlooked any sizable groups of lovers, we apologize.” — Opening Scroll
Let’s begin with a broad declaration of intent, an explanation of perspective so there can be no ambiguity going forward about the author’s stance on the film under discussion. Please understand that what is said in this opening passage, and in all of the other passages and paragraphs to come, is not said with a smirk or a sneer or any other sort of ironic detachment. Neither the point nor purpose of this article is to laugh at an old movie or to heckle any modern ones. The purpose and point is to celebrate a wonderful and singular little movie that time and fandom have seen fit to relegate to the margins of discussion, and to try and offer a modern perspective so that you, the reader, may be encouraged to come to the film on its own terms and enjoy it. If your only interest is to jump into the comments and belittle this article or its author, do so now.
Ready? Here we go: Batman: The Movie is as perfect a representation of the character and universe of Batman as any of the Christopher Nolan films, or any live-action rendering of the Caped Crusader. There. Now you know where things stand.
Director Leslie H. Martinson, screenwriter Lorenzo Semple Jr., and the entire cast and crew took their interpretation of the character of Batman and played it to the hilt without a single misstep. It is a giddy and joyous film, packed with color and wit, and bursting at the seams in its desire to entertain the audience.
“How was I to know they’d have a can of shark-repellent Bat-spray handy?” –The Penguin
Already I can hear a certain segment of fandom wheezing Dorito dust into their neckbeards at this outrage, but hear me out. Perhaps you, like me, before I saw the movie, are operating under the assumption that the Adam West/Burt Ward incarnation of Batman is some kind of Ed Woodian campfest, an embarrassment of overacting and awful effects. This is incorrect. While there are plenty of moments and bits that call attention to the quick/cheap origins of the film, (Cesar Romero’s mustache being visible beneath his Joker make-up is a low point, made even more so by modern HD capabilities) there is not a snarky or condescending bone in the film’s body.
The first thing you must understand about Batman: The Movie is that it is completely aware of what it is trying to do and how it is going about the doing of it. The film approaches Batman and Robin with the same touch that Mel Brooks brought to Universal horror, Westerns, Hitchcock, Robin Hood, the whole list. Batman adores Batman and the spirit of optimism and can-do-ery that superhero comic books suggest at their best, but it’s also willing to undercut the most ridiculous aspects of the character and universe, often with a nuance and intelligence that may stun modern viewers. There’s not a Batman/Robin joke that these filmmakers haven’t heard, thought about, and then tried to one-up.
For God’s sake, there’s a bit in this movie where the other villains POINT OUT TO THE RIDDLER how dumb it is to leave clues about your next crime for the World’s Greatest Detective to figure out. If a Grant Morrison or an Alan Moore made that kind of crack back in the 80s, we’d still be hearing about the deconstructionist edge they brought to a Batbook, most likely in hushed tones from the grim-n-gritty crowd. But for some reason, Batman’s intelligence and loving parody is seen as a disgrace that needs to be lived down?
Watching the movie, there’s no question that every single performer, in front of and behind the camera, knew exactly what film they were making and what sort of tone to aim for, something that cannot be said for the majority of the other Batfilms. Whether it was Nicholson hogging the limelight, ninja cults spoiling the atmosphere, or Joel Schumacher doing… his… thing… most of the other Batman films are marred by some confusion of intent and theme with actual execution. Not here. Here, there’s such a sense of delirious joy to the proceedings, even a cheap-o touch like Romero’s never-not-seen mustache doesn’t have too much of a negative impact. It lends the film a “Put on a Show!” energy, the sense that everyone involved was having such a good time making the film, it’d be a shame to spoil it. Adam West Batman wouldn’t stand for belittling a film for such a reason, so why should you?
“Tell me, Commissioner: What known supercriminals are at large just now?” — Batman
Batman: The Movie kicks off with Batman and Robin rushing to investigate a yacht which is not returning any radio contact. Investigation reveals that the yacht is in fact a hologram (don’t ask) and the real yacht and its cargo of a radical new invention have vanished, while the hologram has been left as a trap intended to finish off Batman and Robin. Also there is an exploding shark (seriously don’t ask). Turns out, Gotham is playing host to a quartet of supervillains, as Catwoman (Lee Meriwether), The Joker (Cesar Romero and his mustache), The Penguin (Burgess Meredith), and The Riddler (Frank Gorshin) have pooled their resources and are collaborating on a crime the likes of which has never been seen! Only Batman and Robin (mostly Batman) stand a chance at stopping the fiends and restoring order to the world.
What follows is a farcical back and forth, as the villains make plans to stop Batman from discovering and halting their plot, while Batman and Robin jump in and out of danger. Though, in one of Semple Jr.’s script’s cheekier touches, neither Batman nor Robin ever seem that motivated about stopping the villains. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the villains repeated efforts to kidnap and/or murder them, the heroes wouldn’t have had any idea that trouble was brewing.
Adam West Batman seems much, much more interested in making ways with Ms. Kitka, Catwoman’s alter-ego in one of, roughly, a dozen different, simultaneous schemes to destroy Batman. And can you blame him? Meriwether appears to have been genetically engineered to look fabulous in a catsuit, and Batman: The Movie remains one of the only takes of the character to cheerfully embrace the sexual and fetishistic element of the character. Batman: The Movie, like much of 60s pop cinema, delights in feminine curves and barely-restrained libidos. Both Batman Returns and The Dark Knight Rises would indulge in the fetishism which Catwoman allows, nay, demands when she comes onscreen, but neither had the fawning devotion of Batman: The Movie’s camera, or the wink of Meriwether’s performance; in all of the performances, really. There’s not a subtle bone in anyone’s body, and every actor seems to have come to set with the sole purpose of outdoing everyone else in the room. While West and Ward do their diligence as straight-men to the absurdist goings on, the villains in the Rogues Gallery seem to have taken their casting as an invitation to let loose, and they rip giant chunks out of every available piece of scenery.
There’s an argument to be made that this is all much too much, and I don’t think someone mounting that argument would be wrong, necessarily. If the film has a flaw it’s that it runs about twenty minutes too long. Not helping things is the film’s origins with the Batman television show, which seems to have contributed to the repetitive structure of the film. Every half hour or so, Batman and Robin find themselves in the MOST. DANGEROUS. SITUATION. EVER. only for salvation to shortly thereafter present itself until the next villain launches their assault.
But I’ll tell you why that’s alright: One of those cliffhangers involves Batman and Robin being trapped on a buoy out in the ocean, pinned by magnets while a torpedo rushes through the water to explode their very spot. It’s all over for the dynamic duo. Curtains.
And then a porpoise throws itself in front of the torpedo, saving the pair. And then Batman delivers a solemn lament to the animal’s nobility and sacrifice.
Once more, for the cheap seats: A porpoise. Sacrifices itself. On a torpedo. To save Batman and Robin. And Batman eulogizes the damn thing!
When a film so completely and emphatically owns its absurdism, how can you not play along?
“Who knows, Robin? This strange mixing of minds may be the greatest single service ever performed for humanity! Let’s go, but, inconspicuously, through the window. We’ll use our Batropes. Our job is finished.” -Batman
And that brings us right around to where we began. Hero’s Journey, and all that.
Why do we fear the absurd? Why do we value the cynical and brooding over the joyful and optimistic?
Batman is a billionaire playboy who also dresses up like a rodent and beats up criminals who are garbed in brightly colored spandex, and he does so with impossible gadgets and a young boy who is pants-averse. That’s insane and ridiculous and silly, so why is there such an effort to deny that silliness and counteract it with grit and grime?
Why are Batman fans so ashamed of Batman?
After all, the genius of creators like Bob Kane and Bill Finger is in how they positioned Batman to exist on the border between the believable and the fantastic. Batman has survived and thrived in pop culture for so long because he is as elastic as any character in the popular consciousness. You can take him from the most far-flung cosmic corner to the most filth-encrusted alleyway and never once violate the essence of the character.
And yet, modern fandom seem only interested in keeping Batman locked in that alleyway, with dung and filth on his cape and blood on his hands. There’s no room for the Batman who enjoys being Batman, who lathers pretty ladies with love and attention and delights in belting bad guys across the room.
I mentioned Mel Brooks earlier, and I’m serious about the comparison. But whereas all good horror fans revere Young Frankenstein alongside the James Whale masterworks, and all Western fans will happily quote their favorite Blazing Saddles bits, Batman: The Movie and the series which spawned it (which I have not seen) are ignored at best, lambasted at worst.
But why is a comedic take on the character seen as being empirically worse than a melancholy, anguished one? Why is a Batman who weeps and bleeds and has his spine snapped more interesting than one who throws himself headlong into peril and refuses to be corrupted or delineated from the noble path? Why do we, as a culture, romanticize dread and death?
There must be a link between the outsized absurdity of this film and the grit of Nolan and the Gothic fever-dream of Burton, a link which coalesces the different incarnations of the Batman mythos and gets to the core of the character. I imagine the various animated series’ and spin-off films probably do a better job of balancing the ridiculous with the human-scale to a degree which no live action interpretation can. Feel free to chime in, either in the comments or elsewhere online if you think there’s a bridge between these perspectives that I’ve missed.
But all that’s academic. The point of this piece is to remind you that there’s an older film out there called Batman: The Movie. That movie is weird and over-the-top and silly from start to finish. It makes no apologies for being what it is, only ever storming ahead with color and energy and a manic joy for the basic pleasure of existing. It’s a delightful concoction, and you’d do well to treat yourself one of these days.