Batman Returns (1992)
I've seen this version of Batman a few times now, over the years, and in many ways it's the best of them all, along with the companion 1989 "Batman." And in some key ways, both of these fall just short of quite gelling into classics.
Here's why, both ways.
First, remembering Batman as a comic book hero, Tim Burton's version of that world is wonderfully exaggerated and fanciful and actually comic. This is the biggest difference (in my humble view) with the Nolan films of the last decade. Where Burton sees a chance to be inventive and playful, Nolan sees a chance to make the unbelievable real.
It's a relief that there is no reality to Burton's world. Sometimes you can tell the movie was shot on a set—and the same set, rather a lot—but that's again part of the "world" we are drawn into.
Characters for Burton are about excess just beyond camp. The Penguin is pretty amazing—Danny DeVito pulls it off like no one else could, an equal to Jack Nicholson's Joker from Burton's earlier Batman flick. And Catwoman as played by Michelle Pfeiffer is terrific. Batman himself might be a matter of taste—many people prefer Michael Keaton but I find him dull. And in this movie, he mostly stands around as Bruce Wayne and drives around as Batman. Not much physicality here.
Christopher Walken? He starts off being weird and wonderful and then kind of keeps that steady state attitude throughout (even as his world is in constant tumult). It works, but it's not perfect. In fact that's what happens a lot of the time. Some of the "action" sequences aren't as elegantly edited (or shot) as other similar films (especially Nolan's) and so there is energy but not necessarily a visceral involvement. (You have to be thinking about this while watching it, I suppose.)
But it's Burton's idea of Gotham, and his development of characters, that makes the movie really special. Whatever its limitations, it has so much that goes beyond expectations—and beyond the somber grandiosity of the Nolan versions—you really need to see it.
I've seen this version of Batman a few times now, over the years, and in many ways it's the best of them all, along with the companion 1989 "Batman." And in some key ways, both of these fall just short of quite gelling into classics.
Here's why, both ways.
First, remembering Batman as a comic book hero, Tim Burton's version of that world is wonderfully exaggerated and fanciful and actually comic. This is the biggest difference (in my humble view) with the Nolan films of the last decade. Where Burton sees a chance to be inventive and playful, Nolan sees a chance to make the unbelievable real.
It's a relief that there is no reality to Burton's world. Sometimes you can tell the movie was shot on a set—and the same set, rather a lot—but that's again part of the "world" we are drawn into.
Characters for Burton are about excess just beyond camp. The Penguin is pretty amazing—Danny DeVito pulls it off like no one else could, an equal to Jack Nicholson's Joker from Burton's earlier Batman flick. And Catwoman as played by Michelle Pfeiffer is terrific. Batman himself might be a matter of taste—many people prefer Michael Keaton but I find him dull. And in this movie, he mostly stands around as Bruce Wayne and drives around as Batman. Not much physicality here.
Christopher Walken? He starts off being weird and wonderful and then kind of keeps that steady state attitude throughout (even as his world is in constant tumult). It works, but it's not perfect. In fact that's what happens a lot of the time. Some of the "action" sequences aren't as elegantly edited (or shot) as other similar films (especially Nolan's) and so there is energy but not necessarily a visceral involvement. (You have to be thinking about this while watching it, I suppose.)
But it's Burton's idea of Gotham, and his development of characters, that makes the movie really special. Whatever its limitations, it has so much that goes beyond expectations—and beyond the somber grandiosity of the Nolan versions—you really need to see it.