June 20, 1997 | As the Batman movie
series continues apace, things are getting entirely out of hand. It
started out simply enough with
just one brooding hero (played by Michael Keaton) duking it out with
just one flamboyant villain (overplayed by Jack Nicholson). But as early
as the first sequel, Batman Returns, the screen began to get
too crowded. In the second Batmovie, we still had only one hero to handle
the situation. Already, though, there were two super-villains - The
Penguin (Danny DeVito) and Catwoman (Michelle Pfieffer) - and one supporting
bad guy (Christopher Walken).
After
Tim Burton walked away (or, depending on whom you believe, was pushed
away) from the franchise, director Joel Schumacher assumed control for
Batman Forever. The second sequel was noisier - and yes, livelier
- than its predecessors. More important, however, it also continued
the slow but steady population growth. True, we were back to just two
major villains - The Riddler (the wild and crazy Jim Carrey) and Two-Face
(the lovely and talented Tommy Lee Jones). But we also got a brand new
sidekick for the brand new Batguy (Val Kilmer, whose fleeting appearance
in the cape and cowl may forever mark him as the George Lazenby of the
Batman series). Chris O'Donnell donned the mask and tights to play Robin,
a.k.a. The Boy Wonder, and bringing this character aboard wasn't such
a bad idea. After all, back in the days of the '60s Batman TV
series, Robin always had a wonderfully subversive appeal for young viewers:
Here was a teen-ager who got to punch out smart-ass grown-ups, and get
away with it. Even so, adding Robin to the mix increased the number
of characters with fair claim to on-screen time. Already, Batman was
becoming a member of an ensemble, not the prime mover of the action.
Now
we have Batman & Robin, the third sequel. And this time,
the Caped Crusader, ably played by George Clooney of TV's E.R., often
seems like a guest star in his own movie.
Don't
misunderstand: Clooney isn't upstaged because he's a lightweight, or
because he lacks the suavity to be a Bruce Wayne, or even because he
simply doesn't cut it in the sculpted rubber Batsuit. Actually, Clooney
is very engaging in both halves of the split personality, as Dark Knight
and dashing playboy. He also manages to lighten up the character, so
that, for once, the audience gets some sense of how much fun being a
masked vigilante might be for a guy who can afford all the high-tech
toys he needs for such a hobby. Clooney isn't nearly as vivaciously
cheery as, say, Billy Zane in the title role of The Phantom,
but he does have his moments. Best moment: When Robin (once again played
by Chris O'Donnell) begins to bitch and moan about not having his own
Robinmobile, Clooney's Batguy cracks, "This is why Superman works
alone!"
But
Batman never gets the chance to fly solo, or to devote his attention
to one villain at a time, in Batman & Robin. Once again,
we have three bad guys - two major, one minor. Arnold Schwarzenegger
wears a full-metal body suit (and grabs top billing) as Mr. Freeze,
a demented scientist who can turn props or people into solid blocks
of ice. Big Arnie plays it relatively straight, even while flashing
a fiendish grin and delivering bad puns on the order of "Keep cool,
Batman!" And while his Mr. Freeze isn't nearly as much fun as Nicholson's
Joker, and never seems as tragic as DeVito's Penguin, he's good for
a few nasty laughs. The same cannot be said, alas, of Uma Thurman as
Poison Ivy, the plant-loving villainess with the poison lips. Thurman
tries very hard to camp it up like some bizarre hybrid of Mae West and
Bette Midler, and the effort shows. Much as she did in A Month by
the Lake, Thurman demonstrates once again that, whatever her other
talents might be, broad comedy simply isn't her forte.
Poison
Ivy's chief flunky is a chemically enhanced, intimidatingly muscular
fellow named Bane. In the latter role, Jeep Swenson growls a lot and
breaks quite a few things while wearing what appears to be the mask
of a Mexican wrestling hero. But his primary reason for existing is
to give toymakers a chance to sell yet another action figure to impressionable
moviegoers.
And
speaking of action figures: Alicia Silverstone is attractive and energetic
as Batgirl, the latest addition to the family of Batman. Without the
mask, she's really Barbara Wilson, the spunky niece of Alfred Pennyworth,
Bruce Wayne's faithful butler, confidant and mentor. (By the way, it's
about time that Michael Gough gets the credit he richly deserves for
doing so much with so little as Alfred, a character he has played in
all four Batman movies.) Barbara shows up to pay her Uncle Alfred
a long-overdue visit, and sticks around to fill out a Bat costume that
the ever-prepared Alfred already has manufactured for her. Even if you
hold Batman & Robin to a logic no more demanding than that
which prevails in most comic books, it still strains credibility that
Barbara could assume super-heroic duties with so little training. (Yeah,
sure, she knows some martial-arts moves, but I still didn't buy it.)
But, then again, director Schumacher (returning for his second Batmovie)
isn't guided by common sense. Instead, he's operating under an all-inclusive
credo: "The more, the merrier."
There
is, to be sure, a lot more of everything in Batman & Robin.
More heroes, more special effects, more toys - and more noise. This
is a loud and busy summertime blockbuster, designed for thrillseekers
with extremely short attention spans. And yet, at several points during
the second half, I found myself stealing impatient glances at my watch.
Tim Burton's Batman epics may have erred on the side of ponderousness,
but at least they were the product of someone with a distinct and unique
artistic vision. Batman Forever and now Batman & Robin
are the work of a very talented entertainer who is capable of making
very fine movies (A Time to Kill, The Lost Boys, the under-rated
Cousins), but who tends to go overboard when he tries to give
ticketbuyers the most bangs for their box-office bucks.
The
best scenes in Batman & Robin are the quiet ones that Clooney
shares with Gough, as Bruce Wayne and Alfred discuss matters of life
and death while worrying about Robin's future as a crime-fighting partner.
(A nice touch: Robin spends most of the movie rebelling against his
status as dutiful sidekick.) By the end of Batman & Robin,
however, the Dynamic Duo has become a Dynamic Trio, and we're left with
the unsettling suspicion that, in Batman adventures to come, the cast
of characters will only grow larger. When Alfred quips that he'll "have
to get a bigger cave," he means it as a joke, but it sounds almost
like a threat. If there is another sequel, it might be a good idea for
Joel Schumacher (or whoever else directs) to get back to basics. You
really can have too much of a good thing. Or a Bat thing.