One of my earliest memories is Batman. Like all kids in the nineties, there were plenty to choose from: The movies, the cartoon, sixties TV show and the toys were all part of my childhood. And while I liked them all, the one that always stuck in my head was Batman Returns. For whatever reason, my parents never bought it for me, and I only saw it a few times on VHS or TV.
About ten years ago, around the time Batman Begins came out, I got curious to re-watch the old movies again, and to see if they stood up. I had not seen Batman Returns since the nineties, and had forgotten most of it by then. Re-watching it then and now, I am amazed at its imagination, its pathos and ability to make its dream-like world feel weirdly real.
Compared with the original '89 Batman and the Schumacher films which followed it, Batman Returns feels like a film surrounded by TV commercials - Batman '89 gets by on its set design, Elfman's score and Nicholson's Joker; the Schumacher movies turn their characters into mannequins for the various costumes of the accompanying lines of Bat-related toys.
Compared with the original '89 Batman and the Schumacher films which followed it, Batman Returns feels like a film surrounded by TV commercials - Batman '89 gets by on its set design, Elfman's score and Nicholson's Joker; the Schumacher movies turn their characters into mannequins for the various costumes of the accompanying lines of Bat-related toys.
In his own deranged way, Danny DeVito's Oswald Cobblepot presents a flip side to Michael Keaton's Bruce Wayne. Both are born of privilege, but due to childhood trauma they are forced to live as outsiders, unable to enjoy the privileges of their status. Abandoned by his wealthy parents for his freakish appearance, he presents a villainous inversion of the trauma that motivates Batman. But whereas Bruce is motivated to stop what happened to him from happening to anyone else, Cobblebot's is the exact opposite. With his parents dead, Cobblepot has expanded his sense of persecution to include the society his parents represented. By killing the first-born sons of Gotham, he intends to perpetuate his pain, triggering the grief that his parents never showed for him.
Like Cobblepot, Max is a dark reflection of Bruce. Unlike Wayne, whose inherited wealth has not impeded his sense of empathy and philanthropy, Max is a self-made man whose self-reliance has warped into mono-mania. It's an interesting juxtaposition that highlights just how much of an outsider Bruce Wayne is among the jet set.
Sitting outside of the good-evil binary, Selina shares qualities with both Bruce/Batman and Cobblepot - neither a hero nor a villain, she is a rather unique character in that she is granted agency, and refuses to be aligned by either of the male characters. She even ends the movie on her own terms, rejecting Oswald and giving up a chance at a relationship with Bruce. This is a neat rebuke to the traditional, tidy romantic closure implied by the Bat films released either of this one.
The relationship between Selina and Bruce is the most interesting dynamic in the movie. To be honest, it is surprisingly affecting considering how little screen time the characters actually share. The movie repeatedly juxtaposes sequences of their dual identities meeting/fighting/flirting, in a bizarre form of double courtship. Unlike Oswald, they are split. But whereas Bruce is able to seperate his two lives, Selina finds Catwoman to be a far more appealing persona. In rejecting Bruce at the climax, she is rejecting the idea of meek and mild Selina. 'I would love to live with you in your castle forever just like in a fairy tale. I just couldn't live with myself.' In this way, she further highlights how isolated Bruce is - even among the freaks, he can never be complete.
As with all Burton movies, these are all interesting ideas that the movie kinda, sorta explores, but not in a way that resolves. Still its these character dynamics, as bizarre and haphazard as they may appear on the page, that make the movie so damn fascinating.
From a technical standpoint, the movie is a marvel. Freed from the constraints of the previous movie, Burton directs the whole movie with pace, pathos and a wonderfully dark sense of humour. The photography features his signature blue tone (very Edward Scissorhands), and Danny Elfman's score is just sublime. His re-arrangment of the Batman theme for the opening credits is just the greatest. The cast are all great - the three villains are the clear standouts - and are aided by the wonderfully arch wordplay from Heathers scribe Daniel Waters, who, considering his previous experience, I am guessing was responsible for Selina Kyle's expanded role.
The movie's not perfect - it does not really have a main character; the villains have multiple schemes which seem to switch repeatedly in importance; Gotham appears to house about 100 people and is about the size of a village square; and I don't understand why the Penguin dies at the end. There's a lot of stuff to pick at, but it just doesn't matter. It's like the filmmaker's vision is so coherent it can motor through plot problems and weird character beats (Batman killing the strong man) without disturbing the whole.
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