Scene Anatomy 101: Batman & Robin
Posted by George H. Sirois on 01.18.2006
Presenting the first of the “Saving Graces.” And yes, this movie has one…
Happy New Year, everyone! Now that I've gotten through the anguish of watching my beloved team end a great season in as worst a way as possible (in person, if I may add, which made it hurt even more), I'm ready to get back to work here. And to kick off 2006, I thought I'd go back to a little something I wrote during my very first column. For those of you who have been reading me since the beginning (and thank you if you're one of them), here's a little paragraph you might remember…
"You're watching a movie - a really good one or a really bad one, depending on your tastes. If you're like me and you paid 10 bucks to see this movie in a theater, and what's flashing before your eyes is a potential train wreck, then you're going to do your own personal salvaging and try to find something, that spark, that flash of potential that should have been there in the entire two hours plus of screen time. The scene that holds that moment had just saved the movie for you. It made your money and time worthwhile and you're going to leave the theater with that scene fresh in your mind."
For the whole time I've been here, I've barely touched on this subject, so I couldn't think of a better time to start. Every now and then during the next few months, we'll be taking a look at what I call the "saving graces." These are the scenes you have to search extra hard for, the diamonds lying in the muck of mediocrity, the moments that become worth the two hours you just tossed away… alright, enough hyperbole. Let's get started!
Just like Scene Anatomy 101 started with a comic book film, we'll start the Saving Graces with one as well. But this one's not going to be such a fun trip. This is the one that drove a franchise into the ground, and cast an everlasting black eye on an entire genre. It earned a deep-rooted loathing from fans that still exists to this day, despite the recent rebirth of the character on the silver screen. The film in question is looked at as one of the worst comic book films ever made, if not the worst – the 1997 Joel Schumacher film, Batman & Robin.
Despite the enormous amount of money that the Batman character made for Warner Bros, the higher-ups never seemed 100 percent comfortable with what they had. The original 1989 classic was a colossal hit, exceeding their expectations by becoming the highest-grossing film in Warner Bros. history for ten years. The problem was that this film set the bar so high that it was going to be incredibly difficult for the sequel to reach that level. And when 1992's Batman Returns ended its theatrical run by making little more than half of the original – while still being the highest grossing film of 1992 – the future of the franchise was in doubt. Director Tim Burton was moving on to other things and star Michael Keaton was getting tired of being in the suit and not having much to do.
So Warner CEO's Bob Daly and Terry Semel brought Joel Schumacher onboard to give them a "lighter, brighter Batman." They wanted a film that McDonald's would feel comfortable sponsoring (to make up for the backlash they got for selling toys for Batman Returns and getting complaints from parents about the film's content), and Schumacher gave them Batman Forever. For the third straight film, there was a Batman film at the top of the charts, so Warner Bros did what they do best.
They rushed another one into production, pumping enough money into it to fund their own B-1 bomber and saturating it with so much corporate sponsorship that the end result – Batman & Robin – became the biggest toy commercial since Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers: The Movie.
Director Joel Schumacher says on his DVD, in a very apologetic manner, that he knew what he was walking into the whole time this movie was taking shape. To this day, he bears full responsibility of the mess that was put on screen, and to this day, fans have yet to forgive him for it.
What's so bad about Batman & Robin? Plenty! Almost every line was a bad one-liner. None of the action sequences were believable. The villains gave cheesy speeches to themselves, telling their fiendish plot to rule Gotham City. Real actors hired to play random characters came and went in a heartbeat (especially Vivica A. Fox as Ms. B. Havin, who has three lines and then vanishes). A major player in Batman's Rogue's Gallery was reduced to a dumb sidekick with a five-word vocabulary. The glamour, glitz and spectacle just choked the life out of almost everything on screen.
It was, to put it mildly, almost a complete and unequivocal disaster.
I say almost because there was one element that quietly hid in the corner, doing its job and doing it well, suggesting to the moviegoer that amidst all the dreck was a decent movie trying to get out. The element was the dynamic between Bruce Wayne (George Clooney) and his butler, Alfred Pennyworth (Michael Gough).
As the movie progresses, we see that there's something wrong with Alfred. We don't know what it is, but we know he's not quite himself. He experiences a slight pain at the beginning. He dozes off and doesn't hear the doorbell when his niece Barbara (Alicia Silverstone, do NOT get me started on her and her character) is at the door. But being the civilized gentleman that he is, he does not share this information with anyone, even though both Bruce and Barbara can see that he's not only sick; he's dying.
Another relationship that is shown in this film is that between Bruce and Dick Grayson (Chris O'Donnell). Dick is uncomfortable with being looked at as the sidekick of the team, Robin, and wants an equal partnership. He looks at Bruce as being pig-headed and too self-absorbed to give Dick a chance to grow. This is on Bruce's mind when he and Dick arrive home after capturing Mr. Freeze.
Alfred is busy putting together a special disc to give to one of his family members, all the information about Bruce Wayne being Batman and instructions on how to succeed him as Butler of Wayne Manor. When Bruce walks in, Alfred quickly turns off his computer.
ALFRED: Batman monopolized the evening news. Congratulations on your apprehension of Mr. Freeze.
BRUCE: Thanks. Thank you.
Knowing Bruce like a book, Alfred can tell that something's bothering him.
ALFRED: Is there something wrong, sir?
Bruce hangs up his coat and looks uneasily at Alfred. He's about to ask someone for an honest answer, and he knows he's going to get one.
BRUCE: Alfred… am I pig-headed? Is it always my way or the highway?
In a very matter-of-fact way, and with a warm smile that Bruce needs, Alfred nods.
ALFRED: Why, yes, actually. Death and chance stole your parents, but rather than become a victim, you have done everything in your power to control the fates. For what is Batman, if not an effort to master the chaos that sweeps our world? An attempt to control death itself?
Now, when the movie was about to come out, Schumacher dug himself an early grave with the fanbase by going around saying that he wanted Bruce Wayne to get over the death of his parents. He said that no 30 to 40-year old guy should be sitting around moping about his parents' death, and anyone who knows him would just say, "Please get on with your life."
This obviously set fans ablaze since everyone knows it's his parents' death that defines Bruce Wayne as a character, the catalyst that pushed him into eventually becoming Batman. But to say Schumacher cast aside this event as something Bruce should just get over is unfair. That's right! In this case – and only in this case – I am defending Schumacher's choice.
It's not that Bruce isn't supposed to think about their deaths anymore. What he has to do is start looking at the people around him now, and appreciate what they do or say for him. And this cuts into the very fabric of what Batman is, as Alfred said. Batman's not a man of vengeance. (At least he's not supposed to be, but there was a trace of it in the first film.) He's a guardian, a protector of Gotham, someone who has the ability to keep what happened to him from happening to others. Alfred knows exactly who Bruce is, and who Batman is supposed to be, and the way he eases his mind by saying that yes, he is pig-headed, and yes, he is stubborn, but it's this way of life that is keeping others from harm.
After Alfred tells this, Bruce has a quick flashback moment as he looks into a nearby window. In the window, we do not see Jack Napier opening fire on Thomas and Martha Wayne, as we saw in the first and third films. Instead, we see a young Bruce Wayne putting flowers on their grave, accompanied by Alfred. Alfred has his arm around Bruce, acting as a true father figure. It's a beautiful moment, as we see that Bruce has done just what Schumacher intended. He hasn't necessarily moved on from the death of his parents, but he has begun to appreciate those who are still around him.
The ironic element of this is that he's only starting to come around when Alfred is getting sick.
Bruce looks back at Alfred, still pondering the last thing that he said. "For what is Batman, if not an effort to master the chaos that sweeps our world? An attempt to control death itself?"
BRUCE: But I can't, can I?
Alfred's smile fades as he shakes his head. He knows the truth of that statement all too well.
ALFRED: None of us can.
This plays right into the moment during the first Superman film, where Clark and Martha Kent are at Jonathan's grave and Clark tells his mother, "All those things I could do, all those powers, and I couldn't even save him." It's the tragic arc of characters like Superman and Batman, that they can save everyone else except for the people that they love the most. And for this particular scene, that theme is portrayed beautifully. It's a quiet moment in a movie where quiet moments are especially rare, and it's a great opportunity for moviegoers to catch their collective breaths.
Unfortunately, this theme doesn't hold up for the rest of the film. As we go back to the quiet moments between Bruce and Alfred, the subtlety goes further and further out the window, until finally Bruce says out loud what we were all feeling earlier. But at least Bruce has a moment to say that he loves Alfred, something that he wasn't able to tell his parents after they were shot.
So while I wish there were more moments like this in Batman & Robin, there is this one little nugget to hold onto, where the subtext didn't mirror the text and another layer of the characters of Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth were revealed to us.
The movie still sucks, but at least this moment had an opportunity to shine through.
