REVIEW: Batman (1989)

It's pretty insane when you think about just how long the superhero genre has been around. Movies like those in the MCU and DCEU feel like a relatively recent trend, but the groundwork for what we've come to know as the modern superhero genre was laid decades ago with films such as today's subject, Tim Burton's 1989 Batman film. It's important to understand just how revolutionary this adaptation of DC's dark knight was at the time. Aside from comic readers, most associated Batman with the 60's Adam West show, despite how comics like The Killing Joke and The Dark Knight Returns had long since moved past the camp of the Silver Age. There was strong demand from the fanbase for a darker, more modern take on the character; hot off the success of Beetlejuice, Tim Burton was brought on to direct, and the rest is cinematic history.

Despite being one of the founding fathers of the modern superhero genre, the plot here is hardly the stock origin story most would expect. Really, we get more focus on the origin of the Joker (played famously by Jack Nicholson) than we do Batman (Michael Keaton). After a mob enforcer by the name of Jack Napier falls into a vat of toxic chemicals, he resurfaces under the ghoulish guise of the Joker. Feeling jilted by the amount of press given to the mysterious Batman, Joker sets out on a spree of terror, poisoning the populace of Gotham City. It's up to the caped crusader (with a little help from Vicki Vale, played by Kim Basinger, and his loyal butler, Alfred, played by Michael Gough) to foil the Joker's sinister schemes once and for all. Simplistic enough conceptually, but the real meat of this film lies in the way that this story is executed.

As I mentioned, such a dark, stylistic approach to a superhero property was all but unheard of at the time of the film's release. Compared to Richard Donner's squeaky-clean Superman (which came out a decade earlier), Batman represents a bold new shift in the boundaries of the genre. Looking behind the scenes, it's clear that some people (particularly hairdresser-turned-producer, John Peters) attempted to go a bit too far with this mindset; the Batsuit was originally meant to include footwear sponsored by Nike, and Keaton's iconic "I'm Batman" line originally contained a few more expletives than the finished product we see today. It's for reasons like these that it's important for studios to bring visionary creators on board, in order to even out the money-men. Enter Tim Burton; to this day, I'm still hard-pressed to name a director better-suited for this particular job. Despite this being a massive blockbuster that endured years of rewrites and executive meddling, Burton's distinct style still shines through, and that is what I feel makes Batman such a memorable entry into the annals of film history. Just about anyone can make a film about a superhero who dresses like a bat and fights crime, but only Tim Burton could have made this film the way that it turned out (much like how Bill Finger is responsible for making the original Batman into something more than another disposable pulp vigilante).

Gotham City (care of production designer Anton Furst) positively reeks of Burton's trademark flair. We're treated to clashing architectural styles, gothic vistas, and more gargoyles and statues than any planning committee would know what to do with. Perhaps this is just a side-effect of nostalgia (since this and the 90's Animated Series were my official introduction to the character of Batman), but whenever I think of Gotham City, this is the Gotham I envision. A bleak, grey, foggy hellscape, perpetually stuck in a sort of anachronistic limbo between the roaring 20's and the 1980's. Aside from the Prince music, there's absolutely nothing here to date this film; as is expected of early Burton, he creates a fantasy dreamscape and invites the audience to lose themselves in his world. While some may say that The Dark Knight is far more in-tune with the spirit of the source material from a character standpoint (and I'd be inclined to agree), I think it's safe to say that this film is far more fascinating stylistically. The Dark Knight will forever take place in 2008 Chigago, while the events of Batman unfold in a Gotham City ripped straight from the Bronze Age of DC comics.

That's not to say that this is a perfect interpretation by any means; there are a number of changes from the source material that are sure to make comic readers' heads spin (the most egregious of which is Batman's willingness to flat-out murder any criminals he comes across), but I feel as though these are minor details that don't really detract from what is otherwise a very well-made film. The atmosphere here is tight enough that no amount of adaptational inconsistency can really totally shatter it. It's of course helped along by what might just be Danny Elfman's finest work as a composer. The score here is just magnificent, and is the song that comes to mind whenever I think of Batman (even moreso than the Adam West theme). Of course, all the atmosphere in the world isn't worth much if the cast is lackluster; fortunately, that's not the case in the slightest.

Michael Keaton's casting as Bruce Wayne was the subject of widespread controversy back in the day; after a series of primarily comedic roles in films such as Mr. Mom, fans assumed Keaton would be a poor choice for the dark knight. The reaction was so vitriolic that petitions were actually formed to have the role recast (keep in mind, this was well before the heyday of the internet). Fortunately for all involved, Keaton gives what may be the strongest performance in the entire film. As Bruce Wayne, he is quiet and reserved. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up inside and comes off as a man who appears totally unassuming, despite his lavish background. Under the cowl, Keaton's Batman is cool and collected, always in control of the situation. Compared to other live-action Batmen (namely Bale and Affleck), Keaton feels by far the most natural. He doesn't need to growl or scream to instill fear in the hearts of criminals (who are, after all, a superstitious and cowardly lot), and this innate sense of confidence helps elevate the character to the status of superhero (despite not being able to turn his neck around). This is a character who feels much more comfortable underneath his cape and body armor than he does in a tuxedo, and Keaton's performance conveys that dual identity to a T.

On the other hand, we have Jack Nicholson as the Joker. This is the true star of the movie; his origin gets the most attention from the plot, he steals every scene he's in, and he even gets top billing over the lead actor. A common criticism of Nicholson's performance is that he doesn't seem to act like the Joker, so much as he just acts like himself in clown makeup. While I can definitely see this (for as enthusiastic as he gets, he never really disappears into the role the way Keaton does), it doesn't change the fact that he gives a dynamite performance as one of the most iconic villains of all time. Burton really hones in on the narcissistic side of the Joker's personality; everything he does is motivated by ego. He is a villain who, in every sense, wouldn't exist without Batman. At the same time, it was a young Jack Napier (rather than the seminal Joe Chill of the comics) who killed Bruce Wayne's parents, creating a sort of hero/villain Ouroboros. While it's not a 100% accurate portrayal, I'd say that it's arguably the perfect performance for this interpretation of the character. He's got a great look, a great laugh, and contrasts brilliantly as a foil for our titular hero. This is a film full of strong performances and likeable characters, but it's obvious that Batman and the Joker are far and above the main event here.

I hadn't watched this movie in years and, upon revisiting it, I'm glad to say that it holds up. There are a few nitpicky issues I had concerning elements like the sound mixing, some of the editing, and of course the inconsistencies with the source material, but I feel as though I can safely say that this is an iconic classic that holds up, even without the help of nostalgia-goggles. When this film came out, it was revolutionary for its dark tone and clearly-defined stylistic choices. Nowadays, in a world of committee-planning and cinematic universes, it's refreshing for those same reasons. As much as I love the MCU, every film is basically a comedy at this point and the Guardians of the Galaxy films are the only ones with any real amount of dynamic color or directorial flair. The DCEU positively reeks of Zack Snyder's distinctive influence, but in a way that hampers any character who doesn't mesh well with washed-out colors and pseudo-intellectual platitudes. Batman is the perfect blend between blockbuster comic book adventure and a director's singular vision. It's a product born of all the right kinds of compromises, and I feel like many modern studio executives could (and should) look back to it for inspiration. If you somehow haven't seen this film by now, right your wrongs as soon as possible. Just make sure you stop after Batman Returns unless you've got something potent in your cup.

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REVIEW: Frankenweenie

As I've said time and time again, if there's one genre I'm willing to go to bat for it's children's horror. When we're young, the things that scare us can be some of the most spellbinding; when I was little, I was scared to death of the Xenomorph and Lon Chaney's Wolfman, but that didn't stop me from doing extensive research on various movie monsters during my middle school lunch breaks (thanks to the timeless and wonderful series of books from Crestwood House). Horror, as a genre, plays on such base, instinctual emotions, it's easy to see why so many kids like myself end up so inspired by the things that scare us at a young age. It's fun to be scared, especially around Halloween, which is why I find myself with just a teensy bit of positive bias when it comes to discussing films like Tim Burton's 2012 animated spoof, Frankenweenie.

Based off of Burton's 1984 short of the same name, the story follows a young science prodigy by the name of, what else, Victor Frankenstein (Charlie Tahan) and his pet dog, Sparky (the immortal Frank Welker). After Sparky is tragically hit by a car, Victor, overcome with grief, decides to exhume his best friend and resurrect him with a good ol' bolt of lightening. Once Victor's secret is revealed, however, all manner of chaos is unleashed on his sleepy hometown of New Holland once his classmates create monsters of their own. Truthfully, the most interesting part of the story is the monster mash climax, but that doesn't change the fact that this is one of the most loving tributes to the classic Universal age of monster movies that I've ever seen.

It's no secret that Tim Burton's output has been... shall we say, lacking, as of late. One only needs to compare his earlier films (Ed Wood, Beetlejuice, Batman, etc.) to his post-2000 work (Planet of the Apes, Alice in Wonderland, Dark Shadows, etc.) to get an idea of what I'm talking about. His penchant for originality seems to have fallen by the wayside in favor of putting Johnny Depp in an increasingly ridiculous series of hats. That said, Frankenweenie very much feels like a film that Burton wanted to make, rather than one he was, say, contractually obligated to make. Tim Burton's love for classic monster movies is more front-and-center here than in any of his other films (save perhaps Ed Wood). The whole thing is done in black and white, one of Victor's classmates looks and sounds like Boris Karloff, and there are references to everything from Gremlins to Gamera to Horror of Dracula. It's a veritable moving museum of horror history cameos and references.

Frankenweenie is, overall, a very feel-good kind of tribute to a timeless subgenre and feels entirely within Burton's classic wheelhouse; for anyone like me who adores his older work yet feels like he's lost his touch as of late, it's very much a ringing endorsement to Tim Burton's enduring talent as an artist. At the same time, I've got to appreciate how much this film commits to being a monster movie. For the most part it's a good-natured boy and his dog story, yes, but Frankenstein's creation is easily the most inherently gruesome of all the classic monsters. It's very possible to (forgive the pun) produce a relatively toothless vampire or werewolf story, but Frankenstein's monster, by default, always boils down to a collection of body parts being stitched together and ripped back from the afterlife by the cold hand of science. This is a children's movie that, despite its tongue-in-cheek tone, doesn't miss out on a few macabre gags and spooky moments; the creation scene is played 100% straight (and may have been my favorite moment in the entire film) and the climax is full of enough monster madness to give the kiddies a well-intentioned fright. It's a nice tonal equivalent to something like Ernest Scared Stupid or Monster Squad, in that it works as both a fun kids movie and a legitimate, all-ages monster film.

Truthfully, if there's one thing I really have to dock the film for, it's that it doesn't go far enough in terms of dour tone and story beats. Spoiler alert, but the dog lives (un-lives?) happily ever after. The movie constructs this potentially hard-hitting scenario; Victor refuses to admit that Sparky is gone for good, hence why he sneaks into the pet cemetery, retrieves his dog's corpse, stitches it all together, and hits him with a gigawatt. His parents explain that, although Sparky may be gone, he'll still live on in Victor's heart. It's at this point that we get what might be my favorite line in the movie: "I don't want him in my heart. I want him here with me." It's the one bit of emotion that hits hard and feels real; Victor comes off like an actual child experiencing his first encounter with grief. everything else admittedly feels a bit cheap and unearned. We're sad when Sparky gets hit by a car because Sparky is a dog and it's always sad when animals get hurt in movies. The film has a legitimate shot at something truly moving, but passes it by in favor of something altogether safer.

We're given a moral about how we shouldn't fear or reject things simply because we don't understand them; Victor clearly doesn't understand death, yet he subverts it at every opportunity. Sparky lived a full life and a full afterlife; he brought joy to those around him and even managed to save everyone in town once things started to get out of control. It would have been much more fitting and meaningful, I think, had Sparky actually perished saving Victor during the climax. Not only would it mimic the classic tragedy one finds in so many classic monster movies, but it would also bring the overall message full-circle. Victor learns to accept Sparky's passing and keep his furry friend alive, not through mad science, but through his thoughts and memories. You could even have a little end bit where it's revealed Sparky had puppies with Winona Ryder's dog; Son of Frankenweenie!

Then again, that's me looking at this movie through the eyes of an adult. For its target audience (i.e. children), this is sure to be a Halloween standard. Sure, it's a little safe in terms of content. It's not particularly deep in terms of story or characterization, but it makes up for it in sheer gumption and love for its inspiration. I, a jaded twenty-something film student, came away wanting, yes, but a kid on a monster kick is going to absolutely adore Frankenweenie. Maybe it'll even inspire younger generations to explore the classic monster films it was based on? If that's the case, then I'd say it most definitely did its job. Check it out, it's a cute, upbeat little flick.

REVIEW: Ed Wood

It's no secret that I'm a tremendous fan of the early works of Tim Burton; while his more recent turnout has left me wanting, it's inarguable that the man possesses a great knack for thematic styling, showcasing the strange and unorthodox in the spotlight it is so frequently denied. Like Batman and Beetlejuice, Ed Wood is the story of a societal outcast in a world that seldom understands or appreciates what they have to offer. Unlike those other films, however, I believe that Ed Wood alone holds the distinction of being Burton's finest work of all time.

Taking the form of a pseudo-biography, the film follows the man who would go on to be known as the worst director of all time, Edward D. Wood Jr (Johnny Depp). Struggling to break into the film industry, Wood finally gets his shot after befriending aging horror icon, Bela Lugosi (Martin Landau); even though Lugosi's career was essentially over, his remaining star power is enough to jumpstart production of Wood's first feature film, Glen or Glenda. What follows is the story of an eternal optimist, never giving up on his dreams despite essentially the entire world imploring him to do so. While the events shown in the film aren't exactly 100% accurate (it's been said that the real Lugosi never possessed such a penchant for profanity), the overall story is put together in such a fashion that capturing the spirit of Ed Wood and his cohorts is the primary goal (which the film accomplishes soundly).

Surprisingly, this is one of the few Tim Burton films that lacks the more recognizable staples of his signature aesthetic. As the plot is based on a true story, the whole thing is more reliant on the characters to drive the tone and emotion. Burton's visual flair is still very much present, just moreso understated and subtle than usual, and the film is better off for it. Shooting the film in black and white is a stroke of brilliance; like Young Frankenstein, this is a movie that simply would not work nearly as well had it been shot in color. The grayscale adds just the perfect old Hollywood tone that completely immerses the viewer in the time period. There's also some truly magnificent camerawork and shot composition at play here; for instance, take note of the first and last times we see Martin Landau as Bela Lugosi on screen. Scenes and shots from Wood's various films were recreated with admirable attention to detail, and it's the clear amount of effort given to seemingly negligible minutia like this which makes this film so much fun to watch. It's a feast for the eyes that manages to establish a strong emotional connection to the viewer to boot.

The performances here are all top-knotch; not a single weak link exists within this cast. The role of Ed Wood was the part Johnny Depp was born to play; there's not a single person who comes to mind who could do the job better. Depp's notorious for being something of a chameleon when the part is anything beyond "weird guy in a weird hat", and Ed Wood is no exception. He completely buries himself in the part; everything from his inflections to his eyebrows convey his tireless optimism and dedication to making his movies, no matter the cost. Martin Landau's portrayal of Bela Lugosi won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, an accolade that is well-deserved. He plays Lugosi in a way that is hilarious for the same reason it's so heartbreaking; we get to see this iconic actor end up a foul-mouthed, misanthropic old has-been, which is really quite funny, except for when it's not. The film doesn't shy away from Bela Lugosi's very real battle with morphine addiction, and it never ceases to cause a chill whenever it's brought up. Depp and Landau share a magical chemistry on-screen, resulting in one of the most genuinely feel-good cinematic friendships I've ever seen.

The supporting cast is littered with great talent like Sarah Jessica Parker, Bill Murray, and Jeffery Jones. Special consideration must be given to George "The Animal" Steele, for his spot-on portrayal of Tor Johnson; whether this is a testament to his acting ability or an unintended insult, he does an amazing job regardless. Vincent D'Onofrio has a short cameo as Orson Welles, with an uncredited Maurice LeMarche providing the voice. While the dub is a bit jarring at first, the effect is really quite uncanny and made for one of my favorite scenes in the entire film. As I said before, this is very much a character-driven film, so it's monumentally important that the cast is as strong as it is. If the majority of the performances were mediocre, the majority of the film would be mediocre. Fortunately, the performances here are fantastic, and the rest of the film follows suit.

Ed Wood is an all-around wonderful film. It's a look at one of the most bizarre visionaries to ever live that manages to be just as earnest as its main character. While the films of Edward D. Wood Jr are remembered as "so bad they're good" at best, Ed Wood does not seek to make fun. Rather, it celebrates the titular director's legacy, not for what it was, but for what he as a filmmaker represented. The integrity of an artist's vision, the tireless pursuit of one's dreams, and the constant reminder that you should always appreciate your own work, as there is no guarantee that anyone else will. If you haven't seen this yet, you're truly missing out. It's a love-letter to the underdogs that fits like a fresh angora sweater. Check it out.

REVIEW: Pee-wee's Big Adventure

Being a child of the 90's, the comic stylings of Pee-wee Herman were somewhat before my time. That said, the character has always piqued my interest, simply because something so utterly goofy has managed to stay recognizable and relevant within the realms of pop-culture for so long. It's easy to attribute the enduring popularity of many 80's icons to nostalgia more than anything else; the likes of Ninja Turtles and Transformers sold a lot of action figures (regardless of the quality of the show), so of course there would be some iteration of these brands for each new generation to come. Pee-wee Herman is the odd one out, however. Unlike so many popular children's properties of the time, Pee-wee was decidedly more comedy than action. When one looks at Pee-wee's Playhouse, one doesn't exactly see a show that was made to sell toys. Yet still, this absurd oddball of a character has remained popular to this day; it was with that in mind that I decided to check out the film that launched the directorial career of Tim Burton, Pee-wee's Big Adventure.

The plot focuses on the escapades of titular manchild, Pee-wee Herman (Paul Reubens). After his treasured bicycle is stolen, Pee-wee sets out on a cross-country crusade to reclaim his lost bike, encountering all manner of colorful characters along the way. This movie is a one-man road trip film; without Reubens, there is no movie here. Despite each scene basically being a vignette in which Pee-wee is placed in an absurd situation (he meets a ghost, he enters a rodeo, etc.), it all flows very nicely. Things take a bit to get going, but once the bike goes missing, there's hardly a dull moment.

The main focus here is Pee-wee himself; while he's basically a living cartoon character, there's something unmistakably relatable about him. He's an inner child made outer, sometimes selfish and simple but all around a good guy. His motivation is simple. He wants his bike back. The entire plot is driven by a basically goodhearted misfit's desire to reclaim that which is rightfully his. Even if you aren't charmed by Pee-wee's slapstick antics, it isn't hard to relate to his struggle. Throughout the entire movie, he has to deal with obstacles in the way of him being reunited with his precious bike. There are times when he's laughed at or talked down to or outright bullied, but at no point does he ever try to be anything other than himself. 

Looking at a character like Pee-wee, you'd expect this movie to contain some big speech at the end about how, even though he's different, he's still a good person and that's what really matters. Some scene where Pee-wee essentially defends himself against all his detractors. Instead, we get nothing of the sort. Not to say that Pee-wee doesn't have an arc, but there's no attempts to justify or "sell" his behavior to the audience. He just acts like himself; sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't. If it doesn't, then too bad. The people who matter end up seeing him for the good person he is and the people who still try to put him down for being different get their comeuppance in some form or another. As goofy and absurd a protagonist as Pee-wee is, there's something undeniably positive about his character, which is something I feel should be commended.

Pee-wee's Big Adventure is a wonderfully absurd romp that can endear itself to just about anyone. Paul Reubens is loads of fun to watch as Pee-wee and everything about this film, from the set design to the score (orchestrated by Danny Elfman, naturally), just reeks of Tim Burton in his prime. It's a story about the little guy with a heart of gold venturing out into the cruel, scary world. He doesn't need to slay any demons or become a "hero"; he simply just has to keep being the good person he is in the face of all the bad stuff the world throws at him. It's a story about positivity triumphing over negativity that just feels good to watch, aside from being loads of goofy fun.

REVIEW: Sleepy Hollow

It's a shame that these days I find myself almost wanting to refer to Tim Burton as a "guilty pleasure" of mine, considering his work used to be so genuinely good. Looking at his filmography from the 80's and 90's, it's clear that the man was an artist who, like George Lucas, should never have been allowed access to a computer. Because his catalog of work is so black and white (both literally and figuratively, in some cases), I really didn't know what I was going to get when I decided to watch 1999's Sleepy Hollow.

Taking place at the end of the 1700's, the film follows Constable Ichabod Crane (Johnny Depp) as he attempts to solve the mystery of a series of grisly beheadings plaguing the quiet village of Sleepy Hollow. Upon arriving and familiarizing himself with the town's influential citizens (all played by fabulous British actors and Jeffrey Jones), he is told that the culprit behind the killings is none other than the Headless Horseman (Christopher Walken), the vengeful spirit of a ruthless Hessian mercenary who was killed during the American Revolution. With more and more townspeople turning up headless, it is up to Crane and a young orphan named Masbeth (Marc Pickering) to get to the bottom of things and restore order in the Hollow.

Right off the bat, the movie looks fantastic; if there's one thing Tim Burton knows, it's visual design. Aside from a few instances of poorly-aged CGI, the film is by and large a tremendous treat to look at. Burton's use of washed-out backgrounds with contrasting elements of color make for a great Gothic aesthetic, perfectly establishing the tone and time period. It's not fantastical enough to feel like a fairy tale, yet not grounded enough to look like an account of history; it's the ideal balance for the look of an American folk tale taking place in the late Autumn. Danny Elfman's score works in perfect harmony with Burton's visuals (as always) to immerse the viewer in the story being told.

That said, it's worth noting that Burton had nothing to do with the screenplay; visuals can only go so far, and while the story is both interesting and engaging, the script tends to be a little muddled here and there. Names and titles are dumped out with such fervor that we hardly have time to match them to a face. Aside from Crane and Katrina (Christina Ricci), the entire cast is totally static and given no amount of characterization. Despite the artful visuals, this is, at its heart, a simple slasher film. Outside of the protagonist, everyone else is merely a prop for the Horseman to potentially behead while Ichabod scrambles to solve the mystery. Speaking of, I do wish that the mystery of the Horseman was kept unsolved for longer than it was; at first, no one is certain whether or not the killings are in fact supernatural in nature or not. It's established that it is possible for an average man to dress up as the Headless Horseman and chase people down, so it may or may not be a genuine haunting. However, the question is explicitly answered less than halfway through the runtime; granted, another mystery is raised in its place, but I really enjoyed the mystique that followed the Horseman legend.

The Horseman himself is a cool, if not particularly deep, villain. He's got a threatening presence about him when he hasn't got a head, though I find Christopher Walken to be an odd casting choice. He still looks like Christopher Walken, so it gets to be distracting when he shows his face. Furthermore, he doesn't do much acting aside from baring his teeth and going "AAAARRHHH"; the Headless Horseman does not have a single non-yelling line in this entire movie, which is a shame considering he's easily the most fascinating element of this entire movie.

On the other hand, Johnny Depp is by far the highlight here. While the other members of the cast all do well (particularly the cabal of town leaders played by Michael Gambon, Richard Griffiths, Ian McDiarmid, Michael Gough, and Jeffrey Jones), none of them hold a candle to Depp. He completely disappears into the role of Crane, coming off as inquisitive and hilariously cowardly while thrust into the role of protagonist. It's a credit to Depp's talent as an actor when one compares his role as Ichabod Crane to a character like Jack Sparrow. While his attempts at comedy all work (mainly because they're for the most part subtle), the rest of the film doesn't fare as well; there's several moments where the excellent tone is completely shattered by some odd attempt at humor. For example, there's an otherwise great scene where Ichabod witnesses the Horseman murder someone right in front of him. As the Horseman's sword connects with his victim's neck, the head spins around comically before rolling down a hill and landing mouth-first over Johnny Depp's crotch. It's kind of baffling that a scene with such a strongly-established tone would be interrupted by a bizarre attempt at comedic relief in a film that doesn't really require it at all.

Despite a few cracks in the otherwise stellar tone and a somewhat bland script, Sleepy Hollow is still an entertaining time. It's an interesting mystery showcased within a masterfully crafted Burton aesthetic; while it's not particularly deep, it's manages to be an enjoyable slasher flick with a really fun Johnny Depp performance. If you're looking for something to watch that compliments the fallen leaves on the ground outside, you could definitely do a lot worse than Sleepy Hollow.