REVIEW: Batman Ninja

Outside of the realm of comic books and video games, it's fair to say that DC is in big trouble. With their awkward attempt at a shared universe film franchise knocking on death's door and their home-video animated releases hosting one of the worst things I've ever seen, it's safe to say that the executives at Warner Bros simply don't know what to do with the timeless heroes and villains of Detective Comics. We live in an age where the best Batman movie of the past half-decade stars a bunch of animated LEGO toys; they couldn't even get The Killing Joke right, weighing down the whole experience with uncomfortable romantic subplots, camp gay stereotypes, and embarrassingly sloppy animation. When it comes to DC properties, if it's not a comic book or video game, I've got little reason to be excited for it. But then, out of nowhere, we get a new direct-to-video release. A co-production between WB and a handful of notable writers, animators, and producers from Japan's anime industry. This is Batman Ninja, and it's goddamn crazy.

The film opens at Arkham Asylum, where we see the Bat-Family trying to put a stop to Gorilla Grodd's (Fred Tatasciore) latest scheme. It seems that the super-intelligent ape has built a time machine, which he promptly uses to fling the Dark Knight (Roger Craig Smith) back in time to Feudal Japan. It's here that Batman learns that he wasn't the only one sent back to the past; a number of his greatest enemies took the trip as well, and have since established themselves as daimyōs, each controlling a different section of the island. Most notable is the Joker (Tony Hale), who keeps Grodd's time machine locked away in his towering castle; if the Clown Prince of Crime is able to defeat the other daimyōs and unify Japan under his rule, the entire course of history will be changed. It's up to Batman, Catwoman (Grey Griffin), and the rest of the Bat-Clan to stop the villains, saving Japan (and their future) in the process.

Comparing Batman Ninja to other recent efforts from Warner Bros Home Entertainment (such as Batman & Harley Quinn and The Killing Joke), the difference is night and day (and not just because of the obvious cultural shift). While those efforts both featured the talent of industry veteran Bruce Timm (who, along with Paul Dini, spearheaded the DC Animated Universe of the late 90's/early 2000's), his talent felt very much squandered. Compare that to Batman Ninja, which comes to us from Takashi Okazaki (the creator of/character designer for Afro Samurai), Junpei Misuzuki (a producer on Jojo's Bizarre Adventure), and Kazuki Nakashima (a writer for Kill La Kill, Kamen Rider, and my personal holy grail of anime, Gurren Lagann). If none of those names or titles sound familiar to you, then you may want to reconsider giving Batman Ninja a watch. Simply put, if you haven't seen at least one of those series I just mentioned, you're not the target audience for this film.

I am a huge fan of how crazy things can get when it comes to anime; my favorite anime of all time, Gurren Lagann, is about robots that are powered by machismo who throw galaxies at each other. I want my anime to get crazy from time to time. That said, there are some moments in Batman Ninja (specifically during the final 30 minutes) that are even a bit too ridiculous for my tastes. The premise itself is an insane idea, the kind of thing I'd have come up with when I was seven, hopped up on Fun Dip and Tang, bashing my Batman and Power Rangers toys against each other on my bedroom floor. I absolutely hate to use the old "just turn your brain off" excuse for anything, but when it comes to Batman Ninja... well, what did you expect? Were you looking for high art? For something as politically-charged as The Dark Knight Returns, or as engrossing as Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? This is a movie where Nightwing (Adam Croasdell) looks like a cross between Vegeta and Sasuke and the Joker pilots a moving castle with a pair of robotic arms. It's absolutely nothing more than an excuse to see Batman and his assorted cast of characters duking it out in a Feudal Japanese setting, and it's awesome.

Right off the bat, the most striking thing about this film is its art direction and animation. Okazaki's interpretations of these classic DC heroes and villains feel both familiar and wholly original, lending themselves wonderfully to the style of animation on display. It may take a moment or two to get used to everything looking like the opening to the first part of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, but once you adjust, you can fully start to appreciate just how gorgeous this movie really is. It's a far-cry from the stilted, lifeless, and often off-model animation seen in the more recent DC home-video releases; everything here is colorful, expressive, and just bursting with detail without appearing at all overwhelming or busy. It's a distinctly home-grown Japanese spin on a Western property that feels right at home against the Feudal backdrop in which our story takes place. And that's not even mentioning the action. Oh ho ho, the action.

It's not at all an exaggeration to say that Batman Ninja has some of the most exciting, engaging, and just flat-out badass action I've seen from any DC movie, let alone their efforts from the past decade or so. The use of CGI allows for animators to operate with a greater deal of versatility than they would be able to with more traditional techniques, and that's something that Batman Ninja takes full advantage of. It's so refreshing to see a Joker who can actually go toe-to-toe with the Dark Knight (rather than just an edgy mastermind who is soundly beaten down without incident), and their numerous clashes ended up being some of the highlights of the entire film for me. The climactic duel between the two (featured in most of the trailers) is everything I wanted this film to be since I'd heard of its existence. 

I also adored the characterization of Harley Quinn (Tara Strong) this time around, feeling much more in-line with the mischievous hench-wench of the old 90's animated series than she has as of late. Her confrontations with Catwoman were equally as thrilling; if I have one action-related complaint, is that there wasn't enough of it. Yes, what this movie puts forth as "plot" is basically just an excuse to move things from fight scene to fight scene, but so many of them involve some combination of Batman, Catwoman, the Joker, and Harley Quinn. The other iconic members of Batman's rogues gallery hardly get the amount of screen time we'd hope for (considering how great their designs are), and when it comes time for each to throw down with a member of the Bat-Family, the vast majority of the non-Bat/Cat-related action is handled off-screen.

Now it's important to note that, at the time of writing, I have only seen the English dub; as I would later find out, it turns out that the English and Japanese versions of Batman Ninja are radically different in terms of plot and dialog. Apparently, the Japanese team went about animating the film before any of the dialog was written or recorded (not an uncommon practice in the anime industry). This is, however, the exact opposite of how things are done stateside, leaving the English localization team with nothing to work with besides a series of rough storyboards and a translated script that totaled a whopping six pages long. This forced writers Leo Chu and Eric Garcia to more or less wing it, and while the end result isn't exactly pure poetry, it wasn't quite enough to distract me from all of the jaw-dropping art design and pulse-pounding action. If anything, I'm excited to have an excuse to revisit it in Japanese (besides, of course, hearing "Joker" pronounced as "JEEYOOOOOKAAAAAAH" over and over again).

Is Batman Ninja a good movie? Therein lies the question; it's not especially thought-provoking, or even all that coherent. If I'm being honest, I checked out of the plot well before things got truly convoluted, but then we're not exactly here for the plot, are we? We're here to see Batman have a samurai fight with the Joker in ancient Japan, and that's exactly what we get. This is not an intelligent or clever movie by any stretch of the imagination. It is, however, immensely entertaining. Batman Ninja is like Gurren Lagann meets Naruto meets Zoids meets Power Rangers meets Jiro Kuwata's Bat-Manga; it's an exercise in light-hearted nonsense, and the result is the kind of fun experience that Justice League only wishes it could provide. If you like anime and want to see what would happen if a really kickass piece of fanart came to life for 85 minutes, I can't recommend this enough. Grab some friends and a case of your favorite Japanese beer, check your mind at the door, and enjoy the ride.

REVIEW: Batman & Harley Quinn

I honestly didn't think things could get much worse than The Killing Joke. Sure, that was a tone-deaf (if admittedly well-acted) cash-in on an iconic Batman story, but it had to have been a fluke, right? There are plenty of decent DC animated features out there; some of them (Justice League: The New Frontier, Mask of the Phantasm, Under the Red Hood) are even pretty phenomenal. However, having taken in the latest Warner Animated movie starring the caped crusader, I'm forced to simply come to terms with the fact that, much like Warner Bros' live-action division, they simply have no idea what they're doing when it comes to the beloved and time-honored characters of Detective Comics. It's not often that a movie is so bad it makes me angry. More often than not, I can see the fun in a good, bad movie (like last week's trainwreck, Death Note). But believe me when I say that Batman and Harley Quinn is one of the most insufferable, insulting things I've had to sit through in a good long while.

The story takes place in the continuity of Batman The Animated Series, the classic show that introduced us to the once-novel but now woefully over-played character of Harley Quinn (incidentally, BTAS just turned 25 years old, and lord knows it deserves a better birthday tribute than this tripe). The plot follows Batman (Kevin Conroy, of course) and Nightwing (Loren Lester) as they attempt to put a stop to the sinister plans of Poison Ivy (Paget Brewster) and Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man (Kevin Michael Richardson). As one might expect from a duo of hippy-dippy plant-based supervillains, their scheme involves mixing up some manner of super-chemical that will transform all animal life into sentient plants, thus returning the Earth to the rightful hands of Mother Nature and yadda yadda yadda. In order to track down the green meanies, the dynamic duo enlist the help of Ivy's longtime gal-pal and associate, the recently-reformed Harley Quinn (The Big Bang Theory's Melissa Rauch). If this sounds like a rehash of the classic BTAS episode, Harliquinade (in which Batman and Robin enlist Harley's help in tracking down the Joker after he acquires a nuclear bomb), that's simply because that's exactly what it is, just minus any inkling of pathos or emotion and with at least 100% more prolonged fart jokes.

The most jarring issue with this film is that it has no idea what it wants to be, tonally-speaking. The original Batman animated series on which this film is based was notable for its dark tone and noir aesthetics. It had its lighter moments, sure, but the main reason it's so fondly remembered is because of how effectively it reinvented the character of Batman for a new generation, casting the classic superhero in a brooding, mature, dynamic light, reminiscent of the Tim Burton films released around the same time. And the character of Harley Quinn, bubbly and comedic as she was, was still very much a product of this sense of tone. Just under the surface was a tragic figure, able to illicit sympathy just as easily as she could illicit laughter. She wasn't, for lack of a better term, a meme character, meant to spout catchphrases ready-made to be printed on a line of t-shirts at your local Hot Topic. She had some actual degree of emotional depth to her character beyond "wacky random clown girl", yet these days it seems like that's all DC is content in giving us. She's got all the "lol so random" appeal of Marvel's Deadpool, but with that oh-so-important addition of easily-marketable sex appeal. What else is there? She moves buttloads of merchandise with little to no creative effort on DC's part, may as well stay the course until this proverbial cow is milked dry.

This movie's take on Harley is just insufferable in every way. Melissa Rauch is a refreshing change, I guess (I've come to terms with the fact that Tara Strong is probably the best replacement for Arleen Sorkin we're gonna get, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't getting a bit grating hearing the same exact voice every time the character shows up these days), but she still does a sub-par job overall. While I can admit that any substitute voice would sound wrong coming out of the BTAS Harley, Rauch's pseudo-Yiddish accent just sounds painfully forced. It's obvious WB had her on the payroll for The Big Bang Theory and was just looking for some cheap and easy brand synergy. It also hardly helps that Harley is written here like an author-insert in a gaudy fanfic. She's essentially the best, coolest person in the world; she solves all the problems and has all the epic zingers and even has a totally necessary musical number at one point (again, this movie is definitely not a lazy rehash of that one episode of Batman The Animated Series). Meanwhile, Batman doesn't do much of anything and Nightwing serves as nothing more than a pseudo-love interest/rape victim.

Yes, it seems that once again, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's old chum and faithful ward, ends up getting raped for "comedic" effect. You see, it's perfectly fine that Nightwing gets drugged and tied to a bed in an abandoned tenement, only to have a crazed ex-supervillain jump his batarang. It doesn't matter that Harley is a self-described sociopath; she's hot and that's all that matters, am I right fellas? (Insert whooping and fist-pumping here). No but really, all sarcasm aside, this entire sequence is utterly disgusting. Let's not pretend that heads wouldn't roll if the genders were reversed and a vulnerable superheroine was the one knocked out and sexually assaulted by a reformed mental patient (and before you go throwing The Killing Joke at me, at least that didn't try to hand-wave it away by implying Barbara Gordon actually enjoyed it). It's really the most patronizing and insulting message to men who enjoy comics; the idea that the target audience for this is so desperate, that they'd accept, or even embrace, getting drugged and raped by a murderous psychopath (so long as she's a total dime, of course). Over the remainder of its runtime, the film sees fit to make Nightwing the butt of a number of jokes, implying that he's not only responsible for what happened, but that he deserves to be mocked for letting Harley slide down his bat-pole, as if he was a horny schoolboy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I guess it makes sense, all things considered; I mean, just look at what he's wearing! A fit, handsome young man in a form-fitting outfit like that, why he was practically asking for it!

Aside from turning one of the title characters into a full-fledged rapist, the film also confirms a theory I've been mulling over for some time now; without the Joker, Harley Quinn just isn't an interesting character. I'm sorry, but it's true. The Joker is an integral part in her internal conflict; he is the entire reason that Harleen Quinzel became Harley Quinn in the first place. Removing his influence on her story has the same effect as if Batman's parents came back to life; that initial struggle, that core dynamic that defines the entire character, is lost. Instead, we're simply left with a catchphrase-spouting Poochie of a character and it becomes abundantly clear that this was simply made to cash in on Harley's ongoing mainstream popularity, as well as Batman The Animated Series' big 25th anniversary. At one point Batman describes her as "the walking definition of 'loose cannon'", which I can only assume is a direct quote from some Warner Bros executive at whatever pitch meeting spawned this cheap, lazy trash. 

Without the Joker keeping her down, Harley loses all sense of sympathy; if she's willing to throw on the tights, a supposed symbol of a horribly traumatic and abusive period in her life, at the drop of a hat, then she just becomes another supervillain with flexible morality. She ceases to be a truly tragic figure and just becomes another wacky comic book character with an unfortunate past. Everyone has a tragic backstory these days. Kite Man has a tragic backstory these days. The thing that set Harley aside from the rest was that it wasn't just her backstory, but her whole life that was tragic. Mr. Freeze was one of the best villains featured on BTAS, but once you cure his wife, he loses all relevance and has no reason to go cavorting about with Batman and Robin anymore. The same applies to Harley; once she's free of the Joker's influence, any attempt to put a mallet back in her hands just comes off as hackneyed and regressive from a characterization standpoint. Then again, it's fairly obvious that nuanced characterization wasn't exactly at the top of the agenda when putting this together.

If it wasn't clear already, I absolutely positively loathed this movie. I say this as a tremendous fan of not only Batman the Animated Series, but of all the cartoons and comics that Bruce Timm and Paul Dini created together; this movie is pure trash of the highest caliber. The tone comes off like a Hot Topic interpretation of the 60's Adam West show, conveyed through the aesthetic of The Animated Series, only the people behind it managed to capture exactly none of the nuance or charm of either of those shows (which is especially confusing, considering Bruce Timm is one of the two writers responsible for this mess). This movie is so bad it made me wish that DC had retired the character of Harley Quinn alongside Arleen Sorkin. The characters are paper-thin and bafflingly characterized, the animation is sub-standard, everyone appears off-model more often than not, and the frame-rate sinks like a stone any time there's any action onscreen. There's tons of padding for time and the end result ranks alongside BTAS episodes like I've Got Batman in My Basement; it stretches itself so thin to try and justify a full-price home release, yet by the time Floronic Man made Poison Ivy eat a psychedelic yam he plucked off of Swamp Thing's corpse I just didn't care anymore. 

The only bit worth salvaging is the post-credits scene, in which Harley finds herself hosting a television show that's one part Doctor Phil, one part Takeshi's Castle. It's actually legitimately funny and is the only part of this entire ordeal that feels even remotely in-tune with the tone of the series it's banking off of. Unless you feel like wasting an hour of your life you'll never be able to get back, I recommend sparing yourself the headache and giving this mess a miss.

REVIEW: The LEGO Batman Movie

After seeing The LEGO Movie roughly four times in the theater back in 2014, you could say I was basically on-board for whatever LEGO-related project Warner Animation Group wanted to throw my way. When it was announced that Will Arnett's Batman would be getting his own spin-off film, I was sold immediately. Batman as a character has been around for 78 years; of course there's plenty there to be colorfully and hilariously deconstructed (no pun intended). I expected it to be a fun time with some fantastically imaginative animation, but what I didn't expect was for this to be the best Batman film since The Dark Knight (and if we're talking purely on how well it understands the character, then it's in the running for the best film depiction ever).

Taking place three years after the events of The LEGO Movie, Batman (Will Arnett) is back in Gotham City doing what he does best, fighting crime and foiling evil. After his plan to detonate an overly-complicated bomb under the city goes up in smoke, a jilted Joker (Zach Galifianakis) plots his ultimate revenge in an attempt to prove that he is Batman's greatest nemesis. Meanwhile, new police commissioner Barbara Gordon (Rosario Dawson) attempts to revamp Gotham into a place that no longer needs a Batman, hoping to work side-by-side with the vigilante. This naturally doesn't jive with Batman's usual lone-wolf crime fighting style, nor does the addition of his newly adopted son, Dick Grayson (AKA Robin, voiced by Michael Cera). On top of all of this, Batman is forced to face his greatest fear; being part of a family once again.

Leave it to a movie populated entirely with plastic bricks to offer the most human portrayal of the Dark Knight in years. Despite how over-the-top the humor and heroics are in this film, there's a deceptive amount of heart present underneath it all. As absurd and blatantly comedic as Arnett's take on the character of Batman is, his faults are all very much accurate to the core of the character. He's shown to be a self-absorbed loner, one whose weakness stems from a deep-rooted fear of losing those close to him. What at first glace appears to be nothing more than a 104 minute commercial for LEGO products is really a character study of one of the most iconic superheroes of all time. That may sound a bit overly-serious, given the movie I'm talking about here, but the dramatic elements of this film really do work; this is a film that gets Batman.

As one would expect, this movie is an unapologetic love letter to all things Batman. There's nods to everything from the Tim Burton films, to the Adam West series, to the black and white serials of the 1940's. There's jokes involving everything from shark repellent to bat-nipples. We get special appearances from Batman characters such as King Tut, the Mutant Leader, and Two-Face as portrayed by LEGO Billy Dee Williams. There's plenty of surface-level jokes that anyone can enjoy, but it's clear that this is a film made by and for Batman fans, first and foremost. And that's to say nothing of the copious winks and nods made at the expense of Warner Bros less-stellar live-action efforts ("What am I going to do, get a bunch of criminals to fight criminals? That’s a stupid idea!").

For as much praise as I intend to lavish on this movie (trust me, I'm not finished), it's not without its faults. Maybe it's just the comic geek in me talking, but I found the first half (when the film is far more "Batman" than it is "LEGO") to be by-far superior to the second half. The jokes hit harder and more frequently and the film didn't slow down long enough for me to stop smiling. Once the Joker actually puts his master plan in motion and the third act begins, the pace becomes less manic and the film seems to lose a bit of its own identity. I don't want to give anything away, so I'll say this; what happens is both very fun and very imaginative, but I honestly would have had no problem whatsoever with this film just being a DC affair.

As one would expect, the voice cast here is stellar. Will Arnett's Batman carries the film, coming off as an untouchable badass while also appearing supremely vulnerable. His chemistry with Cera's Robin will be no surprise to anyone familiar with Arrested Development, but it's still worth noting how frequently hilarious/often heartwarming their superhero/sidekick relationship is. Ralph Fiennes lends his voice to Alfred Pennyworth (yet, surprisingly enough, not to ANOTHER character who appears later in the film), imbuing the Wayne family butler with the perfect amount of dry British wit. He, along with Rosario Dawson, act as excellent straight-men foils to the markedly more madcap Batman and Robin; our quartet of heroes is nothing if not well-rounded and balanced. Meanwhile, Zach Galifianakis's Joker is surprisingly compelling; he was honestly the only member of the cast I wasn't sold on from the get-go, so it's good to see that he really pulled it off (far better than Jared Leto did, that's for sure). 

The relationship between Batman and the Joker is one of my favorite aspects of the entire film; not only does it toe the line on being hilariously homoerotic, but it's also dead-on accurate to their dynamic in the source material. The Joker's entire motivation boils down to getting Batman to admit that he's a greater adversary than Bane or Superman; that he's the perfect match for Gotham's caped crusader. Everything he does, every evil scheme, is explicitly for Batman's sake. He's an attention-seeker on a quest for validation from his arch-nemesis, an utterly perfect representation of who the Joker really is. He insists that their adversarial relationship is really something special, but Batman frequently denies him the closure he so desires; it's literally the same dynamic between Christian Bale and Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight, just framed through the lens of a cheesy rom-com. It's such a perfect joke, mainly because it's so painfully, bitingly accurate.

What else can I say? The LEGO Batman Movie is a hilariously written, outrageously acted, gorgeously animated piece of work. It's a rare thing to see satire that so totally understands the thing that it's lampooning as well as this film does. It takes some liberties, sure (Dick Grayson hasn't been nearly this gawky since the days of Burt Ward), but you'd be hard pressed to find an adaptation that understands the spirit of its source material as well as The LEGO Batman Movie. It's a film which runs on hyperbole; everything is exaggerated, but it's also dead-on when you get right down to it. Behind all the flashy colors and beatboxing is a film that is much smarter than it appears to let on. If you're a Batman fan, this is mandatory viewing, one of the best bat-films ever made (and honestly neck-in-neck with Mask of the Phantasm for my personal favorite). Even if you couldn't care less that Batman asks his rogue's gallery if they "wanna get nuts", this is still a load of surprisingly heartwarming fun, not to be missed.

REVIEW: Batman- The Killing Joke

There was a time a few years ago when Mark Hamill decided to permanently retire from voicing the Joker, claiming that the role put too much stress on his throat after all these years. The only exception he would return for, he said, would be an animated adaptation of Alan Moore's The Killing Joke. An understandable caveat; an actor considered by many to be the definitive Joker, playing the part in an animated adaptation of what many consider to be the definitive Joker story. Years passed, and not only has Mark Hamill returned to voicing the Joker on a regular basis, but his dream of seeing this classic story adapted into an animated feature has come to pass. The question remains, does Batman: The Killing Joke do its source material justice?

The plot is the first thing that will concern comic fans. The original story is not particularly long (before writing this piece, I revisited the comic and finished it in about ten minutes). There's essentially enough material to make for a 30 to 45 minute runtime at best, but then that's hardly feature-length. Warner Bros Animation would be hard-pressed justifying a full-price home release for something so short, let alone a limited theatrical run, so naturally some additions have been made. The original plot of The Killing Joke concerns the Joker once again escaping Arkham Asylum to wreak havoc on the city of Gotham. After crippling Barbara Gordon (Tara Strong), the clown prince of crime kidnaps her father, Commissioner Jim Gordon (Ray Wise) and attempts to drive the old man insane in order to prove that even the most upstanding individual is "one bad day" away from descending into total madness. While the Batman (Kevin Conroy) tries to track the Joker down and put a stop to his scheme, we see flashbacks that shed some light on the Joker's mysterious origins. The source material is an exemplary display of the dynamic between Batman and the Joker; these two are without a doubt, the stars of the show. Which is why it's so confusing to me that the entire first act of this movie is a totally unrelated story about Batgirl.

I'll admit, I can see where writer Brian Azzarello was going with this. The graphic novel on which the film is based was released on comic stands; if someone was reading The Killing Joke, chances are they knew who Barbara Gordon was and understood why she was important. Her incidental role in the original story could be forgiven, considering that the book was part of the greater ongoing Batman canon that comic fans of the time would clearly be familiar with. However, film is much less of a niche medium than comics; whereas an issue of a comic series can act as a smaller chapter in a greater overarching storyline, a movie usually has to end up being more or less self-contained. It follows that, in a story in which a major plot point finds a character getting shot in the spine and crippled for life, it would make sense to endear any uninitiated audience members to that character before delivering such a powerful emotional beat.

While I can understand the logic behind adding in additional scenes of Batgirl in action, it still doesn't change the fact that The Killing Joke was never about Barbara Gordon; it was about Batman and the Joker (with extra emphasis on the latter). A prologue to further characterize Batgirl would have worked just fine, so long as it tied in with the actual meat of the story. Instead, we're given a one-off storyline involving a narcissistic would-be crime lord named Paris Franz (Maury Sterling ) and his creepy obsession with Batgirl. In terms of tone and content, this story and The Killing Joke couldn't possibly be more different. Whereas the parts of the film that are adapted straight from the book are full of somber imagery and the iconic prose of Alan Moore, the primary conflict of the Batgirl prologue involves Barbara feeling jilted after an uncomfortable one-night stand with Batman. The second half of this movie delves into the Joker's tragic backstory and is full of spine-chilling imagery and dialog, while the first half has Babs pouring her heart out to her camp gay best friend, wishing that the dark knight would call her back. Despite Batgirl not being the primary focus of the original story, it would have been very possible to write a prologue that not only characterizes her for a new audience, but also ties into the primary plotline in terms of content and theme. Instead we get this boring, baffling diversion that feels like it would almost make for a good one-off story if it wasn't taking attention away from everything that we all obviously came to see.

I must also call attention to the animation, art style, and general look of the movie. While some shots do an admirable job of mimicking Brian Bolland's iconic artwork, the entire thing just appears too simplified. When I see Bruce Timm's name in the credits of anything, even just as a producer, I immediately hold it to the same high standard of animation seen in Justice League Unlimited and Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. Unfortunately, the film doesn't come close to reaching that standard; I spotted numerous animation errors, as well as shots that simply came off as purely lazy (keep an eye on Gordon's silhouette as he makes his way through the Joker's funhouse). The art of the graphic novel had a true sense of grit to it; the heavy shadows and meticulous details fit the tone perfectly. This is a Batman story that is grimier and dirtier than those you're used to reading. While the designs of the comic are used here, liberties had to be taken in order to keep things easy to animate. The shadows are less complex, the range of motion is for the most part stiff, and minor details have been smoothed out in favor of something cleaner. "Cleaner" is not a style that compliments the content of this story. There's also some genuinely garish CGI at times that stands out like a sore-thumb; while I understand that a carousel must be one of the absolute worst things to animate, the one featured in this film made me physically cringe. I can only dream of what this would have looked like had it been made in the mid-late 90's, when Paul Dini and Bruce Timm's Batman The Animated Series was taking the world by storm. While the art design here is acceptable in terms of a TV/direct-to-video release, it's definitely a poor adaptation of Bolland's original artwork.

For all the issues I had with this movie, there was one facet that justified the entire thing for me; the voice acting. As a movie, it's heavily flawed, but it's a damn good audiobook. Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill return once again as Batman and the Joker, in my opinion the best interpretations of the characters ever committed to screen. While I rolled my eyes at just about everything in the first act, I got genuine chills hearing Hamill recite iconic lines from the comic. It's only dawned on me just now that this is the most true-to-form Joker to ever be shown on the big screen. He's legitimately terrifying, unpredictable, and despicable, but at the same time relatable and sympathetic. In an era when I was suffering from Joker-fatigue, this movie came along and reminded me why the character has stood the test of time. Every moment from the graphic novel, from Batman's plea for compromise to the ambiguous ending are all adapted flawlessly. I simply cannot praise the main cast of Conroy, Hamill, Strong, and Wise enough; had this movie used a different cast, this all would have been utterly pointless. The vocal performances on display here are what made the movie worthwhile for me. While I obviously can't say this works as a replacement or stand-in for the original comic, I can say that, once the actual plot begins, it's an overall excellent adaptation of one of the greatest Batman stories ever told. If you're a fan of Batman or the Joker or both, I highly recommend you check this out at least once; it's entirely worth it just to hear those iconic lines being read by those iconic voices.

And now I sit back and pray WB Animation does a better job with the inevitable animated adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?

REVIEW: The Iron Giant

Brad Bird's The Iron Giant is a perfect example of the importance of proper advertising. Here we have a near-perfect film which ended up definitively dead on arrival at the box office, barely making half of its budget back. Thanks to the poor planning of the Warner Bros marketing department, the film was left with little to no media tie-ins; one would expect an animated film about a boy and his giant robot to spawn a myriad of toys and books and fast food collectibles, but no such sponsorship was to be found. Because of the lack of promotion, the film failed (despite receiving universal critical acclaim and enjoying cult status to this day), thus furthering the unfortunate notion that intelligent, traditionally-animated children's films simply don't sell.

The story is a love-letter to 50's B-Movie sci-fi, taking place in smalltown America in the wake of Sputnik and the heat of the Cold War. A massive robot (Vin Diesel) careens down from the stars, landing in the idyllic suburb of Rockwell, Maine. After the amnesiac giant is discovered by a kid named Hogarth Hughes (Eli Marienthal), the two form a bond that some terrible hacks might describe as "stronger than steel". Naturally, the presence of a gigantic, mechanical colossus attracts the attention of the United States government, dispatching agent Kent Mansley (Christopher McDonald) to get to the bottom of the odd rumors and unexplained phenomena that have sprung up in the Giant's wake. The tone of the movie is as comfortable and consistent as they come; there are times when you almost forget you're watching an animated film. The Giant is by far the most fantastical thing here; everyone else acts and thinks just like real human beings. This is a movie that could very easily have been made in live-action (for an exponentially larger amount of money, of course), but the fact that it's animated allows for many subtle aesthetic touches that just help to cement the feel of the movie. The autumn leaves are just a bit more vibrant than in real life, the stars a bit brighter and more plentiful; the town of Rockwell is, funnily enough, positively Rockwellian in its cozy depiction of classic Americana.

The animation here is stunning, seamlessly blending CGI and traditional methods to create something truly timeless. This is one of those movies where the visuals age like fine wine; The Iron Giant will always look spectacular, simply because of the amount of care and ingenuity on display. The animators behind the titular giant (a character done entirely using computer animation) even factored in human errors concerning details such as line weight when animating the character, helping him blend in seamlessly with his 2-D costars. It's that kind of meticulous attention to detail that makes Brad Bird one of the finest animation directors in the industry; he knows how to manages his staff properly and inspire his team to produce the best end result imaginable.

Aside from the beautiful visuals, this is also one of the smartest "children's films" I've ever seen, to the point that I hesitate to refer to it as a children's film. It's really more of an animated movie that happens to be appropriate for all ages. The sleepy little town of Rockwell is a perfect metaphor for the time period in which the film takes place; while we may look back at the 50's with quaint nostalgia for all the diners and Radio Flyers and everything else that came with this "simpler time", underneath the surface lay a bubbling crock-pot of fear and paranoia. The Red Scare was in full swing at this point, and those fears are perfectly embodied by Kent Mansley, the film's antagonist. He's a clean-cut fast-talker who justifies his fear and hatred of the unknown as doing what's necessary for Uncle Sam. No one is certain of where the Giant came from, which means that there's a good chance it's a Russian superweapon sent to destroy truth, justice, and the American way. While the Giant DOES pose certain risks and dangers, the movie makes a strong point that, when faced with something new and different, unchecked aggression is usually a poor choice of immediate response.

Really, it's a film about outsiders. The Giant is packing some serious heat, and a deleted scene implies that he is one of many, all made for the purpose of conquest. Despite all this, thanks to a case of crash-sustained robo-amnesia, he finds himself in a very strange place with little purpose. It's a similar situation with Hogarth, living with his widowed mother (Jennifer Aniston) at home and studying a grade-level up in school (leading him to be ostracized and bullied by his peers). He's a boy who doesn't inspire much out of anyone but those close to him, a party that is essentially entirely comprised of his mother and Dean McCoppin (Harry Connick Jr), a scrapyard foreman and aspiring artist. His beatnik ways clash with the simplistic ideals of American suburbia in the 1950's; it's no wonder why he, Hogarth, and the Giant all come together as a team over the course of the film. In the end, it's the would-be weirdos, crazies, and monsters who save the day.

The movie also touches on themes of predetermined roles within society. If the movie has a takeaway line, it is likely "we are who we choose to be". The Giant has the potential, as do we all, to dismantle and destroy. Whether it be in small, subtle ways (such as fear-mongering and bigotry) or in larger, more on-the-nose ways (like taking an innocent life or ordering a nuclear strike on a small suburban town on impulse), there are times when it can be very easy to be a monster. There are some, like Mansley, who fall directly into this philosophical trap. Blocked in by the barriers we ourselves have established, we may do the wrong thing because "we have no choice". Even during the action-packed climax, the military themselves eventually stand down when they realize they aren't pursuing the correct course of action. The Giant, the military, Mansley; we all do things we may regret out of fear, but it is when we let that fear control us and taint us that we go too far. Though we may fall by the wayside and feel confined to the roles that seem almost predetermined for us, there is always a time to change. We are who we choose to be; anyone can be a monster, anyone can be a gun, but anyone can also be Superman.

The Iron Giant is close to being a perfect movie. Everything about it is gorgeous and heartfelt and just masterfully crafted. The only gripe I have with the entire film is the ending, which was clearly added in via studio mandate. If the movie was thirty seconds to a minute shorter, the film would be truly flawless, but there does exist this one irritating nitpick of mine that keeps it from "official" perfection. That said, "unofficial" perfection will simply have to do. Brad Bird is an amazing director and this movie is one of his absolute best. If you haven't seen it, do so immediately; this is required viewing for anyone who considers themselves an animation buff, cinephile, or connoisseur of cult classics in any regard.

REVIEW: Cats Don't Dance

The 90's was an interesting time for feature-length animation. With the Disney Renaissance beginning with The Little Mermaid in '89, the House of Mouse essentially dominated the era with films like Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. Due to Disney's widespread popularity, this put other studios in an interesting position; animated musical comedies clearly printed money, yet simply copying the Disney Princess formula rarely resulted in a hit (films like Thumbelina and Quest for Camelot are a testament to this). In order to survive, films that didn't come out of the Disney Animation Studios usually had to provide something different than the standard fairy tale adaptation. This led to a number of notable films that I'll likely take a look at down the line such as The Iron Giant, The Road to El Dorado, and Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. These less-celebrated films have always fascinated me; thanks to Disney's massive marketing machine, the stories and characters of the Disney Renaissance never truly went away. You're much more likely to meet a young child in this day and age who knows who Ariel and Simba are than one who's seen The Swan Princess. Today's Review focuses on one of the more forgotten non-Disney films of that era, Cats Don't Dance.

Determined to make it in the movies, an upbeat and optimistic cat by the name of Danny (Scott Bakula) leaves his home town of Kokomo, Indiana for 1930's Hollywood. Like every story about a wide-eyed dreamer who moves to a big city to make it happen, Danny soon realizes that the motion picture industry isn't nearly as ripe with opportunity for animal actors as he'd hoped. Despite Danny's natural musical talent, he's relegated to simply playing the part of a background animal in the latest vehicle for the diminutive Darla Dimple (Ashley Peldon/Lindsay Ridgeway), a not-so-subtle parody of Shirley Temple with an even less subtle temper. Befriending a beleaguered secretary by the name of Sawyer (Jasmine Guy/Natalie Cole), Danny and his fellow animals try to break free from the mold and prove to the studio that you don't need to be human to make it in the movies.

The first point I have to award in the film's favor is its aesthetic; I will forever be a huge sucker for old Hollywood, and this is a movie that revels in that era. It's no secret that Gene Kelly had a hand in the dance choreography here (coincidentally, this is his last project and is dedicated to his memory), as every Randy Newman-penned musical number is just chock-full of that jazzy, Singin' in the Rain-esque energy. From various Hollywood landmarks to a bundle of cameos from caricatures of the era's biggest stars, this is a film that perfectly captures that optimistic feel of 1930's Hollywood, yet is able to present it through a more contemporary lens. It doesn't hurt either that the story (about a band of talented performers who, despite their skills, are considered second-class citizens, relegated to playing second-banana to an adorable child star) works as an allegory for the issues of racial representation in the motion picture industry around that time. All in all, it's an excellent premise that is unfortunately held back from greatness by that which should reside at the heart of its story; the film's protagonist.

While Scott Bakula has a great voice for the part and the animation on Danny is top-knotch, it doesn't change the fact that, as a character, he's one of the blandest protagonists I've ever seen in a movie like this. There's a point at which your starry-eyed dreamer ends up being just a bit too starry-eyed, and Danny is clearly far past that point. Even when his dreams are crushed, he's back to his usual perpetually smiling self after just one song. He's a static character with absolutely no edge to him; by the end of the movie, he's no different personality-wise than he was at the beginning. You'd expect some lesson to be learned but no; despite things looking grim in Danny's darkest hour, the day is saved simply by trying again. I suppose this is a positive lesson, sure, but it's hardly a dynamic or interesting one.

Sawyer, on the other hand, is a far more interesting character who truly deserves to be the focus of this film. The basis behind her character is that she was once like Danny, hoping to make it big singing and dancing in the pictures. As we find her, her dreams have long since been crushed and she's resigned herself to living the menial life of a secretary for an animal talent agency. There's a deep rooted pessimism to her character that resonates in a much stronger way than Danny's blind, childish optimism. When a protagonist is already humbled, it makes it that much easier for us as an audience to root for and identify with them. Her story of learning to believe in her dreams again is a much more interesting, satisfying one than Danny's story of simply trying really hard until he accomplishes his goals. It even feels as though the movie subconsciously knows that Sawyer is the real protagonist here; not only is she given the best songs, but she's the focal point of the big showstopper that makes up the film's climax. This movie's biggest sin is that we spend more time with Danny than with Sawyer, and that aspect is what keeps it from achieving true greatness.

As I mentioned before, I absolutely love the setting and premise of this movie, but special consideration must also be given to the animation and character design at work here. The film didn't exactly have a Disney-sized budget to work with (and even then, it barely made back 10% of what it cost to produce), but everything still manages to look gorgeous and fluid in motion. The characters all have the feeling of classic Warner Bros cartoons on a more modern theatrical scale; Darla Dimple and her hulking valet, Max (director Mark Dindal, as a perfect parody of Erich von Stroheim's character from Sunset Boulevard) make for wonderful villains, both in terms of visuals and characterization. From Darla's sickeningly pink mansion to the way the frame is often forced to work around Max's titanic scale, this movie is just a joy to look at. The end musical number in particular is a surprisingly strong sequence on its own, managing to get me totally invested and tapping my toes to boot.

Aside from Danny, pretty much nothing about this movie is bland or boring. It's a colorful send up of classic Hollywood tropes with enough catchy songs, lively animation, and clever in-jokes and references to entertain anyone from little kids to aging cinephiles. It's not a perfect movie by any means; frankly, it's understandable why, in 1997, Cats Don't Dance bombed spectacularly while Disney's Hercules made a modest profit and continues to be popular to this day. That said, I don't regret my time spent watching it in the slightest. If you're feeling nostalgic for that time when high-quality, traditionally-animated feature films were a yearly institution, Cats Don't Dance is definitely a flawed but overall enjoyable relic from that magical era.