My Boy Gabriel

A few weeks ago now, I attended Divine Liturgy at an Eastern Orthodox Cathedral in Birmingham. There was about an hour and a half of standing, yes, but all the tropes associated with deep Orthodox worship revealed themselves to be true. There was unity in the chanting, power in reciting the creed, the great beauty of Christian doctrine magnified by the icons surrounding the place.

After Liturgy, I visited their small store and purchased an icon of the Archangel Gabriel. I didn’t quite have enough money to afford one of the Jesus icons, but I wanted to take an icon home. My theology professor in Seminary had a hand-made one from a student and I thought it made for worshipful, meaningful decoration.

The Archangel Gabriel Icon

I was at first attracted to the beauty of the Gabriel icon, but suddenly something from my past clicked and I remembered Gabriel was one of the first parts I had ever played onstage.

While I did a church play around age five or six, the first production I remember vividly was called The Best Story Ever, one of those cantatas published by Brentwood Music out of Tennessee. They usually make the rounds in all the evangelical churches. My school was a Baptist private school and so we were able to do religious-themed cantatas at Christmas.

I played Gabriel in Best Story. Technically, I guess, I wasn’t onstage, but walking the aisles. That fat little third grader in an angel robe was me! And I reckon I understood the importance of Gabriel’s part though, of course, I would've rather been the lead.

So, the choice of the Gabriel icon seemed right—predestined even. I brought it to my mother and showed it to her. She saw I was tickled by the coincidence of choosing Gabriel, my first role.

Then, off the cuff, she said, “You should name your first son Gabriel.”

This was quite a change from the woman who weeks or months before had said laughing, “You don’t need to have children. I don’t need to be a grandmother again.” Don’t read into this anything negative. She was not telling me to not have a child, but she does know my habits, my interests. She and I also know the reality of being unmarried and almost forty and the accompanying rumors that usually surround a person in that situation.

I think it has become commonplace for her to think and speak that way because one night, long ago, I asked if she would be okay with me not marrying or having a child. I asked this because I felt I’d be letting the family down somehow if I did't. I rationalized it was okay because my brother had the wife and the two and a half kids and the dog and the cat and the fence, etc. So, the Tittle name (unfortunate as the spelling is) would be passed on to both my brother’s boys.

I often jokingly say that after my father had two boys and my brother had two boys, if I were to have a child, God would say, “Here, Ryan. Here’s a girl!” And then I would have no idea what to do with (hold it upside down by the ankle?). I’ve never even been around baby girls because they’re so scarce in the family.

At any rate, when I asked my mother if it would be okay to not have a child, she told me it would be no burden to her. Perhaps the thrill of being a grandmother again would be severely muted as she no longer has my father around to contribute to the doting.

But, after all those months of conversation like that, holding the icon, she told me I should name my first son Gabriel. And suddenly I loved that. I imagined holding the infant, pronouncing him “Gabriel” and looking back at a face I would love until my dying day.

Don’t let anyone tell you it is only women who have these kinds of fantasies. It may be true that when the average man is first presented with a child, he might feel the urge deep inside to run. And many do. But there are those of us who feel in the pit of our stomach a desire to nurture also.

But I have not had those urgings since I was a very young man. If you were to have asked me at five what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer would have been, “I want to be a husband and a father.” That Ryan has not reared his head in many years.

There were lots of reasons that feeling dissipated. For one, a string of failed relationships left me sour for many years. For another, I have watched nearly all my friends attempt their second, sometimes third marriages. There is a part of me that will always be the old-fashioned coot for whom divorce could only be a win if either partner was abused—physically, sexually, or verbally. I have even had a friend be told upon walking into the living room he shared with his wife, that she was a lesbian, and she was taking his children from him. Given our society’s current debate with identity, I felt no need in making my life harder. Or a child’s life harder by the possibility of divorce.

But, even now, I can’t get Gabriel’s face out of my mind-- my boy Gabriel. Someone I could encourage, love—help him achieve his dreams in the way I couldn’t achieve mine. Still, that brings up another neurosis: what if he’s anything like me?

How terrible. What if he inherited the same discrepancies that make me such a difficult person to match with another? Would he also be, on the one hand, super religious and, on the other hand, have an affinity for the lowest forms of humor? Would he also be a reader of books in a world of video games? Would he also be more in touch with his delicate nature to the point that women would only see in him a beta male? Would he struggle in his adolescence with egotism? Would he waste a fine Friday afternoon like this writing this essay?

And of the world? What would I say to him? “Welcome to a world where madness is common and sanity rare.” “Welcome to a world where sickness is not only perpetually with us but is killing us slowly and sometimes quickly.” “Welcome to a world where you will be reeled in by other people’s psychosis.” And yet I’m not one of those people who thinks the world is such a bad place that we should do something stupid like voluntarily let the species die. I am in constant awe of people’s sense of forgiveness, their ability to move on, their ability to create beautiful works of art. And yet, forgiveness, moving on, and beautiful works of art are disappearing as is belief in God and nearly every way the world has made sense to me.

Gabriel,

If I ever have you—if I can ever find a woman who accepts all my flaws and inconsistencies—my, how I would like to be your father. How I would love to indulge your whims, but tell you stuff straight. How I would love to introduce the name of Jesus to you and suggest the model.

I keep seeing your nose wrinkle up at me and I have this urge to look to my right and see the woman who helped create you. But the only thing I see there is emptiness, a vacuum, a vortex. Without something there, there is no you and my heart breaks for that and for you.

It is not impossible. We could still see each other. I could still teach you so many words. I could still love you—if something appears through the vortex. It is not impossible. I could still...I could still...

Love,

Your awaiting father

That fat little third grader in an angel robe.

Odes to Country Legends

Upon the death of Loretta Lynn, I was reminded of a project I set out on many years ago to write dedicatory poems to great legends of Country/Western music. For those of you scratching your heads, country music was actually worth listening to from about 1944 to 1994. There are certainly many greats who have left us and, perhaps one day, there will be odes to George Jones, Merle Haggard, Patsy Cline, etc.

For now, there are three, Ms. Lynn's ode being the latest.

Ode to Loretta Lynn

The coal miner's daughter.

Voice that pierced right through us—

Tongue as sharp as bluegrass.

You are as authentic as

My mother, grandmother.

My life has been a parade of

Women with your strength.

We need your strength right now.

But you nod and bristle

At my ode, my tribute, my memorial.

You scoff at our mythmaking.

You just did what you were going to do.

And you never needed anyone’s permission.

You put us in our place,

Demanded we not only hear but listen.

You were the one who unsettled

A form so content with complacency.

From beyond Butcher Holler or Hurricane Mills,

You will keep piercing, searching, haunting.

Until there’s nothing left here but the memory

Of music that meant something.

Ode to John Denver

A country boy.

When the people who we know and trust

Catalog the music that best defines who

We are as a country and as a people,

Yours will be at the pinnacle.

You are our

Earth's protector in song and spirit and

Embody the oft-forgotten Western in our

Country/Western music. When your

Name was first lumped with the names

Of our forebears, it was set fire to by

Those who called you soft, effeminate,

And derivative.

But, as long as people play music they

Love, yours will be there as clear and

Rushing as the streams you made us

See anew and the mountains you dared

Us to dream at, those which we saw

As an obstacle and you saw as a goal.

Ode to Tammy Wynette

L-E-G-E-N-D.

When some radio station

Takes pity on us and

Plays us a blast from the past,

We tend to sing along-- it helps,

Reminds us that once many

Were lit by the pilot light

Of the old-style flames.

But, you don't sing with Tammy.

You simply sit, listen with open ears,

Open heart. You may cry your eyes out,

But you let the Queen sing. We don't

Dare usurp the throne.

Onstage, she was stiff as statues, but

Stiffer. One could blame no talent agents,

No singing coaches, less management.

I blame a voice so goddess-like, so

Angelic, and glorious that the faulty

Human body froze up in the godly

Grace of tuneful vocal chimes--

Delicate, fragile-- glass and polish.

Batmans on the Big Screen

So, I’ve listened to all the counter-arguments from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and I’ve watched all these re-brandings, reboots, and remakes from both DC and Marvel and you know what I walk away with? Batman is clearly and definitively the greatest superhero and no other works quite as well in film. I would say you get no explanation because it’s so obvious, but you’ll see by the end of this why. Today, I’m looking at all the live-action Batmans who’ve donned the cape on screen thus far.

Batman (1943)

Doesn't it just strike fear?

The first appearance was the serial starring Lewis Wilson. The 15-part Columbia serial (with a “chapter” you could see each week in movie theatres) had Batman and Robin fight Dr. Daka, a Japanese spy who creates zombies and is attempting to overthrow the US government. Obviously, the villain is portrayed with the WWII-infused mistrust of the Japanese and, overall, the thing becomes distracting with its overt prejudice.

Still, Wilson is a charming Bruce Wayne but a flabby and silly-looking Batman, but such a thing couldn’t be helped in that time. Most ruggedly masculine antiheroes in ‘40s pictures are laughable by today’s standards—look at Robert Mitchum’s physique.

The characteristics of serials involved necessarily 14 forced cliffhangers that would bring kids back to the cinema each week-- this one was predictive of Batman’s popularity in serial, filmic storytelling which would culminate in the Adam West show in the ‘60s.

It should be noted the serial was influential in introducing the “Bat’s Cave” and a slimmer Alfred than was in the comics. Also, it’s kind of fun to see the Dynamic Duo driving around in a ‘39 Cadillac convertible.

Batman and Robin (1949)

Mouth agape, Bale-influencer

The sequel serial starring Robert Lowery as the Caped Crusader. In this adventure, Batman and Robin fight the Wizard, a mysterious figure vying for a super weapon to accompany his many skills, including operating trains by remote control and even invisibility!

At least the 1943 serial had consistent action and a pretty good musical score. This one is overly repetitive (“Have you heard Barry Brown’s broadcast?”) and is hampered by some seriously bad acting, save the great Lyle Talbot as Commissioner Gordon.

Lowery might be the worst actor in it. Even his stunt double seems to be on Valium. Still, the serial is interesting in that it features Vicki Vale, who would figure so prominently in Tim Burton’s blockbuster.

The cost-cutting is apparent in almost every shot. Batman’s cowl doesn’t even look as good as the one my mom and aunt made for me for my 6-year-old Halloween costume (wire-hangers and all).

It seems that any Gotham-related media titled “Batman and Robin” just plain sucks.

Batman (1966)

Holy Bat-a-rang!

The film version of the much-loved/much-derided television series, starring Adam West as a significantly lighter version of the Dark Knight. In this adventure, the Catwoman, the Joker, the Riddler, and the Penguin join forces in a quest for world domination.

Reruns of the show were required viewing for my 8-, 9-, and 10-year-old self. A parody of both ‘60s American pop culture and comic books themselves, children could enjoy the adventure and adults could get “the joke.” Seems the best kids’ entertainment appeals to the whole family for different reasons (Animaniacs is a great example).

The film was meant to be the pilot for the series but ended up opening after the first season, capitalizing on the craze. Though it has a more convoluted plot than an episode of the series, it still feels stretched too thin at moments. For years, legal licensing battles meant you could only own a copy of the movie, but not the show, so it had to do for those of us with Bat-mania.

West, for years, could not live down his most famous role. But many younger people admired what he had accomplished and, when they became directors, gave him a very successful late-life career, culminating in his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The success of his Batman is its earnestness, its seriousness. He is in on the joke but doesn’t show it. Of course, this is not the vigilante Batman, but the deputized friend of the police and a respected public figure. Yes, you could argue that’s not the essence of Batman, but Batman’s changed with every period in which he’s been published. Although a parody version, West’s portrayal was not out of sync with the Batman comics which were published at the time.

The movie is endlessly quotable (“Some days, you just can’t get rid of a bomb.”) and it’s a real treat to see Frank Gorshin as the Riddler. For my money, he comes close to being the perfect version of the character. He was even nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal. Unfortunately, Catwoman is played in the film by Lee Meriwether, substituting for the glorious Julie Newmar, who did for the boys of my generation what David Bowie’s King Jareth did for the girls.

Forget the mock seriousness with which you poo-poo the Adam West Batman. Relax, enjoy yourself, and laugh along!

Batman (1989)

The Real Deal

The primo blockbuster of 1989; a cultural milestone like Jaws. I remember the souvenir cups at Taco Bell, the Bat symbols shaved into haircuts, the toy Batwings. It was not a movie, but an experience. This was near the tail end of dark movies kids watched in the ‘80s and early ‘90s from Return to Oz to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Gritty, sometimes grim. Despite this one’s PG-13 rating, my dad took me at 5. He had to. Everyone had to see it. In this adventure, the Joker emerges (in an origin story alternative to the comics) to terrorize Gotham City on the eve of its bicentennial. Jack Nicholson gives a bravura performance, with top billing, but it was the casting of Michael Keaton that surprised and worried the fans. A staple of ‘80s comedies, the fear was that this Batman would be high camp like the ‘60s show. Instead, this was the first Batman even to come close to the true heart of who he is.

It had been a while since I watched it earlier this year and I was expecting to be disappointed. But, maybe, I’m just one of the many for whom Keaton will always be Batman. He is an odd (but suave) Bruce Wayne full of tics and sputtering words, but in the batsuit, he’s as good as I remember.

In the fitting opening scene, he shows us why Batman is the greatest superhero. He is a man—brilliant, tortured, but a human being. No radioactive spiders, no outer space home, no genetic mutations, not even a godlike mythos. Hence: more recent depictions have gone more and more realistic. This has led to their success and detriment, of course, but more of that later. This is a Defender of Gotham who strikes fear in the hearts of criminals. That’s Batman.

In retrospect, Tim Burton was the perfect director for, if nothing else, he assembled the right collaborators. Anton Furst’s design of Gotham is marvelous, and the supporting cast is full of the right odd ducks from Jack Palance to Michael Gough to Pat Hingle and many others.

It is rare that a cherished movie from childhood still holds up. I’m not saying it’s perfect—the Prince songs are out of place (except perhaps in the museum scene), Kim Basinger stares dull-eyed and screaming her way through an ultimately thankless role, Billy Dee Williams is wasted thanks to this film series being handed off to Joel Schumacher for the last two sequels. But it gets so much right, not the least of which the score by Danny Elfman—perfection in the vein of a John Williams score at the height of his powers, but in a more minor key.

Batman Returns (1992)

Ibid.

The eagerly anticipated sequel to the ‘89 blockbuster. Unlike its predecessor, Tim Burton was in the cat bird’s seat. He had made Warner Bros a lot of money and was given carte blanche to use his own brush stroke and color palette. The result was more his neo-Gothic imagination than the neo-noir feel of Batman. The film was considered so grotesque McDonald’s pulled its Happy Meal tie-in, though not before I collected the accompanying toys. In this adventure, Batman battles three villains—the circus freak-cum-Mayoral candidate Penguin, the secretary-cum schizophrenic avenger Catwoman, and the ruthless mogul Max Schreck.

It is easy to make fun of the later Schumacher sequels, but the problem with the original four movies begins with this one. Always one to indulge himself with the villains, Burton once again gives more screen time to them than Batman himself, though Keaton received top billing this time. The Penguin is indeed grotesque. DeVito was well-cast but imagine him as the dapper “gentleman” in coattails from the comics and you would have had something special. Instead, his Moses story (including being sent down a stream and the killing of firstborns) and absurd design make for not only unsettling, but ultimately pointless viewing. His story and Michelle Pfeiffer’s story are so intimately tied to the Christopher Walken story to make their real power as supervillains seem superfluous. Walken must’ve begun his scene chewing (though slightly muted) with this picture. Ever since, he has parodied himself much the way Nicolas Cage and John Malkovich have in recent years. The best villain is Pfeiffer—I daresay it is some of her best work. She is having a blast and it shows. I would say her cat-baths and hunger for birds was out of place, but Bruce was hanging upside down in the last movie.

Keaton—again, barely in this movie—grows in his portrayal of Bruce Wayne (including some fine moments with Pfeiffer). His Beloved Batman is much the same—he deserved a better movie since this was going to be his last (not including an upcoming cameo in The Flash).

Ultimately, everything is more Burtonesque and not for the better. While the first film seemed vast, this one feels small—all models, curiously tiny crowds, impressive but limited designs. Elfman’s score is even whackier—all xylophones and calliope-infused to match Penguin’s circus gang. They were in production for The Nightmare Before Christmas at the time and I can hear it and feel it in the score. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but this is Batman, after all.

The whole enterprise is miscalculated—a summer movie set in winter, a sequel that gives its main character a side act—dark, but not dark enough. A movie that is slick, but meaningless.

Batman Forever (1995)

It'th Batman.

The box office hit made almost as a mea culpa for Batman Returns. Although Catwoman is briefly mentioned, this might as well be set in a different universe compared with the first two films. Suddenly, we have constant, cloying music (eschewing Elfman’s score in favor of the bombastic work of Elliot Goldenthal), cartoon sound effects, neon lighting, Dutch camera angles, and wild performances. Joel Schumacher has replaced the Adam West show as the primary target of fans of the Bat, becoming everything unholy and wrong with the world. And yet, this movie obviously appealed more to crowds in the mid-90s than its predecessor and is even a unified work in its garish way. In this adventure, Batman’s identity is threatened by Harvey Dent (as Two-Face from the first frame—an interesting choice) and the Riddler, a psychotic ex-employee of Wayne Enterprises.

Tommy Lee Jones replaces Billy Dee Williams ostensibly because he had an established relationship with Schumacher from their work on The Client. Reportedly, when he met Jim Carrey, he told him he could not “sanction his buffoonery.” Indeed, while Carrey certainly is a buffoon in this film, Jones is equally so, turning in an absurd performance in horrifyingly loud and lurid makeup. Carrey was fresh off the 1994 trio Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, The Mask, and Dumb and Dumber. If Burton had been able to make Batman Continues (his equally awful title), Robin Williams was to be Edward Nygma. What a missed opportunity.

I’ll say something for Val Kilmer—he wears the batsuit well. He fights alright, he’s an appropriately (for the movie) tortured Bruce Wayne. I hesitate to say he manages a completely different look in the cowl. People would be hard pressed to figure out Batman’s identity (or is it alter ego?). Sure, Kilmer is given some jokey, corny dialogue, but his scenes with Dr. Meridian are well-acted. Nicole Kidman’s character is fascinating in that, at first, she specifically joneses for Batman, cape and all, rather than Bruce Wayne. Kilmer is someone I would have wanted to see in better pictures in his career. Had he not been, as they say, so egomaniacal and off-putting in real life, he could have developed more as an actor. Still, I’m not sure a blond Bruce Wayne with a slight, but noticeable sibilance in speech was what the doctor ordered.

You do get to see flashes of Gotham unexplored in Burton’s films—Arkham Asylum, Salvatore Maroni, and most noticeably Robin. Chris O’Donnell is an actor of limited range, but that is not the problem. The problem is Robin must needs be a boy wonder. It is his orphaned, childlike heart that Bruce responds to in the comics. As two adults, it doesn’t work, but could it ever on film? Perhaps the best solution is not to include Robin at all, as the first two films rightfully did.

So, I somewhat lauded the campy ‘60s Batman—why be so dismissive of campy ‘90s Batman? This movie was made in a blissfully bygone day where continuity in sequels was ignored in favor of the buck. Today’s audiences, especially the ones craving trilogies and “universes” in superhero movies, would not abide Batman Forever, much less the unfortunate blunder we’ll discuss next. Schumacher was to be seen forever as the man who destroyed what Burton had wrought. He made a movie for children (albeit slightly vulgar, profane children), so couldn’t we give him a pass? I don’t know. Children’s’ entertainment should be taken seriously and should never be commercialistic fodder. But who are we kidding? Money makes the world go ‘round and the box-office strength of this movie unfortunately propelled Batman to even lower depths two years later.

Batman and Robin (1997)

Bat-tastrophe.

The final film in the original Warner Bros. series, the thud-heard-‘round-the-world. As has been pointed out, the Batman series has a similar trajectory to the original Superman film series: an impressive debut, a wonky sequel, a more clownish third film, and a fourth film that killed it outright. This is the Batman film that killed it. Joel Schumacher claims the execs at Warner’s pressured him to make this one more toyetic. That may be true, but he was still the man who shouted “Remember, this is a cartoon” before every shot. In this adventure Bats and the Boy Wonder defeat three villains: Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy, and Bane—all three tastelessly done even compared to the late-70s cartoon The New Adventures of Batman.

Of course, this material is not worth elevating, but the two main villains are played by actors who rarely rise above. Arnold Schwarzenegger is well-paid muscle and Uma Thurman seems to only shine when directed by Quentin Tarantino. You can watch every other movie she’s in and she always seems out of place. That being said, neither Mr. Freeze nor Poison Ivy are top-tier Batman supervillains and Bane is treated here as an afterthought. Unbelievably, this film was written by an Academy Award-winner, shot by an Academy Award-winner, scored by an Academy Award-winner, and stars an Academy Award-winner and 2 Golden Globe winners. So, how could it all go this wrong? You must remember, this was 1997–a time when most great movies were independent, and most children’s films were dumbed down in reaction to the previous decade where the movies were dark and assumed an intelligence in younger viewers.

At this time in his career, George Clooney was a “TV actor”— back when that meant something derogatory to your career (it no longer does in the world of streaming). He has the right look for Bruce Wayne, but any pretense at the disturbed and brooding Batman or Wayne are out the window in this picture. It is ultimately hard to make a judgment on his Batman—whether in the suit or not, he is easy, smarmy, always with a lackadaisical grin. Appropriately, he apologizes for this movie every time he can.

The primary thrust of the plot is Batman’s relationship with his partners. Overstaying his welcome, Chris O’Donnell pouts and frets through this one, exacerbating the fact he’s already too old for the part. This one introduces Batgirl in Alicia Silverstone, not far-removed from a career high with Clueless that has netted almost zero good performances since. I do believe she’s capable, but this movie would be hopeless in honing/utilizing her skills. Apparently, her character is from London (Alfred’s niece), but is curiously sans accent and who is she kidding thinking her Batgirl mask fools Bruce or Dick? Ah, well. That is far from the only discrepancy, including outright defiance of physics in the fight scenes, outlandish villains screeching obvious first-draft lines, and (as Doug Walker brilliantly opined) a Bat Credit Card?!!!

If this film had succeeded, Schumacher claimed he would have made a darker picture in his proposed sequel Batman Unchained. But the box office for Batman and Robin fell 63% in its second week and the movie disappeared shortly thereafter. What to make of these last two entries? They were certainly products of their time—a time of financial security, a time of immense cultural immaturity (that has yet to leave us), and a time of burgeoning CGI slowly replacing physical props and even sets. My father happened to think Schumacher’s Gotham City was closer to what he envisioned when he pictured Gotham. I don’t know if this was the result of myopia or not.

Batman Begins (2005)

Batty Bale.

So, after all that nonsense, we get some relief. In 2005, Christopher Nolan was given the chance to “reboot” Batman. Nolan is one of the more interesting directors we have. My fear with him is if you think too long and hard re: his plotting and conceits, they might begin to fall apart. But, when he emerged, his back-and-forth structures, his seriousness of intent, and his approach to his subjects/themes were refreshing. He was the perfect person to ground Batman in a kind of reality. In my mind, he took it to the limit in that regard, but we were not to see that at the time. Because Batman is no true “super” hero, the question is what would happen if we placed him in the real world? Instead of concocting a Gotham, why not shoot in Chicago, London, New York? Batman Begins (another awful title) is a fine origin story, taking its time to establish the reasons Bruce Wayne does what he does. In this adventure, Batman emerges to foul a plot from the Scarecrow (a strange villain with which to begin) and Ra’s al Ghul, who taught him how to “Batman.”

This time, the plethora of lauded actors are not wasted. The strength of the film is in its supporting cast, all at top form—Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, and Gary Oldman especially. But also, this movie interprets the Bat mythos in light of a planet hyper-sensitive to terrorism. It could only be made in a post-9/11 world. For all its darkness, though, it is also funny, exciting, and a cracking good action flick as well.

Christian Bale is the best Bruce Wayne on film. Period. The tortured or the playboy, he’s the real deal. Nevertheless, there has been a reversal as far as the reception of his Batman. The general wisdom these days is that the voice is laughable, and the suit is ill-fitting and awkward. There was even an entire sketch series (Badman, with Pete Holmes) that parodied Bale’s depiction. I must admit I didn’t notice any flaws at the time and, as much as I enjoyed the parodies, I think his Batman works. He inhabits the part the way he does every part. I don’t think much of the “Method,” but if the performance is good, I don’t care how the actor arrived at it.

The film has its faults, many of which were corrected in the second film and many of which were amplified in the third. I think forcing “trilogies” on creative people is wrong but given that the early ‘00s Lord of the Rings was one of the most successful ventures of all time, it is no surprise this became the first in a “Dark Knight” trilogy, but it is clear there was no larger plan. Katie Holmes is the one actor who feels out of place (and Nolan knew it). Scarecrow as a villain has never impressed me much. His inclusion pushes the limits of Nolan’s naturalistic interpretation. Cillian Murphy is certainly a presence onscreen, but they could have done more with his plot (and “mask”). Liam Neeson was already on auto pilot by this point (action films have not been good for him, except for his pocketbook). But these are not reasons to dismiss this movie. If nothing else, it prepared us for Batman’s greatest triumph on film three years later.

The true greatness of the film lies in the morality exhibited by Bale’s Batman. Batman has an ingrained sense of justice. He is deeply moral and merciful when he needs to be. This Batman is so good it makes you forget it even came from what used to be considered “kids’ stuff.” I don’t know what it means that we have elevated comic books to an art form. Are superheroes the contemporary equivalent of Greek mythology or have we become okay with being perpetually immature? That is for others to decide. Yet, Nolan convinces us of the former and it is mighty convincing.

The Dark Knight (2008)

Not wearing hockey pants.

Few recent films have so quickly been hailed a masterpiece. Any way you cut it, The Dark Knight is a great movie—superbly acted, gorgeously shot, intelligently written, thrillingly adventurous. Batman, the greatest superhero, deserved to have one of the greatest films of the 21st Century. In this adventure, Batman wracks his brain as to how to defeat the Joker, who himself transforms Harvey Dent into Two-Face.

The first film dealt with terrorism—this one more so, but with the added theme of unlawful surveillance in the service of defeating it. As an aesthete, I tire of plots ripped-from-the-headlines (this one being a nod to the excesses of the Patriot Act), but it is handled rather well. Still, if the Gotham of Batman Begins was a concoction (telling us of a “depression” in seemingly its own timeline), the sequel is more grounded in today’s world. Heath Ledger’s posthumous Oscar win was no fluke. Sometimes, the death of an artist brings out sympathy votes, but he would have won it if he lived. Even Gary Oldman, one of the truly great living actors, was in wonderment at what Ledger accomplished. But I will also say Aaron Eckhart’s portrayal of Harvey Dent is another triumph. In my mind, he’s a perfect actor—a different kind of actor than Bale or Ledger. He doesn’t disappear into his roles. Rather like Leonardo DiCaprio, he melds his own personality with that of his character and hits every note with grace and perfection. He is a master craftsman.

The voice of the Batman does seem over-exaggerated in this one. While it was not distracting in Begins, there is a slight push in this one and, because The Dark Knight is so much more naturalistic, it does distract at times. But this is a small criticism. When Batman makes his ultimate choice, near the conclusion, I find myself almost teary-eyed. The ending is one of the best I’ve ever seen. As Oldman’s voice calmly tells his son of Batman’s sacrifice as he rides out of Gotham, the proper response is awe. I remember the audience in the theater was left silent and shaken. The wind had been knocked out of us. It was not a movie to blindly cheer, but savor, chew on. It should have won the Oscar for Best Picture. I have not once wanted to re-watch Slumdog Millionaire, the winner that year, but I have gone back to The Dark Knight multiple times if nothing else to try to figure out how Christopher Nolan did what he did.

Maggie Gyllenhaal is a vast improvement over Katie Holmes (who herself has shown great talent in The Ice Storm and Pieces of April). There are also faces of actors you may not know, but always leave an impression—primarily Keith Szarabajka, who plays Det. Gerard Stevens—and familiar faces like Eric Roberts doing solid, laudable work. But the real gift of the film is the writing. On the one hand, the film is a great crime drama, like Heat, but it does not shy away from big emotion, and it approaches its themes deftly.

Not to give too much away (as we still have 4 movies left to explore), but it doesn’t get better than this. Tim Burton’s Batman may have been a phenomenon, but The Dark Knight is an achievement—rich, powerful, heady stuff. Batman got the movie he deserved and needed.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Say "Ah."

In considering another movie after Heath Ledger’s death, Christopher Nolan asked hesitantly, “How many good movies do you know with titles that end with ‘Part 3?’” Indeed, there are few. Some are good, but still fall short of the glory. The Dark Knight Rises appeared in 2012, polarizing many viewers. There is too much in the film. It is maximalist, expansive, a bit unwieldy (particularly around the middle). And yet, watching it again, I forgave all its faults in the breathtaking final half-hour. In this adventure, Batman nearly loses to Bane, a mercenary excommunicated from the League of Shadows, and Talia al Ghul, the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, who makes a brief cameo appearance as does Dr. Jonathan Crane (in a few hilarious scenes). Batman is ultimately aided by his friend/foe Catwoman.

Building on the last film’s contemporary parallels, we have a bit of the rage against the 1% and stock market excesses, but (essentially) we remain in the world of terroristic plots against Gotham. The film’s biggest weakness is the rehashing of events from the first film. You might argue it brings us full circle, but in fact the closest parallel is the original Star Wars trilogy. It has a strong, original opening movie, a sequel that is head and shoulders above it, and a final film that reenacts the first film’s plot. The most depressing thing about sequels is the fear you will have to watch the original movie all over again. Thus it is with the Dark Knight Trilogy. Still, it has in it a formidable foe and an utterly charming performance by Anne Hathaway as Selina Kyle.

This entry shows Bale’s Batman at his weakest. Too many questions prevent us from fully accepting it. Do we really want the World’s Greatest Detective having his tuchus handed to him on so many occasions? Is he so out of the loop he can’t see the plot on the Applied Sciences division? Did he really survive a broken back? Is the voice really necessary when he’s by himself or when he’s with people who know he’s Bruce Wayne? Does he really have to keep his mouth open that much?

Since Batman is a small part of the film, however, we can concentrate on what does work. Marion Cotillard gives a strong, sultry performance. Michael Caine, usually a facile, easy screen presence, delivers the emotional goods in this one. Joseph Gordon-Levitt gives a great nod to Robin in a believable, intelligent performance. And then, there’s that ending. I’m a grown, 39-year-old man and found myself weeping once again.

Quibbles aside, this is a Batman for our age, perhaps for the ages. There is nothing in the Marvel Cinematic Universe or in other superhero movies to match this trilogy in its audacity, technical brilliance, or ambition. This film, in particular, is so stunningly photographed that it rivals other epics of the entirety of film history. These films are something to be proud of, something to cherish, and something that should inspire. Sadly, greatness does not often produce more greatness and we find ourselves now in a cookie-cutter age. Sure, superheroes still dominate the entertainment industry, but not with half as much passion, intellect, and power as these three movies. Watch them again, forgive them their faults, and count yourself lucky you were alive when they were made.

Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016)

Muscles McGee.

Now we are in the world of prequel-sequel-reboot fever. Serving as both a sequel to Man of Steel and another reboot of the Batman saga, this appeared in 2016, much anticipated and much a disappointment. Zack Snyder’s great-looking, but nonsensical film was an attempt to launch DC into the kind of success the Marvel Cinematic Universe had won. In this adventure, Batman chooses to put Superman in his place after the destruction wrought by General Zod’s invasion. Lex Luthor melds his DNA with that of Zod to create Doomsday. Ultimately, aided by Wonder Woman, Batman and Superman team up to defeat Doomsday, leading to Superman’s death and Batman spearheading the overtures to the members of what will be the Justice League. Ugh.

As referenced above, the screenplay makes little sense, and the 3-hour Ultimate Edition of the film does nothing to correct that. It all looks good, but the motivations (for both Superman and Batman) are concocted. They probably sounded good to a lot of cigar-smoking execs in a board room, but they do a disservice to the established characters. Trying to one-up Marvel might’ve seemed like a good idea at the time, but little good came of it. In the end, DC went back to self-contained movies and have hopefully learned their lesson.

Having said this, Ben Affleck is a fine Batman/Bruce Wayne and Jeremy Irons is a more than fine Alfred. Affleck is bulky, toned, and has the appropriate humor and tenor for the Old Man. Affleck seems to divide people. But, for all the occasionally lousy movies, he most often brings his A-game and, along the way, has written and directed with much success. Irons is perhaps my favorite Alfred. It is a perfect part for his screen persona—the right voice, the right look, the right stuff. Would that these two had a movie to act in! The most disturbing aspect of this Batman is his arsenal. While Batman did indeed use guns in the early comics, he eventually emerged as a strong opponent, rightfully so given his parents’ murders. But, seeing him in flashbacks with an automatic weapon is beyond the pale and is a betrayal of his character. Snyder seemed to have a good grasp of Superman in his first movie (even with some beyond silly scenes—S is a symbol for hope?), but he clearly doesn’t understand Batman except on the surface.

Gal Gadot was a true find as Diana Prince. She eventually got one good movie to exhibit her Wonder Woman. Otherwise, there is certainly talent to spare in this movie, but the film is so big, none of them get sufficient screen time to do anything with their parts. The real surprise is how terrible the portrayal of Luthor is. Jesse Eisenberg is a fine actor, if a bit one-note, but he is playing something else here. This performance would make a great Riddler, a passable Joker, but not Lex Luthor. It makes Gene Hackman’s campy ‘70s portrayal look like an Olivier performance by comparison.

There is essentially no reason for this film to exist except money. It is not needed, though it may have been wanted. Or at least people thought they wanted it. The box office for this one fell more in its 2nd week than even Batman and Robin. That should tell you something. All sheen, no raison d’etre.

Justice League (2017-2021)

Batfleck.

Whether directed by Joss Whedon or Zack Snyder, Justice League is pretty to look at, but pretentious and boring to a fault. Picking up from the events of the last film (and trying to tie together several others), it so wants to be an event that it’s embarrassing. You have to buy this “DC Universe.” I don’t. And you have to buy that Zack Snyder has done enough good work to warrant his reputation. I don’t. In this adventure, Batman teams with Superman, Wonder Woman, Cyborg, Aquaman, and the Flash to defeat Steppenwolf, a god who is in search of Mother Boxes, whatever those are. Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care.

I know little of Batman’s involvement with the Justice League in the comics except that it seems out of place for my perception of him, but then again so does his involvement with Robin.

Affleck is, once again, a very good Batman, but how do you measure that in a movie not worth his time and effort? Irons appears again to deliver some droll, perceptive lines. Again: give them a screenplay to show what they can do! Watching these movies is like watching someone flex in a gym—it’s all brawn and sometimes visually impressive but signifies nothing.

I’m tired of pretending Snyder is a good director just because he’s a friend of Christopher Nolan. His films are overall too serious in tone for the kinds of genres he dabbles in and not serious enough because they are all sheen. There is no emotional vulnerability. This one in particular because, even at four hours, it allows you not one whit to get involved with any of the dozens of characters.

We know the story of how the Snyder Cut came to be. When he had to bow out, Whedon brought his jokey sensibility to the original, which was almost universally loathed. The general wisdom on the Snyder Cut is it is appreciably better, but that does not mean it is deeper, cleverer, more meaningful, or more fun to watch. The opposite is true. The brand consciousness of this venture poisoned the well. And the “Justice is Gray Edition” is particularly egregious because it makes the film out to be Schindler's List or something. Apparently, the final version is his “vision.” You can dress it up anyway you like—4:3 ratio, black and white, whatever—it does not mean he is a director with vision at all. To have vision is to have purpose and clarity of thought deeply ingrained in pictures that are saying something. With Snyder’s and similar “epics,” we are a far cry from vision indeed.

The Batman (2022)

EmoBat.

I had great anticipation for this one and was kind of excited about its just-under-three-hour running time. It was clear that Batman had finally become such an important cultural touchstone that he deserved “epic” treatment. All in all, there was much to admire—the mood especially. However, there were some things that kept me from raving about Matt Reeves’ The Batman. In this adventure, a young Batman tries to solve the mystery of the Riddler’s murders while learning hard truths about mob boss Carmine Falcone, employer of the Penguin and father to Catwoman. The Joker even makes a cameo appearance.

If Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy meandered around contemporary issues, this film is knee-deep in them. After more than six years of news stories centering on wealth inequality, it was perhaps inevitable that the story of a billionaire who secretly works as a vigilante might go this route. Personally, when I am watching a comic book movie, I don’t want to be lingering on subjects that fill the 6 o’clock news every night. But perhaps, in this world full of activists, I am in the minority. Additionally, the Riddler’s riddles are a little easy to solve, though I liked the detective angle. After all, we are talking about the World’s Greatest Detective and it was high time that side of Batman was treated on film with some seriousness.

Robert Pattinson is a more-than-fine Batman—wears the suit well, has great physicality in the fight scenes, has a terrifically dark and moody presence. He is perhaps too much of an emo-Goth chick for me as Bruce Wayne, but it is a choice that matches the piece. As much as Andy Serkis is universally loved, I prefer an Alfred speaking Received Pronunciation than a full-on Cockney accent. But he does get one great scene with Wayne in the hospital.

As to the other cast: Zoe Kravitz is much the best thing in it—sexy, strong, dramatic, dynamic. I’m rather sick of Jeffrey Wright’s gravelly-voiced, pursed lip routine—it’s growing tiresome after it has showed up in his last several performances. Colin Farrell is marvelous—he usually is. As for Paul Dano, this is not the Riddler I wanted to see—a social media influencer in a green Hefty trash bag? But the Riddler is my favorite supervillain and it was nice to see him given center stage.

The film has two nearly fatal flaws. The length is not a blessing and does not go by with alacrity as has been reported. It is at least forty-five, fifty minutes too long. The flood is the last straw—beautifully shot, but a bit too much in a movie with a laundry list of plot machinations. Secondly, one of Pattinson’s last lines about becoming a symbol of hope? No. Just no. SUPERMAN is a symbol of hope. BATMAN, in a word, ain’t. You can adapt him in many ways, as we have seen in post, but there are certain parameters. If you go outside those lines, you tread on Batman’s integrity.

All in all, this is an epic treatment with some small-minded touches. But it proves (once again) that Batman is superior to every other superhero.

Our winged avenger, he strikes fear in the hearts of those who dare to turn to crime. He gives all us mere mortals the hope that we can do some good (we don’t have super powers either). He is dark, but full of the light. He does what a great hero does: he sets our imaginations on fire and dares us to dream. He’s been with us on the silver screen for nearly 80 years. I hope 80 more are on the way.