Batman

It is, unfortunately, awfully difficult to revisit Tim Burton’s Batman with an impartial eye in the wake of Christopher Nolan’s genre-defining Dark Knight trilogy, as the film, viewed in that light, can’t help but come off as underwhelming and overly cartoonish by comparison – which is too bad, certainly, given that there are still plenty of elements here that absolutely enthrall (including Michael Keaton’s tremendously entertaining turn as Bruce Wayne/Batman). But the movie, which unfolds at a pace that often feels much more deliberate than necessary, is never quite able to make the leap from mildly amusing to flat-out engrossing, with Burton’s curiously subdued sensibilities playing a key role in perpetuating the film’s erratic, uninvolving atmosphere (ie the film, though suffused with larger-than-life characters and visuals, mostly plays like a somber drama). The compelling-yet-rarely-captivating vibe prevents the viewer from wholeheartedly connecting to either the characters or the storyline, with the transformation of Jack Nicholson’s Jack Napier into the Joker faring especially poorly – as Nicholson, though quite good here, never quite manages to make the role his own as Heath Ledger did in 2008’s The Dark Knight (ie it often feels as though Nicholson is just riffing on Cesar Romero’s take from the campy ’60s television series). There’s so much here that works – Danny Elfman’s iconic score, Anton Furst’s gothic production design, etc – that Batman‘s inability to take flight, so to speak, is nothing short of baffling, as it’s clear that the film, watchable as it may be, could (and should) be so much better.

**1/2 out of ****