The Beauty That Is Batman & Robin (1997)

Apparently there’s a new Batman movie out. I must admit, upon learning it’s about an octodecillion minutes long and was apparently largely filmed with the camera crew forgetting to take the lens covers off, I haven’t been supremely inclined to see it, especially not when I could be keeping my mattress flat instead. Fortunately, I instead have another film to look back on starring everyone’s favorite lunatic billionaire dressing as a flying rodent. It’s been twenty-five years since Joel Schumacher bought us a post-post-post-post-post-modernist masterpiece boasting a script of such intricacy that I shudder at its magnificence. Some might tell you that it’s a big gaudy mess of horrible puns…but they’re wrong. Here is my most serious look back on the beautiful brilliance that is Batman & Robin. 

Schumacher is an interesting director who’s done cult classics like Lost Boys, and zeitgeist-examining nineties classics like Falling Down, but they all pale next to his work on the Batman series. With Batman Forever, who was not bought to tears by the awe-inspiring sight of seeing Jim Carrey dance around in spandex while being Jim Carrey? Some might claim that he was largely overridden by executive meddling for this film, but what Hollywood suit could possibly conceive of the genius we are about to witness? After all, this is evident by the decision to cast George Clooney as Batman. You might be laughing at the mere thought of that now. You might even think it’s about as fitting as making Danny DeVito front the next Magic Mike. 

However, what to mere laymen might seem like Clooney coasting through the part while seeming utterly bored is in fact Schumacher examining the inherent weariness that would surely come to such a long-in-the-tooth caped crusader. For when one has knocked over a thousand goons with a batarang, what meaning does such a thing have? How does one gain exuberance from what the familiar, the kinetic becoming mundane? Already the deep questions posed by the ingenious direction and casting are on display. 

If only they had him fall in radioactive coffee, then we also could've had Batman with all the powers of espresso! And smugness!

Even better is Chris O’Donnell as Robin. Right from the opening dialogue, O’Donnell spouts lines that some might find absolutely inane and unbelievably stupid. From there, despite his character being seemingly at least twenty, his thought process doesn’t seem to extend much beyond ‘girls’ and ‘fast cars’, or alternately whining at not being the center of attention. But this is actually Schumacher making a poignant commentary on the intellectually stunting reality of being a brawling crimefighter, trapping oneself in perpetual adolescence. We see that what might seem like writing that is essentially ‘me me me me, weh weh weh’ writ large is actually layered beyond belief. 

But of course, all of these people pale next to the most famous Austrian since Mozart, Falco, and that one mediocre painter. Yes, as antagonist Mister Freeze—who, in a stroke of genius so incredible my brain almost imploded, is themed around ice—we have Arnold Schwarzenegger, whose performance must surely outdo such amateurs like Brando or Olivier. Every syllable is delivered with such care and precision that any thespian would surely shudder in envy.

 When he delivers such amazing screenwriting like ‘Everybody, CHILL!’, or ‘Vat killed deh dinosaurs? DEH EIS AGE!’ or ‘It is the CHILLING sound of YEH DÜÜM!!’, I cannot help but weep. Through his performance, it is clear that his character is so broken to the very core of his soul that he cannot even communicate beyond endless, endless puns related to snow, ice, and cold temperature in general. It makes one truly wonder what the depths of the human condition can sink to, and of course, what would happen if your brain was replaced by a pile of gelato. 

Not since the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe have I seen such a dive into the tormented darkness of man.

There’s even more antagonists of course, because every finely balanced film needs at least half a dozen, or else people might get bored. First up is Bane, played by someone or another, whose counterpart from the comic books is known for combining both supreme physicality with evil genius. You might remember him as played by Tom Hardy, who most would agree was the one part of Dark Knight Rises that was definitely enjoyable. But this film takes the daring step of depriving him of any meaningful dialogue or character whatsoever. When he utters such heart-wrenching lines like ‘Blarrrrrggghhh!’ or ‘steppppppp!’, I was left feeling wholly inadequate at the knowledge that I could never write something as masterful. 

 My god, it's such a perfect portrayal of the people who greenlight these kinds of films.

But of course, the cherry on top is Uma Thurman as Poison Ivy. Some have said this is the absolute nadir of her career, and she would’ve been better off having Tarantino zoom in on her toenails one more time. However, I was enthralled by her acting that one the surface might seem like a very bad parody of a very bad porno film, combined with rather baffled cluelessness as to what’s even around her, mixed with the most utterly cringeworthy puns related to plants and, ah, coital matters. But in actuality…erm…er…nuts to it, I got nothin’.

I'm amazed at just how that hair doesn't look stupid in the slightest. 

Anywaaaaay. What about the rest of the film? Well, we can see what prodigious work we have from the opening sequence, where Schumacher focuses on the rubber-clad pecs of the main leads, complete with sculpted nipples, and their derrieres too. Already we have amazing visual commentary on a genre filled with well-sculpted men in very tight outfits. With every scene packed with randomly placed neon lighting, we end up being barraged by action that, in very short order, involves spontaneous ice hockey, Freud-invoking rockets, and dinosaur statues placed in art galleries for no reason.

You might be asking yourself uncountable questions about why any of this is is the way it is, and why why why why. But this is all part of Schumacher’s positively symphonic post-hypermodernism-meta-re-deconstructionist vision that is not at all studio-mandated nonsense revolving around toy marketing. The questions you may be inspired to ask about every single moment on the film is merely the challenge being set upon the audience to broaden their perspectives beyond mere human thought. 

Indeed, when we have Freeze’s plot being about trying to raise money to save his dying wife, with such tormented emotion being aptly conveyed by Arnie shouting about how ‘WINTER IS KOMMING!!’, we can see yet more layers and commentary on healthcare, pre-empting such hacks like the Breaking Bad writers. Oh, and I almost forgot, we also have among the eleventy billion characters Alicia Silverstone as Batgirl, whose presence is most definitely not shoehorned in to pay off at the very last minute. Indeed, another layer is added when she accuses Poison Ivy of ‘giving chicks a bad name!’ Yes, we also have such rich commentary on the intersectionism of differing strands of feminism! Who would’ve thought such things could arise from a film where Schwarzenegger uses an ice ray to freeze a whole city for very sketchily defined reasons?

Some have said that the only genuinely good part of this film is Michael Gough as Alfred, and that he’s the only one putting in any effort, on top of his character writing being the only one that’s not a barrage of puns. And I say, feh! Who needs any of that when we have incredible non-stop references to snow and sorbet, with every single set covered in glow-in-the-dark paint just to complete the scintillating combination of visuals and genius screenplay?

All of it comes together with an action scene resolved by babbling about satellites and sun rays that I could barely understand, such was the transcendental level of storytelling before me. And that’s how Batman & Robin still resonates all these years later—it’s been said that Schumacher even had to apologize on the DVD for making this, but in actuality, he was apologizing for inflicting such amazing work on mankind that nobody could possibly understand it on all of its levels. Some have also said that this essentially annihilated the comic book movie genre until Marvel had to resuscitate it with X-Men, but more likely, it simply induced heart attacks among all those inclined in Hollywood when they realized they could never match it. Do you need to watch it? No. No you don’t. Because for mere mortals, such sublime artfulness like ‘LET’S GO KICK SOME….EIS!!!’ is simply too much.

And in all seriousness? I’d still take it over the Catwoman movie.