When I was growing up, I would sometimes put my VHS copy Batman Returns on if I was home on a weekend night. Recently rewatching Tim Burton’s Batman (1989) and Batman Returns (1992), I can see why I was drawn to the material and the certain coziness—albeit a dark one—those films could have, particularly at night.
Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson (Variety)
As a child in the 1990s I was obsessed with the caped crusader. Between the animated series on Cartoon Network, the Joel Schumacher films, and the 1960s series my mother would rent for me on tape, I was well-versed with the world of Gotham City and its characters. Merchandising was a major factor for the franchise as well—something that, according to Schumacher, loomed large in the creation and flaws of Batman & Robin—and I had Batman action figures in different iterations of his costume. I referred to a small, local toy store, the type that is now almost extinct, as the “Batman store” at a young age, even though Batman did not dominate its aisles.
Burton’s Batman films, however, were before my time. I have vague memories of the promotional campaign for Batman Forever in 1995. It was years later when I saw Burton’s films, when I was either in middle school or early high school in the early to mid 2000s. I watched Batman (1989) once and did not take to it, but loved Batman Returns (1992). Revisiting both, with a particular focus on 1989’s Batman, has reminded me the power of world-building in cinema.
I have always respected the art of Tim Burton, but when I was younger, I had trouble connecting with his films. I found them a bit scary. Their otherworldliness spooked me. Something about their setting, that slight off-ness, got under my skin. It left me unsettled with a bizarre feeling. Of course, that quality is the primary appeal for many viewers of his film. Looking back, I was too young. As an adolescent, Batman Returns was a nice entry point that connected with me, and, now as an adult, viewing Batman (1989) again, I see its brilliance.
Opening Batman (movie-screencaps.com)
Batman opens with a wide, dark shot of Gotham City achieved with miniatures and painted backdrops, with the city’s name as a caption. Then, it cuts to a shot of the city’s bustling downtown. Gotham looks like a true-to-life city. There are plenty of extras and cars to populate the street. The film draws the viewer into its world with an immediacy, authority, and authenticity. The film establishes a unique aesthetic with confidence. From here, the film can take you on a journey through its world.
Tim Burton says that “it’s always important to me with these…extreme characters, to surround them in a setting which they belong. I always like to think of sets as extensions of the characters.” He envisioned Gotham as “New York gone mad.”
Cinematographer Roger Pratt, who photographed Terry Gilliam's Brazil, and production designer Anton Furst helped build the visual world of the film, which won an Oscar for production design. Using a mix of miniatures, mattes, and the sound-stages and back lots of Pinewood Studios in England, every frame of Batman contains texture. Film-noir lighting, the occasional odd angle, and smoke-filled atmosphere add richness and build a surreal believability to Tim Burton’s vision. As Furst notes, the corrupt nature of Gotham’s institution informs its architecture, with “evil” undertones. The duality of Joker and Batman is also reflected in the city’s gothic feel.
This backdrop allows the viewer to suspend disbelief and to enjoy the fantastical elements of Batman. Jack Nicholson’s Jack Napier feels like an old-time gangster out of a movie from the 1940s or 50s. By the time he makes his turn into his iconic Joker, the film has cultivated so much credibility that his white and green appearance hits like a natural beat in the story. Michael Keaton’s Batman, introduced a few moments after first seeing Gotham, emerges from the darkness of the night. He fits the milieu. He’s a creature of Gotham City.
Filming Gotham City (Cinephilia & Beyond — check out their fantastic article on Batman filled with resources)
The subsequent Batman movies have all built on the legacy of the original. Joel Schumacher’s iterations lean toward fun and camp, while Christopher Nolan’s bring realism (The Dark Knight remains one of my favorite movies) and scale. Zack Snyder’s entries fit a darker aesthetic into a blockbuster DC universe. Batman Returns, similar to the first film in many ways, hones in on expressionism.
Tim Burton’s Batman, the first out since the 60s, is a realization of the comic book as film—he transferred material to the screen in a way that mimics the marvelous effect the source medium has on the viewer. He understood the darker development Bob Kane’s character had undergone in the preceding decades but still wanted to capture the essence of the original character. And in 1989—a decade after Superman, but before the animated resurgence of comic book characters in 1990s (that I surely experienced) and eventual 21st-century superhero movies—the film was no safe bet. Tim Burton’s vision succeeds, creating a tactile world for the viewer to dive into and the characters to live in. It’s a joy to watch. Prince’s soundtrack adds to the fun. It has a great sequel, but something about Batman feels singular, a moment. As Michael Keaton says about Batman, “the star of the movie is truly the movie.”
- GJF
Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson, and Tim Burton on set (Reddit).