I loved superheroes before I even knew what they were.
Actually, that’s not strictly true. Underdog was probably my favorite cartoon when I was a wee tot, and I distinctly remember appropriating several of my mother’s silk scarves as impromptu capes for my stuffed animals so they, too, could fight crime. Not there was any crime to speak of in our neat little split-level three-bedroom, mind, but I was a romantic child so clearly there was plenty of reason for Eeyore and Twiddleloe to go flying to stop the bad guys who *might* be lurking outside the windows.
Why Mum put up with this raid on her scarf drawer is a good question, but she was tolerant enough to know that scarves could be ironed, little girls don’t stay little forever, and all would be well as long as I didn’t don a scarf and jump out the window in hopes of flying to Mowry Park. She did draw the line when I tried to claim her fur boa for yet more fun (it was a stone marten that I dubbed “Mrs. Fox” because I didn’t know from mustelids), but otherwise I could do as I pleased with her accessories as long as they remained intact.
This love of the super-powered continued through my childhood. I preferred The Herculoids and Space Ghost over less violent fare, at least until Mum said “enough” and steered me toward the Looney Tunes. I watched Ralph Bakshi’s version of Spider-Man while waiting for my beloved Star Trek reruns on weekday afternoons, and when Spidey wasn’t on I watched Ultra-Man and the pitifully animated but wonderfully drawn Marvel cartoons about the Sub-Mariner, Iron Man, Thor, the X-Men, and (of course) Captain America.
I didn’t read comic books on a steady basis until I got to college, but after that it was off to the races. The X-Men, Heroes for Hire, Arion, Lord of Atlantis, The Legion of Superheroes, Elfquest, Wonder Woman...I bought and read them all, and let me tell you, the mere idea of seeing Luke Cage and Danny Rand on television is almost enough to make me sign up for Netflix. I kept reading Sandman even after Wingding lost his job and we had to scrape to pay the bills, and if I had the figure you bet I’d be dressing up as Death this Halloween.
With this sort of background, is it any wonder that I have a pull list at the local comics shop? That I can’t wait for Squirrel Girl Beats Up the Marvel Universe this fall? That I have Captain America, Iron Man, and Scarlet Witch action figures on my desk, guarding my computer against the depradations of the Double Felinoid? Or that I’m one of the millions who’ve laid my money down to see a surprisingly large number of the superhero movies that have graced the Heck Piazza Dodecaplex over the last few years?
That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen other films, or other types of films. Not at all. Beata and I are planning to see Florence Foster Jenkins when she’s (Beata, not Madam Jenkins — are you drunk, Montresor? Good God, it’s just Amontillado!) back from a visit to New York, and this fall promises Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them AND Star Wars: Rogue One. So I do mix it up from time to time, though perhaps not as much as I should, yes, really, I’m not that much of a Philistine, ‘kay?
Also? I’m not the only one who likes superhero movies.
I mean, come on — I may have seen The Avengers four times in the theaters, but that’s less than $50 of the $1.5 billion it earned at the box office. Clearly there are plenty of other folk out there who enjoy these films. Equally clearly, they aren’t all comic book fans, of which they aren’t anywhere near enough to generate that much in ticket sales. No, Jose/Ha Jin/Joe and Jane/Juana/Jo Average are slapping down their hard-earned coin, too, and most likely having a fine time.
That may be why there’s no sign that the current spate of superhero films is going to diminish any time soon. The hit of Comic Con was the Wonder Woman trailer, after all, with the Doctor Strange and The Justice League not far behind. Captain America: Civil War made over a billion dollars and got glowing reviews, and Deadpool was a surprise comedy smash despite blood, guts, bad language, and a lot of digs at the studio heads for being unimaginative cheapskates. There’s plenty more coming in the next few years, with heroes both famous (two more Avengers flicks) and obscure (Captain Marvel and Gambit) getting their chance to shine.
That doesn’t mean all of the comic book films playing at the Heck Piazza Dodecaplex have been good, or even mediocre. There have been some real bow-wows of late – for the love of God, Montresor, let us not speak of the solo Wolverine films! – and some equally dreadful films are now cropping up on DVD in hopes of cashing in – same applies to the 1990 Captain America, so quit whining and get back in your oubliette, Montresor!
Like everything else, superhero movies can be wonderful, terrible, or somewhere in between. That applies to the most successful cinematic superhero of all: Batman.
Batman was originally created by Bob Kane (with quite a bit of unacknowledged help from Bill Finger and Jerry Robinson) in 1939/1940 as a crime-busting detective who decided to dress up as a bat to scare the bejesus out of bad guys. Kane et al. borrowed liberally from Zorro, the Scarlet Pimpernel, pulp heroes like Doc Savage, and the new full-color sensation Superman for the Batman, and the result proved so attractive to the youth of America that soon Batman was nearly as popular as the Man of Tomorrow himself. Robin (the Boy Wonder), Batwoman, Batgirl, Alfred the Butler, the Joker, Two-Face, Batmite, Stately Wayne Manor, the Batmobile, the Batbelt, and plenty of other tchotchkes, sidekicks, and opponents soon followed, and by the time war came to America there probably wasn’t a child in the country who didn’t know about the Bat Signal, Batarangs, etc.
Whether this was at least partially the reason why a patriotic amateur suggested the idea of bat bombs to the War Department is not known, but if it wasn’t, it sure should have been.
Regardless, Batman (and Robin, and the Batmobile, and Stately Wayne Manor) soon joined Superman, Captain America, Bomba the Jungle Boy, and other costumed crime fighters at the local movie palace. At least two serials were made before Frederic Wertham came along and ruined everyone’s fun, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Batman, Robin, Batgirl, Alfred the Butler, Mr. Freeze, Catwoman, and the Bat Anti-Shark Repellant took the country by storm thanks to the campy early 60’s TV series.
Although the TV series ended after three years, the comics continued. So did the merchandising, the reruns of the TV episodes and the companion film, and a variety of animated shows ranging from the relatively serious to the unintentionally hilarious. By the time Tim Burton, the auteur of self-conscious weirdness, decided to make a Batman film at least partially inspired by Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns graphic novel, it’s a safe bet that Batman was even more popular than he’d been during the glorious days of Adam West dancing the Batusi and desperately trying to find a place to get rid of a bomb.
Batman (and Robin, and Batgirl, and Alfred, and Stately Wayne Manor, though not necessarily Batmite, Batwoman, Aunt Harriet, or the Bat Anti-Shark Repellant) has been a staple at the Heck Piazza Dodecaplex ever since. His only rival for sheer number of films is Wolverine, and that’s largely because of the personal popularity of Hugh Jackman as the surliest X-Man — would you kindly STOP IT, Montresor, oh all right, go on, drink the whole damn bottle of Amontillado, it’s not my fault if you have a hangover —
As I was saying, Batman (though not Man-Bat) has been a perennial at the box office for over a quarter century at this point, either alone or with Robin/Alfred/Vickie Vale/Commissioner Gordon tagging along for the ride. Even better, at least four of these multitudinous Bat-films qualify as genuine classics; Batman and Batman Returns set the tone for almost every subsequent superhero film by actually taking the idea seriously, Batman Begins was a terrific origin story, andThe Dark Knight is graced by Heath Ledger’s stunning turn as the Joker.
Alas, not all of Batman’s cinematic adventures have reached this level. Some haven’t been even been mediocre.
And of course, some are So Bad They’re Good.
Tonight I bring you the second installment in a semi-annual series called “Comic Book Films So Bad They’re Good.” Last year’s edition, “A Not So Fantastic Foursome,” was inspired by the alleged “entertainment” that a bunch of less than talented hired hands made of the First Family of Marvel in attempt to keep the film rights from reverting back to Marvel.
That the resulting mess, which did the careers of Kate Mara, Miles Teller, Jamie Bell, and Michael B. Jordan not one Higgs-Boson particle’s worth of good, was a hideous, incoherent mess didn’t really seem to bother anyone except possibly the actors and their agents. That letting the movie rights revert to Marvel might actually have resulted in an entertaining film that made everyone involved a lot of money rather than an expensive, career-killing tax write-off…let’s just remember that we are talking Hollywood, shall we?
As for Batman...as good as some of the films about him have been, some of have been equally bad. The following quartet, which range from a 1960’s parody to a 1970’s bootleg to two high-budget disasters, are enough to make a Bat-fanboy cry, or at least retire to the Batcave to wail and lament and weep copious tears at the sheer horror of what has befallen their hero:
Rat Pfink a Boo Boo (1966, starring Ron Haydock, Carolyn Brandt, Titus Moede, and “Kogar the Ape”) — No, this is not an analgesic for tiny children who fell down and scraped their little knees. Neither is it an homage to James Cagney, a way to dispose of unwanted rodents, or a vigorous social dance engaged in by Bruce Wayne, Batman, Commissioner Gordon, or Catwoman during a drug-fueled orgy at Stately Wayne Manor. It’s not even a parody of the charming little 60’s cartoon Batfink, which was itself a gentle mockery of Batman, Green Hornet, et al.
Rat Pfink a Boo Boo is a stunningly inept production by Ray Dennis Steckler, aka “Cash Flagg,” aka “Cathy Steckler,” aka a lot of other names. Steckler, whose masterworks included The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters and The Incredibly Strange People Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies, was a 1960’s auteur who was even less talented than Edward D. Wood, Jr. This is apparent not just from the props (a large collection of plastic toys), the costumes (including a ski mask that looks uncomfortably like a bondage hood), the acting (ha!), or the music (surfer guitars), but from the sudden shift from cliched crime drama to superhero parody about half an hour in.
That’s right. With a speed that the Flash might envy, the whole film cuts straight from “I must protect my girlfriend” to “come, minor character, let us change into longjohns and ski masks and FIGHT CRIME ON A MOTORCYCLE.” Oh, there’s supposedly a reason for this – the hero, a rock star, decides to protect his girlfriend by becoming the fearless crime fighter Rat Pfink – but like pretty much everything else in the film, it makes absolutely no sense.
Neither does the appearance of “Kogar the Ape,” who is actually a guy in a gorilla suit, and no, I am not making this up.
Then there’s the title, which is either a) inspired by Steckler’s daughter wandering around chanting “Rat pfink a boo boo! Rat pfink a boo boo!” b) the go-go dancing craze, or c) a mistake on the part of the “artist” who designed the theater poster, take your pick. I’m personally in favor of c) since the film’s budget (a mighty $38,000, including however much Steckler spent on props at McGrory’s toy department) was so tight he reportedly couldn't afford the $50 it would have cost to correct “a” to “and,” but I could easily be wrong.
As for how this mess relates to Batman…just take a look at the Mexican version of the theater poster gracing this diary, which dubs our heroes “Baty” and “Roby.” Need I say more?
Yarasa Adam Bedmen (1973, starring Levent Cakir, Emel Ozden, Huseyin Sayan, a lot of music from other films, some less than svelte strippers, several cobblestoned streets, and a bad guy stroking a cat) —
Turkey has made many contributions to world culture, from the gorgeous mosaics in the Blue Mosque to the wonders of its textile industry to the cave dwellings and churches of Cappadocia. Alas for cinema, this country, so intellectually decorative rich, has also become notorious for really, really terrible versions of American science fiction and comic books.
This film isn’t the best known example of this genre – that’s probably Dünyayı Kurtaran Adam, aka “the Turkish Star Wars” – or the stupidest – that’s probably Turist Ömer Uzay Yolunda, their version of Star Trek, which boasts a Captain Kirk who’s so gay he makes RuPaul look butch. It has its own charms, though, which include the following:
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Plumpish women running frantically down cobblestoned streets.
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A soundtrack stolen from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and other spy films, and yes, I do mean “stolen,” just watch the opening scene.
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Batman and Robin flinging each other through the air to land on the bad guys during fight scenes.
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Very bad lighting and makeup.
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A lot of strippers, whose physiques range from “elegantly toned” to “slightly fleshy housewife who skipped leg day at the gym.”
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Batman (who doesn’t even have a cape) getting’ jiggy with almost everything with two X chromosomes, sometimes on camera.
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Costumes that look like they were souvenir Bat-merchandise left over from the Anatolian equivalent of a yard sale.
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A lot of softcore groping and kissing, usually involving Batman and one of the strippers.
Whether the plot lives up (down?) to these elements is yet to be determined; I couldn’t find a subtitled version nor a plot synopsis, so your guess is as good as mine. Turkish speakers are more than welcome to chime in, and honestly, I wish they would. This is such a jewel I would very much like to know more.
It’s also not the only time that Batman has run into trouble in Turkey. It turns out that there’s actually a town named “Batman” in Turkey, and the former mayor was so incensed at the idea of an American film with the same name that he threatened to sue Warner for a cut of the gross after the excellent Batman Begins came out in 2009. The legal action went nowhere, probably because the mayor himself was under investigation for corruption, but it shows that the connections between the Dark Knight and the Land of the Byzantines may go deeper than one would suspect.
Batman and Robin (1997, starring George Clooney, Chris O’Donnell, Alicia Silverstone, the Bat-Codpiece(s), Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the Nippled Batsuit O’Doom) — the Bat-craze launched by the Tim Burton/Michael Keaton Batman in 1989 had begun to peter out by the time Joel Schumacher and a bunch of studio hacks agreed to make this dark, jokey, witless waste of film stock. Star George Clooney replaces Val Kilmer (a replacement for Michael Keaton), and has as much chemistry with holdover Robin Chris O’Donnell as he does with a manhole cover. He’s also given dialogue like “this is why Superman works alone” and has to slide down the back of something that might be a snake, Harry Potter’s pet basilisk, or the decommissioned waterslide from a Bat-themed amusement park.
Then there’s the supporting cast, and oh, how some of them likely wish they’d never signed on for this film! Arnold Schwarzenegger, who should have stuck to playing robots, is all but buried by silver makeup and faux metal props. Chris O’Donnell wears what appears to be a Jell-O Jiggler over his eyes in lieu of the traditional domino mask, and poor Alicia Silverstone is so badly miscast it’s no wonder her career never lived up to the promise she showed in Clueless. The only actor who seems to be enjoying herself, or even awake much of the time, is Uma Thurman, who is gloriously sexual and absolutely gorgeous as Poison Ivy, and one wishes that the filmmakers had done more with her.
As awful as this this, though, Batman has survived worse (see: the original Batgirl, Batmite, the orange and green and pink Batsuits from the 50’s, Rat Pfink a Boo Boo, etc.). What really takes this film from “hackwork by a hacking hack” to “DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN KILL IT WITH FIRE AND TERROR AND THE SWORD BEFORE IT MULTIPLIES AAAAIIIIEEEE” are the Batsuits.
Which have codpieces.
And nipples.
Yes. Really.
I’m not talking the Batgirl costume (thank God, since that might well have gotten the film banned in a lot of places). I’m talking Batman and Robin, who sport concoctions between their legs that might have pleased Henry VIII or another Renaissance monarch with fertility issues, and useless nubs on their breastplates that were allegedly inspired by classical armor. Whether this is true or not isn’t for me to say (I wasn’t there and can but speculate) but either way, the result is so blindingly stupid as to have overshadowed the rest of the film.
Is it any surprise that George Clooney still makes a face whenever this film is mentioned? That Ah-nold went into politics soon after? That Chris O’Donnell was reduced to playing opposite LL Cool J in an NCIS spin-off? That Alicia Silverstone’s career in feature films all but ended? Or that it was a good -eight years before anyone dared make another Bat-film?
Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016, starring Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, ten minutes of Gal Gadot, Amy Adams, Jeremy Irons, and Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg Lex Luthor the Beaver ) — this movie should have been a no-brainer. After all, Batman and Superman have worked together and been BFF’s in the comics ever since the 1940’s. They’ve also clashed more than once, and who doesn’t like a little conflict now and then between buddies? Throw in Wonder Woman and tantalizing hints that other members of the Justice League might cameo, and is it any wonder that comics fans started salivating at the first reports that this might be the sequel to 2013’s disappointing Man of Steel?
Then there were rumors of script trouble, and a long and exceptionally clumsy title. Some of the casting seemed questionable – Ben Affleck as Batman led to a spate of jokes about Matt Damon playing Robin – and the extra-long shooting schedule had observers wondering what was going on. A sneak site claimed that Affleck was so upset by his dialogue that he spent much of his time between takes rewriting his scenes while wearing the Batsuit (which, fortunately, didn’t include nipples or a codpiece).
Even so, the film was still considered a no-brainer. The release date in early May of 2016 was prime blockbuster territory even though Marvel was supposedly releasing a film the same day, and the cast – which of course included Man of Steel’s Henry Cavill, Laurence Fishburne and Diane Lane, Oscar nominee Amy Adams and Oscar winner Jeremy Irons, plus promising newcomer Jesse Eisenberg – was looking better and better. Even the supposed weakest link, Israeli actress Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, had plenty of time to put on the muscle to look convincing as the Amazon princess, plus she was stunningly beautiful.
Then Marvel announced that its early May film wouldn’t be one of its lesser lights, like The Inhumans or Black Panther. Oh no. That precious opening day, which all but guaranteed great box office, would be going to Captain America: Civil War, based on the legendary series that pitted Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the greatest superhero dustup in comic book history.
Oops.
Batman and Supermen, or Captain America and Iron Man? DC or Marvel? How was a fan to choose? Would both films be hits, flops, or somewhere in between? Would people be reduced to flipping a coin? Or simply going to both films the same weekend? Could anyone stand the suspense?
What promised to be an equally legendary dustup between Marvel/Disney and DC/Warner Brothers ended after only a few weeks, when Warner announced that Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, would premiere in early March, not early May. Which not only meant that Warner ended the beginnings of a classic Mexican standoff by blinking and slipping off into the sagebrush, it sparked yet more rumors that this film might, just might, be in trouble….
Then it opened, after two years of work, $400 million in production and publicity costs, what seemed like a dozen or more trailers, and the reviews began to trickle in.
And with very, very few exceptions, they were of the caliber usually reserved for junk like Rat Pfink a Boo Boo.
There were bright spots – Gal Gadot is fiercely luminous as Wonder Woman, at least for the ten minutes we get to see of her, while Jeremy Irons is a terrific, snarky Alfred the Butler. Even Ben Affleck, problematic though his take on Batman is in some ways, is a more than acceptable Caped Crusader. But oh dear God, then there’s this:
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Promising newcomer Jesse Eisenberg, who’s so twitchy and annoying as Lex Luthor Jr. that the only way he’d get a standing ovation would be if someone rammed him bodily through a skate sharpener.
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Batman branding criminals with the Bat-sign, which in turn leads to prisoners being murdered in jail.
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An incoherent dream sequence with winged dudes who seem to have migrated over from Ant-Man or another insect-themed film.
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Clark Kent, fully clothed, jumping Lois Lane in a bathtub.
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A Kryptonite spear.
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Dialogue like “Do you bleed? You will.”
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Gotham City and Metropolis being across a very large bay from each other, which means they’re actually San Francisco and Oakland instead of New York and Boston/Philadelphia/some other Eastern city.
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Bat-armor that looks like Bruce Wayne hacked Tony Stark’s servers to get an early version of the Iron Man suit.
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Patricia Arquette as character who seems to be a nasty dig at former Senate candidate Alison Lundergan Grimes.
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A whole big bleepload of Messianic overtones about Superman being “humanity’s only hope,” which are not only ridiculous but insulting to Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, who were a) Jewish and b) intended Superman to be the comic book equivalent of Moses, not Jesus.
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“Granny’s peach tea,” and if you believe that scene in any way, shape, or form, there’s a lovely bridge in Brooklyn that just came on the market.
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Less than two minutes of the promised scenes with Cyborg, Aquaman, and the Flash, rendering the subtitle about the Justice League pretty much moot.
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An ending that is so sentimental, and so senseless, that I found myself yelling “Oh come ON!” at the TV. However, one part of it was probably the source of the rumors that Marvel was planning to end its big superhero clash with a funeral, so at least that mystery is solved.
It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice was not the smash hit everyone anticipated. Oh, it opened well enough, but between horrible reviews, word of mouth that included phrases like “my God, what a trainwreck,” and an overall tone that makes Edgar Allan Poe look like a master comedian (is that supposed to be a smile, Montresor? Good heavens, when was the last time you brushed your teeth?), it failed to attract the repeat business it needed to do more than make back its costs. There was even an Internet meme called “sad Ben Affleck,” which featured a closeup of the morose star’s reaction to the reviews while The Sounds of Silence played in the background.
If that weren’t enough, Captain America: Civil War came out on what should have been Batman v. Superman’s release date to excellent box office, glittering reviews, and strong word of mouth, on its way to over a billion dollars in business and a whole lot of Internet memes involving Bucky Barnes, plums, and the epic frenemyship between Cap and Iron Man.
Whether this means that Warner will be scaling back its already announced slate of superhero films isn’t yet clear; Suicide Squad was already in the cane and Wonder Woman and The Justice League were both filming so those were definitely going to be released, but the rest may or may not reach the theaters. It’s a real shame, too, since Jason Momoa in particular looks absolutely scrumptious as Aquaman and I’d love to see what he does with the part.
As for Batman, though…Ben Affleck is reportedly writing the script for yet another Bat film, which he will direct and star in. Whether he’s planning to call Chris O’Donnell (or Matt Damon) to play Robin is yet to be seen.
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So...have you seen a Bat-film this year? Ever? Do you prefer Michael Keaton, or are you an Adam West loyalist? Are you Turkish, and if so, can you kindly explain what is going on in Yarasa Adam Betman? Are you willing to admit that you paid full price to see Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice instead of blowing a mighty $1.69 at Redbox the way I did? It’s a fine summer night, so come up to the talking circle and share….
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