The Cinematic History of the Dark Knight | Aggressive Comix

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By Max O. Miller Published July 20, 2012

As the culmination of unparalleled expectation approaches, Christopher
Nolan is set to demolish all sorts of unprecedented box office
records. Now often considered to be the definitive Batman film series,
there’s an ingredient of subjectivity that comes along with comparing
and contrasting one artist to the next. After all, Nolan didn’t so
much make Batman as much as Batman made Nolan, no one artistic
representation outliving the caricature itself. So to celebrate the
enduring livelihood of the Dark Knight, alongside his latest cinematic
expose, here’s a retrospective look at each and every theatrical
variation leading into the Dark Knight trilogy.

Batman: The Serials – One of the greatest misconceptions spouted
around Batman lore is that the Tim Burton driven 1989 motion picture
was the original big-screen adventure. For those a little more versed,
it’s incorrectly credited as belonging to the live-action television
series spin-off. Escalating into hardcore nerd trivia territory,
diehards will identify Adam West as the oldest of the memorable movie
Batmen…but not the original. In fact, he’s not even the second.

Starring in serial adventures decades before Adam was begging Julie
Newmar to ride down his bat pole, Lewis Wilson (1943) and Robert
Lowery (1949) had the honor of portraying the dynamic duo. Granted
they’re famous in that cast of “Dancing with the Stars” way, but do
you really expect this to be fondly cherished?

Presented in episodic format, each theatrical installment was composed
of shifty-eyed racial slurs and barrel-chested pajama-wearing
cliffhangers to stoke the WWII era morale. Ignored are the likes of
the clown prince of crime, Batman and Robin are now government agents
sponsored to tame the Axes. In a giant middle finger to Bob Kane,
there’s no indication of their tragically orphaned background. With
their psychological trauma omitted, their primary motivation (as any
good Christian American at the time) is placed upon mere patriotism.
Their new democracy-destroying villain archive included the likes of
Japanese mad scientists (subtly portrayed by white actors) bent upon
obtaining world domination via real world nationalistic issues of the
time. You know, like death rays and mind-controlled zombies.

Riddled with more shameless and blatant propaganda spin than a Rush
Limbaugh production, these serials felt more like brainwashing B-
movies than the brooding guardian of Gotham we know and love. Yet for
all their absurdist Reefer Madness-like exploitation qualities,
they’re surprisingly responsible for the induction of two of the most
pivotal load-bearing girders in the mythos. You can thank the serials
for the iconic Wayne butler, prior an overweight, bumbling, and
sleuthing Sherlock wannabe by the name of Alfred Beagle, and the
batcave, something that only vaguely existed beforehand as an ever
inconspicuous…ah…barn.

Batman (1966) – In the wake of fashionable pseudo-realism, it seems
the campy era of the caped crusader has been mostly thrown to the
wayside. Televisions first syndicated live-action Batman may have aged
about as gracefully as Burt Ward’s career, but one thing remains
undeniable. The 1960’s Batman really put the “POW!” into our
childhoods. For all the distaste it left in the mouths of the grit-
loving aficionados, all too often do we forget that the series was
responsible for a surge in popularity that rescued the comic from
certain cancellation. Holy close call, Batman!

Popularity led to demand, demand led to a motion picture, and the
motion picture led to many groans. Batman (1966) brought together the
likes of the dynamic duo’s most iconic rogues. Joker, Catwoman,
Riddler, and Penguin were united in an attempt to eliminate the
world’s water supply, a plot pivoting upon their newly invented
dehydrator machine. What commenced is almost two full hours of more
shenanigans than ever legitimate drama, mischievousness over sincere
maliciousness, and a handy repellant for any sort of antagonistic
scuffle to offer a quick scape-goat out of a bat-bind.

While it may not be the preference of many bat-fanatics today, Batman
(1966) and the corresponding series have undeniably carved themselves
a relevant statue worthy of displaying in any batcave. Faithfully
representing the comics of its generation, our youths ensure that this
interpretation will forever remain unforgettable…despite sometimes
(admittedly) wanting to forget. In the immortal words of Adam West,
“Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb.” Watching it may feel
like a trial in masochism, but this bomb is sure to exploding with pun-
filled blasts of guilty pleasures and nostalgia nonetheless.

Batman (1989) and Batman Returns – By the early 1970’s, DC writer
Dennis O’Neil had reestablished the Batman as the psychological and
expressively gloomy story it originally was. This however was
predominately unknown to the general public; Adam West’s satirical
interpretation still reigned as the generational first association.
Tim Burton became responsible for socially removing the corn. By
initiating the more faithful and Gothic version into the public
consciousness, he introducing casual audiences to what comic readers
were already blatantly aware of. Batman was never conceptually
intended to be nor was no longer going to be mere kids stuff.

Batman (1989) met early outrage. Primarily viewed as a comedy actor,
Michael Keaton’s casting mislead fans into believe that the film would
ape the tacky nature of the television show. Upon the release of the
trailer, opinions drastically changed. Heavily deriving from his first
year of publication, the Keaton iteration was more the ominous urban
myth that perched like a shadowy rooftop gargoyle than any happy-go-
lucky public personality. Like the 1939 original, this adaptation even
occasionally had homicidal tendencies, unlike that self-made code of
ethics he’s now infamously known to rigidly follow. Paralleling this
performance was his joint role as Bruce Wayne, strangely misplayed as
a reclusive eccentric far more than the millionaire playboy.

Oddly billed before the titular hero himself, the Harlequin of Hate
was the obligatory choice for the first big budget-caliber movie.
Pulling from 70’s comic based depictions, DC’s Joker had amalgamated
the original 40’s straight-up serial killer and the foolishly gimmicky
clown criminal of the 50’s and 60’s into one gravitational entity. Not
to be overshadowed, Jack Nicholson pulls out all stops with his
legendary perversion of the prior Cesar Romero. He’s flamboyantly
funny while sardonically murdering time and again on seemingly nothing
but whim. He delivers no less than one of the all-time great
performances in villainy. Due to this exceptional presentation,
perhaps too good, the audience ends up vicariously rooting for the bad
guy, directly resulting in a continuing trend seen in the original
blockbuster series. Villains became debatably more emphasized than
Batman himself, the title role making only comings and goings
throughout the narratives and never having any elaborate firsthand
account of the origin story.

Erupting into some of the first templates for the event blockbuster as
we’ve come to know it, the summer of 1989 in particular became dubbed
as the summer of Batman. Granting an overwhelming visceral experience
that beautifully styles after German expressionistic noir, Batman
(1989) has, perhaps more than any other of his live-action
adaptations, the genuine thrill of a classic DC comic book uplifted
from the ink. This makes it, more often than not, easy to forgive its
sporadic flaws. Regardless of the warts, Tim Burton’s most significant
importance to the canon at large was in being the first great
motivational force behind getting culture to finally accept Batman as
once again serious, paving the way for the continuation (albeit shaken
a few times) of its intellectual and artistic future.

Reaping the benefits of success, Tim Burton negotiated near complete
artistic control on the inevitable sequel. Batman Returns may offer a
bit too much Goth and not enough Gotham…but heralds the return
nevertheless. Founding the superhero movie plague of over-saturated
super villains, the script is swamped with one too many enemies for
our now tagged-on hero to do much more than just simply react to.
Batman is, once again, tossed to the wayside.

De Vito’s Penguin is, by his own rights, at least an intriguing
grotesque, but from the tainted point-of-view of a comic fan, is
almost unforgivably mutated (figuratively and literally) into
something barely resembling the page. When once he was known for
verbosely sophisticated soliloquies, our regal gentleman’s crook is
now a crude and disgusting distortion. Side-kicked by a gang of circus
freaks, seemingly just an uninspired left-over from the better
achievement of Nicholson’s Joker; he’s also paired with the made-for-
convenience industrialist Max Shreck. In many ways, Shreck feels more
richly wicked than any other antagonist, offering a resonating real-
world corporate evil to counterbalance the exaggerated. Last but
certainly not least, Michelle Pfeiffer is crowned this films scene-
stealer. With her not especially explored origin status in the comics
causing slightly awkward issues for the script, she’s given a
contrasting homebody secretary background. Yet the the pure aesthetic
s of Catwoman were certainly to blame for many teenage boys…ah…spilled
milk. Suffice it to say, we could look past her shortcomings and have
a provocatively good time watching this Selina Kyle. While the anti-
hero femme fatale was first intended to be given her own individual
spin-off film, explaining the somewhat open-ended climax for the
character, Warner Brothers opted out, instead years later resulting in
the abomination featuring Halle Berry…which I personally apologize for
mentioning at all.

Ultimately Batman Returns didn’t garner remotely as much box office
success (financially or critically) as its predecessor,
disappointingly being filmed with a budget nearly twice as much. In
part this was due to ignorant parents still hold onto the prejudiced
assumption that comic book superheroes are inherently juvenile. Upon
taking their children to the theater, they were livid with how
apparently nightmarish the final product was, an offense so severe
that it actually resulted in McDonalds pulling the tie-in Happy Meal
toys from their restaurants. In turn this trickled down to Warner
Brothers opting to go a more family-friendly route with the presumed
third installment, the studio perhaps overly-panicking at the mediocre
turnout of it second Bat undertaking as it politely asked Burton to
step down to producer. Yet for being a relatively mixed bag of
emotions that resulted in the nail hammered into the temporary coffin
of more adult interpretations, Batman Returns does offer goodies,
particularly in the haunting Danny Elfman score, the imagery, and
with, once again, the domineering performance of Pfeiffer.

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm – Likely due to not being live-action,
oftentimes omitted from lists is arguably the most true to the spirit
of Bob Kane and Bill Finger iteration. With the financial success of
the Burton franchise helping to green light what would eventually be
one of the most acclaimed cartoons of all-time, Paul Dini and Bruce
Timm’s Batman: The Animated Series ventured to the popcorn venue.
Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill once again etch themselves as being
synonymous with and the default voices for their roles, now the go-to
vocalization for an entire generation of comic book readers. Swaddled
by the genius that is Shirley Walker’s choir-fused score, the plot is
guided by the spectral-like Phantasm, scourge to the Gotham
underworld. While being a made-up role only having allusions to
Batman: Year Two’s Reaper, it so tuned into the wavelengths of the
1939 comic atmosphere that the ghastly entity feels comfortably at
home. Carrying a resonating maturity and stylization that echoed the
20’s and 30’s retro-noir pulps that inspired his creators, Mask of the
Phantasm is nothing short of a criminally underrated art deco
masterpiece.

Batman Forever and Batman and Robin – In the post Burton city of
Gotham, WB felt obligated to lighten the material. Picked to captain
the ship destined to hit icebergs, Joel Schumacher began writing his
notoriously sub-par chapter of the Batman legend. Due to the
controversy sparked by the macabre elements of Batman Returns,
parental prejudice deeming it inappropriate for children viewers; it
was elected to go far more dynamic duo and far less dark knight. So
came to be how Gotham was drown in more black lights than Cheech and
Chong’s college dorm and the bat-suit now bore Romanesque bat-nipples.

In sincere fairness, the Schumacher era does reflect a time of the
comics that isn’t so much inaccurate as it is just willfully
forgotten. Of course, that’s not to say this is my defense. It’s
certainly with its fair share of departures. Reflecting the classic
live-action television series right down to cinematography, kid-
friendliness was wing-manned by so-called “toyetics,” meaning what you
create offers itself to marketable toys. This was prioritized above
literary responsibilities, directly resulting in essentially glorified
commercials. Mirroring the fluctuating instability of the characters
history in print, Batman once again regressed. In fact, it’s notable
that Schumacher often encouraged his actors and crew to remember
they’re making nothing but what he considered to be a cartoon…ironic
that the animation of the time presented far more depth.

Batman himself is, now expectedly, swept under the rug in favor of
literally everyone else. Val Kilmer now replaces Keaton, the short-
lived one-and-done actor. Staggeringly flat, he delivers wooden scene
after scene in either ego or alter ego, possibly a result of the
conflicts he had with the direction. With competitive blandness is his
successor, George Clooney, playing Batman with such monotonous
casualty that it’s almost as if he’s entirely unaware of being in a
skin-tight rubber body suit.

Now inducted into the hall of shame, Robin was translated to the
modern in very questionable ways. While Chris O’Donnell’s boy wonder
may be older than the original Dick Grayson, the character has always
been problematic when viewed from a real world context. The
partnership shared between Bruce and his numerous wards is one of
presumptuous content, offering more in-the-closet snickers than
serious material to contemporary viewers. He doesn’t seem to have aged
especially well, which is exactly how Batman Forever presents him.
He’s this one-noted ball of feisty teenage angst, shoe-horned in for
classic appeasement and glorified convenience than ever any real
necessity. Any salvation in the eyes of Robin detractors registered
nonexistent for the foreseeable future.

Weighed down by yet more over-the-top portrayals of seemingly less
truthful and more just two-bit Joker Xerox copies, the 90’s film era
of super-criminals gifted the coup de grace to the franchise at large.
Biting off the shtick established by Nicholson became the de facto
tradition. That’s not to say even that’s necessarily imprecise,
particularly in the regard of the freakishly Gorshin-like channeling
of Jim Carry’s caffeinated Riddler, so much as it just feels stale.
Replacing the long-forgotten Billy Dee William’s, Tommy Lee Jones
exposed a far less gruesome Two-Face, hamming it up with only sporadic
obedience toward fate. Possibly the best of the bottom of the barrel,
Uma Thurman at least attempts redemption in her role as Poison Ivy,
though hard to recognize when constantly counteracted by a downright
humiliating script and her partner, a degraded meat-head
misinterpretation of Bane. Reaching the furthermost notoriety, Arnold
Schwarzenegger Mr. Freeze’s only real contributions seems able to be
summed up in puns that make the 60’s Batman blush. The days of
character development seemed a distant memory.

Joel Schumacher imbued the Batman franchise with a kind of marketable
Hollywood shamelessness, largely in part due to studio guidance.
Despite mediocre to abysmal reviews, both films still rode off the
brand name to become financially successful despite their
shortcomings. Hypocritical though it may be to appreciate the
satirical simplicity of Batman (1966), it’s judged by the criteria of
its time. However, in a more enlightened day, there seems to be an
unsaid responsibility that idealistically believes we should know
better. That we are better. That we deserve better. Schumacher
apparently didn’t know better. He apparently wasn’t better. He even
retrospectively feels we deserved better, resulting in a very public
apology on the Batman and Robin DVD. The plan was to produce yet
another starring Scarecrow (who became a hold over for the revamp) but
thankfully the reception obliterated that surefire flop. Consequently
Schumacher took comic book cinema two steps backward on the spectrum
of academic respectability, being held accountable for the suicide of
the original series, now forever an embarrassment that dangerously
approaches offensive.

Batman Begins and The Dark Knight – Reboot has become a relatively
controversial term, especially in the nerd community. They’re accused
of being everywhere from unoriginal to premature, unnecessary to
impossibly successful. Yet with what remained, if anything whatsoever,
of the Batman franchise, I don’t think anyone was opposed to starting
afresh. The bat was out of the belfry.

The Christopher Nolan world of so-called realism is a somewhat faux
misnomer. When last I looked, men don’t wear pointy-eared suits and
jump off rooftops, encounter dozens of opponents and somehow live to
tell the tale, and stop fiends with burlap sacks on their heads. If
this is a daily occurrence in your city, please…I think I’d like an
invite. No, instead I label it heightened reality, where it’s still
predominately fantasy, just underlined with a sense of practicality.
Try to think of the mindset as being applying a grounded standard to
the fantastical, not pragmatism itself.

The overwhelming novelty of Batman Begins is that, for the very first
time, the film actually focuses and stars Bruce Wayne, flash-backing
his history and training with the now adapted Ra’s al Ghul, a
modification that feels so natural it might as well have always been.
Apart from the now infamous throat cancer growl, what Christian Bale
gave us approached universal praise for its humanization, exploring
each archetypal characteristic with real-world basics. We’re finally
given an on-film answer to where he gets all his wonderful toys, how
he’s so deviously capable in battle and an inkling of his detective
brilliance and now far more identifiable motivation. Batman doesn’t
feel like a vessel, here he feels like a person who’s masked by a
facade Billionaire buffoon. At long last, Batman himself is in the
spotlight.

Expanding the character base, both Alfred and Gordon become less
throwaway and now evolve into fleshed out story arc roles themselves.
Masterfully crafted by Gary Oldman, the sympathetic Lieutenant
promotes into the brazened Commissioner as the trilogy progresses;
always racing to catch up and control a world he doesn’t quite
recognize anymore. Balance by the home presence of the beloved butler,
Michael Caine’s grandfatherly surrogate figure pulls at heartstrings
instead of being shuffled off as just mere employee. Gotham now felt
alive.

With the sleeper hit that was Begins, a humble little follow-up was
released. You just may have heard of it. The Dark Knight, sometimes
unfairly dismissed as just leeching off of the premature death of
Heath Ledger, became a powerhouse phenomenon for the record books that
bent the lines segregating blockbuster from art. The on-screen return
of the clown prince of crime was fated to be triumphant, displaying
the cultural significance of what may be the greatest villain in the
history of literary fiction. Beginning with large amounts of
criticism, most fans were dubious about the now make-up wearing Joker.
Yet upon seeing this version firsthand, the actor was honored with
numerous postmortem awards.

Like Nicholson of his day, the clown theatrically owns every scene
he’s present in. Deriving more from the 1940 debut, this Harlequin is
a terroristic homicidal maniac of mockery more than ever gag-dependent
prankster. Well…pencil aside. Though not offering global threats like
the League of Shadows, the jester terrifies on a far more personal
level. Paralleled by his ace in the hole, Harvey Dent takes the every-
man role as it’s guided into his foreseeable dual tragedy and horror.
Uncomfortably commentating on a post 911 America, the modern era of
film foes exploits our phobic and paranoid instability in remarkably
reflective ways, speaking to a much broader demographic.

As the lifelong Batman fan I am, there’s a level of disheartening that
came along with Christopher Nolan’s masterpieces. And make no mistake;
they are Batman’s magnum opus. This did however breed a new sort of
fandom that in some regards missed the overwhelming theme of the
modern trilogy. There’s a kind of fanatical insanity (resulting in
death threats to all naysayers) this series brought about through the
phenomenon. Now sparked is this sort of holier than thou egotism in
the community. It’s as if this is now considered the only relevant and
intellectual interpretation and the character should forever onward be
retired from film. At the risk of subjecting myself to hate mail…
there’s a blinding delusion of grandeur. I hate to break it to some of
you, but they’re not perfect.

The Achilles heel of these films is that they sometimes come off
somewhat pandering and pretentious, stoking this arrogant fan
mentality. The Joker character is quite literally spoon feeding the
audience every moral and theme he represents – beating us over the
head time and time again as if we’re incapable of recognizing it for
ourselves. I’m left waiting for Batman to spout “Joker, you’re such an
ironic foe, taking the archetype of the fool and perverting it into a
homicidal maniac!” Then everyone praises it for the supposed unique
depth it carries, not because it’s actually all that poignant and
exclusive…but because they’re simply told it is. For all the genius
included within this brand, the Dark Knight universe being definitive
is just a regurgitation of popular opinion and personal preference
more than it’s ever been an undeniable fact.

With the trilogy coming to a close as of today, I think it’s vital
that we recognize that Nolan may very well have delivered us the
default version as of now…but that one of the resounding themes of the
latest franchise breaks into our universe. Batman will live on. As
history shows, the caped crusader will, of course, come to again be
rebooted steadily through the barreling future. If not sooner,
certainly later, and that’s no sacrilegious offense. That’s the
natural progression of icons, adapting and re-adapting to the topical
surroundings of the present, ingraining within them an applicability
to secure their mythological undying. Batman has always been something
more than one narrow interpretation. He’s a symbol, an idea that will
immortally outlive any one artist or writer. He’s destined to endure
onward. This melancholic goodbye is merely temporary. The Dark Knight
will everlastingly ride on.