Twenty Years Later and I Still Have Most of The Toys

In keeping up with my tradition of writing about the anniversary of things when I happen to notice it’s the anniversary, I wanted to point out that Tim Burton’s Batman movie officially turns 20 today. Sure, the movie’s been overshadowed by the Chris Nolan movies in the last few years (and deservedly so, I might add) but I will always have a special nostalgic fondness for the Tim Burton movie. It was my first introduction to Batman, my first introduction to the idea of the summer movie season, and, really, my first introduction to the process of filmmaking.

I remember the summer of 1989 so well that it’s absolutely baffling to me that it’s been twenty years already. Somehow, I managed to avoid the Batman phenomenon for much of the summer, off doing whatever it was seven year old kids do. I think I saw some of the commercials, but it never really registered for me for some reason.

That changed late in the summer, when I went to Ocean City, NJ for a routine vacation with my family. I don’t know if the movie’s marketing department had spent extra money on targeting the Ocean City boardwalk or what, but Batman was everywhere. That place gets crowded in the summer, and probably one out of every ten people on the boardwalk had on some bit of Batman clothing, be it a hat or a watch, or, of course, the ubiquitous black and gold bat-logo t-shirt. Stores had Batman junk in all their windows, and you could even get your photo taken with a guy in a lame Batman suit for five bucks. (I know I did!)

Best of all were the movie theaters. There were a few theaters on the boardwalk back then (I think there’s only one left now) and they all actually had the good old fashioned low-tech marquees out front, with the hand placed letters that spelled out the name of each movie. There were only two or three movies per theater, but each and every one featured Batman as the main attraction. And this was after the movie had been out for a month and a half. Movies just don’t have staying power like that anymore. (Except, maybe, The Dark Knight.)

Sadly I don’t remember the exact nanosecond when I was bit by the Batman bug. I do remember buying a pack of Batman movie trading cards (I would go on to collect the complete set, obviously), complete with brittle, tongue-slicing baseball card gum. I think that gum was on its way out back then, it appeared less and less as I got older, which is a shame. It’s the only real kind of gum. Anyway, thanks to the gum each Batman card had the extra bonus of smelling like sugar. By the time I’d looked at every card in the pack, I was hooked. There was no going back.

The only outlet for my newfound Bat-mania was in the form of reruns of the 1960s TV series. This was obviously stuck back on the air to cash in on the popularity of the new movie, and I enjoyed it well enough. Unfortunately, the TV series was nothing like the images on my cards of a dark, moody Gotham City and a high-tech hero. I was too young to get the satire in the series, and so it came off, as I’m sure it did to millions of young moviegoers in 1989, as passé kid’s stuff.

So I had my Batman trading cards. I had a rudimentary understanding on the Batman mythos thanks to the TV series. Hell, I even had my picture taken with Batman himself. There was just one thing missing: I hadn’t seen the movie. Every day I would look up from the beach at the marquee on the boardwalk, and every night I would beg my parents to stop as we walked past the theater. They refused: The movie was PG-13, it made Batman out to be “bad”, it was too dark, too violent.

None of my well reasoned pleas and arguments had the slightest effect. I had a lot of fun at the beach that summer. I went to Atlantic City and rode a roller-coaster (they were undergoing a short-lived, Vegas-like attempt to turn the city into a family destination), built castles on the beach, rode rides on the boardwalk, went to a water park, and laid out in the sun listening to boom boxes blaring late 80s classics. But I didn’t get to see the movie. So despite all the fun I had, I came home from the beach without success: A huge Batman fan who had yet to see Batman.

It took about another two weeks of constant nagging before my parents finally relented. In the meantime, the fact that I hadn’t seen the movie did nothing to prevent me from buying more Batman cards, Batman comic books, and all kinds of other Batman junk that was being shoveled my way. When my parents at last allowed me to see the movie, it had already stopped playing in my home town, and my mom had to drive me almost an hour to find a theater that was still playing it.

We got there a little late, about halfway through the opening titles, and I remember immediately trying to guess what I was looking at as the camera swooped through some bizarre series of caves, only to be finally blasted with the climax of Danny Elfman’s theme and my first full view of the wonderful Bat-logo. Needless to say, I loved every second of it. (Except for the part where the Joker joy buzzers the guy to death. That scared me, playing on my phobia of skeletons.)

Looking back, the movie does seem a little dated. Obviously it can’t hold a candle to The Dark Knight. (It’s a tremendous credit to The Dark Knight as a movie that even with the years of aforementioned built-up nostalgia, it still managed to blow me away.) There’s too much Joker and not enough Batman, the Vicky Vale subplot is soap opera quality, and the entire storyline is a little half-baked.

But where it was great then, it’s still great now. The crazy gothic Gotham City beats the Chris Nolan version any day. Michael Keaton is still the best Batman—I’d pay any amount of money to see young Michael Keaton Batman face off against Heath Ledger’s Joker. He was insane and dark and intense without resorting to the famous Christian Bale voice. You really believed that he was crazy enough to put on a bat suit and run out fighting crime. I still love the look of the movie, all black and yellow and purple—it just looks great, and it puts you in a fully realized fantasy world from start to finish.

Naturally, my love for Batman only increased after seeing the movie. I had all Batman school supplies when school started. (It’s a great comfort to have Batman staring at you from the cover of your spelling notebook). I was Batman for Halloween. Christmas was all Batman stuff, including, of course, a cherished VHS copy of the film.

That same fall, my dad bought a video camera for the first time. Since I had a book called Batman: The Official Guide to the Movie or some such thing, I decided that with the book and the video camera together I had everything I needed to make a movie of the same quality as Batman. And trust me, I knew everything about the production of that movie: Who the costume designer was, who the producers were, who did the music, who did the production design. I even knew the name of Michael Keaton’s stunt man. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.

Thanks to Batman, then, I learned a whole hell of a lot about how movies were made for the very first time. As it turned out, taping me running around the yard in a Batman costume or my Joker action figure falling out of my tree house as an approximation of the film’s climactic scene didn’t exactly live up to the high standards set by the movie. My plans to film an elaborate Batman movie never materialized, but I never put down the video camera either. Years later, after the Batman junk hand long been relegated to the closet, I was still running around with the old camera, trying to make movies. Let’s hope none of those tapes ever see the light of day.

So that’s what I think about, twenty years later, when I see that iconic black and gold poster. I don’t think I’ve ever, before or since, gone quite so crazy over a movie. When I watch it now, all those memories come flooding back—I’m at the beach again, cracking open a pack of Batman cards while some 80s dude walks down the boardwalk wearing a dirty Batman T-shirt. It makes me just the tiniest bit less cynical about Hollywood when I stop and remember that movies can do that. Just the tiniest bit.