Archive for July, 2012

The Dark Knight Rises (2012) – Christopher Nolan (Dir.), Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Tom Hardy, Marion Cotillard, Anne Hathaway, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Morgan Freeman…let’s be real, pretty much the cast of Inception.

Disclaimer #1: I can be slightly irreverent at times. Well, extremely irreverent most of the time. In this ‘review’ I’m going to use harsh language, sarcasm, overly extended metaphors and general jackassery. However, this is purely in the spirit of fun and film criticism. My jokes and nonsense are meant in no way to belittle the horrific events at the midnight screening in Aurora, CO. My thoughts and prayers go to the victims of this tragedy. If you want some light-hearted ribbing/brutal emasculation of a major film franchise, please read on…

Disclaimer #2: Another one. Sorry! Well, I’m not sorry. Deal with it. This is for everyone wary of the dreaded ‘S’ word. That’s right…Shitzus. None of those yapping little fuckers will appear in this review. There will, however, be spoilers. I have demarcated them clearly. You’ve been warned.

It has arrived…through the ceiling apparently.

Here is a dramatization of me seeing this movie. Last time on ‘Andrew Meets Girls That are Actually Movies: Prometheus’

“Oh hey, I’m Andrew.” “Oh hey, I’m Prometheus. I’m pretty but I actually suck. Wanna make out?” “Any human contact is welcome. Even if you are simply a heavy-handed metaphor. Thank you!”

I’m back at another party, weeks after having surreptitiously exchanged mental saliva, if only briefly, with Prometheus in a closet. It turned out the movie/girl of my dreams was just that. An illusion. Well, the party is thumping but I’m standing in the corner gently swirling my beer in a shitty cup that is always red for some reason. Or blue. Any primary color other than yellow. I’m bored, checking my watch, ready to head home.

“Hey.” She’s right behind me, looking, for some deliriously (and wonderful) reason, like Anne Hathaway in a skin-tight cat suit. I am about to comment on how inappropriate it is based on our recent weather…and then I realize I need to shut the fuck up before I do something stupid, you know, like scare away a hot lady in a cat suit. “How’s it going?”

“Oh. Good. Thinking of heading out…”

“I just got here though.” She smiles at me. I’m interested (read: extreme understatement).

“What’s your name?”

The Dark Knight Rises.”

I finish my drink. “I’ve heard about you. You’re supposed to be pretty amazing. But I’ve already been burned once this summer… Not sure if you know Prometheus…

“That’s a shame. It’s also a shame that, not only am I hot, but I’m also surprisingly emotionally poignant, politically relevant and filled with Oscar-winning actors.” I take pause for a moment and consider the last item on the list. I’ve heard weirder things. I’ve done weirder things.

“That’s awesome and everything. But the last girl who said that wasn’t, well, all there…”

“Really? Not smart? Or deep? How about me? I’m a sprawling epic about class warfare, reminiscent of the French Revolution, all the while threading together a narrative of intense emotional destruction and, at the same time, extensively exploring these themes in relation to the concept of parental abandonment and societal isolation”

“Oh.” I grab someone else’s drink and down it. “Well…in that case…”

And then we make out. Everywhere.

“Who the fuck is Rick Ross and why the fuck is he in my police report?” ~ Batman, a Rick-Roll virgin.

We have finally reached it. After Nolan’s years of puttering with forms and structures, he has at last reached his eventual goal of inserting true thoughtfulness and literary considerations into a product so commercial it practically has a McDonalds ad taped to its nut sack. This is probably the closest we will ever get to a legitimate movie masquerading as a blockbuster film. Now, I know to some of you lugheads, that might not sound so appetizing and so, in response, I offer you this: Anne Hathaway in a fucking cat suit (#drool) and, for the ladies, Tom Hardy is only mostly disfigured (meaning he could still take on Matthew ‘Duller Than Matlock and Impossible to Spell’ McConaughey in a prettyboy-off with one check bone tied behind his back). There are action scenes! Joseph Gordon-Levitt is likable! Michael Caine cries! Twice! (It’s like watching an angel weep, if that angel has a grizzled British accent, has killed multiple people with a sawn-off shotgun and once stole a bunch of Italian gold). Apparently, Mr. Nolan decided to put in a little bit of everything for everyone which might explain why this movie is almost THREE FUCKING HOURS LONG. But I forgive him. I also forgive him for the fact that I only slept like three hours last night because I was so fucking excited about the end of the movie I couldn’t pass out, like a child terrified of closing his eyes in fear of wetting the bed once more (Editor’s Note: totally never happened to me. Totally never.)

That day, rock/paper/scissors ended terribly.

What’s it about? I refuse to give away much (like some other phallus-gobbling reviewers out there. I’m looking at you ‘The Guardian’ and David ‘How Have You Been Doing This For So Long?’ Letterman). So. Batman. He’s sad. Bane. He’s evil. Bane wants to fuck Gotham up. Batman doesn’t. Gotham gets fucked up. Batman gets fucked up. Aaaaaaand Anne Hathaway helps a generation of boys become men. That’s all I’ll give you. It’s as complex as a Dickens’ novel, if Nicholas Nickleby used his armory of ultra-tech to do battle with a severely steroid-jacked Oliver Twist (Note to Self: TV series idea. I’m thinking…Lifetime Channel?) It also, structurally, has about five fucking acts packed to the gils with twists, turns, ups, downs, side-to-sides and Anne Hathaway in a cat suit, as well as a half-way point that basically screams INTERMISSION. I expected a Pythonesque curtain to descend and John Cleese to try to sell me an albatross. Alas, that dream shall continue to go unfulfilled. This thing is so long and all-encomapassing that you eventually leave the theater a crushed shell of your former self, as though Bane has pummeled your innards into a veritable pea-soup of fanboy glee. Sense, patience and the ability to stand long monotonous barrages of tribal drums will be melting out of your fucking ears as you stumble from the multiplex. If that doesn’t entice you, stay the fuck away. This shit ain’t The Avengers. Yes, there are some witticisms (this should be fucking shocking coming from Christopher “Humorous as a Holocaust Vigil” Nolan) but this is an EPIC. Not in the sense of assholes with backwards caps and popped collars going for the record number of jaeger shots to be ingested by way of their rectums, but in the Homerian sense of omnipotent narrative brutality. It’s a marathon. If you don’t train and prepare, bringing with you acceptable sustenance (a jumbo popcorn, a hotdog, three packs of snow caps and a roast turkey should do it) you might die. No joke. It’s that draining.

In the apocalyptic dance-off, Batman realized that he had no way of competing with a perfect landing of a triple sow-cow.

As the years have passed, Nolan has been secretly weaving together a tapestry of immutable acting talent and, like that fungus at the bottom of my pantry, is growing with each delicious morsel that he consumes. I’m not sure if he signs a contract for these actors’ souls or if he’s just pleasant to work for, but Nolan’s Harem of Beautiful Men is on full display here. We have Tom “Watch Bronson Right Now, You Little Whores” Hardy acting the fuck out of this thing, even with Darth Vader’s fist lodged in his mouth. Also, there’s Morgan “God – I will keep making that joke because it is still funny to me” Freeman given more to do than simply point and spout at fancy gadgets. Marion Cotillard is back as Nolan’s shadow, steadily murdering all of his dreams and driving him mad with boner-popping desire (she is a very attractive woman, even if she a frenchie). Also, finally, Mr. Oldman is allowed to come into his own, truly stretching out those Oscar-pants he so graciously tried on earlier last year in Tinker Tailor This Sounds Like A British Porno Spy, and offering up a performance packed with so much heartbreak you’d think it was a bad day in the trauma ward (my thoughts and prayers go out to all of the families affected by Grey’s Anatomy day at Northwestern Memorial Hospital). I would also like to say, for all of the attractiveness of Ms. Hathaway and her figure that simply will not quit, even if you take it’s stapler, stop paying it and move it down to the boiler room, she delivers one hell of a performance. While most of the film is a mirthless cortege of unending barbarity, Ms. Hathaway is positively delectable as Selina Kyle, expertly adapted to stick just close enough to the comic’s conception without ever dipping into the realm of painful punnery or Pfeiffer whippery. She seems to be the only person here enjoying herself, constantly gobbling each scene with cat-like don’t-give-a-fuckery and impenetrable confidence. Both she and Cotillard aid in a pleasant departure from Nolan’s usual sausage-fest offering, providing at least two women in Gotham who can be classed at a level above ‘District Attorney/Wet-Blanket Barbie’ (Side Note: there was a limited edition of Wet-Blanket Barbie’s released in the mid-90s to help with menstrual education. It was a limited edition for a reason. Side Side Note: There will never be a ‘District Attorney Barbie’ for the obvious reason that legitimate employment hurts chances of marriage). We must also offer her the age old honor of ‘props’ for making herself both likable and engaging enough to survive some of the more ridiculous shoe-horning of her character into the latter half of the film. Honestly, she has no place being there…but no one is going to argue. Trust me.

There are two standouts, however. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is as shiny as a new nickel playing the ingeniously conceived John Blake. From a structural point of view, the wide-eyed and almost impossibly intuitive cop provides an emotional spine for a good deal of the movie while our heroes, Oldman and Bale, are otherwise indisposed (which really sounds like they’re on a sex holiday. That would have been incredible.) In the hands of another actor, Blake would have been limper than a penis in a Phyllis Diller convention. But this boy is erect as hell (That metaphor went to the wrong place). Joe Levitt is that wonderful intersection of young talent, endless charisma and 3rd Rock From the Sunness that we need in our new acting generation. Never once does he lose believability and literally every time his character is threatened onscreen, the audience gasped. They didn’t even do that for fucking Batman and the movie is named after him. On that note, let’s talk about Bale. Yes, the bat-voice is still here, intermittently. Finally, though, he has crafted a human being on screen that we actually are interested in. No longer is the hot-headed billionaire-jackass but a reclusive drinking-his-own-urine type of shut-in (you know, like that famous one…Hugh Hefner.) He’s hurt, physically, emotionally and metaphysically; and he’s looking for a way out. Instead of seeing the Bat as this infallible machine of pure ass-kickery, we get a glimpse of the human underneath and the fact that nobody’s physical form can take that kind of depreciation and still face off against Tom Hardy. His performance truly forms the missing piece of the emotional puzzle, bringing his arc into full-body over the three films. Though we barely even see the Bat throughout the nine hours of this film’s length, we see a shit load of Wayne. And it couldn’t be more necessary.

Bruce just made a really off-color joke. He hasn’t realized that ‘negro’ is no longer acceptable nomenclature.

Of course, since this is Batman, we must discuss the villains. While the last we saw of Bane was the Hulk as though he’d been roped into an impromptu S&M convention, this one is simply a bastard of such dickish proportions he’d give Stalin a run for his proletariat, with arms the size of my head and a mouth with more metal than a Slayer tour. It’s an interesting, though not wholly sense-worthy, departure from the manic insanity of Heath Ledger’s divinely-inspired Joker. This antagonist is deliberately sadistic, fully in control of his hatred and completely lacking in anything resembling empathy. While there was an irrational sense of safety in the fact that there was no rhyme or reason to the targets of the Joker’s malice, Bane is coolly calculating and evisceratingly vengeful. When he has your number, he will pound your ass harder than a fist-ended jackhammer. Granted, his plan to turn Gotham into a sinewy fiefdom is so far-fetched it makes the horizon look close but it certainly makes for some exciting cinema. Especially the hilariously out-of-tone court hearings overseen by a gleefully disheveled Cillian Murphy. In the end, however, this villain is far closer to the heart for Bats than the mad-dog off the leash, even if the titanium crab attempting to emerge from his esophagus does reduce his facial emotive capacity to zilch. There is nothing comparable to the Joker, but the rest of this film beats the hell out of Harvey “Your Yelling Voice is Kinda Whimpy” Dent and Eric “Smarmy Ass #4” Roberts. Advantage: Rises.

*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*

Alrighty, boys and toys, ladies and babies (Editor’s Note: no baby should see this movie on account of having to explain the fact that Selina is in a momentary lesbian relationship that never really comes up again. Though babies have a keen sense of lesbianism and alternative sexuality, their capacity for disjointed character traits is nil) have you all seen the movie? If so, continue. If not, STOP READING AND WATCH IT. IT’S AMAZING. If you don’t plan on watching it, well, then, I guess…to each their own. Batman ain’t for everyone. Well, intrepid readers, ahead thar be plot-points! Tid-bits! In-depth discussions of thematic arcs! Jokes about Inception! You have been warned.

Now, the big thing that people are doing is directly comparing this movie to The Dark Knight. This isn’t fair for a multitude of reasons. Dark Knight existed in a vacuum, providing something rarely seen in the span of human existence: intelligence in blockbusters. It discussed some stuff in an adultish manner, had thru-lines, characters attempted to exist and the Joker was in-fucking-credible. What The Dark Knight Rises does is tie together the disparate elements from both the first and second movies which, to be honest, seemed so fucking divergent they could be a Chicago-based young adult novel. This is the keystone, holding together this at-once muddled mass and at-twice a sprawling examination of chaos/order/fear/parental loss. We all watched Nolan wrap his lips around the massive sausage that is this franchise, expecting him to gag on it, predicating a vomitous explosion of akin to the Schumacherian efforts of the earlier series. However, unlike any other Brit in existence, this gentlemen seems to know how to chew after biting off too much. He artistically deep throated this comic book, bringing it to a climax so titillating you can…well, we’ll leave that metaphor to finish itself (INNUENDO). Not only that, but like the master of the shadows it portrays, this movie stands alone, without any aid from its predecessors.

At the curtain’s close, after the sneakily named-Robin wanders into the Bat-cave and we get a glimpse into Wayne’s new freaky-deaky life as Bonersaurus Rex alongside Sexelina Kyle, just pounding it out Florentine style (with some added Alfred action) we have been treated to a comprehensive view of this hero, a fully-developed arc stretching all the way from the homicidal little ass who gets the shit slapped out of him by Katie Holmes to the infringer of basic civil liberties while fighting the Joker to the broken shell of a man who almost loses all principles in search of final vengeance. Going into this film, they clearly hint at Wayne’s demise, offering a thematic thread of a man who is seeking his own destruction before realizing that death is by far the simplest option. That, coupled with his unhealthy obsession with a woman my friends described as ‘Sarah Jessica Parker on a good day’, is beautifully juxtaposed with the twisty tale of a forbidden love affair between Talia and Bane. It’s the only moment of humanization Hardy is afforded in the entire film, just a ephemeral glimpse of that angelic face before being maimed in the name of love (not the Bono name of love, the name of love where you are vigilantly stopping an entire prison from raping a small girl. You know, Twilight love). In that second, this codification of the purest of evils transforms into nothing more than a star-struck lover, a guardian of the only thing in life that he cares about. A love that would blow up a fucking city. Yo, Bella, would Edward take an entire metropolis hostage with a weaponized nuclear core and systematically murder dissenters just out of pure affection? No? Bane’s a real man. Also, he’s a psychopath. So…he’s like pretty much every dude after their balls drop.

Batman…I’m your father. Well…in a metaphorical sense. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up. Please stop crying.

I will say that I had some issues with plotting etc. Batman’s ‘death’ was a little too reminiscent of both The Avengers (without the wit) and Heroes season one (without the terribleness). Also…if he was vaporized by a neutron bomb…what the fuck did they bury at the end? There was a patch of disturbed ground under his tombstone… Did Alfred bury his Wayne sex-doll as some sort of perverted effigy? We all know he has one. Also, we harp so hard on him getting his shit wrecked, when he easily just appears at the end with Selina, I expected the camera to pan down and see a spinning top spinning away. It just seemed so easy in comparison to the rest of the film. No doubt, my inner fanboy was pissing himself with relief, as this continued to confirm the fact that Batman is, in fact, immortal. Seriously, though, if I were Alfred, after the emotional fecal maelstrom Wayne had put him through over the course of this 20-hour ordeal, I would have walked right the fuck over to that table and punched Bruce in the nut sack. Then hugged him. And then the nut sack again. What a cock.

Finally, here is a list of absurd plot devices throughout the film that didn’t fit too well into reality: the fact that the core decays in EXACTLY the amount of time Batman needs to heal his spine; the fact that Batman is suffering from a decay of cartilage (a chronic disorder) which is then completely ignored after his back is miraculously healed…who are these guys, the dudes from The English Patient? Geographically, it makes sense, temporally…not as much. Also: why does no one ever shoot Bane? Or Batman? There must have been stray bullets going everywhere in that final fight. None made contact? None? Also, I know Robin is meant to be the ‘Boy Wonder’, but that doesn’t make him fucking Miss Cleo. How the hell was he predicting all the bullshit he goes through?

But I can forgive all that. Why? Because Batman, that’s why. Because this is thoughtful, delicious entertainment of the highest order. Because watching this movie is like a 2 hour 45 minute Swedish Massage, it’s gonna get that deep tissue and it’s going to fucking hurt…but a pretty lady is touching your naked back and the next day you feel like a million bucks.

*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS*

The only time since Transformers 2 that I’ve ever wished I were a motorcycle.

Nolan’s come a long, long way. So often his films are pretty and heady as hell, but lacking the emotional core required to draw in someone of my particular tastes. I, shock and horror, didn’t care all that much about Inception. It had a shit load of style, it was kind of smart in places, but it’s a soulless demon of a film experience. Even The Dark Knight felt unfairly manipulative in its designs. You felt as though Nolan was more on the Joker’s side than the Bat’s, gleefully obliterating hope and life in the goal for more excitement. Here, however, you never once doubt that Nolan is with the Bat, pushing him along, praying that he’ll win out against this foe so evil, even Aleister Crowley would be reticent to invite him to a goats-blood and virgin-rape party. This movie, unlike anything Nolan has really produced in the past, is about people. Hurt people. People searching for redemption. And we want them to get it.

Hopefully, this movie changes things. Hopefully, we’ll finally get the better class of blockbuster we, as a people, so deserve. Perhaps audiences will reconsider seeing Transformers 4 in favor of something a little less intellectually necrotic. This is the new wave and Batman is the banner man, charging into the darkness of popular taste, waging war against mental sloth and lackadaisical pop-shit gluttony. We need more Nolans. We need more Whedons. We need the good shit to be the norm. And we need to celebrate it, unfettered, unadulterated and unashamed. Go see The Dark Knight Rises. Let movie companies know that this is what we want. Tell them to shove their What to Expect While You’re Expecting and their Expendables 2 up their rectal channels, along with the rest of the shit they plan on laying out over the next few years. This is a revolution. A revolution of the smart blockbuster.

Also, I hear the IMAX is awesome. That’s not part of the revolution. That’s just pretty.

The Dark Knight (2008) – Christopher Nolan (Dir.), Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Aaron Eckhart, Morgan Freeman, Eric Roberts…basically everyone again

Dude, it’s behind you…

As we have witnessed this franchises lowest lows, so must we visit its soaring high. As the flashing neon of Schumacher and the pop music of Burton drift off into the distance, Grand Master Nolan reaches down from the grit-covered heavens and offers us entry into the darkest most decrepit vision of the Bat-world. If The Avengers hadn’t soared its glorious way across the silver screen this last summer, The Dark Knight would have to unequivocally be the greatest comic book movie ever made. Other than Ang Lee’s HULK, of course. But I’ll go off about that work of brilliance another day (read: sarcasm). I remember when I was living in England, the trickle of news about Ledger’s joker infecting the news waves, tickling our fanboy titties, just teasing us with the titillating temptation of the Dark Knight’s greatest villain. Honestly, all I was hoping for was a musical interlude in an art museum and purple berets. I was sorely disappointed when that was replaced with ‘good acting’. What pish-posh! Thematic depth? Well constructed character arcs? Get yourselves out of my genre of goofy bullshit and go back to that Ishiguro movie. The one with Keira Knightly where she maybe gets naked. Maybe not. I haven’t seen it. The point remains the same, who let you be so fucking good at this Chris Nolan? Did Zeus descend from Mt. Olympus disguised as a ‘talented director’ and impregnate your mother (thinking it was, after all, Rob Reiner circa 1985…ewww)? How did this happen?

Most violent game of duck, duck, goose ever.

Well, let’s check out what’s going on here. After Ra’s Al Ghul took the phrase ‘getting on like a house on fire’ the wrong way and got off at one El stop too late (i.e. the one where he dies) Batman is cleaning up Gotham like a champ. And he has groupies! One of them being a hilarious dude wearing hockey pads (side note: Andy Luther, the hockey pads dude, is an amazing Chicago actor and stand up guy). Well, mob bosses are all wetting their panties in fear of the Bat, they hire the world’s worst kids’ entertainer to, well, I believe the technical term is: fuck shit right up. And he does. In increasing maniacal and vicious ways. All the while, we have Bruce pining after a woman who looks as though the original version of her was kidnapped and forced into slavery by Scientology (and nobody minds) and Aaron “Chin of the Year” Eckhart is trying to be the best DA in town. Well, shit gets nasty, stand-in-Katie-Holmes gets blowed up, Aaron’s beautiful, beautiful face gets a healthy dosing of the Courtney Love Vagina treatment (don’t ask what that is), a truck flips over on Michigan Ave, Batman gets a new motorcycle-batpod-thing and Heath Ledger dresses in drag. It’s a feast for the eyes! Basically, Nolan has taken the basic premise of the chaos vs. order dichotomy and injected it with a vicious dose of Heat (all the parts without Val Kilmer) as well Goodfellas (without Ray ‘Exasperated all the Time’ Liotta) and The Untouchables (without Kevin ‘American Robin Hood’ Costner. And no, I will never let him live that one down. The bastard). It’s complex. It has something to say. And, like a goth stripper with a PhD, it will let you know in the most boner-inducing, gorgeous way possible.

Okay, so, the movie is good. It’s got a solid script, decent set pieces yada, yada, yada. What elevates it from the mantel of ‘Pretty Good’ to ‘Ball-Blazingly, Seizure-Inducingly, Melt-Your-Face-Off-Good’ is Mr. Heath ‘That One Time in the Mountains With the Cowboys’ Ledger. Holy shit. While we were watching, doing our regular jackassy thing, the room fell silent whenever the Joker entered. He has Scenes, with a capital S. You know, for Actors with capital A’s. Every other mutherfucker unlucky enough to be dumped into a comic book franchise barely even phones it in. I believe Chris Walken mailed it in, that’s how little of a fuck he gave. Ledger, on the other hand, crafts something otherworldly. It’s a performance that reminds you plebs out there that actors don’t simply interpret, they create. Ledger was a fine artist who, of course, will be sorely missed. But day-um. What a way to go.

Harv, the Crypt Keeper called and he wants half his face back. Also, he was wondering if you were around for poker on Tuesday. Are you guys seriously friends?

Unfortunately, by contrast, the rest of this A-list cast looks closer to a matinee performance of the Mikado in Bum-fucktonville Idaho. It’s not that they’re bad…they’re just adorable in comparison with their ’emotions’ and ‘gravitas’. This is probably my favorite role of Eckhart’s other than Thank You For Smoking and yet, whenever he has a scene with Ledger, you almost feel bad for him. You want him to be as good, you pray for him to be as good, but his scary half-face looks as intimidating as a fucking corgi. The man just doesn’t have the ABs (that’s Acting-Bollocks, a technical term for when Marlon Brando would pull down his pants and slap his adoring audiences with his 400lb nut sack. True story.) Oldman is still around kicking tail as Gordon as is Morgan “I had a friend named Andy Dufresne” Freeman. But, Mr. Bale…oh Mr. Bale. Can someone please tell Chris to clear his throat? Or stop eating cigarettes? Or stop using the bladed dildo? Who ever thought that impression of a gravel road was an acceptable form of communication? It’s fine when he’s demanding to know where the drugs are going, but when he’s having a simple conversation with Harvey Dent, he seems more likely to begin coughing up radioactive phlegm rather than plot points. Just take a lozenge, you silly man.

Also, let’s be real. For all it’s titty-twisting beauty, this isn’t without its flaws. First and foremost we have the extended Tom Waits impression that is the Bat-voice. Next we have far too much footage of the Bat-pod. Seriously, I know you spent a really long time building that thing and it looks fun as hell, but Mr. Nolan this isn’t a meditation on how totally sweet Batman’s wheelies are. I think, if you remove half of the batpod footage, you’d get this monster of a film down to an acceptable length. Another bone to pick: we are led to believe that Batman is a stand up guy, making sure to never murder any perps…but he doesn’t seem to give a single, voluntary, airborne fuck when it comes to collateral damage. Every chance he gets, he’s blowing up parked cars or walls or malls or glass or…what is he, a nine year old who found the cheat code to the tank in Grand Theft Auto? Also, if anyone has read my review of Mississippi Burning, you know some of my fury when it comes to the conservative undertones of this movie, specifically in regards to police brutality and the whole cell-phone radar conceit at the climax. I mean, it’s a debatable thesis and I won’t get into it again, but I will say this… The Joker is holed up in a totally abandoned building filled only with hostages, dogs and thugs. How can Batman use cell phone radar in the entirety of the structure? Are the bad guys live-tweeting their murder of civilians? Are the guard dogs instagramming the whole affair: “W/ Joker LOL. Here comes Batman! Charge! Oh he punched me! ROFL!”

Also, a lot of dogs get thrown down elevator shafts. What does Nolan have against dogs? Is he just kind of a dick? Is he simply a cat person?

The Joker: Most Unnerving Blackjack Dealer Ever.

On a serious note, for once, what Nolan did with movie is rarely achieved. He took something in the popular domain that, honestly, has a rather basal approach to thematic exploration and doesn’t really have any huge dwellings on the Human condition, and turned it into something good. I’m talking The King’s There Will Be No Country For Old The Hours in Love with Atonement good. It raised the bar for what we expect in a summer blockbuster. We’re not just here to sink into our jumbo buckets of heart-attack-corn, only to have our brains numbed by an onslaught of visual and cranial anesthesia. His work on this franchise takes all other major titles to task. Forever more, summer movies will be judged against this work of pure panty-wetting bliss. It’s a movie like this that would force a studio like Marvel to do something drastic such as hire a veritable madman to almost single-handedly craft their golden child of a film franchise into whatever he pleased. Now, The Avengers is by no means nearly as deep or thoughtful as The Dark Knight, but it isn’t a piece of shit like everything else that parades across our eye-testicles every summer. It had quality acting, taught directing and fight scenes that made sense. This is becoming the norm. I hope. Give people something juicer to mull over during the waning summer days, not just more sugar-coated schlock to make us ever more artistically bankrupt than we already are.

So, Mr. Nolan, you have raised your bar high. Perhaps too high. Bring it home with what could be one of the best blockbusters of all time. Or else. You bastard.

Well, this is the end of our Bat Saga until the grand opening of the Film Du Jour. As a celebration, my friends, Alex and Kevin, joined me in competing for the ‘Best Bat-Voice Impersonation’. The prizes were of the highest caliber. Here is a little smattering of how fucking ridiculous my friends are:

Alex as Emotionally Supportive Boyfriend Batman:

Kevin as Batman rehearsing with his cat:

And, finally, me as Batman ordering movie tickets:

I believe I ‘won’. My prize, well, let’s just say the emotional roller coaster it put me through upon its reception could be best summed up with this picture:

There are no words.

Well, now for some serious Tweetage.

Kids, this is what happens when a smurf farts. #batathon

I like that all the clowns really want to give exposition. #batathon

Oh Heather Ledger, work the fucking balls. #batathon

Yes, nobody will notice the school bus that came out of the building.#batathon

“I’m not wearing hockey pads!” Batman has been drinking way too much Jack drenched in cigars drenched in Phyllis Diller. #batathon

“Sir, Batman just left. He left when you were talking to him. How rude.” #batathon

“Oh Maggie Gyllenhaal. She looks like Sarah Jessica Parker on a good day.” ~ Kevin. Wrong. #batathon

“I want your trust. And a mustache ride. Not in that order.” ~ Dent to Gordon, still a better love story than Twilight. #batathon

“Look at my whore, Rachel. This is how I impress women.” ~ Wayne. #batathon

“No ballerina would have tits that big!” “Have you seen Barishnakov’s bosom? He is a well endowed mutherfucker.”#batathon

Wait, everyone shut the fuck up. The Ledger is approaching.#batathon

“You’re a hard man to reach.” “You’re a hard man to reach around.” “What?” “Don’t worry about it.” #batathon

Did Morgan Freeman start a Meth Lab in Wayne Industries? Hey…Walt? Jesse? #batathon

And starring Maggie Gyllenhaal in the new sitcom from Fox: “Oh that bat!” It consists of her shaking her head with a smile in every scene.

And then Alfred had sex with everyone on that boat. Man, woman, child, mineral, vegetable…it was a veritable sex-topia. #batathon

“Why So Serious?” “Um…you have a blade in my mouth. Do you really want me to answer?” ~ Ended terribly. #batathon

“Leave your cell phone.” “I use that one solely for bitches.” ~ The Freeman. #batathon

“John Woo should have directed this scene. You don’t understand, there are doves and people jumping with two guns EVERYWHERE in China”

“That card completes my Pokedeck!” ~ The judge, about to be mercilessly murdered. #batathon

“That bitch behind him has some awkward tan lines happening.” ~ Meg. Vigilant. #batathon

“Let’s get drunk and sexually experiment. I mean…let’s just get drunk.” the commissioner, lonely #batathon

“Hey, Maggie, remember that movie where I made love to your brother? This is like that, but with less cowboys.” #batathon

“You remind me of my father. I HATE my father.” ~ With a knife. How Harry Reid gets the Senate to vote in his favor. #batathon

How did Batman not die from that height? Also, they forget they left the Joker with a room full of innocent rich people. #batathon

Batman…were you just standing there for like 20 mins until we got here?…that’s kinda creepy. #batathon

“A riddle…Riddle-er” “Shut the fuck up.” #batathon

“I don’t think we need a minigun to do that.” “But it’s sooo cool.”#batathon

And Joel Schumacher was allowed to direct a single scene. You know, the one in the gay night club. #batathon

“Anyone in this town you can trust?” “Bruce.” “Okay, anyone you can trust who won’t put his penis inside you?” Silence. #batathon

“I was literally a block away from you. We should torture suspects together.” “Sounds hot.” “Sounds like a sitcom.” Batman/Dent high five

“What will you have me do, Alfred?” “Endure.” In fairness, they had the same conversation when he wet the bed as a youngster,#batathon

I wish Aaron Eckhart’s chin had more press conferences. #batathon

“Ok, that’s NOT good.” ~ Thank you Greek Chorus of idiocy.#batathon

You know…that’s not how physics work…but it’s okay. Because it’s amazing. #batathon

Batman, you suck at braking. #batathon

Gordon is wearing a turtleneck! You know, I shall let that one pass.#batathon

“Glad we have mood lighting so that Batman totally can’t hide behind you.” Seriously, there is one door. How didn’t he notice him come in?

“Like a leper!” “I’m not a leopard. I’m a bat.” “I said leper.” “I’m NOT a LEOPARD.” “Um…let’s move on…” ~ Batman, mishearing

“This is the WORST SURPRISE BIRTHDAY EVER!” ~ Dent before a severe facial. #batathon

Wait…wouldn’t the GCPD have a unit in the areas next to both Dent and Dawes? Isn’t that how Police works? #batathon

“Let’s play a game. I spy something beginning with B. That’s right! Barrel of gasoline! Harvey…Harvey?” #batathon

Chris Nolan: “We’re playing for keeps. The only female character gets mercilessly murdered.” #batathon

“The guys at the station bought you this dildo. It was a joke and I didn’t have money for another present. So…I guess, here’s a dildo.”

On the upside, Harvey, your teeth look REALLY good. #batathon

“Fuck plans! Plans are pathetic!” ~ Joker, the man who plans the entire elaborate climax to this film. #batathon

GTA. Either Gotham Transit Authority, or the City of Gatham encourages violent rampages and sex with hookers in a hilarious manner #batathon

And then Mr. Freeman discovers the center of the Matrix. He uses to watch all the penguins in the Antarctic for narration purposes.

“Mr. Wayne, you don’t have to use the silly voice with me. I know who you are.” ~ Lucius Fox.

Remember, kids, wear a seatbelt or Two Face might murder you.#batathon

Wait…whose cell phones are they using here? The SWAT teams? “I’m on the roof, LOL” #batathon

And Gordon chooses his favorite thereby making every Thanksgiving far more awkward for years to come. #batathon

Batman falls like three stories and we’re worried he’ll live. He also fell from a penthouse onto a fucking car and was fine. WHAT?#batathon

“Dad, why didn’t Batman sign my tits?” “Because you don’t have tits, son. You don’t have tits.” ~ Gordon and his son, confused#batathon

YAY! The Batathon is over! The Dark Knight Rises, you better not fucking disappoint, or I will murder EVERYBODY. #batathon

And so, I’m seeing The Dark Knight Rises on Friday night. Be on the lookout for the review on Saturday.

Batman Begins (2005) – Christopher Nolan (Dir.), Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Katie Holmes, Tom Wilkinson, Cillian Murphy, Morgan Freeman, Rutger Hauer, Liam Neeson, Ken Watanabe, Gary Oldman…basically everyone ever

And starring Dracula as Batman!

Finally, we have reached it, like Orpheus emerging from Hades, the Eurydician Batman franchise, can see the light of life once more. It’s golden rays trickle across it’s skin, turning it into a sexier, leaner, darker, better, harder, faster, stronger version of its former self. Gone are the cheesy soundtracks by Prince, the insane leaps of comic-book logic (almost), Jim Carrey’s crotch and the abortion of Arnie’s comedic ‘skillz’. What we have here is the closest thing to a ‘film’ this Dark Knight has offered up thus far. Christopher “Look How Smart I Am” Nolan leaps from his backwards-logic, indie, thriller-face into blockbuster-dom, a knight in dark armor, wielding the blade of ‘Good Acting’, the lance of ‘Intelligent Direction’, the bow of ‘Coherent Characters’ and comically oversized battleaxe ‘Sensical Plot Developments’. Yes, he does have to confront the terrors of ‘Cliche One-Liners’ and ‘Complete Logical Fallacies’, and yet, like Mel Gibson emerging from the Thunderdome, he steps out, victorious, and makes out with Tina Turner on her lady lips (Tina Turner being, in this metaphor, ‘General Not-Terribleness’). He injects this tale with, as the Jews would say, hootspa. And, for pretty much the most part, he’s incredibly successful.

So, as the title would correctly suggest, this is the beginning of Batman. We see him as a whiny kid, demanding that he not see opera on the grounds that opera is terrible (bring on your wrath, opera singers, I will take you on, one by one). Well, apparently God loves opera because, in order to teach young Bruce a lesson, he has a crackhead murder his parents. Oops. Boys and girls, take note and listen to your Benjamin Fucking Britten, otherwise your parents will be mercilessly gunned down. Well, Brucy-wucy gets all angsty, and decides, like every college graduate, to go to Asian and find himself. And by ‘find himself’ I mean pick fights with random Chinapenese people in prison. While there, Liam “Very Special Set of Skills” Neeson discovers him and tells him to climb a mountain. Which one? Who the fuck cares? At the top of said mountain is an oddly-hairless-upper-lip Ken Watanabe doing the most racist impression of a Japanese person I’ve seen since, well, Inception. Well, Bruce, a man who is determined to never murder people, ends up blowing up the League of Shadows, thereby indirectly causing the deaths of dozens of men, either from random wood falling or just simple exposure. From there, he returns to his house, where Michael Caine is planning an elaborate heist of everything the Waynes own by hiding Minis surreptitiously throughout the mansion and playing ‘The Self-Presevation Society” on a loop. From there, the infinitely wealthy and kind of intellectually dull Bruce Wayne turns from a whiny little bitch trying to do an impression of Jack Ruby into a deadly spelunker and then into the Batman we all know and love. And it is fucking awesome.

Trust me, honey, keep the bag on. I know it’s terrifying, but it’s better than what’s underneath.

Also, the terrifyingly and unnervingly beautiful Cillian Murphy has returned from murdering British Nationals and slipped into a mask closely resembling a Stephen King wet dream to drive everyone in Gotham mad. Will Batman be able to stop him before he evaporates all the water and drives the city insane? Yes. Duh. (Spoilers) Will it be awesome? Yes. It fucking will be. Seriously, finally we have some badass bat-action. There isn’t a SINGLE turtleneck in the ENTIRE film. Do you know how happy that makes me? There was a scene where Katie “Fills Out A Sweater Surprisingly Well Too Bad About Her Inability to Be Interesting” Holmes is wearing one and you can see Christian “YELLING” Bale ready to rip it off and assimilate its fashion-blandness in order to join his misguided predecessors. But he doesn’t. In all the previous incarnations, Batman has some fucking random-ass gadget to help him out of exceedingly specific situations (Shark repellant aside, people) and occasionally he punches someone in the face. In this, he’s a fucking ninja. Do you know how cool ninjas are? Let’s put it this way: take pirates, remove the gay with the patented Rick Santorum “Pray Away the Gay Rape Spray” (TM), add a dash of cowboys, a hint of samurai and a double dose of ‘Don’t-Give-a-Fuckery’; distill it down to its base essence, cook it in Chuck Norris’s prostate (made of stainless steel, like all good Cuisinart tools) add a sprinkling of offensive asiaphilia and you have just one tenth of the awesomeness of ninjas. Now, take someone as infallibly panty-wetting as Batman and mix him with this ungodly potion for titillation and what do we have? We have theater owners mopping up rainbow vomit across the nation. Because people vomit rainbows when they are excited. Look it up.

So, yes, Liam “I Make Even Clint Eastwood Nervous” Neeson is the bad guy. I suppose he took time off from yelling at people down cell phones about his daughter and punching wolves in the snout to try to drive Gotham insane with his magical ‘Macguffin’ Device. I mean, I know this is Liam Neeson, a man known to skin major action stars and wear their anuses like decorative hats (because the Irish must have decorative hats), but his intimidation factor is severely decreased when his facial hair looks like he just ate a fucking poodle and forgot to wipe his lips. Seriously, it’s like an awkward teenager who insists on growing facial hair even though it’s patchier than my memory of New Years Eve 2010. And then we have Master Bruce, who for the most part is just kind of a rich prick. That’s fine, it just makes you care more about the indefatigable Alfred and his army of hidden Minis. Seriously, Nolan took the downtrodden butler that we saw in the previous films, shoved a healthy does of Bull-Adrenaline up his urethra and let him go. That smarmy asshole is one of the most well-rounded characters in the entire movie. Oh, and of course, we discover why Wayne is able to create such impossible pieces of technology because he has Morgan “God” Freeman making them for him. Mr. Freeman waltzes through this movie like a fucking pimp, tossing off lines as though the subtext is always: “I drove Miss Daisy, bitch.” I half expected an army of penguins to march through and begin mating at the sound of his sonorous tones.

This is your brain on meth ~ Michael Caine, teaching bat-related lessons

But, to top it all off, we have Mr. Gary Don’t Fuck With Me Oldman as the man everyone wants to be their father. I’m not sure if you know this, but Gary Oldman must be a fucking Highlander, decapitating every imposing figure in the English pool of late-age acting talent, whittling the competition down to nil because, after all, there can be only one. He, as Jim Gordon, is ball-blazingly amazing in both this movie and the next. With that porn star mustache you almost forget that he was the speed-freak bat-shit Tazmanian Devil-impersonator gunning down entire families in The Professional and accept that he’s just a big ole teddy bear made of candy and dreams. Also, hilarious side note, previous to becoming the nastiest little smegma-receptacle to ever take the throne, Joffrey “Someone Slap the Shit out of Him” Baratheon is in this movie as a wide-eyed little child having a bad LSD trip. I know we were supposed to care for him or whatever, but I really wanted one of the bad guys to take a hard back hand to his cheek. That’s for Ned Stark, you little twat-wazzle.

So, yes, I could come all over this wonderful redemption from the darkest of sides (“It’s ‘ice’ to meet you” – I will never erase it from my brain, Arnie. You bastard.) I could recollect the constant wet dreams that occurred in the months proceeding the life event that was this movie’s summer release. But I shan’t. Why? Well, with the handy tool of historical perspective, this movie has lost a little luster. At the time, the world was still caught in the almost decade-long flamboyant tailspin brought on by Clooney’s tepid Bat-thing, and Begins was the bat-equivalent of the Second Coming of Christ. There was no fur! No neon! No puns! This was something close to a real movie. I say ‘close’ because, as it’s sequel demonstrates, it could have been so much more. It’s not nearly as fun as, say, Batman Returns and doesn’t have anywhere close to the depth of The Dark Knight. It was a marker of the delicious wonders to come, like the menu for a box of chocolates, just teasing the taste-buds with the concepts of deliriously succulent treats hanging just beyond the horizon. This script was written by David “Blade Trinity” Goyer and, for the most part is pretty solid. But, like Madonna’s wrinkles, the ugly truth seeps through the Botox. We have sprinklings of cliched terribleness here, there and everywhere, from Gary Oldman declaring “I gotta get me one of those” to a random homeless dude announcing “nice ride.” They’re out of place, out of theme, out of character and came out of Goyer’s ass. If Batman is gonna be serious, then make him super-serial. Make him a thematic meditation on the concept of chaos versus order and the interaction of classes having violent climaxes. Oh wait. That’s the next movies. Also, the ending of the movie is fucking ridiculous. They have a machine that ‘vaporizes water’ with such violence that the entire plumbing system erupts throughout the city. You know what’s made of 80% water? Human beings. If that microwave emitter actually existed, Batman and Ra’s Al Ghul wouldn’t have been able to fist fight because they’d be too busy impersonating Veruca fucking Salt. Oh well.

Also, Katie, I know you did the strong thing and divorced Tom “Don’t Get Too Close He Might Have Sex With Your Earholes” Cruise. I respect you for that. Unfortunately, you are about as engaging as a soggy cinder block. You see it, lying there, and you wonder how it got there and why someone would take the time to get it all wet. And then you remember, it’s a fucking cinder block. It’s not going to make you laugh or cry. It’s just going to be a cinder block. You can’t expect it to be anything else. That wouldn’t be fair to the cinder block. Let it return to its friends in the massive wall of cinder blocks, all of them similarly dull. Let Ms. Holmes return to her ocean of general attractiveness, let her disappear into the waves and never been seen again. Honestly, she’s that forgettable. Luckily, Nolan was counting on that for the second movie. He recast the role with the significantly more talented Maggie Gyllenhaal, to which the world went, “Wait…well, we don’t really give a shit.” A victory for all, I feel.

“We’re here about Pod-Racing.” ~ Liam Neeson before a random fanboy tried shanking him in the gut. That fanboy is now a decorative rug.

And, of course, Tweets!

And we’re off! Please, Mr. Nolan, pull down your pants and let me see your delicious manhood. #batathon

He fell and died! Batman Begins: Kid Ends. Movie is over. Go home.#batathon

“This is what happens when you pirate movies in China!” “You grow a beard?” #batathon

Oh no! White man is oppressing us! Where is Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker? #batathon

“What country is this?” “Chinapan.” #batathon

“Your midiclorien count is very impressive Batman.” #batathon

“You can become something else entirely.” “Wait, I can be Michael Jackson?” “No…I…” “I want to be MJ!” Bruce didn’t get it #batathon

Neeson stared at him so hard that he fell off the back of a truck. Such is the power of Neeson. #batathon

“Which mountain is he supposed to climb?” “There is ONE mountain in Asia. It’s Mount Jackie Chan!” #batathon

And the asians run in fear of walking in front of Christian Bale’s shots. #batathon

“Colonel Sanders, do you have the chicken I ask for?” ~ Bruce Wayne very confused as to his purpose in Asia. #batathon

Why didn’t Neeson just kick the Nazi’s in the nuts? That would have been way more efficient than that fucking list. #batathon

Opera. Rich kid form of time-out. #batathon

Yep, Waynes, go out the back door. Like a piece of shit (see what I did there?) #batathon

Thus began Bruce Wayne’s life-long crusade against opera.#batathon

They should remake this with Gary Oldman playing EVERY role.#siriusbat #batathon

Oh shit! It’s the guy from Blade Runner! Disguised as Jerry Springer!#batathon

They died because of your white privilege. You little fuck. #batathon

“They come for you. And you make lists. List after list. Of jews. Jew after jew.” ~ Neeson, hero. #batathon

Katie Holmes, just where you belong. In the kitchen.#whydidyouleavetomcruise #batathon

“Wayne’s still in sweaters. I don’t care yet.” ~ Meg. Not giving a fuck like a champ. #batathon

Hey Joe Chill, wanna see my Jack Ruby impression? #batathon

Oh no! Hers was better! #batathon

IRONY! It’s a criminal offense in Chinapan. #batathon

But this batman has a NINJA turtleneck. How about dem apples?#batathon

“Can you believe Tom Cruise was the last samurai? IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” ~ Ken, bitter. #batathon

And then the movie turned into the Descent. And Bruce Wayne was eaten by albino Billy Corgan. #batathon

And Helena Bonham Carter as all the Bats. #batathon

“No, Cillian Murphy looks like he’s had plastic surgery and a creature from the deep.” ~ Rebecca, not getting it. #batathon

“This is the worst business tragedy since Harrison Ford chased me naked through the rain.” ~ Rutger Hauer #flashbacks #batathon

I also made a documentary about penguins, would you like to see it? ~ Morgan Freeman. #batathon

I also have Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box, would you like to see that? No? ~ Morgan Freeman. #batathon

“It’s called memory cloth. It remembers every time you jizz in it. BE CAREFUL.” ~ The Freeman. #batathon

“Wait…if I’m afraid of lawnmowers? Would I become lawnmower man? I should make that movie!” And it ended terribly… #batathon

“I’m Batman.” And fanboy panties were wet everywhere. #batathon

“Would you like some tape, Master Wayne, because you’re ripped.”#batathon

“I’m more than just a man drenched in cunnilingus juice.” ~ Wayne#batathon

“I own the Muscle in this Town” ~ Falcone, gay club owner.#batathon

Purple lightning brings purple rain. Prince returns… #batathon

“Oh, we don’t care what’s in that crate. It’s probably dead hookers. It usually is.” #batathon

The Narrows, brought to you by Final Fantasy VII. #batathon

“My boss is missing. We’re going to have a party! A search party. It’s very serious.” #batathon

That’s Katie’s mean face. Watch out, she might divorce you!#batathon

That’s the Scarecrow’s sex face. In that it is his only face. #batathon

“Stop spraying yourself, Scarecrow.” #batathon

Apparently, Scarecrow is scared of black men. Like all 1 percenters.#batathon

Bitch, you are no longer hallucinating. I’m dressed as a bat. Go back to sleep. #batathon

Don’t move! Neeson can’t see you if you don’t move! #batathon

“How many dementers are on the loose?” “Dem-what?” “I mean…forget everything I said.” Sirius Black, revealing himself#batathon

Batman…do you need a lozenge? #batathon

Who the fuck wears silk to fix a burned-down home? Katie Mutherfucking Holmes. #batathon

Wow, this one is harder than the others. That’s what Goldilocks said. :O #batathon

The cop version of “Anything you can do, I can do better” but with more grievous bodily harm. #batathon

And Batman spends the entire movie not turning his neck. #batathon

Thanks again, folks. Now, for the creme-de-la-fanboy-creme, we move onto The Dark Knight today at around 4ish CST today. There will also be a Batman impersonation contest. It will be glorious.

Batman and Robin (1997) – Joel Schumacher (Dir.), George Clooney, Chris O’Donnell, Alicia Silverstone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Uma Thurman

Spin the Wheel of Terrible! Everyone’s a loser!

Here it is. Like a virgin trying to hide his boner while waiting for her to ask him up for a cup of coffee at the end of a third date, the big moment has come. We have reached it, the White Whale of movie turdery, the sasquatch of insanity, the Fecal Queen of this cinematic shit-scape: Batman and Robin. Back in 1997, the world waited with abated breath and vomit ready to spew as Joel Schumacher descended further into his Heart of Darkness (where the furry, luminous pink things are kept) and produced this thing, this filmic equivalent of a piss-stained mattress: you wanna see, but then you just feel dirty after. Val Kilmer is out and a barely-known TV doctor is in, bat-nipples and all. We even have Clarissa Explains it All along for the ride. And Chris O’Who-The-Fuck?-Donnell! Well, before I launch into a full on, category five diatribe-icaine, as the US Government said to the Afghani people back in 2001, “I want to lay some truth bombs on you.” Except, they said it without the word ‘truth’.

Batman and Robin is a resounding success.

Now, before you fankids have aneurisms so hard that your brains rupture and blood has nowhere left to go but explode out of your genitalia, let me explain. Calling Batman and Robin a success in no way means that it was ‘good’ or ‘enjoyable’ or ‘not-porcupine-enema- inducing’. It isn’t any of those things. In 1995 the world observed our beloved brooding bat bent over a barrel and brutalized. What had been a decidedly odd, yet macabre, franchise was frilled and killed with colors so eclectic it made Ozzy Osborne believe he was having yet another LSD flashback. However, after allowing the horror to subside and my body to regain many of the fluids it needed after such a long session of dry-heaving, I observed Batman and Robin from a different perspective. What makes this movie so successful is that it is exactly what Joel Schumacher wanted. This is no Heaven’s GateThis is the only logical conclusion put forth by Batman “What the Fuck?” Forever. Thus, if you see this movie with any other expectation, of course you will be disappointed. While Batman “Make it Stop” Forever was a frail sixteen-year-old boy wearing sparkles to prom while clutching the arm of his beard, (poor Shelly, who really did like him. Thus began a slew of closeted boyfriends for the girl and an eventual death by over-catting her studio in Brooklyn), Batman and Robin is that same boy returning from college and introducing the nice lad on his arm as ‘Dick, my boyfriend’. The sequins are the same. He still over-emphasizes the word ‘fabulous’. But now, more than anything, we’re just proud that he can finally be himself.

Batman was discouraged when he discovered that both he and Robin were disqualified from little-league hockey due to pedophilia.

That being said, Joel Schumacher is one of the worst fucking filmmakers of all time. It’s really adorable that he did exactly what he wanted with my favorite childhood superhero. I’m really glad that he got to bury that blade into the Bat’s back over and over again (a multi-colored blade with a matching fur handle). Why couldn’t he have done it to someone else? Someone who sucks? Like Aquaman? They could have made all the semen puns he could have ever wanted (I imagine the dialogue consisting only of ejaculations – see what I did there? Ejaculation is an old word for speaking…nope? Illiterate fools!). But no. We are treated to even more Bat-Crotch and Bat-Butt. Jim Carrey’s sparkly green package has been dutifully replaced with Bane’s impenetrable and terrifyingly over-sized chastity belt. Tommy Lee’s unnerving cackle has be substituted with Arnie’s incompetency with the English language. And Uma Thurman’s breasts have been tossed into the mix (to help people toss off). What we have is a mess of such Chernobolic proportions that even Keith Richards would look at it and say ‘Dude, get your shit together’.

What’s this one about? Who fucking knows? Batman is here, still sporting turtlenecks and looking like he will have sex with anyone anytime. We have Robin again, pearl earring and all. Alfred is sick with ‘Stage One’, a nefarious disease of such Voldemortarian levels that nobody can even say it’s name. The story consists of Mr. Freeze, looking like that time Tobias covers himself in the diamond face mask in Arrested Development, trying to bring his wife back from the dead with the cunning use of diamonds. Why? Because she’s a materialistic whore diamonds are a girl’s best friend? Also, Uma Thurman goes from looking like she just got off the set of Les Miserables to getting dumped in poison and returning as a drag queen even RuPaul would envy. Oh yeah, she also has Lou Ferrigno following her around dressed as the gimp from Pulp Fiction. Maybe he’s Bane. It’s hard to tell behind all the grunts. Poison Ivy and Freeze join up to…I guess destroy the world? So she can breed a super-race of plants and reenact the biggest production of Little Shop of Horrors? I guess? And this is totally disregarding the fact that ice kills all plants, unequivocally. Again, this thing doesn’t make a goddamn lick of sense. Oh yes, and Alicia Silverstone implausibly pouts her way into tight rubber to join them as a woefully employed Batgirl.

Robin was horrified when he later wikipedia-ed the term ‘Cleveland Steamer’.

Firstly: the writing. If we had played a drinking game based on the occurrence of a pun, our livers would currently look like Edward James Olmos’ face. Thank god we refrained. In terms of film time, on average, for every thirty seconds, there are ninety puns. There are that goddamn many. They begin fairly high-brow and witty – “The Iceman Cometh!” Eugene O’Neill reference, well done. And they end…well…about has highly-browed as a meth-whore going into the dumpster for one last look: “Slippery when wet” – it’s so bad, it might not even be a pun. Seriously, the pun-o-meter was flickering in the red for so long, I’m surprised Oscar Wilde didn’t return from the grave and bugger this movie to death. The script was like the literary equivalent of a group of dads sitting around 5 year olds trying to top one another in the ‘Please dad, shut the fuck up’ category.

Who do we have on parade? First, there’s Arnold, spewing phonemes that, when put through a language analysis device, turns out to be a garbled form of English. Mr. Schumacher took one of the more tragic figures in super-villainy and turned him into a Mighty Duck-employing, pun-spouting, Polar Bear-slipper wearing monstrosity. I’ve never regarded Arnie’s chops as being particularly dramatic, but here, it’s just kind of sad. What’s even more discouraging is that he’s trying harder than anyone else in this damn movie. He sells those fucking puns, like that theater kid running through the halls of his high school trying so hard to get people to care about his production of Waiting for Godot: The Musical.There’s a heartbreaking level of commitment, of professional naiveté, as though his agent was playing a joke on the man when he suggested him auditioning for the role and it just got too far down the line for him to yell, “Gotcha, Arnie! Don’t be in that fucking movie!” It’s depressing.

Next, we have Miss Uma “I Will Murder You With Sex” Thurman playing the role for which she was born, Poison Ivy. Honestly, though my favorite incarnation of this character is a murderous queen of freakish plants, Uma’s turn as a villain so campy she could pitch her own tent is incredibly amusing. From the moment she appears like Venus emerging from the clam (though it’s more Puxatawny Phil appearing from his hole in the ground) to her turn as a sexy gorilla creature at the ‘Wayne Ball’, she is just having the time of her fucking life. She employs this homing red mist that makes guys and girls alike take one-way trips to bonerville and, inexplicably, makes highly-choreographed male dancers enact surprisingly impressive routines without direction. Every one of her scenes is a cavalcade of terrible acting, gaudy set design and horribly misplaced wigs. It’s as though she thought she was still in Pulp Fictionafter seeing Bane as her costar and never got the memo that the flaming dude behind the camera was not in fact Tarantino and this was not an ironic send-up of terrible comic book movies. Who cares? She is, hands down, the most enjoyable part of this movie.

He looks like if you dipped the Cavity Creeps in Toxic Waste.

Last, and certainly least, we have the worst possible Batman anyone could have ever suggested to anybody. The only way Batman could be any worse would be if he were played by fucking Urkel. In perfect Clooney-esque fashion, he just sort of wanders from scene to scene, oozing charm, wearing the shit out of a double-breasted blazer, and saying lines like the only thing in life he will never give is a fuck. Because he doesn’t. You can tell. I’m not sure if Schumacher bribed him, or had a miniature explosive device attached to his nut sack, ready to detonate if he left the film set before shooting was wrapped, or what. It is so painfully obvious that Clooney doesn’t want to be there that he seems more like that spoiled kid on the field trip who is constantly pissed off that his mom refused to pack him a Three Musketeers when he specifically asked her like three times and this was the one time because they always made fun of him for not having any candy so can’t he for once just once have a fucking candy bar on the field trip so he doesn’t feel like such a fucking pariah! Whoops, not sure where that came from. Anyway, Chris O’Donnell carries his shit-eating grin from scene to scene, donning his absurd waistcoats mixed with white t-shirts and employing an inexplicable, neon motorbike toaster. He seems to be having a great time! Even Alicia Silverstone doesn’t mind entering the film looking like Britney Spears circa 1999 and almost pouting her baby-face into oblivion.

This is an historic film. It marks the lowest of the low of DC comic book movies. Even the abortion that was The Green Lantern couldn’t hold a candle to this bastard of a b-roll. However, like all horrific historical events, we have to examine what it brought about. Perhaps this gave Clooney the impetus he needed to escape to Italy, cocoon himself in all that is man to return as a golden god of celebrity-hood? We know for sure that if this movie hadn’t gone down like Amelia Earhart, we wouldn’t have had Chris Nolan to reach into the crypt and resurrect this beloved franchise. To get angry at this movie is like getting angry at a puppy shitting on the floor. You can yell and you can shout, but your white carpet is still covered in poop. Just know that puppy has learned and it will grow to be your best friend. This film is terrible. It’s awful. But, it still exists. And it will always exist. That is unless Clooney’s team of assassins finds every single copy and ritualistically burns it in the form of a Schumacher effigy. That would be freaking sweet.

And now…Tweets!

Why are there two bats? Is the bat buttfucking the robin? #batathon

Is he toasting his motorcycle? I see the neon budget has tripled.#batathon

Um…that’s not how ice works… #batathon

“I’m Batman.” ~ Clooney sounds like he’s presenting to his daughter’s second grade class. #batathon

And cameos by the Mighty Ducks. Brought on by Emilio Estevez’s returned drinking problem. #batathon

He would literally have to freeze everywhere for the henchmen to go anywhere. Did they skate there? #batathon

Is that a load-bearing brontosaurus? #batathon

Why didn’t he freeze his head? THAT WOULD BE FAR MORE SENSIBLE!! #batathon

Why does air surfing make you fall faster? #batathon

Apparently, this is the movie where Robin goes through puberty.#batathon

How is he slowing his free fall? “He’s freezing everything below him.” #WHATTHEFUCK#batathon

Robin is dead. Dude. Leave him. Even if he isn’t, it’s okay. We hate him. #batathon

And now: a completely different place with nothing to do with anything. Continuity! #batathon

Uma Thurman in full Les Mis mode. She dreamed a mutherfucking dream. #batathon

Bane: brought to you by Nutty Professor III: Now he’s white. Well, green. #batathon

That chastity belt on Bane must have been made by Lockheed fucking Martin. #batathon

What was that? “That was his death yowel! A murderous yop!”#batathon

Apparently, Mr. Freeze impersonated Benny Hill and died. Learn from this children. #batathon

This is the era of film where Clooney should be fucking up a vampire Quentin Tarantino. #batathon

“Night night. No smooches? Shall we play flowers for Algernon?” ~ Alfred. Melancholy. #batathon

This is Joel Schumacher’s She’s All That. #batathon

“Dudes. This is real botany. Right here. Seriously.” #batathon

Why does Freeze have a concubine? Maybe he likes to BLUE BALL himself. Thanks Meg. #batathon

“It’s not diamonds. It’s what he ejaculates.” #batathon

Helena Bonham Carter as the dead bitch. Maybe she’s not dead. Maybe she’s just Helena Bonham Carter. #batathon

BAT TURTLENECKS AGAIN!!!!! #batathon

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over my sideburns.” ~ Robin. #batathon

Clueless – Alicia Silverstone and everything in this fucking franchise.#batathon

That’s Clooney’s “She’s DTF. Which end do you want?” face.#batathon

“Uncle Alfred?” “What is it? I’m masturbating to memories of the empire.” #batathon

“Alicia. Make dimples. Now talk.” “But…I can’t do both at the same…” “DO IT!” ~ Joel’s directing style. #batathon

“Queen Latifah is in this!” “Ryan, they are not all Queen Latifah.”#batathon

Uma, baby, lose every frill on your outfit. Then we can talk #batathon

The reporter with the eyebrows on her glasses is back. Please punch her. #batathon

I’m glad the pubic hair monsters joined the partay. #batathon

Did Poison Ivy pop in her own CD? And then turn into a sexy gorilla? #batathon

The one pun missing when talking about Ivy’s Vjay jay, “It’s a jungle down there.” #batathon

If you get far enough into Ivy’s vagina, you’ll find Marlon Brando mumbling incoherently. #batathon

Is that a neon bongo? And a batman credit card? Need to hemorrhage…rising… #batathon

Arnie, that was a bad pun. It wasn’t a ‘ice’ pun. #batathon#ihatemyself

“In the circus, the Flying Graysons were a team.” “Yep. And they got fucking murdered. Shut up.” #batathon

“Alfred, I’m bored. Can you sum this up without the dramatic pauses? Oh good, a flashback. Thanks!” ~ Batman, a teenager#batathon

Sound effects brought to you by my 2 year old cousin. #batathon

BANE! FENG SHUI! I LOVE DECORATING! #batathon

“FLIP THIS HOUSE!” Bane, the only person on Flip This House who could, actually, flip this house. #batathon

“Did that flower just orgasm?” #batathon

What instrument is that? A saxo-lin? A trump-iano? A penis in the ear? #batathon

And Coolio reminds us that his head looks like something I picked out of my nose last week. #batathon

“By the way, I just want to point out, this movie is still happening.” ~ Huntsy #batathon

“They’re totally ripping off Grease 3.” ~ Ryan. Optimistic. #batathon

Gary Busey would have been a better Mr. Freeze. You wouldn’t even have to write dialogue, just dress him in neon and hope for the best.

Oh no! Arnie and Uma! PUN…LEVELS…OVERLOADING… #batathon

“Reinforced steel.” THAT IS OBVIOUSLY BRICK. BECAUSE IT IS BRICK. THAT’S WHAT IT FUCKING IS. #batathon

“He’s not Mr. Bane. He’s just Bane. Like Madonna. But with bigger tits.” #batathon

What they leave out of Freeze’s wife’s back story is that she was a horrible Nazi war criminal. Oh well. #batathon

Holy Hardon Batman! “I’m hard too. Well, we might as well just do this.” ~ later described as the “incident that shall never be discussed.”

Why does Ivy need consent? Is she really that sex positive?#batathon

“Oh no! Holy Pea Pudding Batman!” And then Robin died of prostate cancer six months later. #batathon

“Where is Harvey Dent? Oh right, he was black then he was Tommy Lee Jones. Happens.” #batathon

Wait, who will suffer? Hugh Manatee? The British manatee? What did he ever do to you, you poxy bastard? #batathon

“He’s suffering from Stage One.” “Stage One what?” “Shut up. I’m a doctor, you piece of shit.” #batathon

“Didn’t we resolve this issue when I dumped you in pudding?” ~ Batman. #batathon

“Hey Alfred, I know you’re dying, but can you hurry? I’m, like, really bored.” ~ Batgirl #batathon

If Ivy’s pheromones cause a boner that lasts for more than four hours, please consult your local Batman. #batathon

Wait…your first guess for Alfred’s password was “Alfred”. Try 12345, you fucking idiot. #batathon

This movie would have a far more interesting meaning if at the end of every flashback Alfred stands and pulls down his zipper.#batathon

This movie makes Lawrence of Arabia feel like a five second film.#aaaaaargh #batathon

THIS….FURNITURE…SET…WOULD…LOOK…LOVELY. ~ Bane, still not understanding the basics of mid-romantic interior design.#batathon

“I really had nothing to do with the decoration. It was all Bane. Especially the beads.” ~ Ivy #batathon

“My lips are immune to your charms.” ~ Robin. You know you can just hit her, right? That’s something you can do. #batathon

“Robin, pretend like you don’t recognize Barbara. It’ll make her feel included.” ~ Batman. Supportive. #batathon

Why is Vanilla Ice not in this movie? An opportunity missed, I feel.#batathon

And Coolio wasn’t used in some kind of pun battle? Seriously, guys?#batathon

In the time it took to change into matching clothing, they could have stopped murdering half of Gotham. But fashion is too important!

“Hang on, obligatory minorities! Let’s do this.” #batathon

The girl who used ‘Alfred’ as the first choice of password is a ‘computer genius’. Then my gall bladder is a fucking neurosurgeon.#batathon

“We found her. Restored her. She has her bubbles returned. Also, you do know people need oxygen? She’s been dead for years.”#batathon

Oh yeah. He has Ewan MacGregor disease, you’re naked all the time and then you’re in Star Wars. (That’s Stage Four) #batathon

And Freeze has the magical cure to ‘Stage One’ in his arm. Because he needed to have it there. All the time. #batathon

I want them all to laugh, hug, high five and then freeze frame.#batathon

DAMMIT SCHUMACHER! JUST TURN THE CAMERA OFF!#batathon

So, we have come to the end of the terribleness. I can see the light, just off in the distance… Join us this weekend. Saturday around 5pm CST we will charge into Batman Begins and then the fanboy porno that is The Dark Knight around 4pm CST on Sunday. Get ready, bitches, for some real fucking Batman.

It has come to this. The elephant in the room. Well, it would be if that elephant where made of biological waste giving off such a malodorous stench that even the Jackass guys would think twice about sticking their penises into it. We have reached the depths of this franchise. Bane could not kill the Bat. Superman couldn’t kill the Bat. Joel Schumacher came the closest. If Christopher Nolan hadn’t, like an Odyssian hero, descended into the Hades of film franchises to retrieve this lost soul, this would have been the movie that had murdered the Dark Knight.

Simply, it is fucking terrible. Join us, tomorrow night (Wednesday, July 11th) at 9pm CST for a veritable Twitter-massacre, a Trail of Tears of Snark, a Lolocaust, if you will. The streets will run red with the blood of Schumacher.

Prepare yourselves for Batman and Robin.

Batman Forever (1995) – Joel Schumacher (Dir.), Val Kilmer, Tommy Lee Jones, Jim Carrey, Nicole Kidman, Chris O’Donnell

Starring: Val “DSLs” Kilmer, Nicole “Just a Little Boob” Kidman, Tommy Lee “Rapist Smile” Jones, Jim “Rapter” Carrey, and that other guy.

To be read to the tune of Seal’s Masterpiece of modern song, Kiss From a Rose:

Buh, du-duuh, du-duh, duh-duh duh duh. Buh-du-duh.

Buh, du-duuh, du-duh, duh-duh duh duh. Buh-du-duh.

There used to be a franchise of Batman by Burton,

Iiiiit became a nasty piece of shit.

Joooel Schumacher got his hands on the movies,

But did you know,

That when it shows,

My eyes become large and

The nausea rolls though my gut.

Batman!

I compare you to an ulcer on my inner mouth,

Ooh,

The more I tongue you,

The shittier it feels, yeah.

And now that your Nolan has come,

I like you once more, thank God.

Buh, du-duuh, du-duh, duh-duh duh duh. Buh-du-duh.

Buh, du-duuh, du-duh, duh-duh duh duh. Buh-du-duh.

Okay… The turdish quagmire has waylaid our path towards Bat-Nirvana (it’s like regular Nirvana, but it’s labeled). As Burton’s aesthetic charm drifts off into the distance, we are eagerly confronted with Joel Schumacher’s creative penis, waggling all up in our eyeball region. And it will artistically cock-slap the shit out of you. What we have here is the perfect, self-contained codification of the 1990s. A simpler time. A time when Jim Carrey was famous. When Space Jam was a good movie. When Will Smith fighting a giant spider in the Wild West wasn’t immediately met with blinding, homicidal audience rage. I don’t know what happened in this period of film, what part of our brains stopped functioning as Mr. Clinton slept with interns and OJ got off… All I have to say is, WTF 90s? What were you doing? Why did you think any of this is okay? You took one of our favorite brooding superheroes and violated him. As the turn of the millennium came, Batman crawled from the sex-dungeon that is Batman and Robin and curled up in a ball, weeping for his mother (which is  unfortunate because she is, of course, dead). Perhaps I can’t blame the entire decade. But I can sure as shit blame Joel “If Liberace Had a Brain Embolism” Schumacher.

BAT-CODPIECES!

I don’t remember when Batman Returns entered the cinematic landscape. I was only five at the time and was only aware of the fact that Danny Devito was capable of violating my every dream and nightmare. Therefore, the first ever Batman movie I remember seeing was Batman Forever. We had it on VHS and I watched that shit almost as much as I watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. You know, the one with Kevin Costner as Robin Hood as John Wayne and Alan Rickman threatening to carve out hearts with spoons. The more I delve back into the memory of the 90s, the more I force my face into my hands and ask, “Why god? Why would you let us do such terrible things to ourselves?” I remember loving the shit out of this movie, from beginning to end. I even clearly recollect the horrifying video game trailer before the movie began. It was some formative shit.

So, what do we have? Apparently, in the three years since the Bat viciously and mercilessly murdered the Penguin, the mayorship of Gotham shifted to a one Mr. Skrillrex and both its black light and neon budgets were increased ten-fold. Due to no reason whatsoever, the Joker I mean, Two Face (played with terrifying commitment by Mount Rushmore impersonator Tommy Lee Jones) wants to kill Batman and steal shit. Nicole Kidman wants some Bat-penis. Also, Edward Nygma kills an infuriatingly underused Ed Begley Jr. and becomes, curiously, a man obsessed with green spandex (otherwise known as The Riddler). During a charity circus (Editor’s Note: WHAT THE FUCK IS A CHARITY CIRCUS AND WHY IS IT GIVING ME BOTH A SEIZURE AND DIARRHEA?) Two Face shoots the Flying Graysons and 28-year-old I mean, not-capable-of-taking-care-of-himself ‘Master Dick’ inexplicably begins living with Bruce Wayne. The Riddler tries stealing people’s brains…or something…Tommy Lee Jones laughs (it’s one of the more disturbing things I’ve witnessed in my lifetime and I have seen a man shit himself on the street and then eat it) and Batman is suddenly blonde.

We have a lot of ground to cover here, people, so let’s begin. Now, what Burton had mined within this franchise couldn’t have been called anything close to subtlety; but there was a sort of insane sanity binding the whole experience together, a single spine of crazy off of which everything else branched, offering, ultimately, a cohesive whole. Yes, you might be watching Michelle Pfeiffer whip off mannequin heads or the Penguin bite a dude on the fucking nose, but you never questioned. It was the world. Schumacher saw this and, undoubtedly, thought to himself, “That’s good. You know what it doesn’t have enough of? Neon.” Thus began the slippery slope into this bat-shit stew. That boiling pot of feces contains such wonderful items including, but not limited to: Jim Carrey’s ever-changing hairstyle and color, Nicole Kidman being a nympho, Two Face wearing more leopard print than a cougar convention, Drew Barrymore, bat-nipples etc. It’s a feast for the eyes! Did I say ‘feast’? I meant ‘used colostomy bag’. There was more crotch-highlighting in this film than in a gay stationary-based sex party. There were codpieces everywhere! Seriously, though, I once sprayed Jalapeño juice directly into my eyeball and was washing it out for almost an hour. That, alone, was a more enjoyable aesthetic experience than this movie.

“Hey, Tommy, try this out!” Thus began the second most awkward orgy of Tommy Lee’s life.

Terrible art direction aside, let’s take a gander at the characters. We have Tommy Lee Jones as something. They call him Two Face…but it certainly isn’t him. Two Face is a nuanced character with a deep backstory, a split personality disorder and an obsession with the duality of chaos. Mr. Jones, on the other hand, is a cackling, preening prince of a windbag giggling like a hyena and allowing half of his face to emulate Courtney Love’s vagina. There’s a part where he keeps flipping his coin until he gets the result he wants. That is so fucking incorrect, it makes my fanboy titties twist themselves! (Editor’s Note: my Mac autocorrect just changed ‘titties’ to ‘tithes’. What is this, MacBook “Gregorian Edition”? Get with the times, Jobs. Well, the person who runs the company now. Now that he’s dead. Now I feel bad.)  Is Two Face now suddenly just OCD? Does he simply have to do the same thing over and over again until it occurs in exactly the same fashion that he wants? Does he have to dichotomize his wardrobe because leopard print can never touch his right side? Also, he’s the ex-DA. Why is he laughing all the time? Is his sense of humor linked to his bowel movements? Perhaps every time he laughs at seeming nothingness, he’s actually letting out a cleverly disguised fart? I have questions.

There are other people in this movie. Nicole Kidman doesn’t come off as completely terrible and Val Kilmer neither gets into a plane with Tom Cruise nor high fives anyone while playing half-naked man-volleyball, so both are well ahead of the curve. Other than having the emotional chemistry of a bowl of forgotten gazpacho, the two hold their own. I could go off on how Kilmer is to this movie as athlete’s foot is to a sweaty crotch in that he’s just kind of there and irritating, but you can live with it, but I won’t. Compared to Keaton, he’s only two steps down the Bat-ladder. Granted Keaton was only on step two, but it’s all relative. Chris O’Donnell tries his darnedest as the Boy Wonder, smiling and brooding with his tiny pearl earring (a prequel to Scarlett Johansson’s career, I feel) and then doing inexplicable kung fu at all times. The poor guy, his career never had a chance. Not that it deserved one. It’s as though the second he tried to become famous, stepping onto the tracks of celebrityhood, the world in front of him, his foot got trapped in this movie. He tried pulling it out, but the train of irrelevance was coming fast. Mary Louise Parker screams and yells at him to go, but the shoe won’t come off. He unlaces it as fast as he can, but it’s one of those really old timey boots and he’s stuck. Finally…he frees himself, only to get splattered like a meat pancake. (For any of you not aware, that was a dramatization of grown-man-sob-inducer Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe. I dare you to watch it and keep a dry eye. You bastards).

But now, we’re onto the coup de grace. Jim Carrey. Oh, what a guy. The universe was blessed with this gentleman after he reached escape velocity from the millions of Wayans on 90s television. He gave us The MaskAce Ventura: Pet Detective, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, Me, Myself and Irene and this. I will say this, there are a collection of three unique jokes in each of those films with respect to Mr. Carrey, and they all involve the intentional mispronunciation of a word and elastic facial movements. When I was ten, I wet my fucking pants laughing whenever he said “Re-he-he-heally” or whenever he made references to things I’d never heard of (grew up in England, remember). Now that I’m twenty four with, what I like to think, is a more refined palate for jovial offerings, watching him prance and gyrate, all the while making noises that would make even that dude from Police Academy blush, I think to myself “I was a fucking idiot.” I know Carrey has acting talent; he’s proved as much with The Truman Show and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Both were fucking prime cut acting chops. But this…

That’s his orgasm hat. He needs it. To orgasm.

These jokes aren’t jokes. They’re just the awkward kid in school, dancing on the cafeteria tables, smothering himself in peanut butter in order to accrue attention. Everyone laughs, and yet the child is crying inside. Sobbing that no one remembered his birthday. That he doesn’t have a date to the dance. That barely anyone there even knows his name, he’s just ‘that kid with the weird fucking mole’. And so he smears, HE SMEARS. The peanut butter is everywhere, across his face, his naked chest, even his armpits. The crowd chants, demanding that he forces it into his ass crack and, like the monkey that he is, he obliges, taking that peanut-buttery lance of comedy and shoving it deep…deep…so, so deep. They cheer. They cheer. And yet, the poor boy…his innocence is gone. Forever.

Batman Forever (honestly, what the fuck does that title even mean?)

And now…TWEETS!

FYLING WORDS! This is already the best #batathon

Art direction by an epileptic trying to commit suicide. #batathon

Apparently, your evil side, like an aging Myrtle beach lady, only wears leopard print. #batathon

Banter! Sorry, did I say banter? I mean bullshit. #batathon

What fucking gun is that? Toaster tommy gun? I want to attach neon lights to my penis. Too much. #batathon

Drink every time this movie is terrible. DRINK #batathon

Also starring: Worst Gobo ever spinning on Nicole Kidman. Seriously, who the fuck designed this? A mentally challenged calligrapher?

Two Face looks like Pee Wee Herman had sex with Liberace.#batathon

And the Statue of Gotherty gets blown up. Because this is a classy film. Like Trump having a stripper gang bang. #batathon

Jim Carrey! What happened to you? Oh that’s right, we changed and you stayed the same. #batathon

I think Jim Carrey’s entire career is a two decade long stroke. Really funny until he falls over dead. Then it’ll be really sad. #batathon

‘Chair’ is the command for flying at 200 mph? “Please take a seat in this chaaaaaaai-!” Poor planning, I feel. #batathon

WAS ALFRED JUST WAITING FOR HIM DOWN THERE? ALFRED HAS A VERY VERY SAD LIFE. #batathon

Nicole Kidman starring as “Bat-Rapist” #batathon

“Guys, she just stroked his nipples. Copped some bat-nipple.” ~Meg#batathon

Ben joined us! “You missed the first fight scene” “Man on boy? You know this movie is sponsored by NAMBLA right?” ~ Ben. #batathon

And McKenzie just found out what NAMBLA was. I wish I could describe her face. I think it would be easily summed up as :O#batathon

“That is the best dance I have ever seen.” ~ Nobody. #batathon

ACTING. Something no one has heard of in this movie. #batathon

Jim Carrey looks like Ron Weasley ejaculated on his head. He acts like it too. Well, he acts like Jim Carrey. #batathon

“Interesting spin on Gotham.” “Interesting is a REALLY strong word.”#batathon

Nicole Kidman as: The Asian Guy in Law and Order #batathon

The circus, as designed by Boy George’s sex fantasy. #batathon

Jangly dude, with the baubles on your penis, dial it back a bit.#batathon

Where did Edward Nigma get popcorn? It’s a riddle! #lollerskatez#batathon

“What are the requirements for a henchman in a Batman movie? You have to do a lot of shit. Is there an application process?”#batathon

“He can shoot a Tommy Gun with one hand because he’s Tommy Lee Jones.” ~ Ryan #batathon

“No one’s clapping! Where’s my applause? Also, who are those corpses?” Robin, two seconds before being REALLY sad. #batathon

“Hey Bruce…you fell asleep masturbating again. You’ve been standing there for 10 hours.” ~ Alfred. #batathon

What was Tommy Lee’s motivation? “Try to be a rapist…but not TOO much of a rapist. Like…a rapist of the mind.” #batathon

“Mooney…will you grow Chris O’Donnell sideburns?” “For sexual purposes?” “Don’t make this dirty. It can heal people.” ~ Ryan and Mooney

“What was that show with the dinosaur family?” “Dinosaurs?”#batathon

“You would intrinsically know what we’re talking about if you had pointy sideburns.” ~ Ryan #batathon

“Drew Barrymore was 20 when this movie happened? She looks like she was 30.” “She’s been doing cocaine since she was like 7”#batathon

MORE BAT-TURTLENECKS! NOOOOOO! #batathon

How did Nygma grow his hair back? And change it’s color? And then change it back again? #batathon

Master Dick. No joke. Just words. #batathon

Second date and he brings up the murdered parents. Dude… Men are from Mars, women are from NOT YOUR DEAD PARENTS.#batathon

And Rufio dons the blacklight of anger and attacks Robin. #terrible#batathon

Brought to you by: ecstasy, a fun time drug! #batathon

Why do the reporter’s glasses have their own eyebrows? #batathon

You know what a Drew Barrymore is? It’s a Shirley Temple with vodka in it. #KNOWLEDGE #batathon

Watching Tommy Lee Jones smile with teeth is like seeing Satan shit. It’s horrifying, but you’re actually interested in the results.

All of Tommy Lee’s bad guys remind me of the gimp in Pulp Fiction#batathon

You couldn’t fight a Puffin, I don’t care how evil you are. #batathon

“Puffin kiss!” “Alright Puffin, you win.” #batathon

“She’s just a gigantic red clitoris in a blonde wig.” ~ Ryan #batathon

There are no double entrendres to Kidman’s pussy. Just folds.#batathon

And starring Kilmer’s creepy child molester smile. #batathon

When you think this is what remembering things is, you do way too much meth #batathon

ALFRED ADJUSTS THE PLATTER AFTER FALLING UNCONSCIOUS! Best. Butler. Ever. #batathon

Tommy Lee laughed so much in this movie that he has never laughed again. #batathon

Master Bruce requires fire comes out the butt for everything.#batathon

Batman and Robin, still a better love story than Twilight. #batathon

Jim Carrey’s crotch should get a billing as well. #batathon

Oh no! You broke the thing that keeps everything from exploding!#batathon

“I could do so much laundryyyyyy!” ~ Two Face falling to his death.#batathon

Who’s the guy with the bowtie? Ben Kingsley’s second cousin Rondo. Rondo Kingsley #batathon.

Why is the Riddler suddenly a Holocaust survivor? What are we saying here? #batathon

Oh no. Don’t use the awesome theme from the first two movies. Use U2 instead. #batathon

Well, until next time, folks. Join us on Wednesday evening at 9pm CST so that we can tackle the glorious punnery of Arnold Schwarzenegger, the misplaced sensuality of Uma Thurman and the cold dead stare of George Clooney before his career began. We shall be tweeting everything. It’s going to be terrible. I promise.

And so it has come to this. As we exit the blissful land of Burtonia, passing the bikini-clad, shroom-guzzling absurdity of the 60s, our path begins to darken and stink. For it is upon us, before we can discover the shining light of Nolan only a little ways into the distance, we must wade through a quagmire of cinematic fecal matter. This is where careers have come to die, a comic book Tartarus where Val Kilmer is constantly pushing a rock up a hill, Jim Carey is doing that thing that we used to think was good and Chris O’Donnell is, well, being Chris O’Donnell. It’s an artistic hellscape, palatable to only completionists, drunkards and idiots.

We are about to head into the heart of darkness. Perhaps we shall emerge on the other side, clinging onto the last throes of humanity. One thing is for certain…we shall be forever changed. And so, join us for our descent into Joel Schumacher’s turd bucket as he serves us shit sandwich after shit sandwich of terrible acting, insane plot devices and art direction so loud it would make Von Gogh cut off his other ear.

We take on Batman Forever, tomorrow night, Saturday, at 10pm CST. Follow the Twitter feed if you dare. If we don’t make it, avenge us. Not even God can help us now.