DC Comics had stolen a march, we weren't in the Golden Age any more and superheroes and comic books had grown and evolved into motion pictures. Marvel fitfully competed with DC's own fitful efforts. Licensing deals came and went and whilst X-Men scored big The Incredible Hulk was soon to have a reboot of a reboot. It was all a bit haphazard until a shuffling of management and the ascension of Kevin Feige. Feige was to put a coherence to the making of Marvel films and forge the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The billion dollar juggernaut would awaken Disney whilst making DC look slightly impotent as they held Christopher Nolan forward as their one shining light. It's not just the Easter eggs that make Marvel films work. And to think Iron Man had been stuck in the very definition of development Hell for nearly 20 years. Marvel just needed something, a little spark.
But how does he pee?
The spark was Robert Downey Jr. The very definition of perfect casting as Tony Stark. Stark and Downey Jr are immensely similar. Essentially, both are brash Bruce Waynes, playboy arseholes with a twinkle in the eye that makes them forgivable and likable. It's not even Downey Jr's impeccable facial hair that makes Iron Man a good movie. It's paced perfectly, not too CGI dependant given the circumstances and the casting is spot on. A relatively lame ending is handled well and pitched just about right by director Jon Favreau.
Iron Man always struck me as a Batman rip off without the emotional issues but the filmmakers have managed to distinguish the two. Jarvis abandons human form to become a docile Terminator and Stark's relationship with Rhodes is brought in as a central theme. The corporate giant isn't a Waynesque loner twisted by rage but a sociable, champagne swigging capitalist; Eisenhower's military-industrial complex in human form. Stark's inherited genius and resourcefulness see him design a life saving exoskeleton which makes him Iron Man. Seemingly at a loss for anything better to do Stark uses his alter ego to promote peace much to the chagrin of his business partner , Obadiah Stane. It's amazing that a near death experience can cause an egotistic prick to abandon chasing profits to go off and do some manufacturing in his home workshop. It's elements like this that make Stark a little unrelateable; he has everything at his disposal and the inexplicably named Pepper Potts will tidy up any mess he makes. Iron Man rattles along enjoyably enough as Stark attempts to reconcile his friends with his new metallic persona whilst the background rumbles with Stane's Machiavellian jealousy. Naturally enough it all comes to a head with two iron men battling each other. It's the gentle introduction of Agent Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. that make Iron Man less than formulaic.
Now Stark isn't just at odds with himself and his former business partner but the quintessential Man In Black from the Government looms over him. The explosion of popularity for S.H.I.E.L.D. has spun off across the Marvel universe and a lot of this is down to typecasting. Clark Gregg is always a face of Government, neatly suited and booted in The West Wing or as a policeman in CSI amongst other things. We have to wait for a hideously tacked on post credits scene to see just who Coulson works for, a scene which paves the way for all following movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Iron Man is used as an introductory tool, a foundation and a marker for what Feige wants from his comic book properties. For years DC had the market cornered with the exception of Marvel's interloping X Men but now there can only be one outcome: an Avengers film. The only problem is how to introduce so many characters of a team without confusing an audience. Marvel's solution was simple: give them all a standalone feature before bringing together a super team. Iron Man is merely the first square. Marvel passes go and collects considerably more than $200.
Iron Man was clearly produced with the intention to spawn a legacy of sequels and whilst Jeff Bridges is great you feel Downey Jr needs a villain for his quips to bounce off, someone like, say Sam Rockwell. But he'll have to wait as Marvel are getting the green paint out again on Photoshop.
Whilst Batman Begins was being filmed Warner Bros sought to resurrect their other superhero franchise and bring Superman back to the big screen. The project was called Superman:Flyby and the premise was a complex trilogy to make Superman dominate the cinema for the next ten years. Playing with timelines and resurrection it's little surprise the story had JJ Abrams' fingerprints all over it. Production meandered as the traditional problems with a Superman film reared their head; difficult casting, directors in and out whilst even choosing locations was difficult. Abrams loitered as Warner Bros approached Bryan Singer whose idea of a returning Superman was approved when presented to Richard Donner. Singer was a safe pair of hands having superhero experience with X-Men and the shining light of TheUsual Suspects in his back catalogue.
The silly decision to cast Josh Hartnett as Superman was annulled amid typecasting and commitment fears. The door opened for a pre-vegan Brandon Routh. He certainly looked the part. It's rumoured Kevin Spacey and Kate Bosworth signed on without reading a script whilst James Marsden began a quest to appear in as many superhero franchises as possible. If they reboot The Green Lantern you know he'll be fishing around.
Routh is pretty darn good as Superman and as Clark Kent. He manages to capture some of Reeve's charm as Kent without overdoing the goofiness and then step into the blue suit retaining a level of vulnerability that we haven't seen in previous Superman incarnations. The main problem is the story he finds himself in.
Superman has been absent for five years, looking at the space debris of Krypton. Quite why is never really explained. Neither is Kent's parallel absence. He's been away 'finding himself' or something yet returns without so much as a suntan. Verisimilitude goes so far but now it's got to the point that Lois Lane will only know if Clark Kent is Superman if it's announced via neon sign. That rohypnol kiss back in the day was mighty powerful. Maybe it's because Lois Lane now has a son, a son full of afflictions and weaknesses that he may as well have a neon sign that says 'Son of Superman.' This brings worrying thoughts though. When Supes and Lois got their freak on what stopped him getting carried away and blowing her head off? Why was she so blase about shagging an alien? How defective are Lois' genes that they make the son of Superman so sickly?
Right, that's enough of that. Lex Luthor is trying his old real estate ploy again albeit with a twist. Spacey looks like he's having immense fun as Luthor and hams it up darkly, changing wigs willy nilly whilst actually getting down to the nitty gritty of trying to fight Superman by levelling the playing field. The Luthor trip to the Fortress of Solitude is inspired in it's villainy, matched only by the look on Spacey's face as he demands to learn everything from Jor-El and the Kryptonian crystals. The inclusion of Brando as Jor-El takes us all the way back to 1978 and the supersaturated whiteness of Krypton. It's comforting after Nuclear Man and the wilderness years. Odd use of a model train set sees Luthor's real estate scam updated. The only nagging doubt is just how he managed make a Kryptonite sheath for his island crystal.
Luthor's Return to Oz moment
Back to Superman, he's returned and had a beer with The Liability Formerly Known as Jimmy Olsen, but now what? As Kent and as Superman he's alone, discarded. The world has, seemingly, moved on. The world doesn't need Superman anymore. Or does it? Handily, Luthor's model train set experiment has some aeronautical ramifications and affords Superman the opportunity to extol the virtues of air safety but ruin a ball game. It's good, and quite the spectacle, but you can't help feeling that Superman Returns could have done with one more big set piece like this one. The tumbling Daily Planet doesn't count.
Hey, that's an interesting theme. Shall we explore...oh, no. OK then.
It's clear that Superman Returns is a sequel and an homage to Donner's original Superman two parter but it's in this homage that sit jarring anachronisms. Superman isn't really updated, it seems the only real updates have been rolling news channels and a ban on smoking in the workplace. In this Internet age what would Kent really be doing in print media? And just who gets to walk back into a job after five years? Especially as he wasn't really any good. It's lovely that Eva Marie Saint lives on the old Kent farm and plays Scrabble but in the city you'd expect a little more advancement even if the city is the misty eyed Metropolis.
Superman Returns is an OK film, not a great one and it did well enough at the box office to warrant a sequel. Sadly, the studio and director would get distracted whilst the option on Routh's contract would expire. It's telling that he's more remembered as Scott Pilgrim's confused vegan foe.
1983 was a bit of an odd year cinema wise. The battle of the Bonds rang out as Octopussy clashed with Never Say Never Again whilst George Lucas released his extended toy advert Return of theJedi. Another of the 3s came in the form of Jaws 3-D; three doesn't seem like a lucky number. Much maligned by the public and critics on release Superman makes his return in the less than originally titled Superman III. Now, that title is slightly misleading. Whilst it is Superman III, it's less a superhero movie and more a vehicle for Richard Pryor. Pryor is cast as Gus Gorman a secondary character and then promptly takes over overshadowing Reeve's overdue top billing. Pryor was aided in this by director Richard Lester, the usurpation of Richard Donner now complete. After this, the now mainstreamed Pryor got himself a $40 million contract with Columbia and went on to Brewster's Millions and the like.
Whilst Superman and Superman II were effectively parts of the same film the Salkinds now have their man in charge to deliver the version of Superman that they always wanted. They've seemingly won the war with Donner but not without consequences. Gene Hackman refused to have any part of Superman III whilst Margot Kidder is marginalised and so we have a Superman devoid of his nemesis and love interest. Their replacements aren't entirely effective. Lex Luthor is replaced by the lightweight Ross Webster played by the efficient Robert Vaughn and Annette O'Toole steps in to be Lana Lang, an entirely unneeded Lois Lane mark II.
Casting isn't the only departure as Superman III has an overly slapstick feel and veers into camp territory from the outset. The space based opening credits of the first two films is replaced by a slapstick sketch. If it wasn't for the titles and the merest hint of the Man of Steel you wouldn't know it was a Superman film amongst all the sight gags and penguin based near
misses. Pamela Stephenson meanders through the chaos and will be
recycled as the Woman In The Red Dress for The Matrix.
You look very familiar
A nice touch with a photo booth reaffirms Superman's presence before we make way for The Richard Pryor show. Pryor is Gus Gorman, a bum who develops a penchant for manipulating BBC style computers. When I was at school there was Repton, we didn't even have the vaguest notion you could use one of those beige beasts to control the weather or an oil tanker. It makes you wonder what a Sega Dreamcast could have really done. It's also slightly scary to think that the iPhone in your pocket is a vastly more powerful piece of kit than anything Gorman tapped away at to analyse Kryptonite.
Superman III is a very confused film. So much seems to have been done on the hoof and this scattergun approach doesn't lend itself to a coherent story. Why should Kent's return to Smallville coincide with Gorman's need to use an untraceable computer? It shouldn't but it does. The return to Smallville also affords the opportunity for The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen to find a rival. Little Ricky might be prepubescent but he makes Olsen look redundant. Yeah Ricky is a bit of a drip but he has more of an affect on Superman than Olsen and Lane have combined in the previous two films. This is all down to the best part of Superman III: Supes chemically induced internal conflict.
Smoking kills. Subtle
Now, we know Superman is an alien and we know that he's going to have some Daddy issues. Juxtapose that with his protection of the human race from itself and what's left for poor old Kal-El? Who's giving him a foot massage at the end of the day? A little bit of tar based blagging from Gorman and we find out that Superman isn't very happy at all. Some misconstructed Kryptonite leads to Superman, slowly going bad. The change is subtle in comparison to the visual comedy style Lester has employed so far. Superman has a cheeky glint in his eye as he fancies a bit of sexy time with Lana before going on a massive bender. Superpowered peanuts lead to a trip to the junkyard and Superman's internal torment gains physical form. Whilst this makes little or no sense the battle is magnificent and leads to perhaps the most iconic Superman image ever: Clark Kent tearing his shirt to show he is Superman Regained. It wasn't just a case of getting the cape and tights down to the dry cleaners.
Hey kids! Johnnie Walker is bad!
Our reinvigorated hero now has one small job, to defeat Webster who we had largely forgotten about. Webster's evil scheme has evolved to involve oil tankers, ransoms and now a cave housing the world's most powerful computer. You see, Gorman had gotten bored of hacking financial systems and traffic lights on his BBC and felt he needed a bit more oomph to really take control. Apparently weather control isn't enough. So, some pocket based blueprints become a computer that will give James Cameron ideas and Superman is lured into a trap. Now for some more inexplicable goings on. I can deal with a massive computer becoming self aware. I can deal with said massive self aware computer turning Webster's sister into the genuinely scary Robocop forerunner. But I can't deal with the massive self aware computer putting Superman into a giant zorbing ball to suffocate him. I've seen Superman fly through space to turn Earth back in time, I've seen Zod talking on the Moon so why am I now being asked to accept some zorbing based shortness of breath? It's a good job Superman has access to the pink goo from Ghostbusters II to sort this misfiring computer.
There's still time left for a needless cameo from a future Eastender and a few extra pounds per square inch to put a smile on Lana Lang's face. Yeah, Superman III is muddled and overly comic but there are some lovely moments and it probably stands as my favourite of the Superman films even with the niggling unanswered question of why Lorelei plays dumb. Despite all this there's a feeling that the Man of Steel is running out of steam. He's got one outing left in the 80s and it's not one to look forward to.
Superman II is fraught with controversy, or, at least, it was. If I'm completely honest I have no idea if I saw Richard Donner's restored version first or the Donner/Lester mash up. There's a kebab joke in there somewhere that I'm too lazy to make. Due to the majority of scenes being filmed alongside Superman we still have a high level of continuity despite some minor flaws. Brando is surgically removed from the original Superman II edit to cut costs and Hackman stood by Richard Donner and has minimal screen time. The hiatus in production sees Christopher Reeve practically Hulk up and Margot Kidder fade away, yet despite all this Superman II falls into that very small group of sequels which are better than their originals. The main reasons for this look like extras from Cabaret and are called Zod, Ursa and Non.
Our sequel is primarily concerned with Zod's hateful urge for revenge on Jor-El. The beauty of it all is that we already know this thanks to the original. Vendetta isn't just the purview of the Mafia but it helps when the ideas are Mario Puzo's.
Zod's Night Off
Hang on a minute. Zod has been floating through space in the time it's taken Kal-El to grow up. Is Zod aware that Krypton is no more and Jor-El gone with it? I suppose there'll be a handily placed crystal to help answer such questions.
We are forced to remember Zod et al from Superman due to the jarring introduction to Superman II. The opening credits are essentially a highlights package from 1978 with a brass introduction. It's absolutely ages before that swoosh of Alexander Salkind Presents and still no top billing for Christopher Reeve.
Reeve builds on his Woody Allen impression whilst Kidder has gone all gung ho in Paris. The Inspector Clouseau theatrics are all a set up for an inadvertent jailbreak just off the dark side of the Moon. It seems that the Kryptonian prison of choice, The Phantom Zone, is a bit fragile near nuclear events. Given that stars are basically supermassive nuclear reactors and The Phantom Zone floats through space this is a shocking design flaw. Brando may not be on screen but Jor-El's presence is definitely felt. That aside, Zod, Ursa and Non's lunar trip is a masterpiece (CLIFF CLAVIN!). It seems that Kryptonians don't need to breath oxygen which is at odds to Superman's almost drowning in Superman and the big suffocating bubble in Superman III. Oh, alright, I won't nitpick but I will point out that The Phantom Zone made more noise than the Death Star blowing up.
Lois' suspecting Clark of being Superman is paced wonderfully and the false reveal at Niagara Falls is excellent before Clark's clumsiness around the fireplace ultimately reveals him as the Man of Steel. It's just slightly surprising that Superman had to save a child and not The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen. Once again the sheer amount of soft focus seems to affect Lois Lane's thought process. Either that or all those hot dogs have gone to her head.
Once Clark is demasked his and Lois' relationship fully forms and it's now that you see that Tarantino was right when he used Bill for his painful exposition of Superman's myth:
'Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there’s the superhero and
there’s the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is
actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he’s
Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it
is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn’t become
Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the
morning, he’s Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the
big red “S”, that’s the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the
Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses,
the business suit - that’s the costume. That’s the costume Superman
wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what
are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He’s weak… he’s unsure of
himself… he’s a coward. Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole
human race. Sorta like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plimpton.'
What we're not ready for is Superman to make such a big sacrifice and, quite bizarrely, become a human by way of a crystal box. Superman taking Lois to the Fortress of Solitude will be echoed in later superhero films, it's almost inevitable that Vicki Vale will find The Batcave in 1989.
All the while another strand of revenge is forming. Lex Luthor has escaped from his jail and is pursuing the secrets behind Superman, hoping to uncover something a little stronger than kryptonite. Luthor begins scheming as he uncovers the relationship between Superman and the soon to be famous General Zod.
I'll ignore the Christian references as Zod rolls into East Houston, Idaho and Sheriff J W Pepper en route to The White House. Superman is now in a quandary, having given away his powers and getting bitchslapped by trailer trash he realises that Zod will destroy the human race unless he does something. Luckily, conveniently and inexplicable easily he becomes Kryptonian again and we're all set for the Battle of Metropolis sponsored by Marlboro.
Superman is bad for smoking
In the '70s and '80s smoking was still sexy,
how else would such product placement happen? The Marlboro van
crumpling under Kryptonian is more glaring than the exploding Coca Cola
sign. If any of this looks familiar it's probably because Joss Whedon
ripped it off for The Battle of New York in Avengers Assemble and the uncanny simliarities within The Matrix trilogy. It seems Hollywood is doing its best to eat itself.
In a seemingly French moment Superman retreats to his North Pole
hideaway pursued by the Phantom Zone inmates with Luthor and Lane in
tow. A classic double double bluff sees Zod dealt with but not before
one of the strangest things you'll ever see.
The cellophane S attack is bonkers. After holograms and heat rays comes this. It doesn't even do anything except leave you scratching your head. Despite this Zod meets with an unsatisfactory misty end and Luthor is returned to custody. All that's left is to sort out the now, apparently messy, love story. It seems that Lois Lane is a bit selfish and doesn't want to share Superman with his planet saving duties. It begs the question: 'what did she expect?' Rather than a messy breakup and a potential expose in the Daily Planet Superman comes up with yet another bonkers turn. the Rohypnol Kiss wipes Lois' memory and all is good again. Our ultimate boy scout has gone a bit rapey to keep things 'normal.' There's only one solution to this ethical problem and that's a scheming businessman and a self aware computer but that's next time when Superman a meets crap Eastenders villain in 1983.
One last thing.....whilst everyone kneels before Zod it's worth noting that Bill Cosby doesn't.
Superheroes all have origins and so have to have origin stories. The trauma of betrayal that awoke crime fighting desire or the bestowal of cosmic gifts need to be explained in order for the audience to buy into the hero and his code of ethics. Now Superman is arguably the purest of all superheroes, the embodiment of hope, morality and humanitarianism: the very best of mankind. But he's an alien. How can you reconcile his stellar immigration and emergence as the World's Boy Scout?
Easy. Give him two ridiculously iconic fathers and get Mario Puzo to write the screenplay. OK, so maybe most of Puzo's story was ditched by Donner and Mankiewisz but he's still got the writing credit. It helps that it's 1977 and Kubrick has long opened up special effects use and George Lucas is making space age fairytales popular. Warner Bros and Richard Donner set out to film Superman and Superman II at the same time. Quite a show of confidence seeing that this is the first of the blockbuster superhero films; a bold gamble on an unknown quantity as the superhero genre didn't even exist. It seems production was far from plain sailing from the script rewrite to Brando's diva turn and demands, not to mention having to actually cast Superman at three different ages. Was Christopher Walken really offered the role? Burt Reynolds too? Nowadays it's hard to see anyone other than Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel.
It all comes together and becomes the perfect introduction. We begin on Krypton, the deep space leg of Bowie's Isolar tour. Krypton is a barren place and essentially a background space for Brando to fill. Brando's Jor-El is a scientist, a leader and a genius. Jor-El's hubris is displayed in his dispute
Do not put that up your bum. A & E will bever believe you.
with Krypton's ruling council and not the fact he pops his infant son into a crystal soap dish without as much as a jumper to keep him warm. Krypton's doom confirms Jor-El's theories yet doesn't explain how he had time to record the history of Earth on crystal sex aids and use them to build his son, Kal-El's, escape pod.
Kal-El hurtles through space and absorbs history, a subtle nod to 2001: A Space Odyssey and a slight confirmation of L Ron Hubbard's belief in engrams. Not much happens in Smallville till Kal-El crashes at the feet of father number two: Glenn Ford.
Best. Dad. Ever.
Fate may have worked differently and Clark Gable may have been cast as Jonathan Kent and whilst that would have had a cute symmetry for Superman it would have robbed us of Ford's magical turn. In just one scene Ford shows us effortlessly how a young Clark Kent has been instilled with decency and a very 1950s style of American goodness. There are few sadder scenes in cinema than Jonathan Kent realising his heart is failing him. The movie feels like it has barely started and we've so far been introduced to almost everyone important to Superman's development and future including the fleeting appearance of Lois Lane and the reverence for the old Superman TV series. It's not just Hitchcock who did cameos.
It's about time we saw some scenes of mild peril. Supes has gotten into his red pants and Clark Kent has become a klutz and inexplicably landed a job in New York Metropolis at The Daily Planet. He's also developed the rather odd habit of having conversations with a crystal DVD of his father. Don't worry, Air Force One has engine trouble. The aching politeness of Superman in his interview with hardnosed reporter Lois Lane is juxtaposed with the introduction of second hand car salesman Lex Luthor. It seems all that soft focus goes to Lois Lane's head as she swoons and falls in love with the red cape and exposed pants. It's going to be a while before we find out exactly what Luthor is up to so we'll have to sit back and endure the flirting. What could have been a His Girl Friday kind of courtship in reverse is disemboweled by a softcentre voiceover and a flying trip. It's now that we need our villain to come to the fore.
To the fore Luthor duly emerges. With a plan that wouldn't have been out of place in a 70s Bond film Luthor wants to make a killing on Californian real estate with the handy use of a nuclear missile. It's a scheme Max Zorin would be proud of but there's just one problem: Superman. And so comes the cinematic establishment of a classic superhero subplot: Kill The Bat. For any super-villains scheme to succeed he must first kill the superhero of the piece. Sure, we've seen Bond strapped to laser targeted tables and penned in with alligators but a superhero has to have one specific weakness that can be exposed. The Martian Manhunter isn't too keen on fire and The Green Lantern is famously adverse to yellow (yes, the colour) but Superman is OK as his weakness blew up in space. Kryptonite is gone. Or is it? Of course it isn't and Luthor has got some.
Events are coming to a head, Lois is bombing along a California road, Superman is having a bath and Luthor's plan is getting close. All the while The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen is having a walk by a dam. If Gene Hackman hadn't have been cast as Lex Luthor none of this would've worked as it is we can suspend our disbelief right up until the cheat.
Yep, Superman, the walking, talking pillar of truth, justice and the American Way cheats. Faced with an impossible choice we are asked to accept the greatest example of deus ex machina ever. The system restore approach to this story's end sticks in your throat and actually goes some way to lessening our hero. Shouldn't a real hero be prepared to make sacrifice for the greater good?
Despite the fractured production and the unsatisfactory ending Superman is wonderful. The introduction of our hero and his backstory, love interest and main antagonist are concise and brilliantly efficient. The decision to simultaneously film the sequel means a franchise's worth of characters are established along with their motives. This is an absolute masterstroke and so much better than Marvel's Easter Egg approach in recent years. Warner Bros took a gamble and their decision to go big and bold paid off.
Dust yourself down as it only gets better. Better on Planet Houston.
Have no fear. My mighty pants will save the galaxy for the US of A
I love B movie sci fi. All of it, from War of the Worlds to The Thing From Another World and The Blob. Give me Day of the Triffids and a bag of Maltesers and I'll pretty much do what you want. So Superman and the Mole Men should be great, yeah?
The 1950s were boomtime for B movies and scifi B movies in particular. We're hurtling towards the arrival of James Dean and Hitchcock giving his blondes full colour. In the meantime, the ample barrel chest of George Reeves squeezes into the blue lycra and oversized red pants. Oh boy, those pants are huge.
Superman was 13 in 1951, a year older than Batman, Siegel and Shuster's creation was already immensely popular for a teenager. So popular that he warranted a shift in a glorified car park to squeeze out a whopping 58 minutes of film. Except, it doesn't really feel like a film. Superman andthe Mole Men feels like a Rinso sponsored Disney vs HG Wells mash up. Superman and the Mole Men is what it is and that is a bottom of the bill extended trailer for a TV series. Nowadays it'd be one of those special features on disc four of the special edition you just bought that never quite makes it into the DVD player. The characters are well known to us, there's Lois and Clark, the generic old country boy and the tunnel visioned sheriff. It's the 50s so there's a healthy dollop of suspicion and the threat of mob mentality but no Fonzie.
In fact, the cut glass diction of Lois and Clark drives this into a rather serious cul-de-sac, mild mannered Clark Kent is far too assertive in the face of the commies under the bed (well, down the oil well). There's no hint of Kal-El but from the start you're left in no doubt that Superman is an alien. He's from outer space. Now, we've been au fait with this for 75 years but it's never really been foregrounded like this. He's an outsider, a refugee and never has Superman felt more sci fi than he does here even when flying or seeing through walls.
Lois and Clark are brought into a backwater called Silsby to do a story on the world's deepest oil well. Quite how this is supposed to boost Daily Planet circulation is beyond me. But the well is shut! Nope, there's no Timmy stuck at the bottom but there's definitely something going on. Lois and Clark do their best wooden impression of Mulder and Scully and oranges glow in the dark and women in floral dresses scream at the camera. The poor little mole men, all filed down conehead and bug eyes appear and skulk about like this is German cinema. The allegorical mole men have the unfortunate dispensation of walking like they've shit themselves.
No, it's not Dan Aykroyd
All tiptoeing and black jumpers with a penchant for making things glow in the dark the mole men may as well have a hammer and sickle on their jumpers and scream 'WE'RE SOVIETS' until they're brought down a peg or two by a little girl who thinks she's just met Orko.
A mob forms and there's some resourceful vandalism of the town's barbers before a whooshing and the familiar display of strength from our hero who then sets about teaching us all a lesson. Superman's morals are almost as big as his pants acceptance and tolerance abounds. The Hollywood Code was fully entrenched and television was yet to challenge cinema and so both sides are permanently separated and relatively unharmed, the Cold War intact.
Superman and the Mole Men is from another time and it is difficult to relate to. It's a little too serious and lacks a few elements we take for granted. Lois and Clark need a little bit of sexual tension and Clark definitely needs to be a bit more goofy, a bit more affable. Someone give Terence Stamp a nudge and get him to dig out his cabaret gear.
So, here we go with my first foray into the Marvel vs DC Movie Mashup and it's all the way back to 1966. World Cups and Harold Wilson, Blonde on Blonde and an Everton FA Cup win. But none of that really matters. Not when you're thinking about superheroes.
I'm a child of the '80s and I know two Batmans. One is the Dark Knight: stoic, emotionally stunted and very, very serious. The other is a camp cowboy in grey, unflattering cotton lycra mix with speech bubbles that come out of his hands.
Batman was born in 1939 and became a leading light of the Golden Age of comic books, he was a dark vengeful detective not a superhero; a man who had put his intelligence and money to use, the perfect foil to the alien Superman. By the late 1950s superhero comics were waning, the Comics Code of America, war and the nuclear age had taken their toll whilst the world was becoming freer as Baby Boomers grew up. At the same time Batman comics were very sci-fi orientated, full of aliens and gadgets. Just as the comics took a turn back into darkness ABC commissioned a Batman TV series. Ironically, ABC's vision of Batman was Pop Art and drenched in camp comedy, practically a parody of Bob Kane's character.
The series ran for three seasons and sandwiched between seasons one and two was a hastily put together movie starring most of the TV cast. Sadly, Julie Newmar missed out and Lee Meriwether was drafted in as Catwoman. The villains are the real stars and there's a level of innocence and pure fun that makes Batman brilliant. Four TV show regulars form United Underworld, I mean who
Just one villain? Nah, I'll take the lot.
makes a superhero movie with just one villain?
Cesar Romero plays The Joker as a pure clown and it's this gay abandon that makes the character more dangerous than other incarnations. He's so unpredictable which compliments the scheming of Burgess Meredith's Penguin. Bouncing between the two is Frank Gorshin's manic Riddler, a performance aped by Jim Carrey in 1995, whilst Catwoman is essentially the groups pawn, used for bait and reconnaissance.
A simple plot is stretched over 105 minutes with a clever appreciation of the Cold War and several breaches of the fourth wall. Ignore the huge lumps of ham in the form of Chief O'Hara and the irritant Aunt Harriett and enjoy the saturated colour of the dehydrated United World Organization's Security Council.
Ready for anything
We begin with a bit of high budget tomfoolery and an exploding shark. Yep, Peter Benchley is rapidly scribbling that one down. The vanishing yacht and the imprisonment of Commodore Schmidlapp feel like they could be investigated by Steed and Mrs Peel, instead we are whisked away to downtown Gotham and Commissioner Gordon gets handy with some Polaroids and a slide projector. The United Underworld are loosely headed up by The Penguin and romp around in a, frankly, ludicrous submarine. A porpoise may foil a torpedoeing of the Dynamic Duo but no submerged mammal gets in the way of the kidnap of the Security Council. The cheeky Schmidlapp had invented a funky Dyson which helps store people in their own, individual test tubes. Chuck in a kidnap and an infiltration of the Batcave and The United Underworld are very busy indeed but there feels like there's something missing. The TV series had been built on cliffhangers and set piece fights yet apart 'some days you just can't get rid of a bomb' the ridiculous peril of seeing Robin about to be drowned in a giant Slush Puppy or Batman being fed into the Human Key Duplicator is absent. We're crying out for 'Same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel' moment. You'd have thought they could have found just one more abandoned candy warehouse in Gotham. No matter, the brisk pace sees Batman come to an enjoyable end. You won't see an ocean based ending again until Star Trek IV. I'm not entirely sure if that's s good or bad thing.
After a spot of rehydration without Lucozade Sport Batman saves the day and quietly returns to the small screen. He won't make it back to the cinema for over 20 years.
At least Batman endured, unlike Adam West and Burt Ward. Once the series was cancelled both found work hard to come by having been so heavily identified with the thwocks and the pows. Even a rumoured flirtation with Bond wasn't enough to keep West off the convention circuit before nostalgia saw Batman reappraised and a stint in Quahog. The dodgy rumours of deviancy made it hard for Ward to shed his life in tights, maybe he should have taken that role in The Graduate. Batman himself wouldn't be rid of the camp and colour until the mid 80s when Frank Miller and Alan Moore took the character back to black and a darker, dirtier Gotham. Their work would be the template for Burton and Nolan.
Batman appeals to the kid in me, the colour, the nostalgia and the camp make it perfect easy viewing and it's unfair to compare it to the modern cinematic interpretation.
One thing's for sure: Adam West was a better Batman than George Clooney and he didn't need nipples on his Batsuit
