Arnie the Panto Dame

The world's annoying bank.

 Batman Forever had been a commercial success and with it a superhero franchise was consolidated.  Joel Schumacher's hands were viewed as more than capable and Warner Bros eagerly filled them with $125 million.  Batman and Robin was to be pressed into production as soon as possible.  It was going a little too well.  Bring back the age old problem of superhero casting!  Luckily, tensions between Val Kilmer and Joel Schumacher that bubbled under the surface of Batman Forever came to the surface.  Did he jump?  Was he pushed?  Do we really care?  Kilmer had already signed up for a new project: The Saint, not the live action Pinocchio which would suit his talents down to the ground. Casting directors looked no further than television's newest heartthrob, George Clooney.  Presumably David Duchovny was seen as a little dour.  Clooney's 'charm' would be tasked with balancing the escalating acid trip of Schumacher's Gotham.  If only they could have found him a jacket that fit properly over those turtlenecks.  O'Donnell would reprise Robin and Uma Thurman, inexplicably, chose to be Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy.  Despite some casting continuity and a Pulp Fiction hangover the cast looked a little light.  A big gun was needed.  A big gun with a shitload of bad puns.

In 1984 Arnold Schwarzenegger was deployed as the practically mute Terminator.  It was a stroke of genius to take Conan and put him leather and flick the switch to 'relentless.'  The years came and went and Arnie's star grew with them; The Running Man, Predator and Total Recall gave Arnie a special place in most of our hearts.  Then Arnie decided that he needed a touch of reinvention and, disregarding Stallone's abject attempts, decided to try a bit of comedy.  In truth, it was patchy.  Sure, there was Twins and Kindergarten Cop sprinkled amongst the action films, then there was True Lies  and as much as I can't abide the film at least Arnie was funny in it.  You'd really expect the nadir to be Jingle All The Way.  It's the hope that kills you, it really is.  Twenty five million reasons saw Arnie accept Joel Schumacher's phone call and top billing for Batman and Robin.  To be honest, if I'd been asked to get covered in silver body paint and wear fluffy slippers I'd want a big bag of Warner's swag too.

Now there's a man who's just seen Admiral Adama

It's not as if Arnie's costume was the main problem.  As if switching between a shivery and slightly noncey uncle to a cheap imitation of a Cylon wasn't enough the metallic body paint makes it look like a bad attempt at blacking up.  The whole visual concept of Mr Freeze is simply dreadful.  A somewhat tragic character resurrected in comics was belittled by poorly CGI'd weaponry and an unhealthy homage to the 60s series.  Anyone would think that Batman and Robin was being produced solely to sell toys......

It's been well documented that Schumacher wanted a 'toyetic' cartoon of a film and what better way of solidifying a marketing opportunity than introducing a new hero?  A substandard sub plot allows for the introduction of Barbara Wilson/Batgirl.  Hang on, shouldn't that be Barbara Gordon?  Well, yes, but then why let years of comic book history and a potential future storyline involving Batgirl and Oracle get in the way of a new action figure with poseable limbs and detachable cape?  Is Batgirl supposed to be an opposite for Poison Ivy?  Is she a love interest for Robin?  Is she there to gently give dear old Alfred more of a role?  Is she there to necessitate a cameo for Coolio?  Quite frankly the only thing that makes Batgirl interesting is Alicia Silverstone, her burgeoning film career about to be dashed by thi shideous mess of a film.  Clueless 2 would have been a better career move.

Batman and Robin is a struggle to watch.  Pre Matrix wire fighting and bizarre use of vehicles take place in the ever more confusing Gotham City.  The city's pink is pierced by Mr Freeze's blue and Ivy's green and yet it's hard to even maintain interest.  The comical inclusion of Bane further pollutes a story of ice and something to do with diamonds and satellites.  I'm sure a Saturday morning cartoon audience would keep up but they'd be secretly longing for  Thundercats to start.

The real legacy of Batman and Robin

Schumacher wanted one more crack at completely dispelling the memory of Burton's Batman in the form of Batman Triumphant. Thankfully Triumphant went the way of Superman V as nails were rapidly hammered into the camp coffin that Batman now inhabited. Clooney himself called the film a 'waste of money' and Schumacher later apologised for the tone. The damage was so great that Batman wouldn't be seen on the big screen for nearly ten years and when he eventually made it back in Batman Begins it was seen as a bit of a gamble.

The only real positive gleaned form Batman Forever and Batman and Robin is that they reinforced the idea of Batman should be: dark, brooding and flawed.

Forever is a Very Long Time

A teaser poster that's arguably better than the film

Dissatisfaction swept through the corridors at Warner Bros.  Yeah, so Batman Returns made a pile of cash but it didn't make a big enough pile of cash.  The consensus seems to be that Burton was making Batman too dark, driving him into that cul-de-sac whose residents are only ever Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and Helena Bonham-Carter.  A bit odd considering it was this very darkness which made Batman such a success in 1989 in the first place and help make films like The Addams Family and Edward Scissorhands successful.  Still, the powers that be wanted to expand the franchise's audience and so Burton was moved upstairs.
 
In the producer's chair Burton had to find a director and settled on Joel Schumacher, he'd made The Lost Boys and Falling Down so looked like a good choice.  The news gets better as rumour has it Schumacher wanted to make an adaption of Batman: Year One.  Frank Miller's story of Batman's beginnings and his relationship with Commissioner Gordon was obviously a bit highbrow for studio execs who pushed for a more traditional sequel.  We have yet to fully embrace the notion of a prequel.  Christopher Nolan is thanking his lucky stars for that.

Batman now undertook a dramatic change, harking back to the 60s TV series and noir was replaced by nipples and neon.  It was a cynical decision to exploit toy markets and cash in on the burgeoning 60s nostalgia that swept Hollywood; a craze that would involve Austin Powers, The Brady Bunch and, horrifically, Bewitched.  Michael Keaton decided he didn't like the direction the film was going in and ignored the millions offered to him, so now we needed a new Batman for the new Gotham.  Keaton's decision is completely understandable as Bruce Wayne's vinyl clad arse introduces Schumacher's version of Batman.

Keaton had been an unpopular casting decision which came good for Burton yet none of the actors he won the part ahead of seemed to be considered for the role this time around.  Within days of Keaton's snub came Val Kilmer's casting.  Kilmer was passable in Tombstone and did a good Jim Morrison impression but if you don't count Willow his best role is the obscured Elvis in True Romance.  Hardly a good CV for someone carrying a superhero film.  Kilmer's star power would need a bit of a boost to draw the crowds so the new kid's favourite Jim Carrey was cast. presumably on the back of The Mask with Tommy Lee Jones adding a little gravitas.

Kilmer's Elvis: the second best thing about True Romance

Carrey is in his element as Edward Nygma/The Riddler bouncing around in spandex and chucking out sound effects as he attempts to suck up Gotham's brainwaves.  Apparently Carrey has ADHD and it's employed to full effect here.  The same cannot be said of Jones.  Jones looks and feels uncomfortable as Two-Face, with just seconds spent as Harvey Dent.  His costume and make up are impressive but the character lacks a true reveal in the film's opening and his motives are never really explored.  Why does he blame Batman? What are Sugar and Spice doing all day?  Billy Dee Williams was probably quite pleased Schumacher paid him off.

So Batman Forever has two larger than life supervillains.  The dynamic is different from Batman Returns where Catwoman was more antihero than villain and it was decided that the numbers needed evening out.  Wisely, Robin was removed from Batman Returns.  This sage decision was reversed for Batman Forever.  There was a reason why Christian Bale said he'd quit as Batman if they cast Robin and it's probably Chris O'Donnell.

O'Donnell represents those perpetual teenagers of 90210 becoming a Stand By Me wannabe and again is miscast.  Robin is eager to learn and aid Batman in the comics and grows to want his independence as Nightwing.  Batman Forever's Robin is antagonistic, impatient, dislikeable and more of a hindrance than a help bent on avenging a bomb induced trapeze disaster.  If you think that's bad wait until 1997.

MTV Superheroes

The supporting cast is stripped down in number or it could be that they're simply lost amongst the bizarre scenery of Schumacher's Gotham City.  The 1940s hotchpotch has been replaced by a mix of skyscrapers and masculine statues of varying and disorienting heights and inexplicable placing.  All of it drenched in pink neon.  Office blocks literally face a face of statue for no apparent reason.  Is there a hub in the midst of all this chaos? A little oasis of calm?  No, there's The Statue of Liberty, presumably dumped in Gotham City after Superman saved it during his tussle with Nuclear Man In Superman IV: The Quest for Peace.  Quite how the studio, producers or writers thought this would work is beyond me.  Amongst the pink wobbles Commissioner Gordon usurped as a figure of authority by the needless Dr Chase Meridian.  Meridian is almost an afterthought of a love interest and provides the classic damsel in distress for Batman to save in the film's climax.  Somehow, the noted psychologist is less interesting than photojournalist Vicki Vale.

Batman Forever is a confused mess, designed to help Kenner toys boost it's balance sheet and give Warner Bros a light, family friendly franchise.  There's too much going on, a nonsensical plot straddling commercial desires and reaching for MTV and the Friends generation.  Bizarrely, it got an Oscar nomination and an immediate sequel despite the shoddy CGI and disinterested leading man.  It's a sad indictment that U2 being on the soundtrack isn't the worst thing about a film.

In The Dark Knight Harvey Dent says 'the night is darkest just before the dawn.'  In 1997 we'll see just how right he was.

It's That Time of Year Again

We're hurtling towards 'Change your calendar or look cheap' day. Or January 1st depending on your mood.  It's that time of year where enforced jollity and gluttony will give way to guilt and an empty wallet.  That's when it's time to make silly promises to yourself: a month of no drinking, cutting down chocolate, going vegetarian, other half hearted 'resolutions.'  Maybe even the doozy, the Big Kahuna: detox.  The trouble is it won't really be a detox.  You'll replace a couple of lattes with green tea and an extra glass of water, you'll carry on eating bread but you might have a salad with a few added goji berries or whatever else is fashionable.  True detox is painful and disgusting, the body likes its little addictions to sugar and caffeine and will punish you for depriving it of a fix.  Headaches and bad breath are the least of your worries and you'll still pop the ibuprofen to keep aches at bay, defeating the object.

So there we go, a couple of weeks without a Dairy Milk before you cave in and gorge on unseasonably early Creme Eggs (don't worry, they'll be on special offer) maybe 'just one' glass of wine, perhaps you'll give yourself a night off from spin class and the treadmill 'just this once'.  Whatever it is there will always be something chipping away at the good intention. Maybe you'll dig your heels in and go for the ultimate in New Year's Resolutions and give up smoking.

I'm a smoker, not an ex-smoker.  I'm a smoker.  On hiatus, I don't think you can ever be an 'ex-smoker.'  My relationship with nicotine has lasted half my life yet this break came abruptly.  I didn't resolve to give up.  I just stopped smoking.  OK, so there was a hangover that lasted three days and fully earned its 'epic' tag but that's just circumstance.  As my body revolted against imbibing I couldn't face having a cigarette, my stomach couldn't face that kickstart and it occurred to my fogged mind that I had no craving for the deathstick.  In fact I hadn't knowingly thought about a cigarette let alone having a smoke.  So that was that, no need to go to the corner shop, no need to wonder who nicked my lighter, no need to have emergency matches.  No need to say 'keep an eye on me pint, I'm going for a faaaaag.'

Giving up helps you live longer, or does it just seem like longer? Was that George Bernard Shaw? If Jed Bartlet doesn't know, how the bloody Hell should I?  What I do know is that I don't really miss it.  I do miss not being able to get into a pair of 28" jeans.  I don't miss the stone and a half I've put on as I graze the sweetie jar a little too much.  Almost constant gum chewing accompanies the now perpetual cold I endure but I can smell and taste more.  Sometimes a blessing as fruit is rediscovered; sometimes a curse as August journeys on the Northern Line take their toll.  I do miss the feeling of  a billion black stars exploding in my bloodstream, the chemical warmth flooding my body, the kohl supernova as nicotine infused blood reaches the heart.  I  do miss the pleasant lightheadedness of the morning's pre-breakfast B&H unravelling the muscles and feeding the receptors created in my brain.  I miss watching the blueish white smoke curl and crawl into frosty air, wisping towards leafless trees.  I associate smoking almost exclusively with winter.  Despite this, I wonder if I ever actually enjoyed smoking or if it was just a habit.  There would be that first cigarette in 24 hours that would floor you, raising the blood pressure and greening the gills.  I don't miss the lonely walk to the smoking area.  I don't miss the disapproving looks outside the hospital or the shopping centre.  I don't miss the cigarettes annoying ability to fill your eyes with stinging smoke.  The smell of cigarettes is horrible, the yellow fingers are repulsive, the price of a twenty deck is forbidding and yet they still appeal.

I stopped smoking without patches, without e-cigarettes or even gum.  I bought nicotine gum 'just in case.'  The stuff is vile.  It's flavour is what I imagine an ashtray would taste like and it attacks the gums like a feverish jalapeno begging to be spat out.  There have been lapses, drunken of course, as I've let myself have two and half fagerettes in just shy of a year.  Pretty good seeing that I went through upward of 30 a day way back when.  You can add another 20 deck to that if it was a long night out and about.

So don't bother with resolutions.  It'll just be another wasted gym membership.  Just do what you want.  If that means you stop drinking or deepthroating Mars bars then stop.  Get help if you need to but don't do it because you ought; do it because you want to. It'll never work otherwise.

Batmania and the Burton Vindication

 

The mid '80s were a time of trickle-down travesties and trade union bashing.  It was all rather miserable and bleak and I was merely a child.  Despite the doom and gloom two things were happening in sunny Los Angeles: Jack Nicholson turned chewing scenery on screen into an art form and Tim Burton became attached to possible Batman movie.  Burton, an animator, had been faffed about by Disney and stumbled into success when Pee-Wee's Big Adventure inexplicably became a box office hit off a tiny budget. Further success came with the sublime Beetlejuice and Warner Bros decided to greenlight Batman with Burton at the helm.  Then the problems began.

One of the best graphic novels ever

Now, as we learnt from Superman a comic book movie can't have a smooth production.  The '80s had seen the rise of the graphic novel with Frank Miller and Alan Moore giving Batman a grittier, bleaker flavour, truly The Dark Knight.

When Michael Keaton was cast as Bruce Wayne/Batman it seemed that the new movie would be completely at odds with this.  Burton was known for cartoon colour whilst Michael Douglas changed his name to Keaton (after Buster) and shed the taxi cab for comedy.  Now think back to Batman's previous big screen outing in 1966.  Were Warner Bros making their version of Who Framed Roger Rabbit?  Unfounded omens didn't look good and Warner Bros responded by hiring Bob Kane as a consultant who approved of the project.

Burton bristled against the producers as he tried to cast Brad Dourif as The Joker whilst they had already approached Nicholson for the role amidst rumours of David Bowie and Willem Dafoe.  Who else but Jack could be The Joker?  Well on the way to legendary status and one of the few remaining hellraisers of Hollywood, Nicholson would bring Oscar laden credibility to the production.  He'd done big, hammy characters with The Witches of Eastwick and The Shining and long shouldered the burden of stardom from Five Easy Pieces onwards. Not that bagging Jack would be easy.  An incalculable fee that made the Guinness Book of Records and a contract that would make it easy to be louche were minimum requirements.  Let's face it Jack can do what he bloody well wants and we'll all approve at the smallest glint of that grin.  Factor in a horse riding accident and an oddly predictable writers' strike and cameras were almost ready to roll.  Filming at Pinewood was secret and such was the clamour building that police had to be called when footage went missing.

Batman was a changing beast.  It was changing from a superhero movie or a comic book film into a revolution.  The marketing alone changed the nature of the summer blockbuster.  Teaser posters were everywhere.  Spring sunshine was soaked up by black posters bearing only the symbol of the bat.  Merchandising became omnipresent, from the usual novel to the slightly unusual cereal.  I've still got my Mattel Batmobile knocking around.  It needs a lick of paint and those eBay prices make you faint.  Batman had two soundtrack albums with a Prince soundtrack cementing Batman's place in the zeitgeist.

Batman saw a change in the approach to traditional origin story telling.  The Wayne tragedy occurs in flashback and whilst there are a few liberties taken with the comics it's true enough, establishing just enough of Bruce Wayne's pathos without becoming cloying.  Unfortunately, we also have an origin for The Joker when the ambiguity and mystery of the comics make him all the more fearful by not giving him a definitive past.

Our opening scenes produce a neat and clever twist as comic book fans are invited into the Wayne's mugging only to be displaced.  This displacement is largely down to the film's tone and setting.  Our perceptions of time are being played with.  Burton's retro-futuristic Gotham is an homage to Fritz Lang yet it's populated by ageless automobiles and muggers taunt us with the very '80s American Express.  The '50s curves of the Batmobile caressed the ugliness of the city in a way Nolan's and Schumacher's never did. Amongst the seediness is an elegance and colour is supplied by Burton and exploited by The Joker.  Green and purple collide with newsprint and darkness throught the film.

Our main players are introduced and sub-plots established.  A jealous love triangle, police corruption and Mob betrayal give way to the chaos of The Joker as he attempts to eliminate Batman at the bicentennial parade.  There's a pace to the story that is hampered by the writers' strike as the middle section of the film becomes a number of set pieces loosely connected.  The Joker's mime act lacks build up and the unexplained disappearance of the Gotham City Police Department is jarring as is Batman's attack on Axis Chemicals.  It's a shame there hasn't been a director's cut to add some flesh to these bones.  There's plenty on show that is glorious, from the pure glee on Nicholson's face after joy buzzer deployment to the excellence of Keaton's performance of the fractured Bruce Wayne,  looks like Burton got that one spot on, from the model cathedral to the parade balloons leaking Smilex gas.  The juxtaposition of the manic Joker against Bruce Wayne/Batman's (probably more dangerous) pathology is as potent as it ever will be.

It'll be twenty years before an unnecessary argument over whose Joker is better: an argument that can't be settled by the way.

It'll be twenty years before the breaking of Bruce Wayne is explored again and Batman's position as a necessary but flawed hero is restored.

Before then there's some PVC, nipples and neon and too much pantomime but Batman will return.

Superman: The End?

The ejaculation of Superman

Hang about. Superman doesn't need oxygen again? He can speak Russian? He's got another glowy crystal space dildo?  Superman can make things invisible just by squatting near them?  Has Superman's outfit faded in the wash?  These are just a few of the many, many questions raised by Superman IV: The Quest For Peace.  The biggest question of all is just who thought this would be a good idea.  Donner wouldn't go near it and Lester wouldn't touch it with a bargepole either.  The previous films had been huge affairs, lavish almost but here is the Poundland version.  The unmistakable concrete of Milton Keynes dominates as New York's Metropolis becomes a memory.  The Salkinds had sold the rights to the franchise, presumably in a moment of prescience, and despite a halving of budget Cannon Films still put the film into production.  Perhaps it was assumed that the sheer earnestness of the storyline would drag them through.  Cannon obviously weren't content with releasing Masters of the Universe in 1987 so along came another outing for Superman.

Despite the return of Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor as well as Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder everything is just a bit flat.  Reeve didn't really want to come back and was effectively lured in with promises of stroy input, a Street Smart shaped carrot and maybe, just maybe a directorial pop at Superman V.

Reeve wanted the story to be more serious; more faithful to Superman lore and a step away from the good time slapstick of Superman III.  Unfortunately, it seems Cannon Films' scattergun approach to production and corner cutting took greater precedence.  Solid gold nobility in the form of ending the Cold War and nuclear proliferation is the soup du jour.  Croutons take the form of tedious underdeveloped sub plots. The corporate takeover of The Daily Planet is uninteresting and Luthor's newly acquired nephew (who is most definitely not Matthew Broderick) is annoying.  Gone are the days of Puzo's grand vengeance story arc and Mankiewicz rewrites.  And then......then there's Nuclear Man.  Dolph Lundgren was away having a dust up with Frank Langella so the 'role' went to the unknown Mark Pillow.  Poor old Mark couldn't build a career on these fragile foundations.  A flimsy script, dodgy locations and cheap special effects are a plague on all their houses.  Oddly enough, no one seems remotely bothered that Lex Luthor's hair has grown back.  If I'd been Hackman and was playing a role for the THIRD time I think I'd have had a word.  Or a shave.

United Nations based peril

The last time I saw the United Nations on my tellybox Cary Grant found himself in a spot of bother, now Superman goes for his Polaris Missile Removal Scout badge.  ICBMs in their hundreds are rounded up and cast into space.  Yes, it all sounds vaguely familiar and Superman really should have worked out how The Phantom Zone broke two movies ago but on he goes.  These aren't the only feelings of deja vu suffered during Superman IV:The Quest For Peace.  Meanwhile we are asked to accept that Luthor has become a master genetic and nuclear scientist whilst behind bars.  Some pre-Jurassic Park genetic tomfoolery sees Luthor make his evil Superman clone and Nuclear Man is 'born.'  It's all a bit pointless, Superman first appeared in 1938 and so was nearly 50 at the time of production.  As proven by Batman there is a plethora of material to plunder for effective villains.  Couldn't we have had an attempt at Bizarro, Brainiac or even Mister Mxyzptlk?  No, instead we're left with the strangely animated Nuclear Man.  In two year's time Tim Burton will use animated techniques to help The Joker and Batman to much more successful ends.

Everything's just so flimsy,  it's hard to invest or arouse any real interest and you begin to get itchy feet around the 40 minute mark.  From 1978 to 1983 Superman was, literally, on top of the world.  Superman IV: The Quest For Peace was such a hammer blow to the hero's heart it's surprising that even 1999 was early enough for Warner Bros to bash the reboot button.  Especially if those Tim Burton and Superman Returns rumours were true.

This film's only redeeming feature is the double date sequence.  Superman and Lois versus Clark and the entirely forgettable Lacy Warfield.  Superman rekindles his slapstick tendencies but it's Reeve's charm that pulls it all together.  You can almost forgive him for another Rohypnol Kiss earlier in the film.  An epic lunar conclusion is sadly a wasted opportunity as is the Great Wall of China spat and I'm struggling to even wonder that much about all those deleted scenes.  Even The Liability Formerly Known As Jimmy Olsen is an afterthought.

For now, Superman's star has fallen.  There's a bigger shadow coming to take over the late 80s and 1990s.  The Dark Knight is coming back and he looks a lot like Beetlejuice.

What about Synthetic Unity?

And now Pinky, we will take over the WORLD

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 the Jedi.  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.

Holy Skunk Sweat it's Planet Houston

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.