Batman Returns: It Was Never About Burton

Batman Returns: It Was Never About Burton

There are moments when it’s possible to realise your favourite thing isn’t objectively the best example. This applies to media that ultimately require a subjective take: favourite song, favourite food — favourite movie. Batman has appeared on film in many guises now. From the camp Sixties variant, to Burton’s 1989 revival, Nolan’s Heat-inspired Dark Knight Trilogy (although, that inspiration only applies to the second outing), a gritty, ageing Caped Crusader in the Snyderverse, and the Matt Reeves take on Year One Bruce in The Batman.

Of all the reboots and relaunches, this writer’s desert island Batman movie is Batman Returns.

It’s not objectively the best film out of all the ones on the list. Others achieve better visuals, cinematography, storytelling, performances, soundtracks, scope. But great ingredients still need the correct conditions and the right chef. Batman Returns remains the one Batman movie that has stood the test of time because Tim Burton’s style brought all the ingredients he had at his disposal to something the world either wasn’t ready for, hadn’t been expecting, or misunderstood. 

A regular criticism of Batman Returns – one which even fan sites repeat – is that it’s a Tim Burton film, not a Batman film. Sure, his particular style is familiar. To be less kind, you could say somewhat formulaic. Edward Scissorhands shares its DNA with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Beetlejuice. Part of that shared code is Burton’s proclivity for gothic fantasy.

In The Dark Knight’s case, it wasn’t Burton imposing his style on Batman: it was revealing a shared understanding. What is more gothic than an orphan becoming a bat-shaped vigilante under the cover of darkness? Or a woman cheating death and becoming cat-like? And a baby discarded and raised in the sewers beside penguins?

Dark, gothic, and delivered akin to Legends of the Dark Knight, a monthly comic which showed a more off-kilter version of Batman and Gotham.

And let’s look at Gotham. A city that existed in Batman lore long before Burton placed it on film. He didn’t put the Goth into Gotham; he was merely a tourist capturing the moment.

The criticism of how the film has been perceived doesn’t just end with the flawed Burton argument. From fans to marketing partners, there was a disconnect because people’s predisposed ideas created a gap between the film and their expectations of what a Batman movie should be.

Looking back, it’s hard to understand why there was such a disparity. Batman may have been more avant-garde than what we eventually saw in Batman Returns, but it was clearly aimed at teenagers and above. It was the first general cinema release to receive the 12 certificate, before being classified 15 for home video. So it has to be said, Warner Bros. were idiots for entering a Happy Meal deal with McDonald’s for its sequel. That’s what Batman & Robin exists for, Returns was never going to tonally become a kids’ movie. The association with a Happy Meal meant people complained louder about its darker themes and violence. It was set up to be viewed through the wrong optics from the start.

Negative press aside, why does it – on its own merit – deserve the crown of Desert Island Batman Movie?

Burton’s second take on Gotham completely shifts from the Art Deco we saw in Batman. This is a Gotham submerged in snow and the otherworldly. It doesn’t attempt to be a twisted New York. This plays like a tiny microcosm of the bizarre, damaged, fantastical, and corrupted. A fairy tale of Batman versus versions of himself he could have become. It isn’t Batman does a Burton, it is Burton inhabiting Batman.

The set-up is simple enough: a baby so grotesque in deformity is placed in a basket and thrown into a river. That baby is Oswald Cobblepot, The Penguin. He emerges from the shadows as a lonely orphan turned accidental hero. The world doesn’t know he staged the scene but Gotham takes him to heart. Its other heroic orphan has suspicions. To pull off the deceit, he blackmails Christopher Walken’s Max Shreck, a wealthy businessman and also the centre of Michelle Pfeiffer’s origin story as Catwoman — he kills her (don’t worry, cats revive her into Selina’s comic book form) because, as a shy secretary, she reveals she knows too much.

Later on, it became the trend for superhero movies to overload with multiple bad guys. It killed Tobey Maguire’s run as Spider-Man. Here, it works perfectly. No one is included for the sake of having the character in the film. Danny DeVito nails The Penguin with more one-liners than Jack Nicholson managed for the Joker. Walken provides the cement in the evil chaos and then there’s Pfeiffer.

People can debate the best version of the Joker. Some versions won Oscars, others were the standard for decades. Colin Farrell has opened up the Penguin debate. Best Batman is a title that will likely never be universally agreed upon. But Michelle Pfeiffer is the definitive Catwoman. No one has come close over the years, and what underlines the point more than anything is there have been very strong performances elsewhere. But Pfeiffer is Catwoman.

Across from these three towering figures, who take it in turns stealing scenes, is Michael Keaton’s Batman and Bruce Wayne. In the 1989 movie he announced himself to the world with the answer: “I’m Batman.” In Returns he becomes Batman. From the moody shot of him waiting for the Bat-Signal to light up his room in Wayne Manor, to the way he holds steady when all around is falling apart. The scars of his life, and loss of love from the last movie, to the dynamic with Selina Kyle when she’s not in Catwoman leather, he is a complete Batman.

This is where the film’s excess starts working in his favour.

The absurdity of a man dressed as a bat, fighting crime at night, falls away in a world where DeVito’s Penguin becomes mayor and Pfeiffer licks herself clean in her catsuit. It allows Batman to be stripped back to the World’s Greatest Detective motif. He’s the solid structure facing an increasingly crazier world. With the suspension of disbelief required for a gothic fantasy, Keaton’s Batman becomes the logical choice for saviour. No fan ever read a Batman comic and called into question a latex-wearing vigilante. They don’t here because Keaton encapsulates that character in an environment that allows him to exist in the cape and cowl without explanation or justification. Nolan needed almost an hour of film to show his Bruce Wayne training in the League of Shadows after fleeing Gotham. He does forge a believable Batman, it just required a lot of exposition. Burton only needed to put Batman in his true home; no more questions required.

Time hasn’t tainted what’s captured and even if the nostalgia coefficient is applied, there are iconic moments that, when added together, a modern-day franchise would be proud to have collated. They appear here in a singular film. Pfeiffer’s transformation, her changing the neon apartment sign from Hello There to Hell here. Using her whip in the department store, a shot she tirelessly performed herself until perfected. Penguin’s “At least my nose isn’t gushing with blood,” or “I have a name, Oswald Cobblepot,” and “Burn, baby. Burn.” The list of quotes across all characters could fill a few articles. It’s pretty much the bulk of the script.

The “Things change” face-off.

So many modern movies fall under the weight of the third act. The Batman loses the early credit it gains by going too big with a massive ramping up of the stakes. It was too much. Batman Returns keeps it simple. Penguins with rockets equipped. Nothing overly complex; the characters are already layered enough.

For all the moments that should be absurd – but work in this setting – we still have heart. A Bruce Wayne seeking companionship and a way out with someone he knows is flawed but can also see how character is formed in 50/50 moments. His faith in the good he sees in Selina, enough to give up the mantle of Batman to save each other. A surreal movie with so much dark comedy, the fact it still has humanity shows it was doing everything correctly. Perhaps its biggest mistake was doing it too well. Marvel movies like to spell out every emotion. DC – until James Gunn’s new era – generally were darker and relied on the audience to read the subtleties for themselves.

Batman Returns is a movie that delivered on every level, but was sadly overlooked. Batman changed the way superhero movies were perceived and made. Nolan’s trilogy changed them again. Marvel demonstrated how to make a cash cow from IPs. Those last two shifts mean it’s unlikely we’ll see such a complete standalone comic book movie again. They will either try to be too serious, or too mainstream.

Batman Returns was dark, but light. A blockbuster ensemble for a niche audience. Guilty, perhaps, of giving people what they say they want, only to reveal that what they want and what they are willing to accept are not always the same thing.

The Alonso Curse Revisited: Nothing Newey Under the Sun

The Alonso Curse Revisited: Nothing Newey Under the Sun

There are only a few certainties in life. Death, taxes, and Fernando Alonso being in the wrong car at the wrong time. Three years ago, it looked like the infamous Alonso Curse could be lifting. Aston Martin was starting to see front-of-the-pack action. Alonso was on the podium the first three races of the season. Had a time traveller told you back then that by 2026 Alonso would be in an Adrian Newey car, you’d be expecting him to make space in his trophy cabinet for a third world title.

Just the notion of them being in the same team would have sounded far-fetched back then. Newey was Red Bull for the rest of his career. Until Christian Horner became the focal point of a team split. Newey was lured across by more than just Lawrence Stroll’s money (that undoubtedly helped). He was given an active role in shaping more than just the design of cars. He’d be a shareholder and a person with genuine authority. Aston Martin had shiny new facilities and a good track record of investment.

Newey said he needed a new challenge. The option Ferrari presumably offered was his old role in red overalls. Aston Martin may have – initially, at least – overextended Newey. Attempting to put his Midas touch on everything within reach. He was announced as the Team Principal, only for that role to blur and slowly retract as his position as Managing Technical Partner was reaffirmed. Newey is the most successful F1 car designer of all time. It doesn’t mean he can run all technical aspects and the race weekend to the same exacting standards. The attempt to do so will only create a dilution of excellence elsewhere.

This isn’t to say Aston Martin have struggled this year because Newey was spread too thin. A ghost from Alonso’s past – Honda – played a very large part. Honda was reunited with Newey in name, but it now appears many from the Red Bull Honda days had moved on, believing Honda’s time in the sport had elapsed. What Lawrence Stroll made a deal with was a Honda F1 reboot, not the version responsible for Red Bull victories.

It wasn’t just a performance issue with Honda. The vibration was so bad from the integration between engine, battery mounting, gearbox and transmission that Lance Stroll and Alonso limited their running time in the car to avoid permanent injury. But Alonso has been living with the curse for so long, not even this rattled him. The 2017 Honda engine at McLaren suffered from vibration issues. These resonance issues would induce electrical faults after shaking components beyond their finite life. The 2026 sequel was all that and more.

Alonso has largely taken it in his stride. He speaks of being at peace with his career, his achievements. It would be wrong to disbelieve him. Age brings about calmness and reflection. It only becomes a problem for a driver when it dampens down the fire too much. For Alonso, there are signs it still burns fierce. He spoke before the season that he’d be more inclined to carry on if the 2026 car wasn’t perfect, if there was still a challenge. His career choices have led him into situations where victories don’t come with trophies, but achieving the impossible in flawed machinery. 

He still faces that challenge at Aston Martin.

But he also knows time is starting to run out for one last taste of victory. When he declared the Barcelona Grand Prix could be his last, it revealed he is uncertain when he’ll call time on his career. A new contract with Aston Martin has yet to be agreed and his old friend at Alpine, Flavio Briatore, has been linked with recruiting Alonso.

It has all the ingredients for one final, poorly timed, Alonso move. On paper, Alpine may make some sort of sense. They’ll be using Mercedes power in 2027 and that currently looks like the most tempting engine bet on the grid. The team has a big new title sponsor: Gucci. Alonso and Gucci go well together. 

All the signals also align with fulfilling the final phase of The Curse.

He would be leaving Aston Martin at the exact moment a true Newey car is unleashed on the grid. This year’s variant is part-Newey, with Newey himself split into too many parts. The 2027 car is supposedly all Newey. Who wouldn’t want to get behind the steering wheel of that?

We’ll find out if Alonso rolls the dice one last time and finally gets a good hand. There is no perfect choice. A Newey design doesn’t guarantee a title. Lewis Hamilton’s haul attests to that. But being in one certainly improves your chances. Max Verstappen, Sebastian Vettel, Mika Häkkinen all won multiple world titles in a Newey car. Nigel Mansell, Alain Prost, Damon Hill and Jacques Villeneuve all took one apiece for Williams. Having Newey design the car gives a driver a strong hand.

Those four Williams titles highlight an Aston Martin trait that appealed to Newey and could convince Alonso to stay. Lawrence Stroll is seen by Newey as a genuine throwback. He’s seen as an active owner, in the style of Frank Williams. Stroll is giving Newey the keys to the kingdom but he’s not an absent, faceless money man. Alonso has a good relationship with Briatore so there’s a romanticised version where he has one last Enstone chapter.

Alonso has recently dismissed the Alpine idea, but in F1 a denial is not always a full stop. It is an official statement served while everyone in the background continues to move furniture. 

Whatever he chooses next, it won’t be for “the challenge”. Being at the back of the grid for the whole of 2026 is challenging enough. It will be where he thinks – on the balance of probability – he stands the best chance of seeing a race win again. His options are clear: Mercedes power versus Newey design.

It’s the sort of decision that comes down to a coin toss. A 50/50. Within that choice is another factor that could swing the pendulum back to Aston Martin. At Alpine, he would likely be paired with Pierre Gasly. That would be a notable step up from Lance Stroll. Suddenly, he could be facing the George Russell dilemma: fight for a drive in the fastest car (not that the Alpine is expected to be this, but it will have the best engine) only to be outperformed by your team mate.

If Newey delivers a race-winning Aston Martin, it will be Fernando, not Lance, claiming those wins. If the Alpine becomes competitive, it’s plausible Gasly reveals the effects of Father Time on Alonso.

Which turns the 50/50 choice into a three-way split.

He could retire. After years of unfortunate timing in the transfer market, he may well decide he can’t face the prospect of another long year of uncertainty – or worse – watching the car he could have been in outperform the one he chose every race weekend.

Of the three choices, retirement is the one this writer fears most. Alonso has a claim to be the best driver of his generation. He’s now with the best designer in the history of the sport. It would be a shame not to see how it plays out. Even if the progress is slow to start, a Newey car with some Fernando DNA sounds like something worth sticking around for. It seems almost impossible the results wouldn’t eventually follow.

Curses can be lifted. Newey could well be the man to perform an exorcism. If it’s just poor timing and coincidence, probability states he has to make the right choice at some point.

If it’s just good old-fashioned luck, he’s due a bit before he hangs up his helmet.

I Can’t Breathe

I Can’t Breathe

Henry Nowak was a promising young 18-year-old man who was brutally murdered. Described as “kind, intelligent and talented”. His life was taken in a senseless, violent act. His murderer falsely accused Henry of racism to the police attending the scene. Their subsequent inaction – based on this accusation – condemned Henry to dying in handcuffs while repeating the words: I can’t breathe.

Those same words had been spoken by a man in police detention before. Famously by George Floyd, whose subsequent death during a police arrest led to mass protests – riots – politicians taking the knee. A movement whose core voice was also its name: Black Lives Matter. Anyone, from any race, colour or creed, asking parity for all lives had missed the point.

George Floyd, BLM, taking the knee — civil revolt, they are all by-products of their time and environment.

The treatment of Henry Nowak, the lack of reaction by the general public, the coverage by the mainstream media, and the juxtaposition of deafening silence by people – such as Keir Starmer – as details emerged, compared to the furore in the days following Floyd’s death, show that not only do we live in different times, but that there are different standards applied depending on race.

Instead of people pulling down statues, the wool is being pulled down over eyes and ears.

It is right to call for calm. To avoid using this tragic moment for further hate or political gain. Henry’s father, Mark Nowak, exemplified strength and dignity as he made a speech following the verdict. He said the family didn’t want Henry’s death to cause further division, hatred or tension.

It gave this writer pause before putting words to page.

Division. Hatred. Rising tensions.

All key ingredients for creating the sort of environment where innocent people die in the care of those expected to protect and to serve.

It’s only possible to find hope, love, and understanding through difficult conversations and hard choices.

Vickrum Digwa stabbed Henry five times with a religious ceremonial dagger, known as a kirpan. It is part of the Sikh religious code for believers to carry one. There are accepted alternatives to carrying a full dagger but under UK law, as long as the kirpan is being carried for religious practice, it is not illegal.

Understandably, the legality of carrying a weapon – albeit, purely as a religious artefact – has now come under scrutiny. Some of this will be from dissenting voices distrustful of any outsider faith, others from a place of logic and fairness. It should be noted Sikhs in the UK have a lower crime rate than other demographics while being disproportionately vulnerable to religious and racial hate crimes.

The actions of Vickrum Digwa shouldn’t drag an entire community into the firing line. The murder was the action of an evil individual who had been barred from a Gurdwara for his conduct. He is not reflective of Sikhism, which calls for equality of all mankind, honest conduct, and striving for justice.

Following the case, it is clear Digwa was a despicable human and a non-practising Sikh.

One bad example shouldn’t create division among different people and cultures.

However, if something can go wrong once, to the degree an innocent young man loses his life, every preventable action should be taken to stop it happening again. Blasphemy laws have been abolished in the UK. A step that is seen to modernise society. But to the side of this, certain religions have exemptions. These run counter to the clean worldview a post-blasphemy law country should look like.

No exemption should exist for any faith to carry what would otherwise be illegal.

The laws of the land should not bow to practices and beliefs from elsewhere. It has allowed one bad actor to find a loophole and carry out a heinous act. One time is one too many and it could inspire others to deliberately look for other ways to circumvent laws under the guise of religious freedom.

Creating exemptions – loopholes – is two-tier justice. There have been accusations of two-tier policing. Details that have emerged around police training suggest there has been an over-correction that has led police forces in the UK to be more concerned with appearing racist than acting without prejudice.

Henry Nowak said nine times that he couldn’t breathe.

He told them he’d been stabbed.

One officer replied: “I don’t think you have, mate.”

Of course he had been. Fatally. And the inadequate police inspection for any wounds was only part of the treatment – which Henry’s family described as “inhumane and degrading” – by the police which meant in the last moments of his life, he died without hope, in blind panic.

There was bias – how unconscious or deliberate, you can decide – with both George Floyd and Henry Nowak which led to their respective deaths.

For George Floyd, the attending police officer reacted with bias created because he believed the man in question was a threat and acted with inappropriate force.

Henry Nowak was the victim of a different fear: institutional terror of being seen as racist. To such a degree that an accusation of racism took operational priority over the duty of care to a dying victim.

Even as the details emerged, the power of racism drove the narrative and the media’s acknowledgement of the incident.

Floyd had fentanyl and methamphetamine in his system, which may have contributed to his death, while not being the cause. He didn’t comply with the arresting officers. But the story became charged. His death at the hands of law enforcement created a storm that travelled across the Atlantic, creating a watershed moment.

Nowak had less alcohol in his system than the UK drink driving limit. He had been falsely accused of being drunk, abusive and racist. He pleaded with the police for help, while being compliant with unnecessary handcuffing. While the key difference between the deaths – the police didn’t murder Nowak, Digwa did – the police in both instances acted on assumption and feeling. Fear without evidence.

The backlash has been subdued and gravitas of what such police behaviour represents downplayed by police commissioners and the Prime Minister.

George Floyd’s death was treated as a way to start the great exposé.

Henry Nowak’s has been met with an attempt to create a cover-up.

Some of the covering up is deliberate. It’s from the same agenda that created a world where being white means you can never be the victim of racism. It’s from a legacy media culture more comfortable exposing one kind of institutional prejudice than another. A Prime Minister who is aptly named Two-Tier Keir.

Some of it is so obtuse, it can only offend. Judge Mousley, when sentencing Digwa, started his minimum term at 15 years. In the UK, it is a mandatory life sentence of 25 years for murdering with a knife. Judge Mousley said Digwa hadn’t carried the murder weapon with the intention to use it. A non-Sikh would not be given this leniency if they’d been walking home from Argos with a new set of kitchen knives.

Judge Mousley added eight years (but removed two for “mitigating factors”) because Digwa “abused the privilege extended to Sikhs”. In doing so, reinforcing a two-tier view of the modern UK and protecting the sanctity of a religious exemption above the principle of equal law.

It is all indicative of an imbalance. But people’s rage has become colour-blind. Or worse, driven by the strongest virtue signal.

It is too insensitive to proclaim: White Lives Matter. But leader of the opposition, Kemi Badenoch, said “every life matters”. Which falls very close to another phrase. Writing in 2020 about the aftermath of George Floyd’s death, I wrote: People using the counter chant All Lives Matter, haven’t understood the core issues. It’s a big part of their privilege, believing a universal view is the fix for isolated problems they’ll never face.

It hasn’t aged well. We’re all facing different issues but they are by-products of the same misguided ideology. There is a universal fix: stop the overcorrection, the fear of being seen as something you are not, create a truly equal and fair society.

If your anti-racism, policing concerns, civil-liberty principles, rage against the establishment, or human-rights activism only activate for some victims, you are not seeking fairness or justice. They are nothing more than pliable and malleable principles shaped around misguided loyalty to causes only wearing justice’s clothing to cover harmful agendas.

Justice is when all lives are afforded the same set of rules and are judged through the same lens. No exceptions. No excuses.