Joel Schumacher’s costumed spectacle has inventive sets and an amusing Uma Thurman. But the repetitive action, wearying ice jokes and uninteresting heroes make it poor entertainment, however much there is to look at.
Joel Schumacher treats Batman & Robin as an opportunity for broad comedy and extravagant costumes, and there is nothing inherently wrong with that choice. We do not require Batman to spend every evening looking distressed. But this is a poor action film and a tiring comedy: its jokes repeat, its fights blur together, and its heroes seldom seem to matter. Most critics have little patience with it, and we agree, though the work on the sets deserves more consideration than the screenplay.
George Clooney’s Batman / Bruce Wayne is so relaxed that danger barely seems to concern him. The performance leaves us waiting for some urgency, or even curiosity, that might make him worth following through all this machinery. Chris O’Donnell gets little more from Robin / Dick Grayson, and their partnership never supplies the pleasure of two people who are interesting together. Akiva Goldsman’s screenplay gives them plenty to say without making us eager to hear it.
Uma Thurman fares better as Poison Ivy / Dr. Pamela Isley. Her mocking manner and succession of disguises make the character entertaining to watch even when the writing offers little help. We were amused by her, because she makes the costumes part of the joke rather than simply something to wear while delivering it. Arnold Schwarzenegger is less fortunate as Mr. Freeze / Dr. Victor Fries. His ice jokes arrive so regularly that we start bracing for the next one before he has finished the present one.
Barbara Ling’s production design gives the machinery and sets enough character to compete with the cast. There is pleasure in looking at constructions this brazenly excessive, and their extravagance suits the kind of entertainment the film wants to provide. Stephen Goldblatt’s cinematography serves that same appetite for conspicuous colour and display, making the surroundings more inviting than the action within them. The difficulty is emphasis: with so much demanding attention, the images rarely help us decide what actually matters in a scene.
Editors Mark Stevens and Dennis Virkler keep things moving, but the action sequences become difficult to distinguish in their effect. More hardware and more stunts provide little sense that anyone has gained or lost something worth caring about. Elliot Goldenthal’s music contributes to the bustle without making these confrontations feel much more consequential. We were bored by the repeated action and then irritated by the ice jokes, because the film kept returning to both without finding anything fresh to do with either.
At 125 minutes, there is plenty of space to establish the characters, yet the crowded screenplay makes most of them feel incidental. Alicia Silverstone’s Barbara Wilson adds another presence without making the story more involving. The middle stretch is particularly weak, with neither the comedy nor the action providing much reason to anticipate the next scene. There is willing effort among the cast, but the material leaves too many performers competing for attention rather than building scenes together.
A superhero comedy needs comic timing as much as any other comedy, and this one too often assumes that a conspicuous costume will do the work. There is no need to object to its silliness or wish it were solemn. The disappointment is how seldom its elaborate preparations produce a satisfying laugh or an exciting fight. Only a strong interest in extravagant sets would make us recommend sitting through the rest.
