Batman & Robin: The Novelization part 1
After a conversation with my brother and sister about our rankings of the various Batman movies, I was disturbed, nay, horrified to find out that one of my siblings (I’ll leave it vague to protect their identity) preferred Batman and Robin over Batman Returns.
Not so much because Batman Returns is the finest film ever made, but because I consider Batman and Robin to be one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen.
There’s a long story behind this, several of you have heard it, and I’ll sum it up fast: I was in that Columbia House movie club thing when I was a teen, and I mistakenly opened a package containing Batman and Robin, which forced me to purchase it. I know this sounds really weird if you grew up in the post-Columbia-House age, but trust me, this was nowhere near the wildest thing about the 90’s.
This means I have a special relationship with Batman and Robin. It was foisted upon me, and I watched it to give it my best.
My god. That is one cheap-looking expensive movie.
A few days after this conversation, I was at the thrift store and noticed the novelization of Batman & Robin, which I bought. I figured I could give it to my sister as a gift, seeing as it’s her FAVORITE movie (wait, shit, I just revealed who it is. Oh, well. Just be cool about it).
And then I started reading, and I was like, “Hey, this is nothing like the movie.”
So I decided to make some additions of my own to better replicate not only what happened on screen, but the feelings I had when I watched the opening sequence, stunned that it kept getting worse and worse. Somehow it was bad, then worse, then worse again, then worse again.
Without further preamble, here is the first little section of Batman & Robin: The novelization.
In a chamber all gleaming chrome and inky shadow, a black gauntlet snapped into place over a butt cheek. The folds of a dark cape whipped around said butt cheek. Then whipped away, then back again. This display of butt cheek is really important to this story, trust me.
Next, a bat-shaped buckle locked a codpiece over an immodestly-girthed schlong.
Close by, close enough to feel the heat emanating off of Batman, a hand reached out and tenderly grasped…a silver Throwing Bird from a weapons array. A black eye-mask was raised into place. Which means it was put over someone’s face, specifically the eyes part of the face. I started that sentence assuming you knew where an eye mask goes, but that’s not fair to you.
Tunic armor clicked shut, revealing the insignia of Robin over Robin’s shredded abs and codpiece, which, while not as large as Batman’s, was very respectable for a crime fighter just getting started, really.
Batman emerged from his costume vault and into the ridiculous, extremely impractical grandeur of the Batcave. After the cave had been destroyed by The Riddler in the last movie, er, in the last adventure Batman had, a fortune had been spent on redesigning and rebuilding it. Deep excavation had virtually doubled its size. If only Batman had done as deep an emotional excavation.
New state-of-the-art computer systems flashed through the best candystand.com games. Surveillance screens monitoring news and police frequencies kept an ever-alert eye on everything that happened in Gotham city, as well as auto-bidding on some stuff on eBay. Hey, when you’re the richest man in the world, you can just set up a program that goes: [if outbid: bid more, repeat until end of auction].
Through a hiss of what was definitely escaping steam, 100% not farts, Batman strode toward the pedestal that rose from the center of the cave floor. On it stood a new, sleeker, more powerful Batmobile that would totally have every bastard kid around holiday time bothering the shit out of their parents to get them one.
Robin appeared in the bird-shaped doorway of his own vault, ready to follow Batman into the passenger seat, which would activate the Batmobile’s automatic voice to say, “Petulant bitch passenger mode activated.” Was it petty of Batman to put that in the Batmobile? Yes. Is Batman a superhero who has based his entire life around pettiness, never getting over one bad night from his childhood? Also yes.
A discreet cough announced the presence of Alfred Pennyworth, the butler who was entrusted with the crimfighters’ secret identities. He stepped forward out of the shadows. His cough probably meaning nothing. Just ignore it. But don’t forget it. Notice it, then forget about it until later, okay?
“Do call if you’re going to be late for dinner, sir,” he said in his rich English voice, as his boss slid into the Batmobile.
Batman didn’t mention that this was a stupid thing to say because it was already dark out, way past dinner already. Alfred was always trying out material, and unfortunately this latest joke was on its third night in a row and wearing a little thing. But Alfred was a butler, not a comedian.
The Batmobile’s turbos roared into life, and the vehicle shot forward through the arches of the cave access tunnel. Behind, the segmented top of the Batmobile service pedestal split wide, like the opening petal of a flower, and the sound effect of a woman moaning echoed through the cave.
Was it unforgivably horny of Robin to do that? Maybe, but his costume had nipples on it by now, so when in Rome.
Revealed at the opening’s center was the Redbird, Robin’s newly customized motorcycle.
“Drive carefully,” Alfred admonished.
“Don’t wait up, Al,” he said, the words almost lost in the roar as the Redbird exploded into motion, speeding off after the Batmobile.
Alfred stood for a moment and watched them go. Then he relaxed, leaning his weight against the main computer console. For a moment he let a great feeling of weakness wash over him, before mentally pulling himself together again. He was not as well as he seemed. Okay, NOW remember that cough from before. See how I laid that in there? Because in movies, NOBODY coughs unless they’re really super sick. It’s not like if this elderly actor had coughed while saying his lines, they would’ve just left it in there. Use your brain, dummy.