BATMAN - TV series: Blu-ray (Greenway Productions 1966-68) Warner Home Video
The 1966-68 Batman television series is an acquired
taste. If one can set aside the diehard affinity for the DC Comic books, and
also, to pretend all subsequent Batman incarnations,
including the Dark Knight graphic novels and the movies have not occurred, then
perhaps it’s still possible to glean a modicum of appreciation and respect for
all the campiness actors, Adam West and Burt Ward have wrought. Personal
opinion, of course, but I was never able to set aside my prejudices – nee,
expectations – for the pre-Dark Knight Batman
I grew up with as a DC Comics devotee. So, to see a decidedly un-muscular and,
in fact, somewhat paunchy West, squeezed into two-tone gray spandex and wearing
a skull cap/mask, more deliciously resembling an effete kitty than a virile bat,
left me cold and unimpressed. Yes, the series was designed to be camp/comedy
rather than action/adventure; and yes, to a certain sect of prepubescent tots,
it had its appeal and, undoubtedly, has remained a touchstone for Batman completionists around the world,
who have been clamoring at the gates of Warner Bros. ever since, demanding the
series come to home video in any format. Oh, those pesky ‘rights issues’!
Apart from the
more than competent reoccurring supporting cast, including Alan Napier as Bruce
Wayne’s ever-devoted butler, Alfred; Neil Hamilton, as the vigilant – though
decidedly impotent police chief, Commissioner Gordon, and Stafford Repp, as an
even more foppish, Chief O’Hara, the series was justly famous for keeping alive
the sex-kitten reputation of 50’s pinup, Julie Newmar (appropriately cast as
Catwoman). Batman was always in danger of succumbing to Newmar’s feminine
charms; equally challenged by his reoccurring arch nemeses, The Penguin
(Burgess Meredith), The Riddler (Frank Gorshin) and, of course, The Joker
(Cesar Romero), among several others. While there remain loyalists to the
series who will profess none of the aforementioned have ever been better, I’ll
simply offer the alternative theory, I suspect each did their best work
elsewhere.
Meredith’s
guttural quacking always seemed slightly panged and quietly perverse, as though
he had just accidentally penetrated the seat of his pants by inadvertently
sitting hard on a very sharp object, while Romero’s Joker more closely resembled
a reject from the Barnum & Bailey clown school than the mad criminal genius
as written in the DC Comics. As for Gorshin’s punster; frantically hopping
about like a spritely/brightly attired Leprechaun runaway from Disney’s Darby O’Gill and the Little People (1958); he repeatedly fumbled the cream of
his jests in the eleventh hour; reverting to a frightened man/child. None of these…um…villains, were ever a threat
to our hero, leaving the feral Catwoman in charge of igniting Batman’s sensory
perceptions in manipulative ways. This, I do confess, Julie Newmar convincingly
did, although even she was forced to concede her seductively feline charms as
no match for Batman’s superior crime-fighting prowess. (Aside: Catwoman was
never the same once Eartha Kitt assumed the role. Ditto for the series trading
in George Sanders for Eli Wallach as Mr. Freeze.) For me, at least, Batman might have worked had producers,
William Dozier, William P. D'Angelo and Howie Horwitz gone the route of casting
an actor who physically looked the part of a Charles Atlas knockoff.
Let us step
back for a moment to recall that the Batman
of DC’s original comic series was hardly the testosterone-injected,
steroid-abusing mutant he later became (as, tragically has become the case with
all the ‘superheroes’ we once idolized – mostly, as men – who kept themselves
in tiptop physical conditioning, but were still relatively natural in
appearance; their taut muscle tissue, the result of rigorous diet, exercise and
a daily regime of adventurism that tested their crime-fighting agility). Today,
there isn’t a one – Batman included
– who doesn’t look like the proverbial juicehead from Gold’s Gym, his
musculature egregiously blown out to freakish proportions. As such, and by the
standards of masculinity circa 1966, perhaps Clint Walker or Steve Reeves would
have been excellent choices for Batman;
Walker, in particular, a veritable mound of muscle that could have been poured
into spandex and still rippled in the part. But no: producers went with West,
who looks rather laughably feminine in his stretchy tights and black satiny
cape. With Burt Ward’s Robin at his side, this ‘dynamic duo’ takes on a
decidedly gay subtext that, even in the ‘let
it all hang out’ generation of the show’s incubation, was unintentional.
Worse, is the way
the veritable army of writers brought into the series seem to have concocted
one episode after another where our caped crusaders inadvertently bumbled and
stumble into crime follies, predictably always foiled in the last ten minutes
of the show when West and Ward’s moxie suddenly kicks into high gear. Pow!
Whack! Thwack! Thump! Bang! Bam! You get the picture. Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na: Batman!
In hindsight, the episodes appear to be
a case in support of the old adage about ‘too
many cooks spoiling the broth’. Some episodes very much resemble a series
of loosely strung together sight gags and vignettes – killing run time, as it
were – until the inevitable eleventh hour rescues/exoneration of our heroes.
Again, the
irony is not lost on me. TV’s Batman was
never intended to be anything more than delirious camp. But it’s a curiosity of
sorts and even more of an oddity because it chronically fails, even in this
respect, to rise to the level of a wicked satire/booby-hatch funny; instead
resorting to a kind of daft silliness, bordering on the absurd. What we are
essentially left with, then, is not even a loose adaptation of the DC Comics
hero; but a series merely borrowing the iconography from the comics and
recasting it as a sort of wannabe Batman
knockoff, who gets the job done in spite of himself. In a nutshell, TV’s Batman and Robin were set up as the renegade
salvation of Gotham, besought by an ineffectual Commissioner Gordon, via the ‘Bat
Phone’ to take up the cause of ridding its streets of crime. Bruce Wayne’s ever-loyal butler, Alfred is
aware of his millionaire/philanthropist’s alternative ‘lifestyle’ – nee crime-fighting
hobby. Not so for Dickie’s benign Aunt Harriet Cooper (Madge Blake, vamping as
though she has just stepped out of a 30’s screwball comedy); an enthusiastic of
this dynamic duo.
Batman is one of those series that suffered from a near
chronic inability to discover its niche in its own time. It ran 34 episodes
during its debut year; a near record 60 for season two, and a scant 26 for
season three. Even its format went through an upheaval of sorts; seasons one
and two running as weekly adventures split over two nights, with a fairly
predictable ‘cliffhanger’ airing at the end of part one. For its final season,
this exercise was pared down to one episode per week, the cliffhanger replaced
by an epilogue promo, introducing the audience to ‘next week’s villain’. Season
three also attempted to marginalize the feminization of Batman and Robin by
introducing Yvonne Craig into the mix as Commissioner Gordon’s seemingly benign
and bookish daughter, Barbara – who joined the pair in their crime-fighting
adventures as Batgirl (though inevitably, had to usually be rescued/protected
by either Batman or Robin).
Despite its
popularity with kiddies mostly – and, an ever-revolving roster of A-list big
screen talents, brought in to appeal more directly to the adult TV viewer -
Batman only lasted three seasons on ABC; its perennial syndication ever since,
far more lucrative for the network than its initial debut. Actors, Julie Newmar
and Frank Gorshin became minor celebrities, thanks to their manic turns as
Catwoman and The Riddler respectively. Other prominent actors to don the role
of the villain included Carolyn Jones (TV’s Morticia Addams, here cast as the
slinky Marsha, Queen of Diamonds) Vincent Price (looking Dr. Phibes-ish as
Egghead), Milton Berle (as oily gangster-land styled thug, Louie the Lilac),
Ethel Merman (Lola Lasagne), Bruce Lee (Kato), Edward Everett Horton (Chief
Screaming Chicken), and, in reportedly the most widely watched and highest
rated episode, 1966’s The Devil’s Finger;
Liberace as Chanell. I have to admit, the ‘look
who’s here’ quality of the episodes is a lot of fun, and the stylistic
elements have their way and place within the general narrative structure.
Alas, I still
cannot forgive or excuse Adam West’s lethally wooden depiction of Bruce
Wayne/Batman. For me, at least, the joie de vivre in West’s performance has
never gone beyond a stick of very brittle/very dry kindling. Again, an obvious
muscle man might have done more for - and with - the part: physically, at
least. You can forgive a bad actor his bad acting on occasion if he, at least, ‘looks’ the part. West doesn’t. He’s
lanky, narrow-hipped, and even more tragically narrow-shouldered. No pecs, no
lats, no biceps, no sale! As such, it’s laughable – in a bad way – to watch him
take a crack at Cesar Romero’s Joker (Romero having been something of a swarthy
and robust Latin heartthrob in Fox musicals from the 1940’s). And West’s
grimace, as he throws a punch, or stammers at a kick, looks not as though he’s
putting his all into the fight itself, but rather shying away from it in a sort
of ‘get away from me you baddies - yuck!
How repulsive! I need a new line of work!’
Still, I
confess I have seen every one of
these episodes more than once. Like a train wreck, there’s a hypnotic quality
to Jack Martin Smith’s cartoon-colored psychedelic art direction; veritable eye
candy, a la the Pee-Wee’s Playhouse flavor.
But honestly, revisiting the series once more on Blu-ray, and from the vantage of
our present-day reevaluation and re-envisioning of the Batman franchise – with weightier talent, tales and tomes extolled
in service of the graphic novel’s ‘dark knight’, its increasingly a challenge –
if not quite impossible – to get into this old series, even as a time capsule
of how far we’ve come; despite its iconic Batmobile (whose modified Lincoln
Futura design by George Barris every art director working on a subsequent Batman movie since has had to emulate).
There are those, I am sure, who will slam me for my ‘inability’ to appreciate these
satirical elements. Oh well; to each his own. And yes, there remains a modicum
of truth-ringing social commentary to be gleaned herein as well; the sarcasm
and wicked lampoon later picked up by the team of Jim Abrahams, Jerry and David
Zucker for their Airplane and Naked Gun franchises.
While the
series still rates about a D+ in my not so humble opinion, there’s nothing
shoddy or second rate about Warner Home Video’s new hi-def Blu-ray limited
edition box set. All 120 episodes have been lovingly remastered for maximum
eye-popping clarity. Prepare to be dazzled, because Batman was originally photographed on film; so contrast, color
saturation and fine details are all superb. There are extremely minute traces
of film-related artifacts present – so inconsequential they’re not even worth mentioning,
except to say they’ll be noticed because the rest of the image is razor-sharp
and breathtakingly realized with its inherent grain structure preserved. Really
good stuff here. One sincerely wishes Warner Home Video would give other
vintage – and better – TV series like Dallas
(1978-91), The Dukes of Hazzard
(1979-85) and Falcon Crest (1981-90)
– among others – similar consideration in the near future. But back to Batman; we get the show’s original mono
audio mastered in Dolby Digital – not DTS. Huh?!? Nevertheless, it sounds about
right – competently rendered if winning no awards for audio track of the year.
Special features are confined to a single Blu-ray and include, Hanging with Batman; narrated and
starring Adam West. Holy nepotism,
Batman! At just under a half hour, it’s jam-packed with archival footage,
home movies, vintage stills, press clippings, screen tests, etc. West is
congenial enough as he affectionately waxes about the show. Fair enough – it gave
him a career…and a legacy. Holy Memorabilia,
Batman! is a look at the varied collectibles merchandised to keep the
franchise alive these many years. Like the previous featurette, this one too
runs just under thirty minutes. Hmmm. There must be something contractual about
paying more if it exceeds this time limit. We’re treated to confirmed
Batman-phile, Kevin Silva and his enormous private collection; also to Mark
Racop, who shows off his custom-built Batmobile replicas. Batmania Born! Building the World of Batman delves into the
cultural and historical context of the show, its impact then and now, and its
extraordinary use of, then contemporary, pop art. This is, arguably, the best
featurette of the lot: a veritable showcase of archival interviews from
historians, animated series producers, DC Comics legends, and too many others
to list. You’ll get an awful lot of welcomed history in this featurette. Not so much in Bats of the Round Table.
Despite running a scant fifteen minutes short of an hour, and featuring alumni
and newbees alike, this one’s mostly a self-congratulatory ho-hum and a yawn. Inventing Batman: In the Words of Adam West
is an hour long visual commentary; an opportunity to re-watch the two-part
pilot: feature that allows viewers to watch the original two-part pilot: Hi Diddle
Riddle/Smack in the Middle with both audio and picture in picture commentary, and
occasional video interruptions from Adam West. One wonders why Warner did not
simply include access to this feature on the actual two episodes contained on
Disc One. Compression issues, perhaps.
Na Na Na
Batman! is, in my opinion – pointless: a fairly benign ‘appreciation’
of the series put forth from ‘Supernatural’ stars Jensen Ackles,
Misha Collins, and Jared Padelecki, and, that show’s producer, Adam Glass. From
TV’s Arrow
we get Stephen Amell, Willa Holland, Emily Bett-Rickards, Caity Lotz, and David
Ramsey, also, that show’s producers, Greg Berlanti and Andrew Kreisberg. From The
Following, comes comments from Shawn Ashmore, Kevin Bacon, and James
Purefoy; from The Mentalist; Rockmond Dunbar, Tim Kang, Bruno Heller and Tom
Szentgyorgyi; from Shameless, Mike O’Malley, and from DC Animation; director Jay
Oliva and creative director, Mike Carlin. With such a string of luminaries you’d
expect this featurette to run at least a half hour. Wrong! It’s twelve minutes
of sound bites, so inarticulately strung together that there’s precious little
time for anyone to do anything except admit how great they think Batman is. Thanks, fellas. We gathered
as much!
Lumped
together under Bat Rarities! are
some curious oddities, including 7 ½ minutes of a Batgirl pilot, screen tests of Adam West and Burt Ward, more screen
tests with actors Lyle Waggoner and Peter Deyell and a benign tribute to James
Blakely, the series’ post production supervisor James Blakeley. Warner Home
Video has also given Batman some serious physical swag, all of it housed in a
fairly lavish cardboard case with a ‘Bat Flap’. We get a die-cast Hot Wheels Batmobile,
44 trading cards and Warner’s usual affinity for putting together card cover,
but thoroughly disposable, 32 pg. booklets; more gloss than content. The
booklet does detail the content of the 13 discs included in this set. Bottom
line: if you are a fan of Batman:
the series, you are absolutely going to love this deluxe box set. Holy hi-def, Batman!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
4.5
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