Sight and Sound
"...The closest the film series has come to the once-reviled 60s television show..." 08/01/1997 p.39-40USA Today
"...[Clooney's] voice, bearing and dark cowl-friendly eyes make him the best Batman yet..." 06/20/1997 p.4D New York Times
"...As played by Uma Thurman, Poison Ivy is perfect, flaunting great looks, a mocking attitude and madly flamboyant disguises..." 06/20/1997 p.C1 ReelViews 6 of 10
With Batman and Robin, the fourth entry in the recent Batman movie series, the profitable franchise appears poised to take a nosedive. This film, which places yet another actor in the batsuit, has all the necessary hallmarks of a sorry sequel -- pointless, plodding plotting; asinine action; clueless, comatose characterization; and dumb dialogue...Fetishists will probably love Batman and Robin. There are rubber nipples, crotch and butt shots as the dynamic duo (and later Batgirl) suit up, bikers and crooks decked out in kinky, Clockwork Orange-like regalia, and Uma Thurman dressed and acting like a dominatrix. It all goes nicely with the film's attempt at sensory overload. Director Joel Schumacher has taken Tim Burton's dark vision of Gotham City and shifted it into overdrive. This is a weird, wild, wacky world where gothic skyscrapers reach like twisted fingers into the clouds, and where the batsignal shines brighter than the moon. However, like the movie as a whole, this aspect is as briefly captivating as it is hollow and soulless. It quickly becomes clear that the picture's lone selling point is that it looks great, but, in an era when blockbuster budgets are routinely topping $100 million, that's no longer special...Batman and Robin moves at a dizzying pace, yet goes absolutely nowhere. Somewhere between the quarter and mid-point of this film, things turn repetitious and tedious...We become numb to the glitz and glamour, but, looking beyond it, we see only a vacuum. In trying to put the "comic" back into "comic book", Schumacher has reduced Batman to the equivalent of a daily newspaper strip -- disjointed and painfully shallow. The character probably deserves more respect, but, in Batman and Robin, he doesn't get it. And, for that matter, neither does the audience. - James Berardinelli
Chicago Sun-Times 6 of 10
Because of my love for the world of Batman, I went to Joel Schumacher's ``Batman & Robin'' with real anticipation. I got thrilled all over again by the Gothic towers of Gotham City. I was reminded of how cool the Batmobile is (Batman has a new one), and I smiled at the fetishistic delight with which Batman and Robin put on their costumes, sheathing themselves in shiny black second skins and clamping on lots of belts, buckles, shields, hooks, pulleys, etc...But my delight began to fade at about the 30-minute mark, when it became clear that this new movie, like its predecessors, was not *really* going to explore the bizarre world of its heroes, but would settle down safely into a special effects extravaganza. ``Batman & Robin,'' like the first three films in the series, is wonderful to look at, and has nothing authentic at its core...There is a scene that illustrates what I mean. It comes during the dreary central section of the film. Bruce Wayne (George Clooney) dines at home with his fiancee for the past year, Julie Madison (Elle MacPherson). Julie says she would like to spend the rest of her life with Wayne. Bruce hems and haws and talks about his bachelorhood and the complications of his life. Julie looks as if she has heard all of this before. The scene is interrupted by an emergency...Watching it, I realized why it makes absolutely no difference who plays Batman: There's nobody at home. The character is the ultimate Suit. Garb him in leather or rubber, and he's an action hero--Buzz Lightyear with a heartbeat. Put him in civilian clothes, and he's a nowhere man...My prescription for the series remains unchanged: scale down. We don't need to see $2 million on the screen every single minute. Give the foreground to the characters, not the special effects. And ask the hard questions about Bruce Wayne. - Roger Ebert
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