Now, in this transcendent new stage of my existence, I have to wonder if all those post-70s, outrageously grim adaptations of the Batman franchise are an indirect response to the 60s Batman. (Batman 6-0, if you will.) Has it all been an act of spite? Were they so annoyed by the show that they reacted by taking Batman even more seriously than he takes himself? "How dare you act like a guy dressing up as a bat in order to fight crime is an inherently silly concept? I'LL SHOW YOU! I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!"
(Note that I'm obviously not including the DC Animated Universe in this. The DCAU brings light to my life.)
[EDIT AS OF 5/9/2014: Jumping in to say that I've just seen the tape of the Batman 75th anniversary panel at Paley and OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT. Like, Michael Uslan, who produced a ton of Batman movies including the Burton one and the Dark Knight trilogy, actually straight-up said that when he saw Batman 6-0 when it came out, he was so upset that he made a vow to show the world "what the true Batman is like." More on this later.]
Being who I am, though, I can never resist an adaptation that seems to be laughing at itself the entire time — so, out of the generosity of my heart, I thought I'd share an episode so we can all experience this together.
"Enter Batgirl, Exit Penguin"
Batman and Robin are strolling through the Batcave fresh from an apparent battle with Catwoman; you'd think that they'd be able to take a well-deserved break, but avatars of justice and billionaire playboys never sleep, apparently, because Bruce reminds Dick that they're going to the opera with Chief O'Hara and Commissioner Gordon. Dick tries to beg out in favor of doing homework, but Bruce points out that since Commissioner Gordon is bringing his daughter Barbara to be Bruce's date, Dick's attendance is mandatory.
I have to admit that I'm missing some leap of logic there. Does Bruce need moral support on his date? Does he think that third-wheeling will teach Dick some much-needed social skills? Help me out here.
Batgadgets: In the first episode I saw, we had Bat Earplugs, the Bat Research Shelf, and a Bat-O-Meter (to measure radiation, obviously.) In this episode, not only do we pass the Emergency Batcall Box and a Batradarscope, but Bruce and Dick leave the Batcave with the help of their trusty Compressed Steam Batpole Lifts. I refuse to believe that anyone involved in the making of this show took it seriously in the slightest.
Meanwhile, Barbara Gordon is just walking out of work for the day, in a fantastic yellow swing coat that I absolutely covet, by the way. Her dad calls her at the library for a brief conversation that does very little but establish that A) she's coming to the opera with them, B) she just got out of college, and C) Jim Gordon is the type of dad who sees nothing wrong with setting his daughter up with a much older man. Bruce is, what, in his 30s? Your daughter's 22, Jim. Don't make it weird, Jim.
Of course, two minutes later Barbara gets into the elevator and is nabbed by the Penguin, via umbrella handles, so all of that immediately becomes moot.
Gordon and O'Hara arrive at Barbara's apartment and are surprised when she never seems to have arrived home. In hindsight, that phone call may have been there to assure the audience that Barbara wasn't so appalled at the idea of going to the opera that she was planning to run away to join the circus.
It turns out, however, that she is merely in the next apartment over! The Penguin really has a flair for the dramatic. Wait, what am I saying? He's a Gotham villain. Of course he has a flair for the dramatic.
He also has bowler-hatted henchmen. You can tell that they're henchmen because in addition to the all-black uniforms and the vaguely hostile square jaws, they all have the word "HENCHMAN" printed on their shirts. I have to say, I'm very impressed by the villains of Gotham and their dedication to both thematic costuming and the social hierarchy. Catwoman put her henchmen in leopard print and fake ears; Penguin declares their expendability in bright white letters right across their chests. And you know he probably had to get that specially ordered, too.
Bruce and Dick have just arrived at Barbara's apartment when the Penguin makes a very cheerful phone call from approximately twenty feet and two walls away. He has to give the genus crimesolvers in the next room a few very pointed hints before they twig to the fact that he's kidnapped Barbara, but once they're all on the same page, he informs them that he's going to make Barbara "the happiest girl in Gotham City" and points them to the society page of that afternoon's paper.
His brilliant plan this afternoon is, apparently, to marry Barbara Gordon and become Commissioner Gordon's son-in-law, thereby escaping any legal ramifications for his crimes. I have two questions here. First, did the legal system work that way in the 1960s? Because I feel like the legal system really didn't work that way in the 1960s. It's not like marrying a policeman's daughter gives you diplomatic immunity, particularly if you're forcing her into said marriage.
Second, they put this in the newspaper and nobody at all thought something seemed hinky about this? None of the editors cast their gaze over the announcement and thought, "Wait, a noted villain is getting married — to Barbara Gordon? Maybe I should call Commissioner Gordon and double check this."
I suppose at least we can thank heavens for the fact that Penguin is a drama queen who has to broadcast his devious plans to the world before he actually goes through with them. He could have married Barbara Gordon three times over before Gordon, O'Hara, Bruce, or Dick had any inkling of what was going on.
Barbara, for the record, is less than thrilled about the idea of marrying Penguin — "Really, Penguin? All that waddling around you do must have scrambled your brains." — but he threatens her father via the expedient method of shooting a convenient cardboard cutout of him, and Barbara reluctantly complies.
Where do you even get a cardboard cutout of the Police Commissioner? Do you have to specially order that, too? Is there a secret underground market in Gotham City that caters to villains and their accessorizing needs?
The henchmen go to steal a minister, but there's another twist in the plan: Alfred and the minister in question are hanging out, discussing how Alfred and Bruce just donated a lot of money to the church's summer camp. When the henchmen arrive, there's a certain amount of confusion — how do you tell two kindly-looking old white men apart? Alfred bravely pretends to be the minister, which gives him the opportunity to flick the Emergency Batcall Button hidden on his belt.
"Holy complications indeed, Robin!" Batman says, when they discover the Emergency Batcall Box blinking frantically right next to the Batradarscope.
Back in the evil apartment lair, Penguin shoves Alfred into the room where he's keeping Barbara, right as she's sneaking out the window. Thinking that he's actually a priest, she begs him to keep her secret and disappears... to her apartment next door, where she's got a nifty revolving wall and a hidden room. That must have been a pain to secretly install without her landlord knowing.
Meanwhile, Penguin is gleefully contemplating what he'll call his future father-in-law when Batman and Robin appear, ready to BAM! POW! a few heads — although their entrance line, "When we get through with you, Penguin, you'll be hollering 'Uncle!' instead of 'Daddy!'" is somewhat alarming for reasons that were presumably unanticipated on the part of the writers.
But wait, who's that coming in through the window? It's Batgirl!
Batman and Robin look at each other, befuddled.
Robin: "Batgirl?"
Batman: "Batgirl?"
Penguin: "Batgirl?"
Alfred: "Batgirl?"
Penguin: "Bats! I'm surrounded by bats!"
(Have I mentioned that this show is the best?)
But of course, the cunning banter has to segue into the contractually-required action scene, and Batgirl proves herself just as capable of BOFF! POW! fighting as her fellow Batpeople. (Her Batspirations?) Robin even tosses out an admiring, "Holy agility!" and let me tell you, knowing that Burt Ward apparently took his Holy ____s incredibly seriously brings joy to my soul.*
I love Batgirl a lot. She seems to really enjoy her crimefighting, which makes grumpypants Batman get a little stern on her for a moment, but she just laughs it off and says, "Oh, crimefighting is a serious business to me too, Batman, but we might as well get a few laughs out of it."
Dream girl? Probably.
My clever Batgirl, having locked the door of the room where Alfred is hanging out with a dummy in a wedding dress, slips out the window while Batman and Robin are distracted by "batpicking" the lock. She's gone by the time that they make a not-particularly-clever comment about borrowing a hairpin from her.
So not only does Batgirl get to miss that clunker of a joke, she's also conveniently out of the room when Penguin and his henchmen wake up and knock them out with umbrella gas. I love the Bats, but they're not very effective, are they? "Has this guy fallen down and closed his eyes? Good enough for me! Nah, why tie them up — let's just let them chill under this tarp for a while, that'll probably keep them down."
Thankfully, Batgirl sees Penguin wrapping up Batman, Robin, Alfred, and wedding-dress-dummy in purple bags and tossing them out the window. Luckily, she has a Batgirlcycle and access to her building's secret freight elevator, so she can save the day.
Seriously, she and this building's architect must have conspired, right? Either that, or the previous owners of her apartment were pulling off some seriously shady operations, and she lucked into it after they got bored and retired.
In any case, she takes her Batgirlcycle — which appears to be purple with lacy-looking bits, for some unknown reason. Maybe Barbara just really enjoys riding around like a bridesmaid's petticoat got stuck on the front of her motorcycle. Whatever, she's perfect, she can pull it off — and follows Penguin to his Actual Underground Lair, where he's got Batman and Robin suspended above a vat of boiling water.
Penguin makes a few great jokes about tea. It's entirely possible that I find these jokes amusing less because they're actually funny, and more because I'm imagining a marketing campaign for Batman tea. Mmm, Bat-Tea. Every sip tastes like justice and Bruce Wayne's tears.
Alfred is still trying to distract Penguin from the fact that Barbara isn't in the bag, because he's a wonderful human being and she asked him to keep her secret. And soon enough, Batgirl is there to cause a few distractions of her own, giving Alfred enough time to punch out Penguin and cut down Batman and Robin. Have I mentioned how awesome Alfred is? He's way more competent than the Alfred from the 1940s Batman serial.**
Batman and Robin use Penguin as a battering ram against his own henchmen, and I immediately forgive them for being hilariously ineffective criminal-capturers.
Meanwhile, Batgirl takes the time to pull Alfred aside for a little heart-to-heart, in which he explains why he lied about being a minister when he's actually a millionaire's butler, and she makes him promise not to tell anyone that she's Batgirl. Alfred is reluctant, but Barbara tells him that if anyone knows who she is, she won't be any use as a crimefighter anymore. How is he supposed to resist a plea like that?
Somehow, Alfred just seems to accidentally become the secret-keeper for attractive people who want to devote their lives to justice. That has to be a very odd niche in which to find oneself.
Barbara ducks off-screen for a quick change into the wedding dress, and when Batman and Robin have finished incapacitating the bad guys, she slyly apologizes for being so helpless. Barbara Gordon is the best.
In the tag scene at the end, Dick Grayson has just gotten his driver's license. Bruce is understandably wary about letting him drive the Batmobile, and now I'm going to be spending the next few days snickering to myself about Batman backseat driving while Robin takes the wheel. "Turn signal, Robin! TURN SIGNAL!"
Happily for both of them, Bruce has bought Dick a red convertible, presumably so he won't pout about Bruce never giving him the keys to the Batmobile. You can do things like that when you're rich. And it's alright, Bruce, you don't have to worry; Dick knows that "highway safety is every citizen's prime responsibility.
Oh, and also the Riddler will be showing up soon. Whatever. "Stick close to the yellow line, Robin! High-speed car chases are no excuse for — brake! BRAAAAAKE!"
*This piece of knowledge is brought to me by an old Paley Center Batman panel, which I can access via The Internship and you cannot. Actually, I guess you can, because they're screening it on Saturdays and Sundays until May 18? But on days that are not Saturdays and Sundays until May 18, you cannot!
**In case you were curious, don't watch the 1940s Batman serial. Don't. It's fifteen 20-minute episodes of racism and Batman working for the government. They don't even have a Batmobile. You don't need that in your life.
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