The final Batman movie turned the whole shebang back into the bad TV
series it always was. Gone is Burton's disturbing Gothic vision, in
comes the wham-bam man Schumacher whose high-concept thriller ends up
as a bad Hallowe'en parade. Even Thurman covered in green lycra as
Poison Ivy can't save it. Silverstone's inane Batgirl is pure male
fantasy, transferring straight from knee socks to molded rubber.
Clooney's anodyne good looks are overwhelmed by the Bat-suit in a way
that Michael Keaton, with his anarchic humour and unusual face, never
was. A computer game rather than a movie.
