It's not hard to find criticism of Tim Burton's Batman on the Internet; it's about as hard as finding Internet criticism of anything else. And most of that is legit, to my mind: Joker killing Bruce's parents, the lack of focus on Bruce, Alfred letting Vicki Vale into the Batcave, Batman's uselessness and sheer luck while fighting henchmen, killing off Joker at the end. But in re-watching the film this past weekend, I've found that parts of it still hold up: the relative gravity and tonal seriousness (it's easy to forget that public perception of Batman was very different before 1989); Billy Dee Williams' Harvey Dent (oh, the lost opportunities...); Danny Elfman; Bob the Goon; and, perhaps especially, this scene. Jack Nicholson owned that scene--and it was very Joker.
See, amidst all the complaints, Nicholson seems to me to draw the most unwarranted fire, a situation that's only hardened since The Dark Knight. Now, this is not an argument that Nicholson's was a superior Joker to Heath Ledger's. He wasn't. I also think TDK was a much better movie overall than Batman. But, if WB is going to deliver a new Batman reboot after The Dark Knight Rises, we as a community of fans need to get used the idea that not everything can be "definitive" and that comparisons are better left to subjective pros-and-cons (you know, the way we should've been doing with comics all these years). To that end, I think it's time to reexamine the bits of Nicholson's Joker that still work today.
For starters, I don't like Joker having a clear origin; I'm a "multiple choice" Joker fan, myself. But, if you have to tie the character down with a background, a crime lord's ruthless and conniving underling is the way to go. Give us someone who was already a bad guy (Joker should never be a sympathetic villain--not like, say, Mr. Freeze) and then throw him off the edge entirely. And it plays to something that Nicholson has always done well: sinister and crazy, with none of that compassion to get in the way of a character we only like accidentally, but not enough to keep us from wanting Batman to beat the hell out of him. Name an actor of the late 80's who could've done this better than Nicholson (aside from possibly Robin Williams--who was not-so-famously teased the role in order to get Nicholson on board--though casting him in a role requiring over-the-top humor is a gamble).
I've also heard people complain that the 1989 Joker is nothing but Nicholson in clown makeup. And, yes, it's clearly Nicholson under there, especially when contrasted with Ledger, who seemed to disappear into the role. But Nicholson was never that kind of actor--the Daniel Day Lewis (or, ahem, Ledger) type who becomes a character rather than playing one. But even in his most iconic roles (One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Chinatown, As Good as It Gets), there's something about Nicholson's voice and cadence and presence that bleed through, making him recognizably Jack--like a slightly more talented Christopher Walken--and it's so strong it even comes through from under a few pounds of clown makeup. But does that tendency take away from his award-winning roles? If you think it does, well, at least that's a coherent stance.
Yes, there's the dancing. And Prince. And the dancing to Prince. But that's been largely confirmed as a studio demand, meaning the only other probable option was having Michael Keaton do the Batusi. So let's be thankful for small favors.
And the considerable amount of time Joker spends covering up the white-face has always screamed to me of the same kind of studio meddling: no sense in obscuring your biggest star's face for the entire picture, right?
I'm aware that this defense has been riddled with caveats and qualifications; any defense of the film seems to require them. But having been spoiled by the last decade-plus of good and great (and bad) comic films, we've forgotten what Burton's movie did not only to help push Adam West aside in our collective conscious, but to plant the seeds of the superhero renaissance we enjoy today. And with Keaton's unmemorable Bruce Wayne/Batman and the trilogy of lousy and confused Batman films that followed, we should remember Nicholson's Joker as the indication of what superhero flicks might be, the light bulb of an idea that later allowed for performances like Ledger's. If we let go of the pointlessly competitive discussions and the absurd idea that everything is either The Best or The Worst (of which Nicholson himself can be said to have been guilty), we can proceed into a brave new era of continual reboots emotionally and psychologically healthier.
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