Posted this in the B Action Thread, but I'll post it here. I wrote a paper on the marketing of the movie for my Media Literacy class last week, Year of the Batman: How Batman Rewrote the Hollywood Game in 1989. Here it is, unabridged and Bat-tastic:
It was inescapable. The glimmering gold Bat-symbol reigned over city billboards, print ads, posters and stands in movie theaters, hyped on television, and accompanying trailers before movies in the first half of 1989. Many wore T-shirts with a black-and-yellow insignia. Others opted to sport the mug of Jack Nicholson’s Joker. The world was waiting anxiously for Batman, the Tim Burton-directed kick-start to Bob Kane’s gothic comic-book detective, and it was unlike anything the media had seen before. After two decades of being an embarrassment in the media due to the campy 1966-68 TV series with Adam West, the people who associated the costumed vigilante with a catchy theme song and bright-colored graphics reading “POW!” and “BAM!” would get a reality check.
Comic book aficionado Michael Uslan wanted to erase the stigma that the 1960’s had brought forth, and after a tumultuous development history, Batman finally solidified a director and started filming in the fall of 1988. The shoot was just as rough—the budget had skyrocketed from $30 million to $48 million, and Burton remarked the pressure during filming was “torture” due to the erratic and megalomaniacal behavior of producer Jon Peters (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 168). The money was big. The effort was hard. Warner Bros. would have any potential of this film being a disaster over its dead body.
Peters, a notorious Hollywood figure who rose to power as a hairdresser in L.A., hustled production designer Anton Furst to his office late in 1988 to show him concept advertising art for the film that Warner had been working on, “sort of like Conan, or RoboCop—the word ‘Batman’ spelled out in Conan the Barbarian font.” In other words, it was “nothing you hadn’t seen before” (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 170). Peters wanted to “drop everything,” and he asked Furst to design the logo. The aforementioned, glimmering bronze-gold Bat-symbol emerged from his designs, appearing as if it looked “like it was stamped out of the gear Batman wears.” The “simple but evocative” logo became so striking that it was omnipresent well before the movie would hit theaters on June 23. Peters said it was “exactly what we want.” He felt crowding the poster with the images of its actors and their equally sized names was too much, and “he waged an all-out war with Warner” to have the posters simply boasted the new logo and “June 23” at the bottom (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 170). This was, of course, not including the “miniature Batmobiles, Batwings, sunshades, earrings, cloisonne pins, backpacks and boxer shorts” which the logo helped clog up consumerist arteries well before June 23 hit (Corliss, 1989).
Getting the message across on paper was established brilliantly. The elegant black and gold color scheme was a loud heralding that the movie was coming and that it would be huge. However, there was a bigger roadblock than print advertising and merchandising awaiting the production: showing off the product in action to the public. Fans were outraged at the choice of Michael Keaton—better known for his scene-stealing performances in comedies such as Beetlejuice (also directed by Burton) and Night Shift—for the role of Bruce Wayne/Batman because of his prior acting background (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 171). Keaton’s presence was a far-reaching problem for many people, and considering his background, it was apt. The character had never been comedic until censorship of comic books spun him out into wild, wacky adventures in the 1950’s, a move further butchered by the William Dozier-produced show from the mid-to-late 60’s. Furthermore, in the face of the late 80’s, when the film was being made, DC Comics, Batman’s owner, had solidified comics for adults with the revolutionary graphic novels Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns, the latter of which found a grizzled, elderly Bruce Wayne slamming his way through a dystopian universe. Without more being said, casting Michael Keaton, no matter how good his abilities as an actor, was a setback.
By late fall, production was wrangling with a significant change to the film’s climax, and the Keaton panic had found its way to not just movie-centric magazines, but the Wall Street Journal (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 171). Peters found an easy solution. A teaser trailer—that is, an abbreviated or ambiguous trailer mainly used to establish hype for a film—was rushed out, “a surreal assemblage” of unrefined odds and ends from the film (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 171). All the teaser consists of are short bursts of action and dialogue scenes from the film; the teaser ends with Jack Nicholson, in Joker makeup, reading a newspaper and scowling, “Winged freak terrorizes? Wait till they get a load of me.” We then smash-cut to a close-up of Keaton as Batman, and the teaser closes simply with “Coming This Summer” in capitalized block letters.
The teaser turned out to be not only a bold marketing move, but a crowd-pleasing foretelling that care was put into the film. It hit theaters in December 1988 with the release of the Mel Gibson/Michelle Pfeiffer/Kurt Russell drama Tequila Sunrise. That film received a monstrous boost at the box office from moviegoers who didn’t bother sticking around for the movie and paid as high as $6 for the sole purpose of getting a glimpse of the teaser trailer (Corliss, 1989). No question, it was a last-minute effort to appease audiences, but it set the record straight unlike any other film could have at the time. It heralded a return to the character’s roots, and in only 90 seconds hit every right note comic book fans and audiences wanted.
As June grew closer, Batman continued to loom large over the pop culture vernacular thanks to the myriad clothes, toys, and the relentless ad campaign, which also spun out a full trailer showcasing Danny Elfman’s score and reasserting audiences of its scope. However, “Warner was [still] a total freak-out,” according to Peters (Corliss, 1989), as parent company Warner Communications had been talking to Time, Inc. about a possible merger (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 173). While they had Lethal Weapon 2 to fall back on in case Batman failed, the upcoming summer was crowded with competition from properties as well cemented as their juggernaut. Star Trek V: The Final Frontier bombed in early June, which eliminated that as a threat, and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and Ghostbusters II had both subsequently broken opening weekend records within three weeks of each being released (The Economist, 1989). As opening weekend approached, Last Crusade was already a month in release, and Ghostbusters II was cooled by tepid reviews and audience reaction. Disney also had Honey! I Shrunk the Kids positioned as counter-programming to Batman, and insider word was that “heads would roll if [Batman] was a box-office disappointment” (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 172).
On June 22, the anticipation grew with night shows in some markets and reports of some moviegoers camping outside theaters in Westwood, CA (Griffin & Masters, 1996, p. 172). It got $2 million alone from the pre-shows on Thursday. On Saturday, it was reported that Batman had made $13.2 million on opening day, already $2 million over the daily record Last Crusade had set the previous month. Then it made $14.6 million on Saturday. In the end, Batman ran off with $42.7 million in its opening weekend. The film deserved it, too. It deviates from the comics at several points, especially in light of Christopher Nolan’s later films, but Burton’s film is a top-tier popcorn film highlighted by a pair of fantastic lead performances and is a visually arresting experience. No beats in the story are off, and it’s virtually perfect from an aesthetic standpoint, thanks to the Elfman score, the songs by Prince, and Burton’s neo-Gothic visual style.
It has been two decades since Batman exploded in theaters and reinvented the comic book genre and solidified the character for who and what he was rightfully created for. Batman set a bar for marketing a film unprecedented by no other. It was a film with universal appeal, one that did not need to depend on a particular group of people for its success nor was it a niche film. The nerds got their dark interpretation of Batman, and commercial audiences got a blissful, entertaining eye and earful of pop art. While 1992’s Batman Returns did not do as well financially or commercially, it still thrives on Burton’s creative guide and serves as a worthy successor to the original. With the latter two sequels, it descended into the worst circles of the “toyetic” culture of marketing, which the 1989 original had brilliantly exploited. Only Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan’s dark, realistic, and modern take on the character, would give Burton’s original a rival. Nevertheless, the legacy of Batman’s marketing boils down to scientific fact: lightning never strikes twice.
--------------------
If anyone cares to touch on something not in here, say so.