Batman and Me

This weekend can't get here fast enough.

I don't know if I qualify as anything more than your average "interested party", at this point, given how big this "Dark Knight" phenomenon has become. Certainly I understand the unfortunate morbid fascination that the media has with Heath Ledger's death, and I understand that this summer is the "Summer of the Comic Book Hero" in movie theaters. But there's more to it than just that for me.

I'm not what anyone would consider a "fan boy", at least I hope not. I don't read every graphic novel that's released, I don't know the storylines of any current comic books (not anymore, at least), and I wouldn't dare get into an argument about which second-tier villains are superior to others. I don't know, and I don't care.

But Batman has always been my favorite "superhero", and the Joker my favorite "super-villain".

Of the comic books I collected during that brief phase in high school, the great majority were Batman and Detective Comics. I started reading them a few months before the Joker killed Jason Todd (the second Robin, after Dick Grayson became Nightwing), and I started to realize at that point that "serious" stories told well on an illustrated page could be as spellbinding as any novel or film.

At the time my interest spiked, the Joker, with whom I had only a mental association with Cesar Romero on the old, goofy TV show, became a complete and total (and terrifying) psychopath. Or maybe he had become one well before I got interested, I don't know. But to me at the time, it was a revelation.

The Joker killed the Boy Wonder.

In "The Killing Joke", he put Jim Gordon's daughter in a wheelchair.

There was no good and no evil in the Joker's world. He was just insane in his desire for anarchy and destruction. And man, did he hate the Batman.

Then Tim Burton's movies came out, and they were a lot of fun. They were definitely darker than the show, and - while somewhat warped (Burton movies are Burton movies for a reason) - more along the lines of the gritty comic books. Nicholson as the Joker was fun casting, and the character officially became an icon.

I kept collecting the books for a while, had a couple of Batman logo t-shirts, got Prince's soundtrack, and even bought a cardboard standee of Michael Keaton as Batman - a prize that I believe still stands in the basement of my mom's house, just outside of what used to be my bedroom.

(Before you judge me harshly, please remember that I was just 15 at the time. Some kids experiment with drugs or sex at that age, but I was in my basement worrying about if I had enough cash to buy backing boards to put in my comic sleeves. That's just the way it was.)

I grew up and went to college, and became a girl-phobic, socially awkward creature of another kind (the kind that lived in a dorm, rather than his parents' basement). I "grew out" of comic books for many years (mostly because I had no money), and I don't even want to talk about George Clooney, Val Kilmer, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Joel Shumacher.

In college, I became a film nerd. These were the pre-DVD days, and I was the guy with the collection of VHS movies that other people in the dorm would borrow. My good friend Jon worked in a video store and had access to a laserdisc player, so I became a fan of watching letterboxed movies at home and not just in the theater. I became aware not only of movies and the actors, but of the people who made them - the directors, producers, and movie studios. And at the time, a new generation of young filmmakers was establishing itself. Who was Kevin Smith, and what other movies did he make? (Oh, none before Clerks? Hmm ...) Did this Tarantino guy make anything prior to Reservoir Dogs? (What do you mean, no?)

And those who knew me at the time don't need to be reminded of my love at the time for the Evil Dead films (Sam Raimi, anyone?) and Dead Alive (Peter Jackson), as I forced them all to watch these gross, over-the-top semi-horror movies.

So fast forward to 2000, as a newly transplanted resident of Central Square in Cambridge. Within walking distance was the Kendall Square theater, which tended to play smaller, less well-known art-house films than the big chains. There was a weird, time-shifting movie that I'd read about in the Boston Phoenix that sounded unusually interesting called Memento, starring Guy Pearce, who had co-starred in one of my absolute favorite movies of all time, L.A. Confidential. Everyone knows about that movie now, of course, but at the time it was one of those lightning-in-a-bottle movies. Where did this come from? At the Kendall, I had to wait a couple of weeks to see it - it literally sold out showing after showing at this relatively smallish venue. And when I finally saw it, I was completely blown away. This was amazing!

And who was this Chris Nolan dude?

A few years later, it was announced that the Batman franchise was going to be re-launched, and Nolan was going to direct.

Everyone knows the rest.

So here we are, days from the release of The Dark Knight. A fantastic director, my favorite superhero, and my favorite super-villain.

Sure, Iron Man was fun, and I knew I'd see it eventually. Pixar can do no wrong, so I looked forward to checking out Wall-E. I'd seen a bunch of movies at the Morristown run of the "New York Film Critics Present ..." series a couple of months back. But they all lacked one key aspect, to me at least: anticipation.

I'd have waited in agonizing anticipation for this movie even if it didn't have such a tragic storyline underneath the actual film.

Batman and the Joker are going to go after each other this weekend.

I am 15 again.

I cannot wait.