Feature artwork by Cap Blackard (Purchase Prints + More)
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Art is subjective. Music and movies aren’t about competition; they’re about artistic expression. Well, for those of you who know better than to believe those lies, welcome to another installment of Vs. This time, in the spirit of the upcoming Batman v Superman showdown, we pit different generations of Batmen and Supermen against each other to finally determine who is the World’s Finest.
May, 1939. June, 1938. Within a year of each other, the Caped Crusader and the Man of Steel came into being. Batman and Superman have been interpreted a lot of different ways in the nearly 80 years since they came into being, by a lot of different faces. Icons of the American comic book industry have worked on one or both characters, whether writers or artists or the many other minds that bring the collective dreams of decade after decade of reader to life.
And all that started long before the filmic adaptations began. Since then, many actors have donned the cape and cowl, or the cape and tights, and to wildly varied returns. Some performances hit the mark, others didn’t, and still more found notes to hit with the characters that audiences had never seen or imagined before. Batman has been a do-gooder and a brooding near-antihero and a madman and a Lothario. Superman has been imagined as a true hero, a complicated symbol of social upheaval, a living legend, and, on one unfortunate occasion, an alcoholic.
With just a week left until the long-awaited Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice reaches theaters, we at CoS decided to imagine some all-time matchups from the filmic (and televisual) corners of the DC Universe, pitting Batman against Superman through the ages. Truly, this is a debate that will never be entirely settled, not even after Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill wage the latest battle between superheroes. But that won’t stop us from giving it a shot anyway, and we’re sure it won’t stop any of you from continuing the battle long after our remarks have been made.
In this battle of heroes, who will emerge as the World’s Finest?
Adam West v George Reeves
Here you go. The original knockouts, the first of DC’s finest onscreen. In black trunks, at a lanky 6’2” and weighing in at an assumed 180, Adam West is the Dork Knight, Batman. And in red undies, although it’s kinda hard to tell in the black-and-white television era, George Reeves is the ultimate do-gooder, Superman. It’s the iron jaw versus the flat tummy. The Bat-Dancer against the pajama man who jumps out windows. Who wins here? Who’s the better DC proto-hero?
Gloves up to West and Reeves for stepping out in a big way with their iconic incarnations of DC’s duo. These two had real courage (as far as acting goes, anyway) for getting in front of cameras and somehow making mass-appealing magic out of odd men in tight costumes, tapping into then-under-realized franchising potential. The two busted crime and filled air time with their respective original television series, and Reeves and West have endured in the pop canon for their classic incarnations. Tonally, the two actors displayed reverence for their respective comic origins, although their shows couldn’t have felt more different.
Adventures of Superman debuted on ABC in 1952 in black-and-white to commercial acclaim, and lasted for 104 episodes (long enough to eventually be broadcast in color TV in full blue-and-red glory). Reeves, with his twinkling smile and can-do attitude, pretty much set up the model for how to be Superman. Winking, but not cutesy. Barrel-chested and bigger-than-life in his cape, yet polite and adorably timid as Clark Kent. Reeves was classy all the way and perfect in the role, and in a time when comics were strictly kids’ stuff, Reeves elevated the material to giddy highs. He was like John Wayne in a sense, or maybe even a Hardy Boy, helping folks out with gumption and stoicism.
Reeves braved modern life in Metropolis while palling around with his cutie pie Lois Lane and dumb surrogate Jimmy Olsen. But this Superman was all about helping trapped dogs or sailors. This Superman stopped robbers, crooked politicians, plane crashes, and even asteroids. But Superman also had time to help prize horses (seriously, in Season 4’s opener, “Joey”) and solve lighthouse mysteries (Season 1). This was before comic adaptations as battles. There was no Lex or Kryptonite poisoning; Superman was just a really great fella, doing his job well, and Reeves embodied an aw-shucks, bygone-era fortitude. He did everything but dance…
Fast forward to 1966. Superman had already flown away in 1958. Batman swung onto the airwaves on ABC, and it was a goofy, great show. Taking a literal, almost Roy Lichtenstein-like cue from the comics, famed writer Lorenzo Semple Jr.’s take on Gotham’s good guy was hysterically corny, and has endured for its camp qualities and screwball sensibilities. Today Batman can’t be discussed without the words “parents” or “dead,” but in ’66, Adam West was a nut for all intents and purposes. And he was sublimely silly. One second, Batman’s wiggling fingers in front of Jill St. John. The next, Batman’s cracking jaws and dropping onomatopoeias. And then right after all that, Batman’s apprehending famed director Otto Preminger as he’s dressed down as Mr. Freeze. It was all so much, and West bathed in the colorful glow of retro playboy shenanigans. ’66 Batman has lasted for its cheeky ways, and even recently inspired a new DC homage comic based on the old show. While it could be purported that West inspired the dumb-ass romps of Joel Schumacher and worked to lower the esteem of comic adaptations in a way, there’s no denying how sensational he made being the Batman look. This Batman, as West once put it on The Simpsons, was “Pure. West.”
While both Reeves and West had single-film forays (Superman and the Mole-Men and Batman: The Movie, respectively), they’re both best appreciated as TV superstars. While the characters had been adapted in various forms before, Reeves and West truly were the first big things in the world of Superman and Batman adaptations.
World’s Finest: George Reeves
Michael Keaton v Christopher Reeve
The age of cinematic superheroes truly began with these two.
Two cinematic titans lifted and held the superhero film torch for decades before the days of shared universes and cross-branding: Richard Donner’s 1978 Superman: The Movie and Tim Burton’s 1989 Batman. Both were influential tentpoles for the superhero genre in different ways: Superman showed that superhero films in general could be successful, crowd-pleasing special-effects blockbusters, while Batman proved that the same success could come from ambitiously dark and eccentric takes on comic book crime fighters.
When Superman: The Movie hit screens in 1978, its marketing made the ambitious promise that, after seeing it, “you will believe a man can fly.” While that campaign promise held true with Superman’s impeccable mix of then-groundbreaking special effects and John Williams’ stirring score, at the center of it all was Christopher Reeve’s iconic performance as Superman. Volumes have been written about the inherently uncomplicated nature of Superman as a hero, and Reeve admittedly takes that to its furthest extent in the Donner films.
Reeve’s Supes is a tried-and-true Golden Age hero through and through, with a smile cheesier than a Wisconsin dinner table and the kind of confident line delivery you’d expect from the old Max Fleischer cartoons. Reeve essentially plays Superman like Cary Grant with a cape, and it gels perfectly with Donner’s old-fashioned aesthetic. After all, this is a film where Superman can just spin the world backwards in time to save Lois Lane from a car crash and a minute later drop off Lex Luthor at a federal prison to await a “fair trial.” Reeve’s Superman, like the Donner films, exists in a world where the compass of justice always points north, and problems are solved through the sheer will of American morality.
While Reeve’s Superman represented the onetime American ideals of both the immigrant experience and the inherent authenticity of small-town, Midwestern values, Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne offered a more distant, complicated hero. While Reeve is front and center in his Superman films, Keaton lurks in the periphery of Burton’s Batman and Batman Returns, his furrowed brow and steely eyes doing most of the work while showier villains like Jack Nicholson’s Joker and Danny DeVito’s Penguin take center stage.
This doesn’t diminish Keaton’s power as Wayne, though; Burton’s distance from the character works well to keep him as a tortured, Charles Foster Kane-like soul, making his own motivations as impenetrable to us as they are to the other characters in the films. Far from the gee-whiz breeziness and the chiseled jaw of Reeve, Keaton’s comic sensibilities make him a gleeful maniac in some of Batman’s best scenes (“You wanna get nuts!” he manically screams at Nicholson’s Joker. “Come on … let’s get nuts!”). These moments of chaos give us a glimpse of the kind of troubled mind that made him Batman in the first place.
One way to judge the legacy of these two performances is to recognize the approaches that came in their respective wakes. Reeve’s wide-eyed enthusiasm can be seen in Dean Cain’s more laconic, laid-back portrayal of the character in the long-running ’90s TV show The Adventures of Lois and Clark. Meanwhile, Keaton’s successors in the Batman film series, under the supervision of Joel Schumacher, never quite captured that dark, dangerous magic. Both Val Kilmer and George Clooney turn Bruce Wayne into funhouse-mirror versions of themselves (Kilmer the self-serious ham, Clooney the smirking Lothario), but were both undeniably influenced by Keaton’s own tenure as the World’s Greatest Detective. In many ways, the Schumacher films owe more to the 1960s TV show, though they expand upon Burton’s Gothic leather-daddy aesthetics.
Both Reeve and Keaton left indelible marks on the superhero world, setting the molds for the two major approaches that superhero films would take. Reeve’s traditional approach gave his Superman the breeziness we expect out of modern Marvel movies, while Keaton’s brilliantly sociopathic performance created the mold of the dark, gritty superhero we’ve come to expect with Batman. Because of these shades of madness, and the comparatively complex material he had to work with, Keaton narrowly wins out.
World’s Finest: Michael Keaton
Kevin Conroy v Tim Daly
In this contest of post-modern titans, there are none greater than these.
For all the ground-breaking, precedent-setting, and in some cases culture-defining depictions of Batman and Superman on the screen, creative team Bruce Timm, Eric Randomski, and Paul Dini’s bold reimaginings are the versions of the characters that may outlast them all.
Beginning in 1992 with Batman: The Animated Series, Timm, Randomski, and Dini distilled The World’s Greatest Detective and his rogues gallery to their core and shaped Gotham into a timeless, hyper-stylized “dark deco” setting. These cinematic, surprisingly adult stories were so effective at capturing the essence of Batman that DC Comics ended up borrowing heavily from them after the fact. Superman: The Animated Series followed in 1996, and with it came the rest of DC’s heroes and villains – adaptations that proved equally as influential as Batman. The DC Animated Universe, as it came to be known, continued through to 2006 across eight TV series and four films.
It isn’t just visual flair and storytelling excellence that hold these series aloft – they were also widely known for their impeccable voice casting. These were voices so defining that in many cases they transcended the DC Animated Universe. Without question, Kevin Conroy is Batman. His vocal finesse provided Bruce Wayne and Batman with two distinct voices that meld with an ease no one else in the role has mastered. His Batman is lethal and cunning — not cornball gravel, but gravitas. This Batman isn’t all gear and fists; he’s a master of theater and language as well as martial arts, and Conroy utterly embodies this rounded character. His casting was as inspired as his ultimate nemesis: Mark Hamill as the Joker, a role so powerful that for some it’s eclipsed his classic work as Luke Skywalker. Their iconic portrayals continue to this day, albeit in an even darker setting, in the blockbuster Arkham game series.
Superman: The Animated Series was a full aesthetic counterpoint to Batman, but every bit as iconic. Dark deco was traded for “ocean liner deco,” the red skies for blue, to reflect Metropolis as a gleaming city of hope. This Superman, portrayed by Tim Daly, exemplified all the virtue and masculine charm inherent in classic portrayals of the character, but succeeded in anchoring him with a vulnerability and humanity that makes the Superman myth come to life. However, this perfect quintessence and Daly’s performance can also be perceived as the series’ greatest weakness: it’s so pitch-perfect that it’s a challenge to stand out – especially against Batman. What’s more, due to scheduling conflicts, Daly wasn’t able to keep reprising the role after Batman and Superman graduated into Justice League. His replacements are adequate, but not nearly as compelling.
In comparison to cinematic interpretations of the characters, these series have an unfair advantage – their medium and longevity allowed them to explore Batman and Superman with a greater range than Hollywood would dare. In fact, as Superman/Batman interactions go in moving-picture mediums, their meeting in the feature-length Superman episode, “World’s Finest”, is still a defining crossover that Batman v Superman should aspire to. When pitted against each other, especially in terms of Conroy’s Batman to Daly’s Superman – the advantage is likewise stacked. Fantastic though Daly’s Superman may be, he can’t topple the empire built by Conroy’s Batman. He’s the longest-running actor to portray the character ever and has taken the role to places previously unexplored, such as the elderly Bruce Wayne of Batman Beyond. True kudos are due to Daly’s Superman, though. For a character that’s so often handled outright wrong, his portrayal is a master class.
World’s Finest: Kevin Conroy
Christian Bale v Brandon Routh
There are two ways to resuscitate a floundering superhero franchise for the 21st century.
One is to look back to the glory days of that franchise — to play off any nostalgia for capes and brightly colored costumes that might still be rattling around in the public’s consciousness. This was the approach Warner Bros. and director Bryan Singer took with Superman Returns (2006), a spiritual successor to the 1978 Superman starring Christopher Reeve. Singer’s film traces its lineage back even further than Superman’s first onscreen appearance, reveling in the inherent comic-ness of a character who can stop a bullet with his eyeball and lift an airplane with his bare hands. The man he tapped to play Clark Kent, Brandon Routh, was an unknown and unproven actor, much like Reeve was when he first donned the cape in ‘78.
Unfortunately, when you try to strike gold twice, you run the risk of unearthing Kryptonite instead. Singer may have had the right idea in casting a nobody, and Routh certainly looks the part of Reeve’s successor. But revisiting Superman Returns a decade later, it’s clear that there’s a hollow place where the film’s soul should be – and that Routh’s stiff performance is partly accountable for this. It didn’t help that Singer insisted on pairing him up with more seasoned actors in Kate Bosworth and especially Kevin Spacey, whose manic and bitter portrayal of Lex Luthor nearly surpasses that of Gene Hackman.
On one hand, it’s refreshing to see a superhero film that actually feels like a comic book for the most part. Superman Returns is brightly rendered, packed with traditional action set pieces, and is just a little campy, which is to say it’s nothing like Zack Snyder’s dour and self-serious reboot. On the other hand, if Superman Returns and Routh were as memorable as they should have been, we might be looking at Routh on the posters for Dawn of Justice instead of Henry Cavill.
For a much more successful franchise reboot, we need not look further than Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy. Nolan smartly recognized that modern audiences had soured on the Caped Crusader after Joel Schumacher’s abysmal Batman & Robin (1997), which embraced the silliness of the 1960s Batman TV series. Rather than return to Batman’s checkered past, Nolan opted for a gritty, hyper-realistic approach that has since become the standard for superhero fare. 2005’s aptly named Batman Begins was a total reboot for the franchise and a sorely needed one at that. Much of that film’s success had to do with Nolan’s steady directorial hand, but don’t overlook the casting.
Instead of springing for a complete newcomer a la Routh, Nolan took the opposite route, hiring the lifelong actor and critical darling Christian Bale to play Batman. He was rewarded with not one but three films’ worth of sustained, low-key excellence from his lead. Bale isn’t the flashiest actor around, but he always finds a way to do exactly what his role requires. In The Dark Knight, this meant taking a backseat to Heath Ledger’s powerhouse performance as the Joker; in The Dark Knight Rises, it meant portraying a broken and suffering version of a once-unstoppable hero.
Routh never had the chance to show this kind of range, so it’s a bit unfair to judge him based on his one shot at stardom. But it’s difficult to imagine Nolan having the patience to deal with his general lack of visible emotion. A good director knows that he’s only as good as the actors he puts in front of the camera. Singer chose to take a risk, while Nolan went with the known commodity. We know how that worked out for both of them.
World’s Finest: Christian Bale
Bonus Round: Lego Batman v Lego Superman
This one’s a no-brainer, right? Or is it?
In one corner, we have Will Arnett’s caped crusader. In a movie that lives and dies by its voice performances, Arnett may very well do the best work of them all. He certainly has more than his fair share of punchlines. Beyond that, while his gritty voice is every bit as instantly recognizable as Morgan Freeman’s, he still manages to make us forget that we’re hearing Gob Bluth. He simply is Batman.
The Lego Movie was denied its Oscar — hell, while it was nominated for Best Original Song, the best animated feature film of the year didn’t even get a shot at winning the award for Best Animated Feature Film — but it was still a runaway hit, and Arnett’s Batman is surely one of the biggest reasons for its success. After all, before we get a sequel, we’re getting The Lego Batman Movie, and based on the cast alone, odds are it’s got a decent shot at being the best Batman film of the decade. Sorry, The Dark Knight Rises. I’ll see your Tom Hardy and Marion Cotillard and raise you a Zach Galifianakis, a Michael Cera, and a Ralph Fiennes. Arnett’s a world-class Batman, and when all is said and done, his gravelly-voiced hero might be the finest Batman of them all.
Here’s the thing, though: Arnett’s Batman is the worst. All that brilliance arises from the fact that when you get right down to it, Batman is kind of a dick. Just listen to that song he writes for Wyldstyle, which he blares on the Batmobile’s new subwoofers (“I call ‘em the dogs. Listen to them bark!”). Remember, he wrote this song for his girlfriend:
Kinda makes it better.”
It’s just bass and emotional, self-flagellating masturbation. Batman sucks. He sucks. He crashes the Millennium Falcon. He throws a bunch of hissy fits. He’s not even that much of a badass (Princess Unikitty? She’s the badass). He goes in disguise as his own awful secret identity and distracts President Business and his board of directors with his pitch-perfect rich, arrogant prick act. Why so perfect? Because Bruce Wayne is a rich, arrogant prick. Look at the dickish way he helps himself to that copy. Look at his douchey pose in the doorway. Bruce Wayne is fucking awful, pardon my French. And oh yeah, speaking of French, Batman calls Han Solo and Lando Calrissian bon vivants. He sucks. He sucks so much. The reason he’s so great is that he’s so, so terrible.
In the other corner? Superman, as voiced by America’s Sweetheart Channing Tatum. Having a hard time remembering Superman in The Lego Movie? That’s fair. He’s only in a few scenes. He gets captured by Bad Cop basically right away. He gets taken down by gum, for chrissakes. His whole appearance flies by faster than a speeding bullet. How can the World’s Finest amount to little more than a cameo? It can’t.
But take a look at the things he actually does do in his brief, shining moments: he hits on the Statue of Liberty! That’s awesome. He blows off the Green Lantern, and it’s awesome. And when the shit hits the fan in that fateful meeting in Cloud Cuckoo Land, it’s Superman who declares that they must protect the Piece of Resistance, Superman who charges into battle, Superman who calls in Shaq when they need reinforcements. To quote a certain song, when it comes to Tatum’s Superman, everything is awesome.
World’s Finest: Will Arnett