Instead, he plays it for cheap laughs, spouting a veritable fusillade of wry tidbits that sound as though they were culled directly from some aborted Bruce Willis vehicle. Kilmer, who replaces the genuinely interesting Michael Keaton as the caped crusader, has little of the manic, psychologically warped gleam that his predecessor brought to the role. Batman Forever is no exception to his personal rule of film as cultural static: There's so much and so little going on here simultaneously that you're not sure whether to squirm or doze. Director Schumacher, taking the reins this time from Tim Burton, who instead fills in as producer, is, of course, an old hand at cinematic bombast, having churned out such previous exercises in aesthetically void sound and fury as Flatliners and The Lost Boys. This third installment in what, previously, was a deliciously gothic take on the Dark Knight drags on interminably, filled to bursting with all kinds of spectacular, violet-hued explosions, pithily cumbersome one-liners, and enough ham-handed psychotherapeutic explanations for Batman's noblesse oblige - from Nicole Kidman, no less - to choke Freud for days. Batman forever… and ever… and - yawn - ever.
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