So, as we begin this journey through my years in this nutty business, please understand that this is not a history, but rather a memoir. The stories that follow are constructed from what I (and others with whom I conferred) can remember of the times depicted. Names have been changed, characters combined, and events compressed. So there!
And in the not-always-best tradition of Hollywood, this book is a sequel. It follows my previous tome, The Boy Who Loved Batman. And if you know anything about Hollywood, you can assume it's part of an intended trilogy, so stay in your seats at the end of this book for an "after-credits" scene. Like my previous memoir, the stories within detail my life growing up down the shore in New Jersey and my years at school at Indiana University in Bloomington. They will co-mingle with tales of my escapades in Hollywood and New York in "The Biz." There's a reason for this. An outsider might call it "cause and effect." A movie industry insider might refer to it as "Ya gotta have a set-up in order to have a subsequent pay-off." And vice versa.
The secret origin of the title of this book, Batman's Batman, comes from a true story, a portion of which I first recounted in my prior book and it goes like this:
Astounding and unthinkable as it may seem, as I notified you above, I bought the rights to Batman from DC Comics when I was still a kid in my twenties. From that moment until my Bat-partner, Ben Melniker and I were able to get the first dark and serious Batman movie made took ten long, long years. In the process, we were turned down by every major studio in Hollywood. My two favorite rejections included the one East Coast head of production who told me in 1979 that "Batman and Robin could never be successful as a movie because the then recent film, Robin and Marian, didn't do well. That was a story about an aging Robin Hood and Maid Marian starring Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn. His apparent reasoning (if you could even call it that) was that both films would have the word "Robin" in the title. The very last rejection we received came from the final major studio to whom I pitched a dark and serious Batman movie. The head of production there was a dapper, silver-haired long-time exec. He and Ben had known each other for decades. I pitched my little heart out that afternoon and at the end of it, he shook his head and with a "Tsk, Tsk," told me that Batman would not be a successful movie because Columbia's movie, "Annie," didn't do well. When I was so puzzled by his proclamation and asked him if he possibly was referring to that little red-headed girl who sings the song, "Tomorrow," he said, "That's right." Shaking my head in disbelief, I asked him what that possibly had to do with Batman. His reply was right out of that entire generation of adults who had been conned into believing comic books were corrupting their children and causing a massive post-World War 2 rise of juvenile delinquency in America: "Oh, come on, Michael! They're both out of the "funny pages." At that moment, there was simply nothing left inside me and I began to scoop together the Batman comics and the copy of my sample screenplay for "Return of The Batman," and prepared to exit. That's when he turned to his old pal, Ben.
"Ben," he said thoughtfully, "you and I go back a long, long time. If you really want to do a 'Batman' movie, we'll consider doing it with you but it has to be the funny, pot-bellied Batman with all those 'Pows,' 'Zaps' and 'Whams' that audiences will remember and love."
That's when I, without any hesitation, said, "No way."
The exec sat himself down right in front of me and leaned in with lines of experience furrowed in his forehead and a frown of frustration draping his chin. "Son," he said, and I knew that anytime someone addressed me as "Son," I was already in trouble. "Better to have a film than to have no film at all."
And with only a split second of hesitation, I said, "No."
That was it. Another "Pass" and the final Batman rejection from the last major studio. Ben and I found a park-like bench on the grassy grounds of the studio. I sat, despondent with my head bowed into my hands. That's when sage Ben Melniker became a cross between Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"It's quite ironic, Michael, that our final 'no' came from you. You know what that makes you?" he gently asked.
"Yeah, Ben, I know. It makes me an idiot," I replied with something just short of disgust.
"No," he countered. "It makes you Batman's Batman!"
"Huh? What?" I inquired as I lifted my head up to see where his was going with this.
"You have a vision for Batman based on how he was created this dark and serious thing. And you're refusing to let anyone else come in who might corrupt that or turn it back into some campy comedy. You're forfeiting big money sacrificing everything in order to protect Batman and defend him. Michael, you're Batman's Batman!"
It was a dawning for me an epiphany. This wasn't about getting a movie made. It was about getting THIS movie made MY movie. And it wasn't about money. It was never about money. It was about passion. And with that, Ben pulled me right smack out of my depression.
"So we failed to get a major studio to understand. Okay. There are other ways to make movies happen and find financing. Let's strategize and pursue every other possibility out there!" he declared. I jumped up off the bench suddenly re-energized, and off we went into movie history. Movies to come like Batman, The Dark Knight, and Joker would forever change Hollywood and re-define how the world culture would perceive comic books, super-heroes, and super-villains.
And that is the secret origin of the title of this book.
