BAT GIRLS ON THE LINE

By Peter Travers

From Rolling Stone, n 634-635, 07.09.1992

A League of Their Own
Geena Davis, Madonna, Tom Hanks
Directed by Penny Marshall
Columbia Pictures

Batman Returns
Michelle Pfeiffer, Michael Keaton
Directed by Tim Burton
Warner Bros.

Something refreshingly different is up with this summer's movies: Women, usually the forgotten sex in a season dominated by male stars, are muscling in on macho turf. And you can't dismiss them as babes, either, as the following two films show.

A League of Their Own is based on the true story of the All-American Girls Baseball League, begun in 1943 to sub for the men at war. Though the teams continued playing ball until 1954, the girls mostly marched back into the kitchen when their Johnnies came marching home. It wasn't until 1988 that they were honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Seen from a Nineties perspective, the story has the makings of a stinging feminist manifesto. That, however, is not what director Penny Marshall delivers. Marshall's take is uniquely her own -- lots of laughs, lots of heart and very little sermonizing. Writers Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel (City Slickers) and the actors are also known for their light touch.

Geena Davis stars as Dottie, a dairy worker recruited by a caustic baseball scout (Jon Lovitz is pure joy in too brief a role) who wants players to be lookers. Dottie agrees to try out for the Rockford Peaches if he'll bring along her jealous sister, Kit (Lori Petty). A slugger dubbed All-the-Way-Mae also makes the team; Madonna plays her with scrappy wit, especially in tandem with Rosie O'Donnell as another player fond of ball jokes.

At first the girls are shaken by the jeering, leering male fans and by Jimmy Dugan, their boozing manager. But since Tom Hanks plays Dugan, you know there's a softie under the stubble. Dugan's hands-off flirtation with the married Dottie and his grudging respect for the team redeem him. Despite reports that the actresses trained hard for the baseball scenes, none should quit their day jobs. Still, their spirit enlivens the tired plot. Sentiment mars the film, as it did Marshall's otherwise admirable Awakenings.

At her best, Marshall captures the camaraderie of these women in ways that rip the film out of its cliched roots. Davis, who is terrific, subtly shows us the conflicting emotions of a Forties woman torn between ambition and duty, without patronizing Dottie or her choices. In these moments it seems fair to stop razzing League and let rip with a "Go, Peaches!"

Batman Returns matches up the Caped Crusader with Catwoman. Wait'll you get a load of Michelle Pfeiffer's ravishing kitten with a whip. "How could you -- I'm a woman," she says to Batman when he slugs her, meeting his apology with a kick in the groin. Meow, indeed. Though her lusty licking of Batman's face may arouse kinky thoughts, Catwoman is no bimbo in black leather. Pfeiffer gives this feminist avenger a tough core of intelligence and wit; she's a classic dazzler.

The follow up to the blockbuster of summer '89 is faster and funnier, but that's not always a plus. To keep this astounding fun house humming with frenzied action, director Tim Burton spends less time investigating the Dark Knight's dark side. And the sinister visual grandeur of the late Anton Furst has given way to the more whimsical approach of production designer Bo Welch. Still, the extravagantly gifted Burton hasn't lost his subversive spirit, and the script, by Daniel Waters (Heathers), puts a sharp edge on the fun. Michael Keaton's manic-depressive hero remains a remarkably rich creation. And Danny DeVito's mutant Penguin - a balloon-bellied Richard III with a kingdom of sewer freaks - is as hilariously warped as Jack Nicholson's Joker and even quicker with the quips.

Still, the movie's heart resides in two creatures who feel uneasy in their normal skins. Keaton plays Bruce Wayne, Batman's alter ego, as a moody playboy. And Pfeiffer brings the same discontent to Selina Kyle, the mousey assistant to corrupt Gotham City tycoon Max Shreck (a fiendishly funny Christopher Walken). When Selina learns of Shreck's unholy alliance with the Penguin, her boss tries to kill her. Revived by cats, Selina vows to use her nine lives as Catwoman to get back at Shreck and society. She entices Penguin into a plot to frame Batman. But she falls for him, just as Selina fell for Bruce. When they rip off their masks and face each other (it's a knockout scene), they look lost and touchingly human.

To the crashing chords of Danny Elfman's score, Burton trots out every gimmick, from a Batskiboat to a Penguin umbrella-copter. But the best gimmick is neurosis: Everyone has one. Batman and Catwoman, unable to function without dressing up their psychic wounds in fantasy, are a dysfunctional Romeo and Juliet. Burton uses the summer's most explosively entertaining movie to lead us back into the liberating darkness of dreams.