It's a little surreal revisiting Batman Forever nearly three decades later and realizing—somehow—we're still talking about it. Not in a nostalgic “Wasn't Jim Carrey hilarious?” way. More like, “Wait… was there actually a good version of this thing all along?”
Yeah. That version. The mythical Schumacher Cut. The 160-minute darker, moodier, psychologically heavier vision that got buried under neon lights, Dutch angles, and merchandising deals.
Last month marked the 30th anniversary of Batman Forever's release (June 16, 1995), and with it came a wave of renewed curiosity about director Joel Schumacher's original vision. Not least because Val Kilmer—who played the brooding Caped Crusader in that very film—passed away earlier this year. If there's ever been a moment for catharsis, for honoring intent, it's now.
But don't hold your breath.
Akiva Goldsman, the film's screenwriter, recently told The Hollywood Reporter that he tried. After Schumacher's death in 2020, Goldsman reached out to Warner Bros. and basically said, “Hey, we've got this version—it's raw, but real.” Their response? Crickets. Or as he put it: “Everybody stopped caring.”
That's Hollywood in a nutshell, isn't it? Nostalgia is currency—until the cost hits $10 million in post-production.
The Cut That Wasn't
Let's be clear: this isn't a conspiracy theory or another Snyder Cut situation manufactured by Reddit rage. The Schumacher Cut exists. A rough version, clocking in at around 2 hours and 38 minutes, was shown privately in 2023. According to folks who saw it—including a small audience at Kevin Smith's Smodcastle Cinema in New Jersey—the response was quietly, overwhelmingly positive.
No, it's not polished. It lacks full VFX, the score is unfinished, and it definitely wouldn't pass a modern Dolby Atmos test. But it had something the theatrical version lacked—soul.
In this version, Bruce Wayne wrestles with recurring visions of his father's diary—specifically, an entry that all but confirms Bruce blames himself for his parents' murder. There's even a sequence where he loses his memory after a blow to the head, only to confront a giant, Rick Baker-designed bat deep in the Batcave.
I mean… come on. That's actual character development. That's mythology. That's Batman.
Instead, what we got in 1995 was glow sticks, crotch shots, and Tommy Lee Jones hamming it up like a guy who'd never seen a Batman comic, let alone read one.
Why Now?
Schumacher never had a battalion of online diehards the way Zack Snyder did. His aesthetic wasn't brooding and militarized—it was campy, weird, operatic. He got blamed for ruining Batman, then got written off entirely. But that's too easy. Go back and watch Falling Down or Phone Booth. This man understood intensity. He just didn't wrap it in black leather and slow motion.
With Kilmer's death this year and the 30th anniversary quietly passing, there's a melancholy urgency to seeing this through. Not for fanboys. Not for internet points. For closure.
There's no grand marketing scheme here, no hashtags trending worldwide. Just a half-finished cut of a misunderstood film, waiting in some dusty archive while executives ask, “But can it sell toys?”
Honestly?
I didn't love Batman Forever when it dropped. Coming off Burton's gothic majesty, the tonal whiplash was real. Kilmer felt stiff. Robin felt forced. And Carrey? Too much. It was like the movie couldn't decide if it wanted to be a reboot, a sequel, or a rave.
But hearing about this cut—this brooding, introspective alternate take that peels back Bruce Wayne's trauma—yeah, I'm curious. Not because I think it'll suddenly be great. But because, maybe, it'll finally feel like something.
Something unfinished, yes. But maybe also something worth finishing.
So…?
Should Warner Bros. pony up $10 million to polish it and throw it on Max? Probably not for profit. But maybe for posterity. For the late Joel Schumacher. For Val Kilmer. For that rare thing in Hollywood: the chance to correct—not erase—the record.
Is the Schumacher Cut a masterpiece? Doubt it. But is it better than what we got?
God, I hope so.
