NARRATOR". When we last saw Robin...
the artful Joker had hung him on a gigantic Bat-Mobile...
along with dozens of giant palette knives, about to slice him to slivers...
with Bruce Wayne securely tied to a nearby chair...
in the monstrous mobile room of Joker's studio.
In one moment, we'll find out whether Robin's saved or shaved.
Bruce, you've got to do something.
- These blades are getting lower and lower. - We've got one chance, Robin.
If I can get to that governor and stop this creation of Joker's.
You can do it, Bruce.
Stick With it.
I seem to have loosened one of these bonds.
- Good work, Bruce. - Robin, work yourself loose.
Disengage one of those knives and get down here.
Quickly, disconnect the drive belt.
That was close. Not much room for error.
From now on, all the errors are on Joker.
I think we'll prepare a little surprise for him, Robin.
Soon Robin will be gone forever and I will be rich forever.
When your priceless art treasures are delivered to me.
Joker, you could at least untie us. My hands are getting stiff.
Oh, but of course, my dear. The Joker is nothing if not magnanimous.
How about me?
Well, my generosity does not extended to overweight matrons, madam.
Joker, that's not very nice.
Well, we artists are not required to be nice. Only talented.
Oh, speaking of which, my latest creation should have completed its work by now.
What a beautiful sight. Beautiful.
Oh, what magnificent, beautiful red blood Boy Wonder had.
Has, Joker. That's not blood. That's some of your red paint.
My beautiful red blood is still inside me, no thanks to you.
Go! Get them!
Aah!
Baby Jane, those philistines in there intend to do me bodily harm.
You've got to stand by me.
After you tied me up and tried to steal my art collection?
But I couldn't help myself, my dear. I'm an artist.
Oh, I have a desire for things of beauty. Beauty's irresistible to me.
Oh, that's why I'm so attracted to you, my dear.
- Really? - Oh, I swear it, on a stack of blue boys.
Thank you. But I had to let him knock me around a little bit.
We don't want these crooks to make any connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman.
Gosh, that's right, but it's sure a tough way to throw them off the track.
Fortunately, I'm in good condition.
But we still have to round up the leader of these artistic failures. Come on.
I did it all for art, Baby Jane. All for art.
Can you doubt that I'm a great artist after seeing my paintings?
Your paintings were impressive, Joker.
Certainly not the work of an ordinary mind.
Aah! Stay away from me.
That juvenile delinquent has no appreciation for fine art.
- Baby Jane, you're not going to protect him. - He's just a misguided artist, Robin.
And we're going to re-guide him, straight to the Gotham State Penitentiary.
But the art collections haven't been delivered yet, so he hasn't stolen anything.
And as for the kidnapping, I for one refuse to press charges.
And as for them, they're all worn out from climbing the social ladder.
While I alone, with my filthy rich Daddy's money and prestige...
am in a position to keep them from reaching the top.
Well, I certainly wouldn't press charges, Baby Jane.
It won't help you, Joker. Bruce Wayne will press charges.
- He was born on top of the social ladder. - Yes, I am reasonably secure socially.
However, if Baby Jane thinks the Joker is simply misguided...
I must defer to her judgment.
You're a sweetie, Brucie.
And now I have my very own artist to play with.
- I am at your command, my dear. - Come on, you big hunk of genius.
Ta-ta, Boy Bungler, and tell your chicken-hearted partner...
that if I catch him on the street, I'll run him out of town. Ha-ha-ha!
- Why didn't you press...? - Let's untie the ladies first, Boy Wonder.
Oh, thank you so much, Robin. Mr. Wayne, thank you.
Why didn't you press charges?
It's dangerous. You and I have been seen together often enough as it is.
Letting him go. He's not only free, but he thinks Batman's afraid of him.
Don't worry, Joker won't be under that delusion for long.
NARRATOR". Presently in the handsome mansion of Baby Jane's filthy rich father...
Do have some more chicken, Joker. You need your strength.
I could exist on two grapes and a thimble of water.
But my muse, my muse is starving.
More chicken for the Joker's muse.
Tell me, Joker, where do you get your ideas for your paintings?
Ah, inspirations, my dear, from my muse and from beautiful admirers.
If only I could feel that I'd inspired a great work of art.
Oh, don't worry, my dear. You Will, you will. Ah!
A message from my muse.
- What does it say? - Ah! Clear the table.
- Paint. Bring me paint. - Charles, you heard the Joker.
Never mind, I brought my own. Ha-ha-ha.
Ah, yes. Thank you. Ha-ha-ha.
Whoo! Ah, ha-ha-ha.
Oh, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
Whoo! Oh, magnificent, magnificent.
Magnificent. Look at that. Magnificent.
Never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
What a magnificent artist I am.
Ooh, a veritable masterpiece. All right, boys, go to work on it.
But, Joker, that's a priceless antique table.
Out with the old, in with the new.
- Joker, they're destroying it! - Oh, not destroying, my dear. Creating.
Look at it this way. You're not losing a table, you're gaining a masterpiece.
- I see you removed the stain, Alfred. - Yes, sir.
The Batnaphtha finally did the trick.
Now I can start returning the signs I removed from the Bat-poles.
What about removing Joker?
We must anticipate Joker's next move and be there waiting for him.
How can you predict what a kook like that will do?
The criminal mind, erratic as it is, nevertheless has certain characteristic patterns.
For instance, Joker has begun an artistic caper.
I suspect he'll continue it.
And he can count on Baby Jane Towser's help.
Yes, I'm afraid he's completely bamboozled that poor girl...
and I'm sure he'll try to use her.
The question is, how?
Think of it, my dear. You'll be tell your grandchildren...
that you witnessed the turning point of 20th century art.
These paintings should be in the Louvre.
Or in the Gotham City Museum.
There's no room in the Gotham City Museum. It's filled up.
Yes. And with what? A lot of dusty relics of the past.
Outworn and outmoded.
No, we'll go down there tonight and replace those old relics with my brand new paintings.
- But we can't do that, Joker. - Why not?
Don't you think my paintings are good enough?
After all, they were once your very valuable antique dining table.
Of course your paintings are marvelous, but...
Then it's all settled.
I happen to know that your filthy rich daddy has a special founder's key...
to the Towser Wing of the museum. - Yes, he does, but...
Do you want your genius, me, to find another inspiration?
Oh, no. Joker, I must always be your inspiration.
Then go get Daddy's key.
The Towser Wing of the museum is being renovated this week.
Which will make it all the easier for us to make our little, uh, exchange.
Alfred should be finished shortly, Robin, and we can put our little plan into effect.
The Batphone.
- Yes, commissioner. - The Joker's been too quiet, Batman.
I'm worried. A whole day and nothing's happened.
That larcenous phony has something under his hat besides his head.
- Yeah. - The chief is right.
Robin and I would like to handle this ourselves.
Especially since Joker has been spreading ugly rumors about me.
Whatever you think best...
but no one could believe for a second that you're afraid of that cackling cutpurse.
Thank you, commissioner.
The chief and I won't move until we hear from you.
I hope that won't be too long, commissioner.
And tell Chief O'Hara...
that Robin and I have something in our pockets besides our hands.
Right.
I'm all through, sir.
Let's have a look, Alfred.
I've done my best.
Fine, Alfred.
NARRATOR". And that night in the Towser Wing of the Gotham City Museum...
There. Now all the world can see what a genius I am.
- And what an inspiration I am and my table. - Oh, of course, my dear.
Joker, what are you gonna do with all the dusty old relics that used to hang here?
Ah, that junk? I'll take it to the city dump and burn it.
Now, be a good girl and go and get another one of my masterpieces.
Careful, you dolt. Those paintings are priceless. How many are left?
- This is the last one, Joker. - Have you loaded them onto the truck?
All but this one. Where should we take them?
To the last place where the Gotham City Police expect us to go.
- Our old studio. - Right. Ha-ha-ha! Get going, boys.
- Here's another masterpiece. - Ah!
Won't the museum directors be surprised?
Ooh! Hoo, hoo! They'll be overjoyed, my dear.
Let me see that. There's a good place over there.
Handle them carefully, boys. There's 10 million under those blankets.
Well, I can't understand you, my dear, if you mumble.
Well, you're almost as bad as my muse. I could never understand her either.
Well, art styles change, but crime goes on forever.
Is that why I'm tied up? After all I've done for you?
Been your biggest booster?
Friendship ends when real felony finally takes over. Ha, ha.
Mm. Keep an eye on her.
- Commissioner Gordon. - Working nights, commissioner?
- Joker. - Joker?
I've decided to give you a present, commissioner...
for being so nice to me all these years.
If you're trying to offer me a bribe, Joker...
A bribe? Oh, don't be ridiculous.
I intend to present you...
with the entire Renaissance collection of the Gotham City Museum as a gift.
Renaissance art collection? How did you...?
Never mind how, commissioner. I've got it and I'm giving it to you.
Now, isn't that nice of me?
Of course there's a slight delivery charge, about $10 million.
Payable within an hour or I burn the entire collection.
When Batman gets his hands on you...
Batman? Ha! That Cowardly Creep?
He's so scared of me he doesn't dare come out of his Batcave.
You might as well forget help from Batman, commissioner...
and start thinking of my 10 million.
- Good evening, Joker. - Oh!
Oh, Batman, you're on the line too.
Well, ha-ha-ha.
- Oh, hiding out in the commissioner's office? - I hope you don't mind, Joker.
Oh, you better stay inside, Batboob, because if I catch you outside...
I'm going to pin your pointed ears back, do you hear?
Of course, Joker. What's this I hear about stolen paintings?
Oh, I have dozens of them, and each one an old master.
- You don't say. - Yes, I do say.
You Caped Clotpoll. You switched paintings on me.
These are nothing but kindergarten drawings.
Naturally. And even a kindergarten mind could have anticipated your every move.
This caper was even more obvious than most.
You can say that over the phone, Batman, but if I had you here, I'd pound you to a pulp.
Start pounding, Joker.
It's music to me ears.
It is, Chief O'Hara. It is indeed.
Beautiful. Beautiful.
Oh, it's horrible, horrible.
Oh, while the Dynamic Dimwits are flapping my flunkies, I'll make my escape.
But first a trip to Bruce Wayne's house to pick up some quick cash...
so I can hide out for few months.
And get even with that rich fink for quitting my kidnap keeper this morning.
He's gone.
Knowing the Joker's need for cash and his dislike for Bruce...
- You think he's headed for Wayne Manor? - I'm sure of it. Come on, to the Batmobile.
- Where's Bruce Wayne? - Mr. Wayne is not at home, sir.
Too bad. I'll get my revenge later.
Right now, I'll settle for cash. Where's the safe?
My duties do not include aiding and abetting thievery.
Oh, no?
- I see. - Ha-ha-ha.
This way, sir.
Please be calm, madam.
One peep out of you and I'll blow your head off.
- Where's the safe? - Over there.
- Oh, my, you poor little thing. - Behind the picture, sir.
There's no safe there. Aah!
Alfred, be careful. The Joker's an arch-criminal.
- I know, madam, but a very poor fencer. - You Anglo-fink, I'll smash you to smidgens.
May I point out that smidgens is a childish effusion...
which should have no place even in so poor a vocabulary as yours, sir.
Stand back. Stand back, I say, or I'll...
- Aah? What's this? - Don't touch that.
Ah, ha! A secret passage.
- Alfred, what's happened? - The Joker tripped the Bat-pole switch...
and mistook this for a secret passage. - He's down in the Batcave.
He didn't quite make the Batcave, Master Robin.
- Then where is he? - I believe he should be arriving presently.
Emergency Bat-pole elevator. Fast thinking, Alfred.
Thank you, sir.
Someone get me off this crazy dumbwaiter. I can't breathe!
Joker says he can't breathe, Alfred. Why don't you give him some breathing space?
With pleasure, sir.
Oh, no! Aah!
It's lucky you didn't get around to washing our other costumes...
or Joker might have found himself wearing a Bat-costume.
I think we better see about Baby Jane Towser.
Alfred, it looks like you can handle things.
I believe everything is well in hand, sir, and the young lady's in the living room.
Now, now, Ms. Towser, it wasn't your fault.
Anyone could be misled by the Joker's slick talk.
But I was so gullible, Mrs. Cooper.
Oh, Batman and Robin, thank heaven you're here.
- Is Alfred all right? - Yes, he's just fine, Mrs. Cooper.
Batman, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.
It was an honest mistake, Baby Jane. No one blames you for it.
I blame myself.
It'll be a long time before anyone catches me in another art gallery.
It'll be an even longer time for Joker.
- By the way, where is Joker? - Right now, Joker's having his ups and downs.
You might say that.
Help!
Alfred, old pal, have pity. Ho-ho-ho!
We Anglo-finks have a long memory.
I really shouldn't take pleasure in another creature's misfortunes...
but, uh, occasionally one may be forgiven for a slight twinge of satisfaction.
Of course, there's no telling what the public is going to like, you know?
Personally, I never understood modern art. I've always liked Whistler's Mother.
- To tell the truth, so have I. - Shh!
Someone might hear you and you'd lose a fortune.
Which would decrease the proceeds to the Wayne Foundation Free-Nursery School...
to which Alfred is donating his profits. - It is the least I could do, sir.
Especially in view of the, uh, nature of the paintings.
Excuse me, I think I see a customer ripe for plucking.
I mean, interested in buying.
I don't understand it at all. It must be very profound.
Notice the large green blob.
Hmm. Yes, I see what you mean. Very profound.
Well, Alfred, it's not everyone who can have his first efforts displayed at Park's.
Thank you, sir.
The Joker and his paintings are in prison and Alfred and his paintings are at Park's.
A rather nice turn of events.
- And very fine paintings they are too, Alfred. - You really think so, sir?
Oh, indeed I do. Why, uh, they're masterpieces.
Perhaps you'd like to own one.
Yes, yes, I would, but, uh, I can't afford the price.
Oh, that's no obstacle, sir.
Allow me to present you with this one as a token of my esteem.
Mother machree.