The ads for "Batman And Robin" scream "the event of the summer is here" and that's the problem. The producers were apparently so intent on creating a spectacle that they forgot to put an actual movie inside of it. "Batman And Robin" is 126 minutes of lavish sets, flashy costumes and big, confusing fight scenes with barely a hint of substance. It's like one of those cheesy Kings Island stage shows; bright, busy and visually diverting, but not very much fun.

It wasn't always this way. Tim Burton's "Batman" was an epic story of obsession and duality, of darkness and revenge. The film, while far from perfect, was a striking mood piece with an otherworldly feel. Batman was a creepy, brooding creature of the night. The Joker, brilliantly overplayed by Jack Nicholson, was at once charismatic and repellent. Batman and the Joker were opposite sides of the same coin, battling inner demons and one another over Gotham City's breathtaking gothic skyline.

Those days of the Dark Knight are gone, replaced by a psychedelic Ice Capades run amuck. "Batman And Robin" has far more in common with the campy 60's Batman TV show than with Tim Burton's tale of darkness. The blame lies with director Joel Schumacher. A former window-dresser, Schumacher is adept at decorating sets and dressing people in exotic costumes. Unfortunately, when it comes time to have those people walk and talk, he hasn't the faintest notion of what to do. "Batman And Robin" is overstuffed with intricately choreographed fight scenes so poorly edited that it's often difficult to tell who's whacking who. While the characters flail at each other, one-liners and bad puns are tossed about like confetti. A few carefully placed jokes can set an action movie sailing, but too many wisecracks can undermine the momentum of a film. "Batman And Robin" doesn't merely lose momentum, it stalls out completely on several occasions. It's rare to see an action flick as sluggish as this one.

Ironically, the parts of "Batman And Robin" that work are the ones showing the characters in street clothing, and most of those succeed because of George Clooney as Bruce Wayne. Easily the best Batman yet, Clooney's expressive eyes and weary smile gives the character a sense of depth that the script doesn't even hint at. The film's most effective scene is a tender, quiet exchange between Clooney and Alfred (Michael Gough), Bruce Wayne's butler and surrogate father.

As for the other heroes, Chris O'Donnell's Robin is enthusiastic, perky and horny as hell, while pudgy Alicia Silverstone is hard to accept as an athlete in her debut as Batgirl. In a movie filled to the brim with major characters, the decision to add the entirely unnecessary Batgirl and Elle Macpherson as Bruce Wayne's girlfriend is puzzling. I suspect the producers inserted the women in an attempt to convince audiences that two guys who run around in rubber suits with built-in nipples, shapely buttocks and huge codpieces are actually straight.

Of course, the real stars of a Batman film are the villains and that's where "Batman And Robin" really suffers. As Mr. Freeze, Arnold Schwarzenegger gives his worst performance in years, spitting out a stream of lame catch phrases in wooden fashion. Laboring under a ton of appliances, Schwarzenegger looks as if he's having trouble even moving in his suit, let alone trying to act. Uma Thurman fares somewhat better as Poison Ivy. She overacts terribly in the early establishing scenes of her character (it's apparently a rule in the Batman series that before a person becomes a villain, s/he must be a cartoonish, bumbling nerd). Once Thurman transforms into the eco-psychotic Poison Ivy, she does a nice Mae West impersonation as a classic vamp who can seduce men with her breath and kill them with a kiss. Thurman fails to maintain the character's maniacal sense of style though, and ends up merely sputtering her way through the latter scenes of the film.

The biggest lesson to be learned from "Batman And Robin" is that more is not better. Joel Schumacher fills the screen with eye candy; but the Technicolor overkill merely emphasizes what a trifle the film really is. Some critics suggest that the Batman series has run out of steam. I don't think so. My prescription? Fire Joel Schumacher (but offer him a ticket to a rubber fetishist's convention so he'll understand that there's no hard feelings). Give Alicia Silverstone her walking papers, while keeping Clooney, O'Donnell and Michael Gough. Call Jack Nicholson and Michelle Pfieffer and beg them to reprise their roles as the Joker and Catwoman. Then, ditch the campiness and, for the love of Pete, lose the "Event" mentality and make a movie instead of a spectacle next time.