Some of my better Saturdays were spent with a bowl of Apple Jacks, watching Adam West batusi his way through pastel-tinged danger and bat-cliffhangers. I have vivid memories of queuing up outside of a movie theater in Sun Valley, California, anxiously waiting to get tickets for Batman '89. I can, with disproportionate gusto, explain how a DC comics PR stunt saddled Batman with decades of guilt and helped redefine his precarious psychological machinery.
But before the Dark Knight endeared me to pulp crime fantasy, I had a love affair with tiny Danish cubes. I would watch as my father painstakingly deciphered a large sheet of directions, his hard work was rewarded with utter destruction. I'd devise complex excuses to rend brick from brick. Doors would be ripped away, flowers would be unearthed, nothing was safe. I think it's an innate human response to spend hours building those damned little sets, only to tear them to bits in a gloriously destructive minute.
Naturally, the words “Lego Batman” excited memories of childhood joy within me. At last, my love of brooding vigilantes and architectural destruction were married in one convenient package! This game was made for me and yet, somehow, it manages to miss the mark.