No, Jack Nicholson hasn't died (yet). But I couldn't help but reminisce over his 1989 performance in Tim Burton's Batman this week, especially in lieu of the fact that Heath Ledger's performance as the Clown Prince of Crime is supposedly the best interpretation in cinema history. First consider what Nicholson did to the role.

Jack Nicholson commercialized the Joker in a way that had never been seen before, outside of comics. The last Joker characterization that we had the privilege of seeing was Cesar Romero in the cheesy 1960s Batman series, and he was painted as a laughable loser, almost as ridiculous as Adam West's own tongue-in-cheek posing. When 1989's Batman came out, Burton attempted to do something unprecedented (oh, whatever happened to that courageous young Tim?) by making the Joker something truly evil and something sacrilegiously entertaining. He was, in a way, attempting to bring the semi-serious Joker of the DC Comic Universe onto the Silver Screen.

Burton knew he had to cast someone with a strong versatile streak, as uncomfortable as it was amazing to behold. Tim Curry, Willem Dafoe, David Bowie and James Woods were all considered for the part that would eventually go to Jack Nicholson, who had been interested in the role as far back as 1986. Few back then would argue that Nicholson was perfect for the role, as Nicholson had already had a history of playing smiley-faced psychopaths and presenting them as misunderstood heroes. As soon as Jack was cast he started calling the shots. In fact, Nicholson made some rather Joker-esque demands before starting work.

He wanted an unheard of "off-the-clock" agreement, that let him dictate the number of hours he had off from production. He demanded to have all his scenes shot "three week blocks." He also wanted power over script rewrites, six million dollars up front and a percentage of the box office gross, which is now speculated to have been about $50 million dollars. Last but certainly not least, Nicholson demanded that he receive top billing over Keaton, which would be the first time the Joker ever out-muscled Batman in any universe.

What was behind Nicholson's demands? Was it ego or was he truly transforming into his egomaniacal alter ego? No, I believe it was simply a matter of converting the Joker, an age-old iconic personality that still never had a proper introduction to cinema, into a bankable commodity. The Joker made the movie relevant and successful, showing audiences that the hero didn't really matter. This sort of villain was worth paying to see. What Nicholson actually did, after brilliantly commercializing what could have been an ordinary bad guy role, is still open to criticism.

He didn't really embody the Joker as much as he lent his own twisted persona to the character, therefore elevating him into human superstardom. I admired the artistry that he brought to the criminal--this was a decade in which criminals were perceived as deranged and lethargic brutes that merely killed for maximum psychological effect. Nicholson made the Joker into an action hero and an on-screen oddity too bizarre to dismiss. Somehow, we wanted the Joker to kill, to crack jokes, and to elevate his homicidal art above the predictably heroic antics of Batman.

Admittedly, Nicholson chose the old Hollywood way of playing crazy to get his point across. He masticated scenery, laughed at his own jokes, held a demonic grin and recited dialogue as if he was a snickering kid in a comic book store. It worked in the 1980s and at once thrilled and terrified audiences. This movie was aimed at the everyday family, a family that presumably had not been exposed to the gruesomeness of the Batman comics.

Now in 2008, the everyday family has seen such terror on and off screen, they no longer buy the psychotic grandpa as an unstoppable menacing force. Jack is their exasperating relative; their cantankerous yet harmless paternal figure that rebels against society while selflessly fluffing up their pillow at night. Now we want to see real blood. We want to experience real fear. We want to understand the motivations of psychotics and live vicariously through them, if only to escape our latent fears of unexplainable evil.

The late Heath Ledger was an ideal choice, as this character actor approached his craft with a Brando-esque touch of methodic discipline. I believe Ledger will take the Joker into psychological areas we were never quite comfortable with in the 1980s--he will play him one half evil clown, one half political terrorist, the kind of angry young man that we cannot fathom and subconsciously dread. Ledger may well surpass Jack's performance in terms of art, and will hopefully eschew the comedic overtones of the Joker from Batman: The Animated Series too. While fanboys continue to rave over Mark Hamill's voice over performance, I never really feared the cartoon Joker. He was a pseudo-criminal drawn and voiced like an Animaniac, a living joke that Batman thwarted because the criminal element was just not there. I prefer the Joker from the comic world--the Joker who wreaked havoc on audiences in The Killing Joke and Arkham Asylum. This was a character that had no rhyme or reason to his criminal acts, and chose to leave a cruel joke in place of an explanation, robbing victims of all solace. Hopefully this is the demonic energy that Ledger tapped into when summoning his character. In any event, it's likely that Ledger's performance will be cemented in Hollywood's worship ground, in comparison with James Dean's early farewell performance in Rebel Without a Cause. They love the man so much they will make sure that his last completed good performance becomes something great.

Who knows what Jack Nicholson meant when he commented to the media that he "warned" Heath Ledger prior to his death? Nicholson later specified that he warned him about relying on sleeping pills. Personally, I theorize that Nicholson was warning Ledger about getting too carried away with his method acting, particularly in approaching an "insane role." It was been reported that Ledger's exhaustion was evident to other members of the cast, including Michael Caine who commented, "He was exhausted, I mean he was really tired. I remember saying to him, 'I'm too old to have the bloody energy to play that part.' And I thought to myself, I didn't have the energy when I was his age." Cinematographer Wally Pfister said Ledger seemed "like he was busting blood vessels in his head, he was so intense...like a seance, where the medium takes on another person and then is so completely drained." I also speculate that Ledger's possession of the Joker will eventually become a legendary Hollywood curse, one that brings tragic or horrific consequences to any actor that dares to follow up a drop-dead performance.

And what about Jack? Isn't it only fair to give Heath the Best Joker Of All Time Award, since Jack is still alive and Heath's life was tragically cut short? Perhaps, though I wouldn't be so certain to declare either performance as something better than the other. Nicholson spoke to a different generation and introduced a far more important commerciality to the Joker. With Nolan writing and directing the film, I believe he will bring a more psychological intensity to the role, the likes of which wouldn't have worked in 1989 but is, at last, timely in the new century. Heath Ledger's performance will be an evolution, a spawn of Jack's artful sadism. To some degree the Joker's motivation has always been about art; his character functions as an amoral parody of Batman's black and white stoicism. Just as art always evolves into something denser and more reflective of the times, this Friday, the Joker's art it will take on its most hellish incarnation yet--a man's whose joyful madness remains too uncomfortably flirty with death to be truly entertaining.