There is a criticism of modern superhero movies shared among my peers and me. It isn’t a hatred of these films – after all, so many of them were foundational to our love of cinema, to begin with. No, the problem is the way the movies are made, and consequently, how they look.
So when the first trailers for Matt Reeves’ The Batman came out, it was a shock to the system for certain. And one comment I found said a lot with very little.
“This actually looks like a film.”
But duh, right? Like, yeah, they’re movies. But as critics like Alex of HiTop Films have pointed out, too many superhero films end up looking like “SNL sketches.” Perhaps that’s a harsh comparison, but how rare is it that you see cinematography that actually looks impressive?
I’m not talking about digital effects work. Cinematography isn’t having a pretty-looking wide shot of a landscape created in a computer. I’m talking about scenes shot on film that look like they were conceived and created by artists who wanted to elicit emotion, rather than basic, simple shots meant only to convey information. Cinematography isn’t having a pretty-looking wide shot of a landscape created in a computer.
I know that people say that “every shot should have a purpose,” but too often that can be misconstrued as an excuse to not be creative. Cinematography is about creating shots and moments you remember. And I hadn’t grasped the enormity of my hunger for change until I saw this movie.
The Batman is the best-looking comic-book movie I have ever seen.
The first hour or so of The Batman is a reintroduction of Batman to a movie-going audience so thick with style as to be more transportive than most superhero high-fantasy. Batman has never been forgotten, but perhaps we’ve been missing a Batman story that feels self-contained.
The last Batman was Ben Affleck’s take on an older, more violent, and jaded Bruce. One that killed stupidly and never got to have his own standalone film. Now, Batman isn’t just the central character but is more of a focus in the story than ever before.
Batman Begins set the standard for Superhero origin films for ages. However, even with its approach to the start of Bruce’s crusade, we rarely peered into his mind. The monologue present in stories like Batman Year One, which inspired Nolan’s films, was missing.
As a stylistic choice, it’s nothing damning to go without it. But the early Batman films by Burton and Schumacher rarely explored Bruce’s mind either. When they did, it was either cut out or it wasn’t explored enough. Matt Reeves’ utilization of narration here is certainly refreshing, not just in itself, but in the style of writing.
The Batman is a detective noir before it is a superhero film. When Bruce narrates the written journals of his escapades, it is rich with character. We are hearing what is written for his eyes only. The journals are a reminder of his mission and perhaps an opportunity to reflect.
Sometimes, Bruce’s brooding bravado sounds like it would be right at home in a classic detective story. The only reprieve from his stoicism is the anger that escapes the cracks in his literal armor. He’s intimidating, but not even just for his violence. It’s his knowledge.
No Batman film has ever sufficiently justified his moniker as the “World’s Greatest Detective.” I mean, in his time abroad, he didn’t just wander as a hobo and learn to fight and scare people. He learned criminology and “the art of detecting” according to the first panels of Batman: Hush.
After a violent opening and the reintroduction to the caped crusader, that flaw is rectified in a classic moment of crime scene investigation. All of the cops are on edge. First, the mayor is killed and now a masked man is peering at everything. There is fear, but also recognition – however slight – of their credentials.
Batman glances somewhere, and forensic experts follow his gaze. A missing limb is observed, and he deduces that it was removed while the victim was alive when it was taken. Barely ten minutes in and the film has not slipped up once.
Batman and Jim Gordon are almost as perfect a pair as the Bat and the Cat. Jeffrey Wright not only captures Gordon’s faith in Batman but offers an understated and appropriate amount of levity. Gordon is funny at just the right times. The comedy, sparse as it is, never takes away from the moment as it might have in an MCU production.
Like any good mystery, there is a web of connected parties and interests, with competing motivations and countless possible end goals to all the killings. The Riddler and his identity might be known to all who enter the theater, but the mystery extends beyond that.
It ropes in the mob and their business interests, which in turn implicates the cops and officials of the city. Within the mob, Carmine Falcone makes do after his predecessor, Maroni, was busted. And amidst it all, Ozwald Cobblepot – The Penguin, played by Colin Farrell – intimidates as Falcone’s right hand.
That’s where Selina Kyle enters. Zoe Kravitz will no doubt win the hearts of all. She’s stunning from beginning to end, not just in physical commitment, but in her understanding of the beating heart behind Catwoman.
She’s an icon of the downtrodden. She weaponizes her sexuality, something that the powerful above her fawn over, and takes away their riches. She isn’t cold or dispassionate to those she can relate to. Everyone has their hustle. Hers just happens to be breaking the rules to get more than she was ever given to chance to earn.
Batman and Catwoman are an insatiable pair. The dichotomy between their allegiance and their disparate upbringings creates natural tension. Catwoman might not know Bruce’s identity, but she can sniff out that he has no place talking like he knows her. She deduces that he comes from wealth in a heartbeat.
What connects them isn’t just that they’re both traumatized. Selina isn’t as unstable as she was in, say, Batman Returns. He recognizes that she’s a criminal but understands that she’s fighting in the name of people like her, to spite the powerful and corrupt.
Selina calls out Batman for being naive, but she knows that he cares more about her and people like her than anyone else who comes from wealth. In the end, it’s just their chosen lives that make them different. What they stand for under the surface has always been what unifies them.
That dynamic just so happens to express itself through sensuality and competition. Mystique is rather sexy after all. They may clash on the matters of mortality and the just punishments for crimes, but there is palpable compassion expressed by Pattinson and Kravitz that grounds their relationship even as its larger-than-life trappings sink their hooks in.
Pattinson himself transcended any critique of his casting a long time ago. The man has acted his soul out for years now. The Lighthouse was one of 2019’s best films and a haunting character study. The cues he took from that film in crafting his Bruce Wayne paid off.
He is moodier and less sociable, but within the Batman meta, it makes sense that his life would only revolve around Batman and not Bruce. The public persona of Bruce Wayne is a mask of douchey playboy antics. It hides Bruce’s true self, one that comes out best as the vigilante.
In this film, Bruce hasn’t even begun to consider a playboy persona for public appearances yet. Only his vigilante persona matters. It’s an effective take that gives potential sequels room to expand on his character. The reason that any of this works as well as it does is that the story is all about attacking the idea of “the Batman” and what kind of hero Bruce wants to be.
Aiding in this journey is Alfred, played by Andy Serkis. I wasn’t sure how Serkis would perform as Alfred. In marketing materials, his presence seemed understated. However, he has a huge impact. This portrayal, in particular, hones in on Alfred’s reputation as a retired former special forces soldier.
Alfred gave Bruce training and uses their own skills from years of experience to aid Bruce in his investigation while trying to help him keep his life outside of the cowl stable. In this way, he’s established very quickly as the foundation for Bruce’s life.
As revelations about Bruce’s family come to light through the story, a lot of that drama is confronted through Alfred. He’s the last family Bruce has and that connection is powerful. This being a younger Bruce, Pattinson adds vulnerability to him.
Between some phenomenal performances across the board to the elaborate web of intrigue built upon well-conceived lore, the first half of the film makes the three-hour runtime feel like nothing at all. No story or genre homage feels undercooked.
The largest blemish on an otherwise astonishing script creeps in at the end of the second act. Up to that point, the film has characters, scenarios, and aesthetics paying homage to classic Batman stories like The Long Halloween or Year One. None of the callbacks ever felt too egregious. They always felt like organic parts of an original story.
During this scene in question, however, the inspiration is more blatant than ever before, almost sounding unnatural in its attempt to pay homage to Batman: Hush. It lacked the cleverness of the rest of the script. Worse still, this lore dump feels abrupt. It’s a lot of info to be dispensed just so that the stakes of the third act can be what they are.
Perhaps the film was going to be longer initially. If so, then perhaps there would have been more time to explore these ideas revealed so late into the film. It’s a mercy, however, that my biggest complaints are relegated to such a minor part of the film.
On a brighter note, the music in this film is awesome. Michael Giacchino has been a composer in film for a long time. Many will remember the earworms he concocted for The Incredibles and for good reason. He hasn’t gotten the same name recognition as Hanz Zimmer or Junkie XL, but that could very well change soon.
From his work on Marvel films to crafting the Tom Holland Spider-Man theme, the guy has been on a roll, but with The Batman, something magical has occurred. This score harkens back to Batman stories from all ages. I encourage you to check out the official playlist here.
It has the uproar of Tim Burton’s orchestra and the hope and beauty of Shirley Walker’s score from Mask of the Phantasm. When Batman is scary – and boy is he scary – the haunting string section and intimidating drums harken back to Zimmer and XL’s themes for the Bat from Zack Snyder’s works.
From the moment I listened to the main theme, I knew the music would be a highlight. The main progression you hear in all the trailers is triumphant and epic, but you wouldn’t ever expect such beauty in the opening half of the theme. The music is as layered as its main character and the journey the film takes them.
If the soundtrack is an homage to what’s come before, then the action is something wholly original. I’m going to make a bold claim. The hand-to-hand fighting in a lot of Batman films leaves a lot to be desired. The most exciting action was always in the batmobile or when Batman used his gadgets.
The Nolan films had the most complicated relationship with combat. The camerawork in Batman Begins was choppy and cut away too quickly. The Dark Knight was undoubtedly the best in the action department. Rises could have been great, but the fight versus Bane was let down by bad foley effects and sluggish choreography.
The trailers for this new movie got me excited to see action that holds up to the standards set by action movies like John Wick. We want to see the action and we want to believe that Batman is a master martial artist. Between the brutal fights and the increased mobility of the suit, the action is the best it’s been since the warehouse scene in Batman vs Superman.
And to top it off, the gadgets are cooler than ever. To really capture the love of Batman, you can’t ignore the toys. I’ve always loved his grappling hooks and now he gets two, housed in both of his gauntlets. He doesn’t use batarangs, but the symbol on his chest is a detachable combat knife.
And we couldn’t forget the Batmobile. Not as many weapons as Nolan’s or Snyder’s, and not nearly as bulky either. It’s a muscle car optimized to bust through concrete. But it’s also more intimidating in execution than any other Batmobile. The scene in which it makes its grand debut is to this film what the first appearance of Batman was in Batman ’89. An instant classic.
No doubt there’s going to be a lot of discussion about this film and where it ranks among the other Batman films. Maybe it’s too early to pit it against the rest. I’m certainly not excited for the film’s praise to reignite discussion among people who like to hate on the character.
Batman is an easy character to love but also a bloke who people love to criticize. I’m not here to strongarm anyone into changing their mind on the guy, but this film has done a lot of good for the character, thematically. I think Matt Reeves has made the perfect commentary on why Batman is so beloved.
At the start, Bruce confesses that he isn’t sure if he has an effect at all. He presses on because he has hope. But is hope enough? Is it a matter of a task being unfulfilled, or are the acts themselves not enough? Alternatively, are they too much?
“Fear is a tool,” but what happens when the people you’re protecting are afraid too? When the people being saved can’t recognize the intention, is it an occupational hazard, or is their sentiment something to consider? The poor, the marginalized, and the weak are all three beset by the rich, the many, and the strong.
The depressive miasma of Gotham turns some of those unfortunate souls in the former lot into aggressors themselves. Dogmas are created that divide kind. Who does Batman really fight for when the meaning of lives is politicized and buried beneath pretext and economics?
The Riddler is a serial killer. He needs to be rehabilitated. But he’s also a victim of the same injustices Batman fights – the same injustices that Bruce’s family aren’t innocent of either. Some of the best Batman stories are about the legacy of the Wayne’s and how that affects Bruce, but what about everyone else?
The Riddler has killed people who – as the story tells us – are guilty and deserve judgment, but not death That alone is easily agreed upon and understood. But the Riddler is also a young white male whose messages of judgment embolden other members of society to support him.
It is all very reminiscent of the defining fear of the past decade of American culture: homegrown terrorism. It’s a divisive topic, but one that I can’t imagine didn’t play a role in inspiring this vision of the Riddler.
It elicits imagery of armed militias, online incel culture, and white nationalism. The parallels between motives don’t have to be one-to-one. The idea is clear as day. Batman is a staple of pop culture. Pop culture icons can be coopted for purposes of great love, but also great hate.
Paul Dano does a great job as Edward Nashton, the man behind the Riddler. He plays mental distress well. Physically, he is capable but awkward. Vocally, he can erupt at a moment’s notice like John Malkovich as a serial killer. His most reliable tool is his mind, which rivals Batman’s greatest deductive prowess.
At one point, Bruce insults Nashton. He calls him the kinds of words we expect. “Crazy.” “Psychopath.” It isn’t clever or even a meaningful attack. If anything, Bruce’s anger seems defensive. He can’t quite deny that he is similar to his foe. They both went to extremes to seek justice.
Nashton is guilty. His judgment was imperfect. However, Batman’s anger towards Nashton is appropriately flawed because Batman is ignoring the cause of people like Nashton. It’s a failure of principle that sets up the emotional stakes going into the climax.
In this movie, Batman isn’t merely referred to as “Batman.” From the moment he speaks the words “I’m Vengeance,” it’s a nickname throughout the film as if the event in the opening scene is talked about in whispers on the streets and spreads like fire, creating a new label.
Almost everyone calls him “Vengeance.” At first, it seemed like just neat creative liberty to explain how people come to understand Batman. But by the end, that label takes on new meaning. This is an examination of Batman’s effect on Gothan and its people.
While other Batman media has touched upon this idea before, it’s almost always tied to major members of the rogues’ gallery. For instance, the Joker is thought to exist because of Batman. Here, Reeves seeks to examine the effect on regular citizens who lack their own recognizable persona. Consequently, this makes the message take on a new and profound impact.
This story is about Bruce trying to push onward through pain and fear like he always has. But eventually, he realizes that without confronting pain, he’s bound to spread pain to others. He’s still a fighter and a symbol of fear, but that symbol has to mean different things to different people.
There’s a theme shared among Christopher Nolan’s trilogy and Reeves’ story here. Children are seemingly immune to the fear that Batman brings. In Batman Begins, a young boy appears in the second act of the story, seemingly unafraid of the caped crusader. In the third act, when Scarecrow’s toxin threatens The Narrows, it’s the boy who repeats to himself and Rachel “Batman will save us.”
This theme is revisited in Batman 2022. The idea behind it seems simple in this recent example. This time, the boy lost a father, just like Bruce. In turn, every time the boy appears, we are reminded of that sympathy Bruce has for the kid. And that kid isn’t afraid of Batman.
Kids love Batman. I loved Batman. My father, who never knew his own father, loves Batman. But you don’t have to have suffered a loss in the family to understand it. Batman was afraid. He was a scared kid – like everyone. But that fear didn’t end him. It made him stronger.
To a kid, Batman is a role model for fighting fear and everything there is to be afraid of. This film is about embracing the privilege of overcoming fear and what that can mean to those still grappling with it.
In an interview about My Hero Academia, voice actress Brina Palencia was asked what she believed being a hero was. She answered that being a hero was about recognizing the power or privilege you have, reaching down, and lending a hand to those less fortunate than you. That is what it means to be a hero.
And that lesson is what I think about when I reflect on Matt Reeves’ The Batman. A defining neo-noir thriller of the new decade, a chilling detective story, and one of the most gorgeous movie productions to come out of this pandemic.
The Batman is a masterpiece.
Sakura/Shuffle 