This article contains spoilers for “The Batman,” as well as assorted past Batman films.
c/o People
Who is “The Batman?” Of course, everyone knows who Batman is: billionaire Bruce Wayne, who was orphaned as a child and puts on a pointy-eared mask and cape to become a superhero who uses expensive weaponry to punch crime into submission. You know the deal. But who is Batman? While interpretations have varied in his 80-plus years of comic book history, Batman has assumed a couple of important defining characteristics: he doesn’t use guns, he doesn’t kill, is profoundly traumatized by losing his parents to senseless gun violence, and, as his raison d’etre, fights to prevent others from having to feel how he did.
This, in fact, might be news to those more familiar with Batman from his numerous onscreen interpretations than his character in the comics: Michael Keaton’s Batman blew up goons with impunity, Ben Affleck’s iteration shredded adversaries with machine guns mounted on his vehicles, and Christian Bale’s version leaves his nemesis Ra’s Al Ghul (Liam Neeson) to die in a train crash. None of this is to say that these previous versions weren’t strong performances or even good films (they largely were), but in this respect, they didn’t capture an essential element of the character’s history: the anti-killing tenet.
By contrast, Robert Pattinson’s iteration in director Matt Reeves’s new film, “The Batman,” doesn’t take a single life. Despite its grim tone, the film honors its titular character, creating a singular cinematic vision that’s immensely satisfying for long-time fans of the caped crusader’s long and storied past.
In Reeves’s film, Batman’s stance against killing is made stunningly clear. Much of the film centers on the titular hero’s relationship with Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz), better known as Catwoman. The bat and the cat have much in common: they’re both animal-themed, trauma-driven vigilantes. But, as their mission to untangle Gotham’s web of crime and corruption progresses, a sharp divide appears over their willingness to take a life.
At one tense moment, Selina has subdued Kenzie (Peter McDonald), a corrupt GCPD officer who, working in tandem with the mob, enabled the murder of Selina’s girlfriend. Selina, dangling Kenzie from a rooftop, expresses, compellingly, that he deserves to die, but Batman refuses to let even a repugnant human be killed, and saves his life. Shortly after, Selina has another target: mob boss Carmine Falcone (John Turturro), the mastermind behind Gotham’s graft, and her deadbeat father. As with Kenzie, Falcone is a morally grotesque individual. Batman wouldn’t be killing them himself, simply “not saving” them. But, true to his principles, just before Selina can pull the trigger, Batman appears to wrestle the gun from her hand, because, at his core, he values human life and doesn’t stand for murder in the name of any cause.
“The Batman” is, ultimately, a film about who and what Batman ought to be. In a striking opening scene, he emerges from the shadows to save the would-be victim of a gang assault. Uttering, “I’m vengeance,” he administers a brutal beatdown on the hoods. When he’s done, the man he’s saved cowers in fear. It’s clear that Batman has made himself a symbol of fear, and not just to the bad guys, either.
The thrust of the plot centers on Batman’s investigation of The Riddler (Paul Dano), a masked serial killer who targets members of the Gotham elite and then reveals their dirty laundry to the public. In classic film noir style, the investigators, Batman and Gotham City Police Lieutenant James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) are always a step behind. However, it’s only when they finally catch the Riddler, revealed to be the meek accountant Edward Nashton, that Batman’s crisis truly begins.
As he interrogates the Riddler, Batman realizes, with horror, that the twisted murderer believed the two of them to be a team. From the Riddler’s perspective, they have quite a bit in common: both use masks to hide their identities, engage in violent vigilantism, and deal in fear with the goal of cleaning up the city. What’s more, the Riddler has a movement behind him. Although he’s been apprehended, his followers, cultivated in an online chatroom, are executing his plan to assassinate mayor-elect Bella Reál (Jayme Lawson) after blowing up the city’s seawall, which sends a biblical flood through the city’s streets into her election-night rally at the Gotham Square Garden arena.
Batman saves the mayor and works desperately to disarm the Riddler’s gang, but, in his heroics, is forced to directly face what he’s inspired: after one of the Riddler’s followers is unmasked, the man declares “I’m vengeance.” Far from stopping supervillains, Batman’s campaign of fear has inspired and created them. Shaken to his core, Pattinson emoting subtly yet powerfully behind the cowl, Batman realizes that he must change.
After this, Batman’s focus turns from stopping the villains to helping the civilians. After cutting a power line to save a group from electrocution and falling into the floodwaters below, the hero resurfaces, reborn with a newfound purpose. He lights a flare and moves to dig people out from the wreckage. Leading survivors with flare in hand, Batman is transformed from a creature of the shadows to a beacon of light in the darkness. Where civilians once looked upon him with terror, they now look at him with hope. Batman, rising to his legendary status, is not just a vigilante, but a hero. It’s not subtle by any means, but is powerful and reflects a deep understanding of and respect for the character on the part of Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig.
Beyond these narrative elements, the film has numerous other aspects all worthy of praise. The film’s production design gives Gotham City a wonderfully gothic and stylized look that’s simultaneously theatrical and groundedly grimy. The cinematography by Greig Fraser is painterly, using intense shadows and colors to bring the film’s noir mood to life. Composer Michael Giacchino’s grand, intense score is immediately iconic (his eerie, jazzy Catwoman theme has been stuck in my head for weeks). The performances are compelling and well-realized, but none of that would be of any consequence if the film’s story didn’t also perfectly capture its titular hero’s ethos, simultaneously paying homage to 80 years of stories while crafting a refreshing and exciting depiction. We may be oversaturated with superhero movies, but if we’re going to see more, and we certainly will, I can only hope some will have as strong a creative voice as “The Batman.”
Oscar Kim Bauman can be reached at obauman@wesleyan.edu.