What can be done with Batman that hasn’t been done already? The Caped Crusader has appeared in comic books, televisions series, films and video games for almost a century. With that longevity comes a range in quality: some Batman stories are excellent and influential, while others are so bad that the character disappears for years afterward. Matt Reeves, the writer and director of the latest iteration The Batman, correctly intuits that looking for something new is a mistake. Instead, Reeves realizes that Batman is a highly malleable character, and his riff on the classic character – a withdrawn, antisocial emo loser – is different enough to justify itself. Like hearing an innovative interpretation of Mahler or seeing an innovative interpretation of Shakespeare, these little differences make it possible to go beyond the familiar and forge some kind of emotional connection.
Unlike the films by Christopher Nolan and Zack Snyder, this Batman is not a charismatic playboy with access to a litany of impressive gadgets. When he uses a grappling hook or whatever, it is out of desperation. In the middle of the film, there is a moment where Batman (Robert Pattinson) deploys his wingsuit to fly out of a skyscraper. He escapes danger, but after catching his parachute on a bridge, it flings him onto car and he bounces into the street. Batman has eaten shit before, but not like this, and it is revealing that Reeves films him limping into an alley. It’s as if this Batman strives for some kind of badass ideal he cannot achieve, and this vulnerability adds dimension and stakes that are often absent from most comic book movies. Pattinson plays the role like a sullen poseur, one who doesn’t believe himself when he intones, “I’m vengeance,” right before he beats thugs to a pulp. It is a risky choice, one that serves the story in a clever way.
In a deliberate nod to David Fincher’s Seven, the plot involves The Riddler (Paul Dano), an intelligent psychopath. His first victims include the city’s mayor and chief of police, suggesting he wants to undermine a narrative about Gotham’s attitude toward crime. The Riddler also leaves needling clues at each murder scene, including notes addressed directly to “The Batman.” In effect, Batman becomes a part of this investigation only because The Riddler and Detective Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) invited him. In tracking down The Riddler, Batman and Gordon uncover a web of corruption that involves city officials and organized crime, to the point they can only trust each other.
As always, the supporting cast includes capable actors who add gravitas and eccentricity to roles that might be beneath them. Colin Farrell has the most fun as The Penguin, an overzealous mob enforcer who works for Carmine Falcone (John Turturro), a crime lord whose quiet manner suggests unspoken power. Everyone is reluctant to tell Batman how all these parts fit together, including Andy Serkis’ Alfred who is more of an irritated accomplice than a butler, and at first it seems like Catwoman (Zoe Kravitz) might be the key to solving it all. But as The Riddler gets closer to finishing his murder spree, it becomes clear that Bruce Wayne, not Catwoman, is the key. Many previous Batman stories depict the murder of Bruce Wayne’s parents. Reeves does not show that, which at first suggests that he has moved on from an origin story, but in an ironic twist, the circumstances of their death is the lynchpin of the plot.
The sense of scale here is nowhere near the operatic excess of other recent Batman films, so Reeves makes up for it with abundant atmosphere. It is nearly always raining (another nod to Seven), and Reeves uses a more modest scale to his advantage. His version of Gotham City looks abandoned, almost like ordinary folks are too afraid to enjoy their lives. Exceptions include a public funeral that ends in disaster, or a Falcone-controlled nightclub where seemingly all the attendees have a nefarious agenda. Reeves extends his atmosphere to the action sequences, including a terrific car chase that stays at the street level. Absent any master shots, Reeves seems to challenge himself, filming the chase in a way that veers between coherence and disorientation. He also gets a major assist from composer Michael Giacchino, whose centers the score on a minor key musical phrase that might be an instant classic.
Reeves, who last worked on the terrific Planet of the Apes sequels, nicely dovetails plot and characters. In thwarting The Riddler’s plan, Batman transitions from vigilante into superhero. Unfortunately, these plot threads only sync because – at nearly three hours – the film can be awkward and unwieldy. For every overwrought flourish, including a silly sequence where Bruce Wayne turns his living room into a conspiratorial madhouse, there is another sequence where each choice is correct. Your mileage may vary, but I found myself involved in the final action sequence because it involves armed vigilantes undermining a peaceful transition of political power, sort of like Gotham’s version of the January 6 riot on the Capitol. If this film effectively repurposes our shared trauma into something more palpable and satisfying, then maybe Reeves finds something that eludes most Batman films of the past. He makes him relevant.
Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures
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