Batman, Yet Again (To Be, or Not To Be)

By Josh Lancman ‘24
(Major spoilers throughout)
Batman has had a long history in the movies. 
In 1966, there was “Batman.” In 1989, there was “Batman” again. In 1992, Batman returned. In 1995, Batman was forever. In between, he was an animated series. In 1997, it was not just Batman, but also Robin. In 2005, Batman actually began. In 2008, he was called the Dark Knight, and in 2012, the Dark Knight rose. In 2016, Batman fought Superman. And now in 2022, he is “The Batman.”

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Studios are trying to remake and readapt superheroes like they are Shakespeare plays; “Hamlet” has had even more film versions in the same period, not to mention “Macbeth.” 
Filmmakers like to do Shakespeare and superheroes over and over again in different reimaginings for the same root reason: a clear-cut, notable central character or characters, who is perfectly relatable to any audience member. Throw some cash at one of Shakespeare’s plays, a director, a cast and a chosen new setting and you have a movie. Hamlet has been done about as many times as Batman because an artist can transform the core traits of either into a new adaptation that reflects on specific ideas and themes they wish to touch on, making a personal film out of a classic tale. 
But the problem with remaking superheroes and their stories the way we reimagine Shakespeare’s is that the new superhero movies are simply not as good quality. “DC comics” has maybe seven instantly recognizable protagonists that most people could tell you a little bit about: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Robin. Of those, there are only two anyone could tell you important character traits about: Superman and Batman. Everyone knows that Superman is the small town, all-American boy from outer space who stands for truth, justice, and the American way, while Batman is the dark, brooding rich kid who beats up criminals to deal with his parents’ deaths. 
Whereas a Shakespearean story is deeply humanistic and relatable, superhero stories are simple. The basis and ideas of nearly every superhero story can be summed up fairly succinctly. The characters themselves are basic, either being comedic relief like Spider-Man, clean-cut and optimistic like Superman or Captain America or depressing like Batman. 
While the characters of all superheroes are broadly simple and thus relatable, most blend together into pale caricatures of actual people. And because each character is based upon a few select traits, modern superhero movies about characters who have been done many times before, like Batman, feel incredibly repetitive. Even if you have little affection for the character, you know who Batman is; you know his backstory, his internal conflicts and attributes, his fears and desires, his wants and needs, because he, as a character, is so popular and his story has been told so many times, that any new rendition of it is only a repetition.
Yet Matt Reeves’ newest edition of Batman has the character listening to Nirvana and monologuing internally about how he has an animal soul. Gone are the days of ‘rich, billionaire playboy’ Bruce Wayne, with Robert Pattinson (who terrifically plays the title role mostly in grunts and stares) spending most of his time in the batsuit. 
The film is dressed up less like the Marvel Cinematic Universe and more like something by David Fincher, with main villain the Riddler (Paul Dano, in a fantastic fifteen minute supporting role as a character eerily like his earlier part in ‘There Will be Blood”) stepping straight out of “Seven” or “Zodiac.” 
This is a film intent on being a crime drama starring a vigilante, not a superhero. Batman himself has few gadgets, the Riddler is a serial killer with a kink for cryptograms, Catwoman (Zoe Kravitz) is practically a random person who only happens to work at a criminal lair, the Penguin (Colin Farrell, unrecognizable yet still excellent under pounds of makeup) is the lair’s owner and the actual primary antagonist is just a crime boss (a surprisingly threatening John Turturro). 
It strips Batman of being traditionally ‘comic-booky,’ with make-up wearing foes and high-tech bat-gear, and tries to elevate him into a serious dramatic figure by making him far more realistic. Here, Reeves attempts to capitalize on the part of the character that makes him so beloved: his darkness and brutality, and so has made a dark and brutal film. 
Somehow, it ends up incredibly effective. The angsty Nirvana song “Something In The Way,” used twice in the film, is surprisingly not laughable, as similarly used music in a superhero movie would normally be (see the use of Evanescence in “Daredevil”), but actually helps 
contribute a powerfully hopeless feeling to the movie. Michael Giachinno’s pounding rhythmic score, with its ominous thumping leitmotif for the central character, is unsettling and intriguing, and his usage of scything strings for the Riddler makes the character’s presence felt even when he is not on screen. 
The muted yet clear and sharp color tone is full of beautiful looking blacks, browns, reds and grays, lit to perfection with incandescent yellow-oranges and neon reds and greens, with shallow focus often employed to symbolically demonstrate how far the characters are from the truth. 
The actual story, which involves the investigation of systemic corruption in Gotham City tying into Batman’s own family history is uncomfortably similar to real-world organized crime. The action sequences, including a notable hallway fight lit entirely by muzzle flashes, are unsettlingly intense, turning a realistic Batman story which could otherwise have been laughably edgy into a compelling film. The villain even wins, succeeding in executing most of his master plan, a rarity for the superhero genre.
The opening scene is a particular masterwork in making superheroes realistic. In it, the Riddler stalkingly observes his next victim’s family before murdering the father, and Batman defeats a street gang whilst monologing about his duty to scare criminals. Reeves shoots these scenes mostly in static long-takes, allowing the audience to observe all the action and feel like they are along for the ride. Giachinno’s score pulses, adding thick tension to every glance of the eye. And Pattinson’s wonderfully growly performance, where far more is said with his eyes and tone of voice than by his few words, turns a simple opening into the establishment of an incredible tone which carries throughout the entire film and is that same film’s best scene. 
HBOMax even posted the entire scene for free on YouTube to market its digital release of the film, proof that the best advertising for a good movie is just letting its quality speak for itself.  
However, Reeves still cannot avoid some comic-book cliches. Batman always has an out for every situation with a convenient Deus Ex Machina, like an adrenaline shot or a parachute being held inside his utility belt. Criminals consistently fail to shoot Batman in his uncovered mouth, where he has no bulletproof armor. The mid-film action sequence, a gigantic car chase, is ridiculously out of place, poorly shot (here the shallow-focus fails to fit) and completely over-the-top. And even though the Riddler’s plan, to expose corruption between the Gotham city political elite and the criminal underbelly, is somewhat logical, its end, where he floods the city and has loyal followers commit mass murder in his name, is almost a direct rip-off of the finales from “Arrow” seasons one and two, a CW TV show known for being generally poor quality and ludicrous in its plots. 
Yet despite its sometimes incongruous plot and action sequences, “The Batman” does not end up with a jarring or confused tone, due to its general consistency in filmmaking and acting quality throughout. “The Batman” wonderfully mixes both the absurd and realistic aspects of the character’s mythos, and even though the villains here are all crime bosses and serial killers, it is entirely possible to see Pattinson’s Batman fighting superpowered antagonists in a later film. 

Pattinson’s performance, in particular, makes the film as incredible as it is. In the ten years since “Twilight” finally ended and released him from contract, he has worked his way through a series of auteur and indie films, gradually gaining a reputation as an incredibly talented actor with a brilliant ability for playing demented and psychotic characters. One can easily see traits of Bruce Wayne in his role as billionaire Eric Packer in David Cronenberg’s “Cosmopolis,” or even as criminal Connie Nikas in the Safdie brothers’ anxiety attack-inducing “Good Time.” 
His previous performance, as a pedophilic preacher in Antonio Campos’ “The Devil All the Time,” is a masterclass in creating a charismatic villain. But it is his tour de force as Thomas Howard in Robert Eggers’ masterpiece “The Lighthouse” that cements Pattinson as one of the premier actors of his generation. Just like how Christian Bale went from “Little Women” to “American Psycho,” in only a decade, Robert Pattinson has gone from being a laughing-stock in teenage vampire movies to a crazed character actor. And just like Bale, he has now moved back to blockbusters as the newest Batman. 
This Batman speaks rarely and mostly in grunts, making simple, sharp observations that sometimes even function as comic relief. Pattinson plays both sides of the character as someone never fully recovered from the murder which scarred his childhood. Bruce Wayne, normally handsome, is a pale recluse with stringy hair and dark sunglasses, while Batman stands tensely even with a romantic partner, ready and able to fight for his life at any time. 
His performance is mainly stares and body language, with Pattinson’s eyes functioning as his main conveyor of emotion. It is obvious, here, how his parents’ murder pushed Bruce Wayne into becoming the Batman, and Pattinson carries that lingering trauma with him until the final frame.
Batman even shares more in common with the main villain, the Riddler, as both are similarly stalking people. Reeves emphasizes this comparison, shooting each scene in the same point-of-view through binoculars, and having both characters trying to clean up Gotham city in comparably frightening manners. Both function on gimmicks; Batman’s is bats and the Riddler’s is puzzles. Both are orphans, and use their past-trauma as motivation for their actions; Dano’s eyes are even as hollow and sunken as Pattinson’s. The only difference is that Batman refuses to kill. 
So when, after being captured and imprisoned, the Riddler adoringly talks to Batman as an idol and ally, almost romantically idealizing him as a partner in crime, it is the perfect thematic conclusion of Reeves' film which deeply explores the darker side of the caped crusader. One of Riddler’s dying followers even repeats the same mantra as the dark knight, “I am vengeance.” This Batman, a brutal vigilante who beats criminals into pulp and deliberately inspires fear even in innocent civilians, is only one long Halloween away from becoming a serial killer. 
But Reeves does not end his hero’s arc like this, instead developing him into a symbol of hope rather than one of fear. After being shocked by Riddler’s adoration, Pattinson realizes the actual purpose of Batman: not to scare people, but to inspire them. He finally stands alongside rescue workers at the film’s end in broad daylight, helping to carry the wounded. This is not just 
a film that grounds a superhero in vigilantism, but a film about a vigilante learning how to become a superhero.
As another entry into the ongoing saga of Batman movies, “The Batman” ranks highly, alongside Tim Burton’s “Batman” (1989) and the first two entries of Christopher Nolan’s trilogy. For Pattinson’s unique take on the character and Reeves’ on the story, “The Batman” is more than worth seeing even after so many editions of the character. Hopefully this one gets a good sequel.