This is the... let's check... ninth
live action Batman solo feature film. If you add in the animated
features, old serial films, and shared universe movies, there have
been... a lot. It's tough, against this background, to make a Batman
film that stands out, not least considering that previous iterations
have included some of the best superhero films ever made (although,
admittedly, also some of the worst). Like Spider-Man a
few years ago, this seemed like another hurried reboot far too soon
after the last one. Just as then, though, Matt Reeves's new take on
the now octogenarian franchise shows how well it can work when
someone who really gets the character has creative freedom.
The Batman sets
itself apart with its title, which now seems to be the method of
dispensing with an uncertain past and heading off in a stronger
direction. We've had The Suicide Squad,
and I wholeheartedly look forward to The Superman, The Wonder Woman
and, of course, The The Flash. It's a bit pretentious, that definite
article, but it fits with the very serious, self-conscious tone of
the film. Batman works best when it's taken seriously but also
accepts the campness and absurdity in its concept. The
Batman only really does the
first part of that, and this leads to quite a dour experience. It's
dark – so dark that it's hard to make out what's going on in some
scenes – and by gum it's long, and on the whole it's extremely well
done. Still, I do miss when a Batman film was entertaining (in live
action at least – the perfect remedy to this is The Lego
Batman Movie, this film's
antimatter twin).
It's
had a long and torturous upbringing, this film. Initially an intended
as an installment of the DCEU, and virtually a vanity project for Ben
Affleck, it was completely reworked when he dropped out and Reeves
stepped in. One thing I continue to love about DC/WB's current
approach to its films is the creative control it has given writers
and directors. While the MCU becomes ever more expansive, swallowing
up earlier franchises, it also threatens to become more and more
homogeneous. DC, having failed to emulate the Marvel model (not for
lack of trying) have allowed something different here. Unique
interpretations of classic characters that can sit alongside each
other, with no single one being the official, definitive version.
This
is, semi-officially, the cinematic Earth-2, where a younger version
of Bruce Wayne has only recently donned the cape and the cowl. I
like how we've side-stepped the origin story (no need to cover that
again) yet are still dealing with a very young version of the
character. Yes, the death of the Waynes weighs
heavily on the storyline, but this is still Batman as an established
force in Gotham City. Only two years established, however, and still
in the angry, emo phase of the Caped Crusader, stunted at an
adolescent stage of development.
The
casting of Robert Pattinson is perfect for this version of Batman.
Like many, I was doubtful, but after previously surprising success
stories I was happy to wait and see how he turned out. (Heath
Ledger's Joker, of course, being the most famous example of “trust
the casting director,” but most of the previous live action Batman
castings have met with a undeserved backlash.) I was sniffy of the
images of emo Bruce Wayne, with smudged make-up and lank black hair,
but the character has always been an angry emo kid in a big bloke's
body. This was just the first time he looked the part. Really,
though, Bruce's character is almost – almost – irrelevant here.
Pattinson's Bruce barely has an identity beyond Batman, subsuming
himself entirely into the role of the vengeful vigilante.
(A
side note – the current main actors for Batman, Superman and
Spider-Man, the three most bankable superheroes in the world and
often considered quintessentially American characters, are now played
by Englishmen. Funny old world.)
The
cast are all impressive. Jeffrey Wright is, for me, the best version
of James Gordon we've ever had on the screen; gruff,
straight-down-the-line and noble. Not yet the commissioner of lore,
but still an established figure, much like the young Batman. There's
a mystery about what happened during the last two years that made
Batman such a notorious figure, yet one trusted by Gordon, but I
suspect we'll learn that in time. Andy Serkis gives a version of
Alfred who's both recognisably the butler and pseudo-father figure we
know and a more formidable character, a veteran who you'd never cross
and who has almost lost faith in his charge.
Zoe
Kravitz plays Catwoman (for the second time – see again Lego
Batman), or rather the Cat, as
the character was originally known. Her version is more Selina Kyle
than Catwoman, but you can see her slowly going down the route that
Bruce himself has and being subsumed by her alter ego. Catwoman is
always best as a morally complex antihero rather than a
straightforward villain, and, of course, a romantic interest for
Bruce to further muddy the waters. Kravitz portrays Selina as a
sexually-charged figure, but this also comes across as just as much a
mask for someone who has had a brutal and exploitative upbringing.
It's an excellent performance.
The
main villain, though, is the Riddler, virtually unrecognisable from
his comicbook counterpart and previous big screen outings. Paul
Dano's version of Edward Nashton (no Nygma in this telling) is a
twisted but ultimately sympathetic individual. Dano's performance is
remarkable, giving us a young man who is clearly mad as a jacket full
of question marks, yet on whose every word we hang. Even under a mask
that makes Batman's seem revealing, Dano gives Edward a depth and
power, and he deserves to be remembered as one of the great Batman
screen villains.
The
gangsters are strong too. Colin Farrell is utterly unrecognisable as
“Oz” Cobblepot, the Penguin, lathered in latex and donning a
broad accent. We might ask why they didn't cast someone who looked
and sounded at least a bit like the character they wanted, but
Farrell's performance is suitably impressive. This scarred, arrogant
version of the Penguin works, as the best iterations of the Penguin
do, as a power-hungry crook who's out-of-his-depth. Perhaps the
scariest of the villains is John Turturro's Carmine Falcone. No
outlandish make-up, no scary mask, no voice modulation. Just a man
who's cruelty and greed is outstripped only by the power he's
accumulated. Tying him into the Waynes' murder is a good idea, giving
the story greater structure, much as Tim Burton's Batman
tied in the Joker to the origin
story.
The Batman's
strength as a story is its deconstruction of the vigilante hero's
existence, positioning him as just as much a threat to the safety and
structure of Gotham as the villains. Throughout, it's made clear that
a noble mission can be easily perverted by human weaknesses, be it in
Thomas Wayne's poor judgment in the face of a threat, the various
lawmen and politicians of Gotham giving into corruption and greed, or
Bruce's own spiral into violent vengeance. Like all the best Batman
stories, it positions Batman as a reaction to Gotham's brutality, but
also as a catalyst for the worst to come. It's far from the first
story to suggest that Bruce's costumed crusade acted as inspiration
for the various outlandish villains who came after him, but it makes
it explicit and holds him to account for it. (It's exactly the
opposite take to the last “young Bruce” attempt, the Gotham
TV series, which had it entirely
the wrong way round.)
Notably,
it's not entirely down to the Batman's example, but the insidious,
ongoing radicalisation of young men (particularly young white men)
online. Edward commands a small but loyal following of angry men, and
he has broken away from a deeply isolated existence into a world
where violence is the only means of making the wider world pay
attention. Like Joker,
which similarly explored the explosion of violence that lies beneath
masculine social conditioning, it has its real life reflections in
young men and boys who dressed up in Joker make-up before shooting at
cinemas full of people. We don't know the backstory of the Joker in
this version of events (a recently released deleted scene gives some
hints, but it's clear why it was deleted, not least because it's
almost impossible to make out what Barry Keoghan's version of the
Joker is saying), but it's easy to imagine that the Riddler is
inspired by both the Joker and Batman (he's long been something of a
Joker copycat, after all).
There's
a note of hope in the climax, as Bruce turns away from the pursuit of
violence and starts to actually help people, rescuing those in danger
rather than simply beating up villains and abandoning their victims.
Still, it's hard not to think that he's missed the point. It's an
improvement, sure, but as the new mayor has been trying to tell him,
his money would be put to better use in philanthropic programmes than
in whatever else he's been spending it on. Thomas Wayne's failure at
the last doesn't mean that his goal of using his wealth to improve
people's lives was wrong.
Visually,
musically, and directorially distinct, The Batman succeeds
in standing out as its own animal amongst all the many Batmen that
have gone before. It's a strong, solid dark detective story with an
important message, but one that's a bit muddled in the telling.
Clearly open for a sequel (with an entire new Bat-verse franchise
planned, whether or not this is a wise direction), it's not quite the
triumph some are making it out to be, but it has the potential to be
the start of something truly great.
