Spoiler Warning: Major spoilers ahead for Matt Reeves’ The Batman.
I feel it’s rare nowadays to get so hyped for something and then to have that thing actually live up to the hype and then some. Well, that’s what happened with the release of Matt Reeves’ The Batman. The latest live-action iteration of the Dark Knight is perhaps, in all seriousness, the best one yet. My initial reaction to this movie was, “Holy shit…” My reaction after my third viewing within four days of it coming out was, “Holy shit!” It is just that good. There’s a lot to talk about with this one, so I’ll try my best to keep it all as well-contained as possible.
I think the last time I was left so utterly speechless or deeply moved after seeing a film in theaters was when I saw 1917. Because, similarly to that movie, The Batman feels like a genuine achievement in filmmaking—an honest-to-god masterpiece. The film is equal parts subtle and aggressive, effortlessly juggling several decently complex plot threads that ultimately coalesce in an immensely impactful finale, all while still saying something meaningful about the characters within the story and the world around them. The cinematography is delightfully crisp and captivating. The score—my god, Michael Giacchino’s score—is frighteningly on point. This film is nearly three hours long, but it doesn’t feel like it, because the pacing is so spot on; not a second of time is wasted. In an industry now abundant in comic book superhero movies, The Batman is such a striking breath of fresh air.
This film takes place during year two of Bruce Wayne’s career as the titular hero. In those two years, it seems as though things have only gotten worse for Gotham. Despite the Batman’s best efforts, crime and illegal drug usage are still at all-time highs. People don’t trust the city’s institutions, and they’re kind of right not to. It’s immediately clear to the viewer that Bruce is fighting a losing battle. As if things couldn’t get worse, on Halloween night, the mayor of Gotham is brutally slain by the Riddler. This villain, akin to the infamous Zodiac Killer, begins a spree of puzzling murders, targeting some of the most important people in Gotham. It’s all aimed at exposing the corruption within the city’s hierarchy. Batman, alongside his allies Jim Gordon and Selina Kyle, works tirelessly to bring Riddler to justice and uncover the truth at the heart of this thrilling mystery.
Within the first ten minutes of this film, you know you’re in for something special. Riddler commits his first of several violent murders (in a grossly unsettling fashion, I might add), Bruce Wayne delivers a voice-over monologue (to great affect) about the city and his career as Batman, and finally, the Dark Knight himself makes his eerie entrance and pummels the shit out of some goons who have it coming. The film quickly establishes tension and grips you with its clearly defined tone and sense of direction. And it only gets better from there.
At its core, The Batman is a noir crime film—it’s crime fiction at its finest. Never before has the character been so vividly realized through this lens in a live-action setting. It’s brutal and tense, rarely taking its feet off the gas or allowing the audience a moment to breathe easy. Furthermore, whereas previous Batman movies are really Bruce Wayne stories veiled behind the guise of the Batman, this is truly a story about, well, the Batman. It’s about what the hero stands for and represents, more so than any previous live-action iteration. And not just to the viewer, but even to Bruce Wayne himself.
This version of Bruce Wayne, portrayed flawlessly by Robert Pattinson, spends roughly 90% of the film in costume. Like, if you had a dollar for every minute Bruce Wayne is just going around as himself, you might have, say, 10 or 11 bucks. That’s because Bruce Wayne has essentially given up on being himself. He has no need to pretend to be or put on the mask of the playboy billionaire. The Batman is the only mask he needs, because being Batman is now seemingly the only way he can cope and reconcile with his trauma, and it’s the only way he believes he can save the city. Bruce Wayne, in any iteration, has never quite been able to get over his grief, which is certainly understandable, but this is especially true for Reeves and Pattinson’s interpretation.
Robert Pattinson’s portrayal of the Caped Crusader is far and away the grimmest and broodiest, and it pays off in spades. This live-action version of the character might honestly be my new favorite, even if Pattinson doesn’t get to explore quite as much of his range as I would’ve liked to see. For this Bruce Wayne, the things he doesn’t do or is unable to say are almost more important than the things he actually does or says. This is a performance that thrives on subtext and subtle cues that allow the viewer to get inside the character’s head, to know what he's feeling, without him ever saying a word. But when it comes time to take action, Pattinson delivers tenfold. And, to top it all off, his chemistry with everyone else on screen is phenomenal.
Zoë Kravitz is the definitive live-action Catwoman. To me, at least. Much like with Bruce, seeing Selina realized in such a realistic and relatable manner is so refreshing. Kravitz practically carries every scene she’s in, thanks largely in part to her palpable charisma. Her chemistry with Pattinson is especially fun to watch; the two bounce off of each other so very well. I know a lot of people love Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman, but Selina in Batman Returns is just so… strange. I can’t really get behind it, though I certainly won’t begrudge anyone who supports that interpretation. Enjoy what you enjoy, you know? For me, though, Kravitz takes the crown.
And I know it’s been said already, but I will happily repeat it: Colin Farrell as Oswald Cobblepot, aka the Penguin, is utterly unrecognizable. This is a one-of-a-kind performance, one that practically steals the entire show. I genuinely don’t know if anyone but Farrell could have pulled this one off. Obviously, he does fall somewhat into a comic-relief role, but it is only to the film’s benefit. Every scene he is in is undeniably fun to watch. He’s a clear standout in the film.
Similar with Zoë Kravitz as Catwoman, Jeffrey Wright might be my new favorite live-action Jim Gordon. And similar to Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne, without Wright having to say a word, you get the sense this is a Gordon who’s done his time with the force and has seen a lot of crazy things. Of course, he’s maybe not quite prepared for everything Riddler has in store, but he has a bold, staunch presence throughout the film, regardless. Gordon’s comradery with Batman is magnificent; they feel like a real duo of detectives working a real case. And much like his partner, this Gordon feels is a tireless force for good.
Then there’s Paul Dano, a guy who has never had a bad performance. Ever since I first saw him in Swiss Army Man, I’ve been hooked on pretty much everything he does. And let me tell you, his portrayal of the Riddler… good lord. It just might be the best performance in the film, competing only with Farrell’s Penguin. Dano’s Riddler is disgustingly haunting and unnerving. Dano makes something as innocuous as breathing seem like the most horrifying thing ever. This Riddler is the literal definition of a hair-trigger killer. One moment, he’ll be calmly reciting riddles or expositing on backstory. The next, he’ll be screaming or violently ranting about his twisted plans. Much like Farrell’s, this is a one-of-a-kind, award-worthy performance from Dano.
Another surprising standout for me was John Turturro as Carmine Falcone. I’ve always been stuck remembering Turturro in the Michael Bay Transformers movies, stuck as the goofy, nonsensical character. But then I also remember him delivering an insanely raw performance in a film like Do The Right Thing, and I’m reminded that, “Oh yeah, this guy is actually an insanely talented actor.” His performance as the infamous Gotham mob boss is surprisingly chilling. Turturro naturally fits into this role, carrying Falcone with a poise and confidence that almost seems to bleed out through the rest of the film; after all, his character is “a very important man.”
The last notable performance of the film is Andy Serkis as Alfred. Unfortunately, Serkis doesn’t get much screentime; he’s maybe on screen for no more than eight minutes. That said, though, he does a fantastic job with the time he’s given. Serkis delivers Alfred’s supportive nature with ease, and he shares one of the most powerful moments in the film with Pattinson. Much like Pattinson, though, Serkis is an actor with an incredible range, and I would have liked to see more of that explored here. Perhaps in later films.
On the topic of characters, though, thanks to Greg Fraiser’s impeccable cinematography, Gotham is practically a character in and of itself. This film is utterly dripping with atmosphere. The city is disgusting, dark, and grimy, all of which is accented by the fact that practically the whole movie takes place at night, dawn, or dusk. The shadows dominate the scenery, adding to the ever-present sense of dread and despair. The only other film to capture Gotham so vividly, I think, was Joker, but The Batman takes things a whole step further.
The dreary setting informs a lot of the action, as well. It’s impossible not to get chills just hearing Batman’s heavy footsteps as he slowly emerges from the shadows to face his enemies. This ties back into how the film places great emphasis on all the things Batman doesn’t say, and yet he’s still able to evoke such a dramatic response from everyone. He doesn’t need to say a thing to let criminals know that they should fear him; his presence alone instills that fear well enough. The film casts him in a similar light as that of the killer in a horror movie, and I think that is a fantastic choice.
Furthermore, the action in this film is crisp and, unlike many other superhero flicks these days, succinct. I love an epic, comic booky battle royale as much as the next nerd, but that’s not at all what this film required. Instead, Reeves opts for more contained fights, focusing on visceral visuals and having every hit mean something. It also speaks volumes to how the film never wastes the audience’s time with unnecessary filler. For as fun as all those big, flashy action sequences can be, they can just as often bloat a film to the point of absurdity.
I think the best example of this is the Batmobile chase scene. When was the last time you saw a car chase in a film last less than just about five or six minutes? I honestly can’t remember such a case. You’d think, given the high-octane, fast-paced action present in a car chase, that such sequences in films would go by faster than they typically do. The chase between Batman and Penguin is damn-near flawless. It’s thrilling, visually stunning, and, perhaps most importantly, it maintains the tension present throughout the film. The sequence does everything that it needs to do, and it does it all without becoming overly long or drawn out. And as soon as it’s done, the story picks right back up without skipping a beat.
Moving away from the action, I’d consider it criminal if I didn’t talk about Michael Giacchino’s pitch-perfect score. This man deserves a reward for this one, seriously. The recurring, musical theme for Batman himself is equal parts haunting and heroic. Catwoman’s theme is elegant and tastefully sexy. The usage of “Ave Maria,” altered slightly in many cases, as the Riddler’s disturbing melody of choice is a brilliant decision.
The inclusion of Nirvana’s “Something in the Way” acts as the cherry on top of Giacchino’s original music. The somber guitars and dreary lyrics of the song help us jump inside Bruce’s head at some of the most critical moments of the film. Not to mention, Matt Reeves loosely based this version of Bruce Wayne on former Nirvana frontman, Kurt Cobain, which I think is pretty cool.
Perhaps the most important point of this film, though, is something I briefly noted earlier. It’s how this film conveys the idea of the Batman as a symbol—what he stands for—and how that idea changes over the course of the film.
There are two contrasting moments that I think perfectly encapsulate this arc. At the start of the film, Batman beats up a bunch of goons harassing and threatening a civilian. After sending the thugs running bruised and beaten, Batman looks to the civilian, who then looks back in fear and says, “Please don’t hurt me.” And then, Batman just leaves the guy there, on the ground, in the rain, and afraid. Jump to the end of the film, then, where, after defeating all of Riddler’s goons, and with the city now flooded and in chaos, Batman doesn’t hesitate to jump in and save as many lives as he can. And at the realization that Batman is there to help, everyone looks to him as a beacon of hope. Because, at the end of the day, heroes, super or not, help people, which is something I think a lot of other superhero flicks these days have lost sight of.
“Vengeance won’t change the past. Mine or anyone else’s.” Through all of this turmoil, Bruce finally comes to realize that he has be something more. This is most apparent in this one moment, this one, absolutely beautiful moment, when Batman is carrying a woman to safety. As she’s about to be airlifted out of Gotham by National Guard troops, she clings to Batman’s arm, staring up to him with a scared look, like she doesn’t want him to leave her. Batman then holds her hand and, without saying a word, looks back with a comforting gaze, letting her know that everything will be okay. This is the poetic culmination of Bruce’s arc through the movie, executed flawlessly thanks to Reeves’ direction and Pattinson’s performance.
You wrap all of this together, and truthfully, it’s a little hard for me to even believe The Batman exists. This film is so tonally precise, so clear in its message, so careful about how it deconstructs the characters, and so damn wonderful to look at, and it’s all set to a pitch-perfect score. Seriously, it’s a goddamn masterpiece.
To address the elephant in the room: is it better than The Dark Knight? Well… honestly, yeah. At least, I think so. In truth, I’m not sure it’s even fair to compare the two. They’re just two vastly different films on pretty much every level. But on the whole, The Batman, as a film, stands out to me in many more ways than The Dark Knight. Not to say the latter has lost any value or doesn’t still stand as a monument in the superhero, comic book film genre. It’s just maybe been knocked down a peg.
I really can’t sing the praises of The Batman enough, but I think all of this will have to suffice. Seriously, if you haven’t seen this movie yet, do yourself a tremendous favor and go do so, asap. This is a film everyone should see, whether you’re a fan of comic book movies or not. Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just a phenomenal comic book film. It’s a phenomenal film, period, and it is not one to be missed.