Beginning with Batman: The Movie in 1966, Batman's first feature-length big-screen adventure, there have been several cinematic iterations of Batman's origins and mythos, from the '90s Tim Burton Batman, Batman Returns, to Christopher Nolan's gritty Dark Knight trilogy of the '00s, and now Matt Reeves' The Batman.
This neo-noir adaptation places him in the second year of his transformation into the Caped Crusader and shows a Bruce Wayne who is inexperienced and riddled with PTSD after the death of his parents. From teaming up with the best Catwoman yet to facing the most realistic villains, and even drawing on Batman's detective experience, The Batman may just be the definitive version of the DC superhero.
For those expecting lots of visions of bats and flashbacks to Thomas and Martha Wayne being murdered, there isn't a trace of it in The Batman. Because the Caped Crusader has already been in existence for two years, it's not one of the best superhero origin stories exploring how the Batman persona came to be, but instead focuses on Bruce Wayne as the mask Batman wears.
Still unable to process his parent's death, and harboring some of the black and white perspectives of youth, Bruce Wayne is far from the charming philanthropist archetype he will need to cultivate to make a divisive line between who he is and who he pretends to be. He's socially awkward, suffering from PTSD, and inflicts his fury and pain on his opponents in a rampant unleashing of his id.
Batman and Bruce Wayne are nearly indistinguishable from one another in Robert Pattinson's hands, and it seems to be a creative decision. More than any other iteration of the character, he shows the reality of the burden Batman carries, and how similar he is to his antagonists. As Catwoman, Zoe Kravitz brings a spunky warmth that attracts him, as though he's intrigued by the way she balances both being a masked vigilante and a well-adjusted human bring.
John Turturro is reliably creepy as Carmine Falcone, less of a mafioso stereotype, and more of a political strategist. Colin Farrell is surprisingly engaging with his portrayal of Oswald Cobblepot, who is just waiting for his chance to make his mark on Gotham City. Jeffrey Wright brings energy and urgency to Lieutenant Gordon, and Andy Serkis is less of a butler and more of a dignified guard dog whose worldviews his ward often relies on.
Almost as intrinsic to the Batman mythos is Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's erstwhile butler, and his whip, the Batmobile. Here, Alfred is a stolid defender, a partner in detection, and a wise elder for an inexperienced Bruce to turn to. He doesn't just bring him his morning breakfast, he helps him tie his tie, and reminds him of his responsibilities to the public, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman.
The Batmobile is neither the sleek icon it was in Batman, nor the tank it was in Batman Begins, but a souped-up muscle car that looks like a teenager loaded it up with all the power money could buy. It's armored, but it doesn't have rocket launchers or any of that pizzazz, and is designed for one thing only; to pursue and seek vengeance in one of the best Batmobile scenes in any Batman movie.
Catwoman has often been portrayed as a villain, a love interest, and a femme fatale. In The Batman, she's a little bit of all of these things, but also something more; the heart of the movie. Whereas Batman sees emotions as weaknesses, she doesn't, and isn't afraid to care --and fight for-- those she loves.
The Batman got it right with Selina Kyle because she's a paradox; an anti-hero with empathy who tries not to compromise her morality. Batman is drawn to and admires her courage, her skills, and her ability to retain her humanity even with everything she's been through, and it makes their emotional bond that much more impactful.
What would a police officer think if a looming figure in black leather stood in the middle of an active crime scene, fingering evidence and asking for information sensitive to a murder case? This is the sort of question explored in The Batman, which highlights the reality of a masked vigilante working with the Gotham PD.
Gordon protects a man whose identity he doesn't know because he's proven himself to be the only one he can trust and isn't in the pocket of politicians. The Batman does a good job of showing that without Gordon's help and defense in those early years, Gotham PD would have already unmasked and locked up the "freak" Batman long ago.
Batman's Rogue Gallery is infamous, but other iterations of the Batman story have turned the Caped Crusader's antagonists into caricatures. In The Batman, they are natural extensions of real problems in a metropolis like Gotham City such as classism, graft, and bureaucratic avarice.
Carmine Falcone and Oswald Cobblepot are villains with the power to embezzle through beautification and charity projects, and own nightclubs that prominent politicians in Gotham City frequent to cheat on their wives and locate drugs, proving that the good guys and the bad guys are often the same. The Riddler, both with action and words, behaves like a violent white nationalist with a face that has haunted US news stations for years. In other words, these are villains taken from reality and not the pages of comic books.
Batman has been called "The World's Greatest Detective" in decades past, but over time that moniker has grown out of fashion and been replaced by a presentation of Batman as a man of blunt action. This Batman is not only a detective, but a practitioner of subterfuge and stealth. Not yet confident in his fighting abilities, he prowls the streets of Gotham, paranoid and suspicious of everyone he meets.
The Batman makes it a point to show its hero is cerebral. When at a crime scene with Gordon, he knows about coagulation, how to accurately determine the time of death, and the caliber of firearms. He's also gifted with puzzles and is able to accurately guess The Riddler's games even under the duress of a ticking bomb.
Looking at the Gotham City skyline, fans will be able to see several different cities. As an amalgamation of New York, Chicago, London, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, it looks like a real place, with all the dynamic energy of these vibrant metropolises. It doesn't feel like a fictional environment, but one that is as Batman says "eating itself."
The decay and rot are evident, and it's clear that Gotham City is no longer the great urban nucleus it once was. But there are parts of the city that are startlingly beautiful, represented by gorgeous cinematography, that remind fans why Batman would choose to defend it and restore it.
With effective editing, camera work, and atmosphere, the action is full-throttle and compelling. Because it's used to punctuate the narrative, it isn't gratuitous and overdone, making it highly effective. A simple fight in the hallway of a nightclub where the only lighting is from the muzzle flash and gunfire illuminating Batman and his opponents is both provocative and fresh.
In a car chase straight out of The French Connection and Christine, Batman pursues his prey like a howling avenger, the Batmobile becoming a terrifying and indefatigable force. Later, when Batman is hanging from a catwalk near death as a natural disaster swirls around him, fans feel like they're right there with him, fighting for their lives.
With its sepia tones, dim lighting, and ambiance of angst and paranoia, much of The Batman feels like a noir film that perfectly complements Batman's role as The World's Greatest Detective. But the horror genre is just as immediately present, with a nagging feeling of unease and tension in nearly every scene.
Far from being at odds, the two genres of noir and horror come together in an experience that is actively participatory, leaving fans unsettled even as they can't help but want to peer into every suspicious alley and around every corridor in Penguin's Iceberg Lounge or the very gothic Wayne Tower.
