The Batman does the impossible: it surpasses the epic magnitude of Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy and is, simply put, the best Batman ever put to screen. It is magnificently spectacular in its medieval metropolis, delving into the jet-black darkness of Batman’s world, while embracing the bleakness of David Fincher’s Seven.
After five years, Matt Reeves’ take on the iconic DC detective is here with The Batman. Possibly the most anticipated interpretation since Christopher Nolan’s lauded trilogy, partly due to Robert Pattinson and Zoe Kravitz taking on the mantle of The Bat and The Cat, backed by a stellar cast of Paul Dano and Colin Farrell as some of Gotham’s most malevolent menaces, The Penguin and The Riddler. Reeves promised a considerably different take from Nolan’s that got back to the roots of not only Batman but the city he watches over – gothic, gruelling and grim. So, has he delivered on that promise?
Reeves cherry-picks from several comic runs, including “Zero Year” and “Year One”, introducing us to the caped crusader on his second year in Gotham. His presence is felt fearfully throughout Gotham, as shadowed doorways and silent alleyways strike fear in the hearts of petty thieves and hoodlums once the Bat-signal lights the sky. Here, Batman doesn’t feel like a superhero but a monster in the night, lurking and waiting in the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. It doesn’t just put fear into Gotham’s underbelly but even makes your heart begin to race as Greig Fraser’s camera simply rests on an infinitely-black corridor, wondering if he’s just beyond your sight.
This is Gotham like you have never seen it before. Its sprawling, seedy urban decay creates an ever-constant hostility, like the unforgiving streets of 1970s New York – you must always keep moving in Reeves’ Gotham, lest it devour you whole. It is a rotting corpse of a city, embalmed by the corruption that runs rampant through its veins like a ventriloquist’s doll. This gothic metropolis is the blood of the film, as shadows hang tall over the streets and the rain never stops, neon signage and faulty electrics emitting the small glimmer of beauty in this punky landscape of a city.
Much of The Batman takes place at night, allowing Fraser to play with deep, rich contrasts to further fracture Gotham between the salvation of faint light and the ever-growing infection of darkness that Bruce fights to keep from overrunning the city. By amalgamating Liverpool, London and Chicago into its composite, the corruption and widespread immorality of Gotham feel at once sleekly modern and frightfully ancient, with its stained marble and powerfully tall columns upholding the villainy of Gotham’s corrupt elite.
Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne is unlike any you’ve ever seen before. He’s grungy and existentially broody, struck with a death wish through his addiction to his nighttime vigilantism, as his fight to save Gotham threatens to consume not only his soul but his mind and body, too. He’s become an elusively shut-in, making his few appearances into civilisation remarkably noteworthy.
Pattinson’s interpretation of both Wayne and Batman extracts the fractured psyche through his childhood trauma, providing the impetus for ‘The Gotham Project’ as he labels his vigilantism in notebooks, not in the pursuit of Gotham’s salvation, but the pent-up release of pure aggression. What Pattinson makes thoroughly clear is that this is not the Batman you know – not yet.
One of the clearest inspirations for The Batman is The Long Halloween, as Reeves masterfully brings to life the World’s Greatest Detective through the citywide mystery instigated by Paul Dano’s murderous Riddler. Dano’s Riddler is a blood-curdling take on the character. Riddler’s ambitions align with Ted Kaczynski’s Unabomber and Saw’s Jigsaw as he creates brutally macabre traps to play out his twisted riddles and puzzles with. For example, a head encased in a cage, with tubes leading starving rats to their temples, is only one of the horrifying surprises that Riddler has in store. There’s a constant cat-and-mouse game at the heart of Riddler and Batman’s relationship, as Bruce is forced to play along to decode Riddler’s plan.
Dano’s Riddler is one of the greatest interpretations of a comic-book villain in a long, long time. Reeves places Batman and Riddler as two sides of the same coin, both attempting to oust corruption from their beloved city through tools of fear and focused violence. What’s so blood-curdling about this Riddler is that he is calculatedly unpredictable – a walking paradox; somehow, the man with a constant plan feels as though he could completely delineate from it at any moment.
It seems that Reeves has taken inspiration from the last five years of American politics, folding them into the world of The Batman in his own way. Dano’s Riddler ensnares a host of white, outcast men into his web of conspiracy, eerily similar to the alt-right political icons we’ve seen come to power over the last few years. Riddler demonstrates the horrifying possibilities an alt-right figure with the right level of intelligence and know-how could wield in instilling absolute chaos.
The Batman does the impossible: it surpasses the epic magnitude of Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy and is, simply put, the best Batman ever put to screen. It is magnificently spectacular in its medieval metropolis, delving into the jet-black darkness of Batman’s world while embracing the bleakness of David Fincher’s Seven. Craig Fraser’s visual encapsulation of Gotham is award-worthy as it pays homage to the broody detective noirs of the 1950s and the repugnant, decaying thrillers of the 90s and 00s.
Pattinson’s Batman brings the character to life like no other has, delivering a masterful dissection of Bruce Wayne and exhibiting the darkness inherent in what it means to be Batman. Matt Reeves has crafted an extraordinarily dazzling thriller that keeps your mind whirring, your heart pounding, and your fists pumping.
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