The Batman, review: Matt Reeves Delivers the Finest Batman In Nearly a Decade
It’s no secret that long before the superhero genre became a household name, as ubiquitous and status-quo-shattering as science-fiction and Soundcloud rap, it was simultaneously niche. Two characters that ascended above all others were Batman and Superman. They’re perhaps as equally re-inventable and evocative as Shakespeare or Chopin. These movies are here to stay, and despite them accounting for less than one percent of major cinematic releases, 2022 is bound to be another threshold for the caped crusader. The Batman was once indebted to Ben Affleck, but that’s yesterday’s news as this is now the brainchild of Matt Reeves. In equal measure, it’s the finest adventure for the franchise since 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises.
The silver screen has witnessed Batman at his most seasoned to being built from scratch. The Batman strikes a balance with Robert Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne two years on the job, and he’s on the eve of complete psychosis. This characterization is utterly defiant to the charming and composed playboy everyone knows: an emo moptop, usually hushed whispering in and out of costume, and raccoon makeup coated eyes. Reeves and Pattinson swing for the fences and completely sell how psychotic a man would become from risking his life every night to fight low-level crime while dressed in a costume that gets scoffed at by overconfident street fighters. He’s the Kurt Cobain to (prior Batman actor) Christian Bale’s Howard Hughes.
We’re only getting started though. The Batman’s labyrinthine plot begins with the murder of an important Gotham City politician (as witnessed in this film’s debut trailer, and touching a feat previously accomplished by The Dark Knight Rises) by the Riddler (Paul Dano). Batman and James Gordon, in their sometimes uneasy alliance, are forced to play his game in order to prevent him from killing more prominent players in Gotham City’s elite (read: corrupt elite) and change the city for the better (will it though?).
At 175 minutes, an unexpected runtime that renders this the longest in Batman film history yet, its complexity, stakes, and twists are equally as insurmountable. If The Batman fits the criteria for a comeback film, it also must apply to this film’s Riddler. Paul Dano may seem like obvious casting after Denis Villeneuve's Prisoners, but nearly every trace of that performance is absent here thanks to Dano’s terrifying rendition of a man whose vigilante justice on the elite and rallying of an underground militia bring their city to the eve of destruction. From 2022 onward, the Riddler has become another comic book antagonist to transcend its campy roots. (Credit must be given to Frank Gorshin, whose Riddler in Adam West’s Batman was masterful camp. Jim Carrey? Less so.)
The Riddler, while the key antagonist, is sometimes sidestepped to explore Gotham’s elite and criminal underbelly. Two of them are primed for a prequel series on HBO Max to unravel even more of this film’s revelations and hints: The Penguin (Colin Farrell) and Carmine Falcone (John Turturro). The Penguin, the owner of the Iceberg Lounge (clever), is introduced after a brawl between Batman and security guards in the nightclub, and their subsequent interrogation scene leaves a fantastic first impression. Colin Farrell, in one of the most unrecognizable transformations in recent memory, is equal parts sleazy, campy, and nefarious. Every moment of his screentime is begging for more. (He can, oddly enough, be taken seriously despite his comical sobriquet).
John Turturro’s Falcone is a wild card. Tom Wilkinson’s portrayal in Batman Begins was vital to the film’s supporting cast, but also obvious in characterization. Instead of hating Bruce Wayne and being a hellhound on arrival in 2005, The Batman coats this Falcone in smoke and mirrors. He openly respects Bruce Wayne due to a shared backstory, and until the third act, Turturro portrays him as suave and articulate. Like Colin Farrell and Andy Serkis’s Alfred Pennyworth, Turturro’s playing against type is a wonder to behold. Unlike the Penguin, however, Falcone has a thoroughbred story arc. This is thanks widely to the arcs of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle.
Mrs. Kyle is never referred to as Catwoman, but like Anne Hathaway from 2012, she not only sells her ethos of the character but expands upon iconic portrayals from yesteryear. She’s a firebird of conflicted emotions, and her unlikely partnership with Batman not only has personal matters in the undertow, her arc ties in with wider social themes and disquieting implications for this developing series. Her chemistry with Robert Pattinson is one of the most tantalizing of cinema in 2022 thus far.
Truth versus lies, an abiding theme throughout Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, takes a new shape in the Riddler’s conquest for social justice and vendetta against Batman. It’s as compelling as ever in its timeliness and thematic finesse, but it also grants Bruce Wayne’s butler Alfred Pennyworth his character arc. Jeremy Irons’ Alfred from the DC Extended Universe has sadly gone to waste, so Matt Reeves’ collaborator Andy Serkis has stepped up to the plate with ease. Alfred's screentime is minimal and upon first viewing can appear as if he won’t amount to much, but the payload of his arc is sheer genius. References to the Dark Knight trilogy and other Batman fiction are bountiful here.
One of the most discussed new players is Jeffery Wright’s portrayal of Batman veteran James Gordon. In the 21st century, Gordon has gone from being a prop character to a literary force of his own. Wright combines the right amount of subtlety and wise, gravelly-voiced detective to balance Batman’s presence. Their affiliation translates seamlessly here and feels like new. Ever since his supporting turn in Stephen Gaghan’s Syriana and a recurring role as Felix Leiter in Daniel Craig’s turn as 007, James Gordon was more than progressive for him, acting and box-office wise. This newly found dynamic is also redolent of The French Connection’s Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider, and, to more casual moviegoers, Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman in David Fincher’s Seven.
Those two references are not from a game of comparison mix-and-match, The French Connection, Seven and cromlechs of 1970s new-Hollywood are coated in The Batman’s DNA: All the President’s Men, Zodiac, Taxi Driver, Klute, and, most crucially and riveting, Chinatown. Matt Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig draw from the latter 1974 masterpiece with terrific visuals in addition to their plot and thematic links. Like The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises, and James Mangold’s Wolverine odyssey Logan before, The Batman’s influences aren’t lazy film student copycatting; they’re partly what makes the film eclipse its pop roots and essential viewing for devoted fans of Batman lore and the uninitiated.
Cinematographer Greig Fraser has embellished audiences with the most oppressive and spellbinding Gotham City in years. Contrasting stark urban noir and rain with a metropolitan close to our world, this film’s as much a visual revelation as its plot and substance. To think that Michael Giacchino’s haunting and classical score is from the same composer of Ratatouille and Jurassic World must seem like a joke, but taking into account the best scores of his filmography and The Batman, it’s only logical. In the future, his score is due for iconic status alongside prior Bat-composers Hans Zimmer and Danny Elfman.
Despite oscillating quality, Marvel and DC Comics have steadily rowed with the changing times and have given critics and audiences plenty to keep turning back to. Matt Reeves’s film ushers in a new age for its eternally evolving characters by primarily being a stand-alone story, and while the sequel-baiting is flimsy towards its conclusion, it’s as astute, insurgent, and rootsy as Batman, let alone a superhero film, should be.
