Robert Pattinson’s casting as the Caped Crusader circa 2019 was met with criticism, likely from those who were unacquainted with his stellar performances in acclaimed indies like Good Time and The Lighthouse. To little surprise, he’s now reinvented one of the most iconic characters of all-time with a subtle yet compelling performance that is simply the best portrayal yet. Instead of a millionaire playboy, this Bruce Wayne is a rockstar recluse.
The Batman begins with narration not unlike Travis Bickle, allowing Pattinson to showcase his perfect Bat-voice which is not laughably growly like Bale’s or overly erratic like Keaton’s. His opening monologue is accentuated perfectly by Michael Giacchino’s score which is classically grand and blaring, but with a gothic edge. This sets the stage for a dark and brooding film that explores Bruces’s troubled psyche and begins to blur the line between Batman and his rogues’ gallery. Director Matt Reeves presents a fresh but beautifully loving vision of Gotham City and its robust mythos, taking inspiration from the grit and grime of comics like Year One and The Long Halloween.
Despite countless depictions in the past, The Batman also features fresh takes on many recognizable DC characters, each one of them rich and layered, including Zoë Kravitz as a sizzling Selina Kyle, Jeffrey Wright as the reliable Lieutenant Gordon, and John Turturro as a genteel Carmine Falcone. To top it off, Colin Farrell looks completely unrecognizable as Oswald Cobblepot/Penguin.
Reeves and his co-writer Peter Craig wisely opt not to rehash Batman’s well-known origin story. We never see Thomas and Martha’s murder yet the impact of this trauma is apparent in every frame this broken and tormented masked man graces the silver screen. The principal narrative focus of the film’s inventive script is a psychological game of cat and mouse between Pattinson’s exceptionally angsty Dark Knight and Paul Dano’s enigmatic serial killer, the Riddler, who targets Gotham’s elite and taunts law enforcement with ciphers and riddles, giving Batman his time to shine as the obsessive detective he truly is. In doing so, Reeves is able to sneak a hard-boiled serial killer thriller reminiscent of David Fincher’s Seven and Zodiac within the thin veneer of a box-office friendly PG-13 superhero blockbuster (while also delving headfirst into the unfettered corruption that plagues Gotham).
All this is not to say The Batman is hopeless or soulless. It remains empathetic throughout and in the end, is ultimately optimistic. The Batman feels crafted from scratch by artists with a mutual love for the material. Pattinson is the face, Reeves is the architect, and cinematographer Greig Fraser imbues the film with a glowing gorgeousness that is a far cry from the CGI-laden, low contrast, green-screened visuals that audiences have become desensitized to. The Batman differentiates itself from the cacophony of crowd-pleasing superhero comedies that feel voiceless, their directorial vision overtaken by studio notes and focus groups. This is not the case with The Batman. It’s visually and thematically the most beautiful Batman movie ever made.
Before The Batman, I held the firm belief that Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight was not only the greatest comic book movie of all-time, but one of the best examples of strong visionary filmmaking on a blockbuster scale, but it invokes Michael Mann’s Heat more than the best Batman comics. Both adaptations are grounded and realistic, but Nolan’s version noticeably lacks the defining gothic element that Reeves embraces. It’s the Batman film many didn’t know they needed. It’s transcendent cinema. It’s, dare I say, truly a masterpiece.
10/10
Petrified Fountains of Thought 