The Batman

Director: Matt Reeves
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Zoë Kravitz, Paul Dano, Jeffrey Wright, John Turturro, Peter Sarsgaard, Andy Serkis, Colin Farrell, Jayme Lawson, Peter McDonald, Alex Ferns, Con O'Neill, Rupert Penry-Jones
Running Time: 176 min.
Rating: PG-13   

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

It seems with each new incarnation of Batman comes the promise it will be darker, grittier and more realistic than whatever came before. Tim Burton's Batman kicked this off, until Christopher Nolan came along in the 2000's and fans realized what was dark and gritty in 1989 suddenly seemed much less so. But more than any other superhero franchise, Batman has always been ripe for constant reinvention, its story and characters evolving through the decades, enabling it to be explored from many angles over various mediums. So in working with a property that's withstood creative ups and downs better than most, Matt Reeves probably didn't really need to give us something spectacular with The Batman, just as long as it was different from what we've seen before. And yet somehow, he's done both. 

There's a lot going on here but the most impressive aspect of Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig's script is that it doesn't lose focus over what should be considered a gargantuan 3-hour running length.That it only feels about half that time is a rare feat that can also be attributed to some terrific editing, with everything in the picture building toward one specific goal, with all the periphery characters perfectly fulfilling their purpose and function within the narrative. 

Giving us a grungier, angrier take, more psychologically traumatized on Batman is a risk, but the bigger one is its complete overhaul of our perceptions of what's surrounding him, most specifically a villain who's never been given this prominent a spotlight, or presented in such a terrifyingly realistic way. Everything a Batman entry should be, it more deeply explores the ongoing mythology of the title character drawing from a wealth of pop culture resources to explore themes related to criminal justice, corruption and wealth inequality.  The result is a thoroughly rewatchable superhero movie that hardly feels like one, proving to be as thought-provoking as it is exciting. 

Reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson) is hauled up in Wayne Tower with butler and caretaker Alfred Pennyworth (Andy Serkis). Wayne's spent two years as the masked vigilante known as The Batman when Gotham City mayor Don Mitchell Jr. (Rupert Penry-Jones) is murdered by a serial killer calling himself the Riddler (Paul Dano). Working with lieutenant James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) to decipher this murderer's clues and messages, Batman remains at odds with a Gotham Police Department that views him as a public menace, But when the Riddler's notes lead he and Gordon to mobster Carmine Falcone's (John Turturro) Iceberg Lounge nightclub operated by the Penguin (Colin Farrell), a waitress named Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz) seems to know more than she's letting on.  

A mysterious part-time drug dealer and cat burglar, Selina reluctantly agrees to help, even as her exact motivations remain unclear. But as Riddler continues to target Gotham's privileged elite in hopes of exposing the corruption within the city and a rat informant within the police department's ranks, Batman realizes that he and his deceased parents may be more intertwined with this madman than anticipated. Who the Riddler is and what he wants is a puzzle he'll need to solve before the cerebral killer's dangerous plan for Gotham comes to fruition.

From the moment he appears on screen, Pattinson just feels right and completely at home as this version of Batman, or "Vengeance" as he calls himself. Supposedly, Reeves patterned this maladjusted, reclusive, EMO take on the character off of Kurt Cobain and you can really see it, well beyond the highly effective use of Nirvana's "Something in the Way" bookending the film. Michael Giacchino's moody score and Batman's frantic journaling and voice over narration only enhances that entire vibe, working as an ideal entry point into a tragic story that's already well under way by the time we're let in. Feared and respected, but entirely misunderstood, the idea that this vigilante can show up anywhere at any time is established immediately as the Bat signal hovers over the heads of Gotham's low-level street thugs and gangs. 

While it's basically become a prerequisite for any filmmaker tackling this material to somehow acknowledge their fandom of the '60's TV series, there's considerable evidence that Reeves actually means it. From the Adam West-inspired stitching on Pattinson's mask to the blinking phone and Shakespeare bust, these function as the clever of Easter eggs while still believably landing within this dark, grungy, broken down universe. But that's about where those similarities end, with Reeves' approach more likely to strike a chord with Nolan fans or those who appreciated what Todd Phillips did with Joker in terms of exploring the socio-economic strife and corruption within Gotham. Pattinson has very few scenes as Bruce Wayne but they're memorable ones since he's playing him as such a departure from the billionaire playboy we're accustomed to that the line separating Bruce Wayne and Batman becomes nearly invisible. 

Scarred by his parents' deaths and only capable of seeing the world in black and white, Bruce long ago abandoned whatever his philanthropic duties as a Wayne were intended to entail. And despite the promise of renewed hope for the city in the form of  idealistic mayoral candidate Bella Reál (Jayme Lawson), he sees only darkness. As a result, his bond with Andy Serkis' Alfred is probably as fractured and complicated as we've seen in any iteration of the character, with the family butler/caretaker's loyalty hardly acknowledged or reciprocated. It makes sense considering much of the picture focuses on Bruce's rejection of his past and humanity, of which Alfred is the only living reminder. If they are to have the surrogate father-son dynamic we're so accustomed to seeing, it's going to take Bruce a while to emotionally arrive there, even as developing circumstances are about to force that change quicker than anticipated. 

Batman's working relationship with Gordon might be an even bigger deviation from what's expected, as a scene-stealing Jeffrey Wright gives one of the film's best performances as the straight edge, incorruptible lieutenant standing alone against the GCPD in his support of Batman. It's kind of odd seeing the two already with this shorthand way of communicating and cooperating well before much of the action even gets underway, with Batman frequently standing side-by-side with police at crime scenes, much to the officers' loud objections. Wright's enormous role is second only to Batman in prominence, at times even equaling it, as the wry, world weary lieutenant finds himself frequently stuck between a rock and a hard place in regard to his loyalties.

More Selina Kyle than Catwoman, Zoë Kravitz proves to be a quietly strong but powerful force, occupying a moral grey area Batman wants little to do with since he deals only in absolutes. Similarly, the Waynes represent everything about the city's cesspool of privilege that's ruined her life, as it's Batman's willingness to play ball with the police that disgusts her most. Despite their differing philosophies, both are looking to expose the same thing, but fighting to find a middle ground before realizing they're far more alike than different. If she and Pattinson have electric chemistry, Reeves is smart enough to pick his spots and not let that connection overwhelm the picture or overshadow the main crime plot, which is substantial and multi-faceted. 

Whatever criticisms could be made about the script being convoluted or overstuffed is offset by a meticulous construction that demands your fullest attention at every moment. If forced to choose, Colin Farrell's Penguin probably has to least to do since at this point he's a grubby, low-level mobster having not yet ascended to the crime lord he's better known as. But even that's fine since Turturro picks up the slack while an unrecognizable Farrell's prosthetic transformation and slimy performance as Oswald "Ozzy" Cobblepot definitely leaves a lasting impression sure to have viewers scratching their heads in disbelief that it's really him. He's also at the center of a fiery, high-speed Batmobile chase that marks the vehicle's only appearance, albeit a really memorable one. An actual muscle car customization this time around, it's a well needed and welcome departure from the series of modified tanks used in the more recent entries and accurately fits something you'd expect to see Pattinson's version of Batman drive.

Inspired by California's notorious Zodiac killer from 1960', Reeves' ingenious take on the Riddler may as well be considered a full-on cinematic reincarnation, not just physically in terms of costume, but in the character's use of ciphers and hidden messages. Frighteningly played by a masked Paul Dano as this disturbing symbol of madness incarnate, he's about as dark as any Batman villain has gotten, with his arc justifiably earning comparisons to Se7en and Zodiac. Adding a realistic heft that hasn't been fully present for Batman since he tangled with Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight, his viral videos provide the film with its timeliest evocation of true crime, while the design and conceit behind the murderous traps should remind many of Jigsaw on his best day. Reeves also wisely restrains himself from having the character overstay his welcome, maximizing those carefully chosen appearances for all they're worth.

Dano's demeanor and voice fluctuates over the story's progression, his silence evolving into a deep, menacing tone until the end where he really lets loose, giggling with high-pitched, shrieking delight at the chaos he and his followers unleash. When Edward Nashton does eventually get cornered (in a cafe scene masterfully captured by cinematographer Greig Fraser as a nod to Edward Hopper's famous Nighthawks painting) and his true intentions are revealed, Dano somehow escalates the character's creepiness, expressing his own twisted gratitude to Batman for helping create him. And it's during their face-to-face confrontation that we realize Riddler may have equally inspired Bruce's Batman to finally turn his attention to fighting for hope rather than vengeance.

Much has been made about the Joker cameo, but the film doesn't even really need it and is actually far better off rolling with the idea that he's the "Unseen Arkham Prisoner" stated in the credits. Either way, Barry Keoghan's appearance does little to detract from the fact this is Riddler's movie through and through. Considering we've had more than our fair share of Joker already, it would be far more interesting for Reeves to move forward with a different, underexposed villain more ripe for reimagining in a new context, much like Riddler was.

The much discussed closing scene with Catwoman undeniably leaves a door open, hinting that as close as Batman's come to accepting his role, Gotham's been left in decay, with no guarantee the worst isn't still ahead. With each developing twist and turn in The Batman, we become more involved, leading to a final act that delivers on all the promise and suspense preceding it. And by Reeves returning the character to its earliest dark noir detective roots, it earns a place in the upper echelon, telling a story much more intricate and layered than we've settled for from comic book tentpoles this size and scope.