The Batman (2022)

Score: 5 / 5

Matt Reeves is a genius. We already knew that after what he did with Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and War for the Planet of the Apes, and frankly I hope that inspires people to revisit his brilliant earlier films Cloverfield and Let Me In. But nothing could have prepared me for the polished beauty and audacious style of yet another Batman movie from this burgeoning master of the craft. Most scenes could be frozen and framed, so rivetingly and beautifully composed as they are, and from the long, slow shots to the endless textured detail of every costume piece and prop, you can tell Reeves and team meant this film to be a labor of love. In a lot of ways, this movie reminded me of Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins in its shocking scope, emotional and intellectual depth, and world-building mastery.

But this film (and the franchise sure to bloom from its stem) differs from Nolan's stories in a critical way, and it is this I intend to explore in this post: Reeves is not interested in mythmaking. While Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy was rooted in realism and had a muscular, gritty aesthetic, it was primarily an epic. A means of turning Batman -- who isn't really a "super" hero after all -- from a man into an idea, as Bruce himself says in the first film. We get a mythic origin story that culminates in a physical and mental test; a damsel in distress; a terrifying enemy determined to destroy the city; an impossible race against the odds through a freshly realized hell to stop destruction and death. And there's the level of advanced technology, which often feels a bit too sci-fi for the world as it is. Reeves, on the other hand, intentionally makes Bruce a real person and doesn't outfit him with sonar technology or special goggles that turn cell phones into echolocation tools.

Reeves's Batman is, first and foremost, a detective. We meet him approximately two years into his tenure as the caped crusader, although he doesn't really seem to have donned the title of "Batman." He calls himself Vengeance in a delightfully sinister tone I didn't expect from actor Robert Pattinson, who has been doing unbelievably great work in the last several years, certainly since Cronenberg's Cosmopolis in 2012. The film opens with the murder of the Gotham City mayor, and as Lieutenant Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) investigates the crime scene, he escorts "Vengeance" past the police and forensics experts. The police don't like him; he's just a vigilante with a scary name to them. Pattinson imbues the character with the kind of tortured menace Christian Bale had, but his is more intellectual than passionate; nonverbal for, shockingly, most of the film, Pattinson's face is a masterclass of nuance as he slowly and deliberately takes in the crime scene. His eyes flicker to a blood spot apparently no one has noticed, and as he moves away from it, a photographer hurries over to snap it for evidence.

Most of the film is as slow and deliberate, but Reeves packs each photogenic image with details and weight that are astounding. It feels, in many ways, like a David Fincher movie in its calculated aesthetic and intentional turning of the screw. Add to it the unexpected, violent action, Like Zodiac or Se7en in plot, The Batman is very much a gritty drama about someone trying to solve and then stop serial murders from happening, and a significant part of that is due to the psychopathic killer. Here we have the Riddler, played by Paul Dano in what might be the most unhinged and genuinely scary performance of his career, who is determined to kill the leaders of Gotham and reveal the depths of their corruption and fraud. But there's always something else going on with him, and one of my favorite moments is also his first moment on screen: as the mayor watches the news alone in his apartment, he steps away to refresh his drink. In the negative space behind him, we see the vague silhouette of a figure whose only discernible features are of his eyes. The goggles or glasses he wears reflect the harsh white light of the TV, making him instantly a ghostly or demonic presence who seems uncannily linked with his own desire to force people in power to reflect on themselves, albeit in a public way. And that's only the third or fourth shot of the film!

Much will be made of Pattinson and his iteration of the character; I loved him as Bruce Wayne in all his hungover, battered, sallow glory. Similarly, much will be made of Andy Serkis as Alfred Pennyworth and Zoe Kravtiz as Selina Kyle (a particularly sexy Catwoman who pairs extremely well with Pattinson's Batman). Not to take away from them (although Serkis has precious little to do in this film), but I would rather fixate momentarily on John Turturro's deliciously creepy turn as Carmine Falcone and a completely unrecognizable Colin Farrell as Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin. Especially the latter, who is apparently about to get an HBO spinoff series, because these characters are so often caricatured or made into comedic butts, but here they are treated with dignity and substance by the screenplay, director, and actors. It helps, too, that Reeves lets them own their moments, not rushing anything or highlighting spectacle over character.

The Batmobile arrives, looking like it just escaped a Mad Max sequel. Arkham shows up late, along with someone who appears to be the Joker, and I'm itching for Reeves's proposed Arkham horror series. The fighting is all very muscular, and Reeves doesn't cut away from the brutal punches and kicks, choosing intentionally for us to witness Bruce getting injured (and also kicking butt most of the time). He's just another man, Reeves seems desperate to tell us, capable of getting injured and risking his life and struggling to figure out how best to help others. By the end, it seems Bruce might be ready to embrace his identity as the Batman, but it's the path to that realization that makes up the film; he can't just be a vigilante, he needs to be the symbol of hope and justice Gotham so craves. He has to confront his history, his legacy, and even his daily purpose, and it reaches a head when he chooses, in the film's climax, to use a flare and guide a mass of people out of watery wreckage to safety. That kind of salvific moment is captured beautifully as a sort of harrowing of hell, and it's here that Bruce actively chooses mercy and aid over anger and his self-proclaimed goal of vengeance.

Come for the riveting Batman story and its neo-noir detective aesthetic. Stay for the unbelievably beautiful production, including eye-popping cinematography from Greig Fraser (Dune, Bright Star, Let Me In, Snow White and the Huntsman, Zero Dark Thirty, Foxcatcher, Lion, Rogue One, Mary Magdalene, Vice, The Mandalorian) and gorgeous music from Michael Giacchino (Jurassic World, Marvel and Pixar movies, Super 8, Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, Star Trek). And leave haunted by the memory of one of the best Batman movies you've ever seen, and what may very well prove to be one of my own top 10 films of 2022. It's early to make a claim like that, but once you've seen this film, you'll know what I'm talking about.