*This piece is part of our Critics In Conversation series, where two writers offer different perspectives on the same film. Read Kai Grady’s review here, and Wesley Stenzel’s review here.*
Within the first fifteen minutes of Matt Reeves’ The Batman, the eponymous hero utters “I am the shadows,” with a full, throaty seriousness that sets me off into the first of many fits of laughter throughout the three-hour runtime. With silly lines delivered with outsized gravitas, dark makeup streaked under his eyes like an angsty teen fresh out of an intense crying session, and an emo diary titled “GOTHAM PROJECT: YEAR TWO,” Robert Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne seems like he just stepped out of Hot Topic in the 2000s—and I, for one, am fully here for it. Everything else? Not so much.
The most recent film reboot of the Batman story showcases the DC superhero in his second year, before he’s had the time or experience to refine his techniques. We witness his first encounter with familiar Gotham faces, including the Penguin (played by a completely unrecognizable Colin Farrell), Catwoman (played by The LEGO Batman Movie’s Catwoman voice actress Zoë Kravitz) and Jim Gordon (played by an actor of color for the first time with Jeffrey Wright). While previous Batman portrayals show Bruce as quite suave with women, Pattinson’s Batman barely knows what to do with Selina Kyle’s flirtations, whether clad in her feline costume or not. Instead, he spends most of his time glowering in his batcave, mumbling about vengeance and crashing the party at Gotham’s hottest club, Iceberg Lounge, as the Riddler slowly but surely begins picking off the corrupt government officials who frequently wander through its doors.
As this plotline reveals itself, so does Batman’s life as a loser. We see him played like a fiddle by the Riddler, crashed into the ground due to miscalculations of his own flying abilities, and beaten to a pulp by the Riddler’s minions. In fact, the progression of events echoes his amateur adventures at the start of the character’s vigilante career in Batman: Year One, which features Bruce accidentally setting a police car on fire in an attempt to avoid arrest and nearly falling off a balcony when unexpectedly outnumbered by the bad guys. In Year One, such missteps emphasize Bruce’s priorities: The safety of the people of Gotham above all else, even himself. This latest iteration notably lacks this care for humanity in comparison. Instead, whenever Reeves edges close to echoing the sentiment, he spoils it with heavy-handed symbolism. Why is basically the only citizen Batman saves (and twice, at that) the boy who looks way too much like himself when he was younger?
The film still shines at key moments, including every second of Paul Dano’s performance as the Riddler. His presence is thoroughly chilling from the first gruesome murder that takes place within the first few minutes of the film. This The Batman villain is a far cry from Jim Carrey’s neon green-clad 1995 version in Batman Forever; instead, Dano’s Riddler is unhinged, unpredictable and mildly reminiscent of Heath Ledger’s Joker from The Dark Knight trilogy. There is even a scene in which the Riddler live streams the murder of Commissioner Pete Savage, which bears visual similarities to the video the Joker films killing a Batman impersonator in The Dark Knight.
Dano’s smug, lop-sided grin in a memorable coffee shop scene almost masks the inconsistent work of co-screenwriters Reeves and Peter Craig. When set up against the harsh glare of the sunlight after leaving the movie theatre, however, the Riddler’s actions don’t quite add up. His first three targets are genuinely corrupt, both in film and in comic book canon, but as time goes on, his targets make less and less logical sense. In fact, at some points, it just seems like Reeves and Craig are throwing plot points at a page to convince the viewers that there are additional reasons they shouldn’t root for the Riddler’s justice crusade aside from his excessively violent methods. He’s supposedly all-knowing, yet willfully clouded toward mayoral candidate Bella Réal and apparently ignorant of the full truth behind the Waynes’ murder. On the latter point, Reeves claims his version of the Waynes’ back story draws influences from Batman: Earth One, yet the only similarities are Thomas Wayne’s candidacy for mayor and Martha Wayne’s family history with mental illness. The additional details about their history seem to come directly from Reeves and Craig—and some might need physical therapy from the whiplash of Carmine Falcone’s earth-shattering reveal and Alfred’s subsequent retraction in the very next scene.
In the end, Reeves’ decision to frankenstein together several sources of Batman lore unsurprisingly yields an equally frankensteined plot. Reeves attempts to differentiate his iteration of the vigilante by depicting Batman just past his debut, but in his end result, Bruce Wayne ends up with the same inexperience as Year One’s Batman, yet without the emotional investment gained from setting up his motivations and connections to the characters who have been by his side from day one, like Jim Gordon. Despite some truly gorgeous shots from Australian cinematographer Greig Fraser and a fittingly orchestral score from seasoned composer Michael Giacchino, those who aren’t familiar with the comics will likely leave The Batman scratching their heads, particularly since Reeves frustratingly pushed for his film to sit apart from the DCEU.
However, if viewers—like me—are only here for Pattinson’s emo Batman getting tossed around a bit, then they will—like me—have the time of their lives. Is this objectively Pattinson’s best role? Absolutely not. However, Batman missing a vital clue because he’s too rich to know a carpenter tool when he sees one? Peak comedy. Batman getting an F in the Penguin’s Spanish class? Iconic. Bruce’s rippling back muscles? That’s pure cinema to me, baby. With such a lengthy film, Reeves could have spent a much larger portion of the time pandering to us Pattinson fans a bit more—the end result would have been much stronger.