Matt Reeves, the filmmaker of 'Cloverfield,' gives DC's most readily remade character a gritty new perspective, blending aspects of film noir and hard-R horror films.
After "The Dark Knight," where do you go? Ben Affleck bungled it, and even Christopher Nolan, who gave that franchise-best Batman story unparalleled levels of realism and pathos, couldn't improve on what he'd produced in his 2012 sequel. So, what is Matt Reeves' plan as the director of "Cloverfield"? Answer: Make a serious-minded Batman stand-alone that is darker than "The Dark Knight," deadlier than "No Time to Die," and lengthier than "Dune." Embracing such aspects does not guarantee that viewers will accept Reeves' vision. However, this is an exception, frequently brutal and nearly three-hour film noir registers among the best of the genre, even if — or more aptly, because — what makes the film so great is its willingness to dismantle and interrogate the very concept of superheroes.
While Batman — who’s played here by gloomy “Twilight” star Robert Pattinson, representing the orphaned character’s tortured psychology to an almost painful degree — focuses on punching out petty thugs in shadowed alleys and on subway platforms, the Riddler (a genuinely disturbing Paul Dano) emerges to expose/dispose of the white-collar scoundrels embedded at the highest levels of power. Both men are vigilantes, though one is preoccupied with helping the police, while the other targets the systemic corruption that undermines our faith in such institutions — in Gotham City, for sure, but off screen as well.
The blood-red indictment scribbled across the face of the Riddler's first victim, none other than Gotham's shady mayor, reads, "NO MORE LIES" (Rupert Penry-Jones). This psychotic avenger, who is as twisted and self-righteous as that sicko from the "Saw" movies, has committed numerous horrible murders. Edward Nashton, dubbed the Riddler, wears dirty Coke-bottle spectacles and a leather fetish hood (which turns out to be a winter battle mask) while livestreaming his mind games on a conspiracy crackpot discussion board. But there's a catch: There is a conspiracy among Gotham's most powerful, one that can be traced back to the Wayne family, and it is up to Bruce to unravel it before the city is torn apart. Why is he here? The Riddler has drawn Batman in, leaving handmade cards loaded with ciphers and other puzzles at each of his crime scenes.
Part of the film‘s “reality” is to avoid calling comic-book characters by their traditional names. You no doubt noticed the “the” in the title of “The Batman” and asked yourself what it’s meant to signify. In using the definite article, Reeves isn’t necessarily trying to say that he’s created “the” definitive screen incarnation of the character. If anything, that tiny extra word casts an air of existential mystery around its masked and anonymous hero, who doesn’t even know what to call himself early on. When the imposing leader of a violent street gang taunts, “The hell are you supposed to be?” the bat-clad vigilante growls back, “I’m Vengeance.”
That's how Bruce Wayne sees himself when we first meet him - no genesis story, just in the middle of the action — two years after rescuing Gotham from the verge of chaos. The city has been ravaged by a major narcotics epidemic, thanks to a street drug known as "drops," and is now in a state of chaos that falls somewhere between pre-Giuliani Manhattan and the final minutes of Todd Phillips' "The Joker," though the two films exist in different dimensions of the same Gotham multiverse. Reeves reunites with production designer James Chinlund (with whom he worked on the "Planet of the Apes" sequels), and delivers the most detailed portrayal of Gotham since Tim Burton's 1989 "Batman."
His technology is mainly realistic, with the exception of hidden-camera contact lenses, and unless one counts a rooftop BASE jump, he can’t fly. Unlike so many DC comic book heroes, Batman is neither a god nor an alien; he has no fantastical abilities. Bruce Wayne’s superpower is his billion-dollar fortune, but the guy behind the mask breaks and bleeds just like anybody else — a point Reeves reminds us of with a shot of Pattinson’s bare back, covered in scars. Rather than leaning on a theme, Michael Giacchino’s score surprises, ranging from tense tribal drums to Nirvana to opera, while editors William Hoy and Tyler Nelson avoid obvious angles, leaving quiet spaces for audiences to process (and question) what’s happening.
A film like this will elicit a lot of discussion: does "The Batman" need to be as dark? Is it good enough to compete with Christopher Nolan's trilogy? There's ample opportunity for both, as well as sequels to expand on this foundation, which implies a basic understanding of the character's mythology. That is the allure of Batman, who stands above all the other DC Comics heroes: This famous antihero, like Dracula or Hamlet, may be reinvented indefinitely. Every time he emerges from the shadows, he tells us something new about ourselves, whether it's campy or pop, self-questioning or complicit.
