"The Batman" is 176 minutes of gritty, well-executed, noir-inspired action,
but it also has some major flaws. Why is the Penguin missing an iconic accessory?
Why is Bruce so mean to Alfred? Spoilers ahead, as we pick "The Batman" apart.
Paul Dano's deranged and brilliant take on the Riddler is certainly a highlight of "The Batman." He's menacing and sadistic,
and also pitiable and neurotic. It's honestly the most faithful interpretation of the character in
that regard, if not necessarily the most fun. That said, what is not so faithful is his new
costume. From the neck down, it's mostly forgivable, given director Matt Reeves'
grounded take on the universe ... but his goofy, try-hard Zodiac-inspired mask is much less so.
That's mainly because it's so different from any comic book version of the character,
who has always shown his face, with only a domino mask hiding his identity. Heck,
Dano's thick glasses seemed like a good "grounded" version of a domino mask anyway.
To be fair, in the film, the Riddler wears the mask because he needs to hide his identity while
streaming his Jigsaw-esque crimes to the internet. Still doesn't make the mask any less ridiculous.
In many ways, the Riddler is indeed one of Batman's most clever and intelligent villains. It's because he thinks several steps
ahead of anyone else, and is usually undone solely due to his own hubris
rather than any lack of innate brilliance. Also, in the comics — most notably the Batman
event series "Hush" — the Riddler finally finds out Batman's true identity as the
billionaire trust fund baby Bruce Wayne. Even Jim Carrey's over-the-top, orange
flat-topped jokester version found out Batman's secret identity in 1995's "Batman Forever."
So it's somewhat disappointing that Paul Dano's Riddler can't connect the dots and
discover that Batman is in fact goth loner Bruce Wayne, especially considering how
much Riddler apparently loathes him, and, presumably, exhaustively researches him.
"Oh you're really not as smart as I thought you were."
To be clear, he also doesn't really care who the Batman is, so he doesn't seek his identity out.
It just seems, given the kind of research he does for all his other victims, that he would uncover that fact regardless of intent.
Ever since the Penguin's introduction in 1941's Detective Comics #58,
he's had his trusty and iconic weaponized umbrella at his disposal. In fact, every incarnation of The
Penguin has had some form of umbrella weapon at this point. Which makes sense, given that The
Penguin's umbrella is probably his most definable trait outside his top hat and overly pointy nose.
"Whoa! Take it easy, sweetheart." This brings us to the umbrella and top hat-free
version of the Penguin in "The Batman." While it makes some sense to ditch the outdated top hat,
to remove the umbrella entirely seems a step too far. It doesn't have to turn into a helicopter
or anything, it just needs to be there. Even worse, there's a scene set during
a heavy downpour of rain, and while his goons have umbrellas, the Penguin himself doesn't. That's just rubbing salt in the wound.
Pretty much every Batman film at this point has had a requisite Batmobile car chase scene in it.
It's happened so much that it's become part of the Batman movie formula.
And why not? The Batmobile is probably the hero's most famous and versatile weapon in
his fight against crime, and, furthermore, car chases are always cool, and have been an
action staple since the silent movie era. The Batmobile car chase in "The Batman"
is no exception. It's got some neat shots, big explosions, and the twisted metal and
screeching tires you'd expect. However, it's also ... perfunctory and mediocre. It doesn't
help that it's filmed at night, with a lot of close-up angles, and uses rapid edits.
Compare that to the spectacular Tumbler chase scenes in "Batman Begins" or "The Dark Knight,"
or even the bonkers car chase in "Batman Forever" where the Batmobile drives up the
side of a building. There's nothing nearly that imaginative in "The Batman" chase, unfortunately, and it suffers in comparison.
Catwoman is one of the most iconic characters in the Batman comics, and arguably his healthiest
romantic relationship. So it makes sense that Matt Reeves would want to include her in his new
reboot. Furthermore, Zoë Kravitz's portrayal of Catwoman, aka Selina Kyle, is an instant classic.
Kravitz gives Kyle a sense of real strength and drive, as well as a sensitivity that
slowly emerges throughout the film without ever sacrificing her edge or determination.
Not only that, but she also has the character's slinky, feline movement down pat,
and actually looks like she can believably kick the butts of goons two to three times her size.
So it's such a disappointment that the script lets her down at every turn. Sure, she gets to wail on
some faceless thugs with some flashy moves, but in every critical moment –- whether it's
getting subdued by Batman in their introduction, beaten down by Carmine Falcone, or needing to be
saved in the climax from Riddler's army like a damsel-in-distress, Catwoman never really gets a chance to come out on top.
Unlike the previous entries so far, this one is more about a narrative choice that
was meant to upset fans. In the new film, Bruce and Alfred have a much more fraught
and tense relationship than they normally do. While Alfred obviously cares about Bruce,
and is even instrumental in helping decode The Riddler's complicated ciphers,
Bruce doesn't seem to share that affection. In fact, in their first scene together,
Bruce snaps at Alfred for trying to get him to do stuff for his company,
even saying "You're not my father" like an angsty teen. Later on in the film, Bruce even chides
Alfred for his Wayne family cufflinks, implying that Alfred isn't worthy of the Wayne name.
This, of course, is upsetting because we like to see Alfred and Bruce have affection
for each other, and Bruce's dismissiveness to his devoted butler/father-figure isn't fun to watch.
Spoiler Warning: This section contains a major plot point from "Spider-Man: No Way Home." Like the previous entry, watching Alfred get
consumed by flames and presumed dead is pretty purposefully upsetting for fans. Worse is Bruce
realizing that the Riddler planned to kill Bruce Wayne, with Alfred as potential collateral damage,
and that his race against time was futile because the bomb the Riddler
sent had already exploded hours earlier. This scene is especially upsetting,
given what happened to Aunt May in last year's "Spider-Man: No Way Home."
She was another character in a superhero blockbuster thought to be safe due to her
longevity in the comics – making her subsequent death that much more shocking and disheartening.
In this case, Alfred does turn out to have survived the Riddler's attack. Which is good,
because the loss of Alfred might have been one too many unexpected deaths of beloved characters in such a short timespan.
One of the most intriguing aspects of "The Batman" is how it repositions the morality of the Waynes
and actually adds a bit of moral ambiguity and realism to this version of the universe.
In the film, it's revealed that Thomas Wayne was running for mayor before he was killed,
and that during the campaign a reporter found out that Martha, whose maiden name was Arkham,
had family baggage that could derail the election. Thomas then tried to bribe the
reporter to back off. When he didn't, he asked his old friend, the mob boss Carmine Falcone
to step in and take care of it. Which he did ... by killing the reporter.
This is great, because it gets into how the rich are often embedded in crime to maintain power.
Unfortunately, while it gestures towards a more complicated take on the Waynes' backstory,
it's ultimately half-hearted and half-assed. At one point, Alfred even defends Thomas Wayne,
saying he was a good man because "he felt bad" about his mobster buddy killing an
innocent person. Worse, the film thinks that's a good justification. "If you are justice, why do you lie?"
One of the most iconic comic book arcs in Batman history is "Knightfall," which ran from 1993 to
1994. It was the introduction of Bane, a large, muscle-bound and luchador-masked villain who
famously broke Batman's back over his knee. Now, while Bane is sometimes characterized
as being a big, dumb brute, the Bane in the comics is actually a calculating tactician.
His strength, however, is still formidable, and augmented by a chemical known as Venom –- a
green liquid that is basically super steroids. Curiously, there's a moment in the climatic
action scene of "The Batman" that alludes to the existence of Venom in this universe.
Batman is seen reeling from a shotgun blast to the chest, and eventually injects himself with
green liquid that gives him a boost of strength to continue fighting and save the day. True,
this could just be adrenaline, but the fact that it's so effective and makes him go berserk for a moment seems deliberate.
It seems that every Batman adaptation feels the need to add the Joker. Sure, he's an important
part of the character's mythos, but there are so many other crazy villains that would be much more
interesting to see in live-action at this point. However, if you are going to do a new version of
the Joker, you have to at least do it well. Unfortunately, this might be one
of the weakest attempts at a reboot of the Clown Prince of Crime that we've seen yet.
Actor Barry Keoghan is very subdued in the role for some reason, appearing bored and
almost embarrassed to perform the iconic laugh. This, of course, is not to discredit Keoghan as
a performer outright. He was phenomenal in "The Killing of a Sacred Deer," where he
was genuinely creepy and unsettling opposite fellow "The Batman" villain Colin Farrell.
It's obvious while watching "The Batman" that writer-director Matt Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig are trying to say something with this
film by discussing things like income inequality, rampant police corruption, systemic malfeasance,
etc. That's all well and good -- potentially noble even. The issue is: what actual statement
are they making beyond "these things exist"? Because the Riddler isn't wrong, really. The world
is full of corruption, where the rich and powerful exploit the poor and marginalized with impunity.
It's a legitimate problem. The anger is justified. It's so justified in fact, that the screenwriters
had to concoct a far-fetched plan to drown Gotham so that his points can be easily ignored.
The solution the film comes to seems to be reformation -- to "regain trust in
institutions," as said by Bella Real, the brave, newly-elected, and progressive-coded mayor of
Gotham at the end of the film. However, we've seen how reform doesn't fix police corruption.
This wouldn't be a problem in a less grounded universe -- you're not questioning the harsh
realities in a Tim Burton movie. But in this more realistic film, it just comes off as wrong-headed,
even if it is well-intentioned. Check out one of our newest videos
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