There’s this kid named Bruce Wayne. Rich. His parents were murdered. He lives with his butler in Gotham City. Likes gadgets, and cars, and absolutely abhors criminals. He’s got a thing for bats, too. Maybe you’ve heard of him?
But this Bruce Wayne, the one at the center of Matt Reeves’ “The Batman,” isn’t like other Bruce Waynes—and that’s a good thing. We’ve had plenty of Batmen, from the suave (Michael Keaton) to the campy (George Clooney), the goofy (Adam West) to the gritty (Christian Bale), from the glam (Val Kilmer) to the grouchy (Ben Affleck). But this Batman, played by Robert Pattinson, is our goth Bruce Wayne, more disaffected youth than playboy billionaire, and that allows Reeves, as a director, to play with all kinds of grimy imagery, and as a writer, to grapple with the real function of Batman. It’s a necessary questioning that offers a revealing spin on this familiar character.
On paper, “The Batman” is a standard Batman story: he’s fighting crime in Gotham, facing off with the Riddler and Penguin and tangling with Catwoman. In practice, it’s Batman by way of “The Godfather” and “Zodiac,” a serial killer mystery mashed up with a mobster movie. The genre-play is a welcome refresher, while the detective work is an evolution from merely banging up the clownish petty criminals of Gotham.
