THE COWL AND THE CLOWN: Batman is Finally Here
Matt Reeves' The Batman reflects our times. We are now unashamed to consider our flaws and fragilities. This is who Batman was always meant to be -- someone who could very easily become a villain.
The best heroes are always unhinged. The miasma of uncertainty outwardly pervades any thought of violence, or the justification of it. We hope that dialogue, comedy, peaceful protest and the sheer volume of cooperation between groups can overcome the violence of oppression. But inwardly, we truly believe that only violence can definitively overcome violence. The history of any people will bear this to be true -- that we ascribe heroic status to the victor is borne out of our own biases, or the causes that we believe are righteous. The ends always justify the means.
The many (many) iterations of Batman exemplify this tenet. The uninhibited hope of the 1960s, genuine but naïve, is reflected well in Adam West’s campiness. The mood of the 80s and early 90s, cheery in their dispositions but with the uneasy feeling of a nasty reckoning and rebuke around the corner, shines through, particularly in the Gothic horror – what really should be called Gothique -- perfected by Tim Burton. The fragility of our systems, stripped bare and whipped naked for the universe to mock in the noughties, birthed Christopher Nolan’s trilogy – the stark realisation of the betrayal of our ideals by reality. As we have now, for better or worse, realised, peace exists in the security of certainty, not in the hope of bettering human nature.
There are glaring signs that the new Batman is different -- that both the Batman and by extension we the audience have now decided to try to look inward for an answer to the outward.
Matt Reeves’ Batman would not exist without the Nolan’s. But, as much as one is indebted to the other, it is not a direct descendant. Nolan’s Batman allowed its audience to accept openly what they had until then accepted only furtively -- the brittle nature of hope, contemporarily in tatters especially during and after the 2008 recession that saw The Dark Knight’s release.
Owing to the sudden shock of the collapse of systems that seemed resolute, however, the trilogy did not focus on Batman. It did well to show the conflict between Bruce Wayne’s personas but all three movies were about their respective villains -- Ras Al Ghul’s cleansing rebirth through death, the Joker’s chaotic cynicism and Bane’s muscular critique of hypocrisy. Even the titles echoed this -- The Dark Knight comments on what Batman represents to the people, and so propagates self-sacrifice for the greater good; The Dark Knight Rises furthers this to its inevitable conclusion of Batman being indistinguishable from his people.
Reeves’ movie reflects our times -– we are now unashamed to consider our own characters and personalities, flaws and fragilities. Finally, we are selfish enough to warrant a true character of Batman.
It is almost certain that Pattinson’s Batman will doubt everyone he meets but will also constantly doubt himself; will probably become unhinged at what transpires around him; resultantly, he will be unable to rein in his emotions and so his physical actions. He could easily become the very thing he vows to fight. This utter lack of surety will make this Batman resonate acutely with his audience.
The movie will also focus on what the character means to Gotham (instead of hope, though, one senses he will inspire pure, Gothique fear like he was always meant to) but will always consider what the world means to Batman before it considers what Batman means to the world -- much in the same way that the Joker kept Arthur Fleck firmly in focus but also wound up portraying him as a beacon for the oppressed, those sitting so firmly on the fringes of the public consciousness as to be completely out of focus of the picture.
This focus on the character will irrevocably blur the lines between hero and villain, where it is still infinitely possible that Batman could end up as a Stygian monster rather than a Stygian saviour. Robert Pattinson, in typical irreverent fashion, has all but confirmed this: “Batman is not a superhero.”
In fact, would anyone be entirely surprised if Fleck’s delusion in Joker about being Thomas Wayne’s illegitimate child was written instead as reality and accepted canon? Both the Batman and Joker’s actions are derived solely from the pain thrust upon them through by the big bad world. That their missions are eerily similar in taking revenge on the big and the bad of their worlds, and that both regardless of portrayal, iteration, actor and generation resolutely believe they are heroes is no coincidence. If Bruce Wayne had grown up mired in poverty, it is very possible he could have become another Arthur Fleck -- the symbiotic tale of the cowl and the clown. This is who Batman has always been. We are now damaged enough to the point of accepting him without any reservations. We are now unhinged enough to accept him as unhinged.