The Batman Solidifies Matt Reeves as One of Today's Great Filmmakers

Note: There are some minor spoilers about aspects of character in The Batman. Nothing that gives away specific plot details though.

We're ten years out from the conclusion of Christopher Nolan's wildly popular Batman trilogy, which included the cultural behemoth that was The Dark Knight,  as well as Anne Hathaway's portrayal of Selina Kyle/Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises. After Nolan was more successful than not at pulling the Shakespearian drama and tragedy out of the Batman mythos, as well as utilizing some of the most popular storylines in the comic's history, it would be easy to believe there is nowhere left to go. Beyond the Nolan trilogy, which any Batman film is inevitably going to be compared to, there was also the series of Batman films which began with Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, producing what is arguably one of the best superhero films and best sequels in a more general sense, Batman Returns in 1992. A good deal of that films continued relevance to cinema fans is Michelle Pfeiffer's turn as Catwoman. If we also consider the dominance superhero films currently enjoy at the box office, it's not unreasonable to ask if this state of affairs is good for film as a cultural document or an art form. It's easy to understand someone looking at the release of yet another Batman movie and saying, "Do we need this right now?" 

The answer is no, we don't need another Batman movie right now. At the same time, there has never existed a film we needed when it was released. The declaration "THIS IS THE FILM WE NEED RIGHT NOW" often associated with some topical film, usually telling it's story from a perspective which is very much in the mainstream of the thinking of the American liberal, while attempting to throw some warm blanket of hopeful reassurance over a festering or aching wound in the American psyche, is inevitably wrong. Even if a film doesn't adhere to these characteristics, as many films referred to as important upon release have been, it's still wrong in a factual sense. It isn't wrong in the moral sense. Any of us might see a film and think or feel, "This is the film I needed right now." It's something that helps make film one of the great arts. Factually, few films are important in the grand sense. The rarest of exceptions proving the rule do exist. Bong Joon-Ho's 2019 masterpiece Parasite is an arguable example of a film being hailed as important when it was released, while also being an amazing film about something relevant to living today, as the world exists. The thing is though, Parasite would have been a masterpiece in 1982 or 1954 and chances are good it will still be relevant and still be recognized as a masterpiece in 2103. Dr. Strangelove was a masterpiece when it was released in 1964, and to all of our terror, it is still too relevant at this very moment. 

There isn't a film we need right now. It's a somewhat silly perspective. The self importance involved with attempting to create the film we need right now is nearly guaranteed to prevent any film from achieving that goal. Paul Haggis's 2004 film, Crash, is the easy example to reach for, and though it may be in a class by itself in the degree to which it was celebrated by the literati of Hollywood at the time and just how far it's fallen in esteem since, it's not alone in being birthed from the creators need to attempt to be important as the shining aspect which lead to its failure. 

The list of films we need is short, in relation to the list of films that have been made and released. At the same time, we need that history. We need to have ambitious failures. We need the modest successes. We need the little recognized masterpieces or the oddball films of such singular vision they only speak to a small number of people, but to those people they speak volumes. We need them because when taken together, they say something about us. It's the aggregation of what we find important or is popular in any given period of time that tells us something about ourselves, who we were in the past, how film and storytelling can be many different things for us at any given time. No single film can do that. It's incredibly rare for a single story to do that, even when it comes in the form of a novel long enough to double as a boat anchor. 

So, no, we don't need another Batman movie right now.  We've never needed one. Considering how well they do at the box office and how long they tend to linger in the conversation related to film, we do really like them though. 

This is where Matt Reeves and his take on the cowled hero comes in. If there is a filmmaker alive who can take a franchise or character which needs to be reinvigorated and create a great film around them, it's Matt Reeves. Reeves began his climb to A list director as half of the creative team which birthed the television series, Felicity, along with J.J. Abrams. His second feature film, Cloverfield, also created with J.J. Abrams, took what was then a relatively new narrative concept to mass audiences, found footage, and mashed it together with the old school giant monster movie. The result was somewhat mixed, and still one hell of a fun time at the movies. There are aspects of Cloverfield which just don't work. At the same time, what works, works incredibly well. Part found footage, part Japanese Kaiju film, and part 1950's alien monster movie, Cloverfield is fun, if nothing else. A few of the sequences in Cloverfield are in and of themselves, reasons to see movies in the theater, on the big screen. Reeves created some iconic images and sequences which are equally being thrilling and scary. Due in  part to J.J. Abrams knack for what could be referred to as mystery marketing, and the power of those sequences, Cloverfield was an overwhelming success, and captured the cinematic conversation for a short time when it was released. 

His next film in 2010, Let Me In, does fit the conceit behind the question, "Does this film need to exist?" better than probably ninety percent of those it's asked of. It's an Americanized remake of what is arguably one of the best vampire films of all time, itself a masterpiece, Tomas Alfredson's 2008 Swedish film, Let the Right One In, based on a hit Swedish novel of the same name. It is very little of what we expect from an archetype usually associated with schlocky, blood and boobs horror. It's a heartbreaking piece of storytelling, with an emotional depth most films crying out to be considered serious could only hope to touch. There was arguably one reason to remake Let the Right One In the two years following its release and finding cult status here in the US. American audiences are notoriously unwilling to engage with subtitles. Still, what Reeves managed to oversee was a script which took in some new elements (the Reaganite 1980's in the United States), hold on to the central themes which made the original story and film impactful, and get it all to screen in a way which produced what would have been considered a very good, loving adaptation, had the previous film not been released so soon before. Let Me In doesn't reach the artistic heights of its predecessor, but in the great scheme of things few films do, and what Reeves ended up producing was a very good film. 

Let Me In wasn't a rousing success like Cloverfield, in part because a good chunk of the target audience (those who were aware of the Swedish film) resented its existence. It was a critical success though, and it was proof of Reeves adept ability for adaptations. It lead him to being given the reins to the follow up to the box office hit, Rise of the Planet of the Apes. 

The Planet of the Apes franchise had essentially been dead since Tim Burton took his shot in 2001. It was a box office success, met with mixed critical reception. It's an amalgamation of ideas presented throughout the franchise original run in the 1960's. Those original films have no small cult following of their own, with the first starring Charlton Heston being the most widely recognized. Between its quotability ("Get your paws off me, you damn dirty ape") and the final shot which shocked audiences to their core (a scene which Cloverfield would later pay homage to), Planet of the Apes is among the canon of science fiction films which helped guide the genre into today's mainstream. 

In 2011, Rupert Wyatt's Rise of the Planet of the Apes was released to surprising box office and critical success. Instead of rehashing the events portrayed in the films from the 1960's, this film begins the story of Caesar, a chimpanzee referred to in that original series as something like a savior of these human-like, speaking apes. It's a good film. It's fun, touching, rousing in a crowd pleasing way and somewhat sad at turns. It's more than anyone was expecting from the resurrection of this franchise. It's still has the light, sun kissed feel of what we expect of a big budget blockbuster though. Not that there's anything wrong with this, but it is what we expect, and it does often tend to be applied to films which could have had a deeper emotional resonance, in favor of making them more palatable to a wider audience. It also establishes just how these hyper intelligent apes came into being, and why they were able to subsume humanity as the dominant species. Andy Serkis, who helped pioneer a new form of motion capture acting for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy stars as Caesar, and the success of Rise and this new series as a whole, has indebted to his formidable abilities. 

Matt Reeves was handed the job of creating the sequel, which would become Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. It's success, both critically and at the box office, eclipsed Rise, which guaranteed Reeves the job of making the third film, War for the Planet of the Apes. With motion capture technology advancing further combining with Andy Serkis's talent as an actor, when all was said and done, what we ended up with is one of the great blockbuster trilogies. Reeves took the seeds planted in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and the general way Caesar was referred to in the series of films in the 60's, and crafts something which is mind boggling, in just that his two films exist. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is an emotionally resonant, nuanced, rousing blockbuster. At the same time, it leans into the sense of tragedy which made the original film starring Charlton Heston of the variety which lodged it in our cultural consciousness. The new Apes trilogy is successful at being many things, all at once. Reeves took over and it was a shocking leap forward in the quality of the filmmaking. Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a good film. This isn't meant to take anything from the work done in that film. However, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is an excellent film. 

War for the Planet of the Apes is a masterpiece in blockbuster filmmaking. Part Western, part prison break/heist film, it's still shocking to consider a film this emotionally rich and thematically intelligent was given this kind of budget. It's grand in scope and emotionally intimate, at the same time. It is beautiful at points visually, as well as in the emotions it successfully evokes, and the ideas it is working with. There is a dismissive vein in criticism, which suggests audience being in tears because of a film centered around a "cartoon monkey" is among the signs general audiences and film are in a downward spiral. The mean spirited elitism that tinges this kind of criticism doesn't give full recognition to the power and importance of good storytelling, and good fantasy storytelling, in particular. In reality, the audience reception to Reeves Apes films shows just the opposite. A big budget film, meant to be the kind of tentpole blockbuster which has come to define mass market film can be intelligent, have depth, deal with hard themes and emotions succeeded at the box office and with critics, while not being empty, clap-trap fare of lazy escapism that leaves the audience the minute they leave the theater. The Apes trilogy proves not only is is possible to make these films, but audiences will go see them as well. We can actually have and do both, and we should. 

Taken together, Reeves Apes films are an openly anti-war, metaphorically anti-bigotry, deeply humanistic, meditative duo. That he managed to convince a major Hollywood studio to make and release both of these films on these major budgets is shocking. That they turned out to be among the best big budget films of their generation (I'd say they're as good or better in quality than the many of the most loved blockbuster franchises) was something no one could have expected. His two films also serve to elevate Rupert Wyatt's Rise. Rise serves as a relatively easy entry point, which allows audiences to fully invest in Caesar. Reeves entries succeed in creating this trilogy, the story of Caesar, a mythic journey delving into more complicated, demanding themes and ideas. 

Yes, this is a trilogy of films whose main character is a talking, CGI ape. It's also one of the most impactful, relevant, consistent blockbuster trilogies in the history of multi-million dollar, big budget filmmaking. It shouldn't exist, and it shouldn't work, but because of Matt Reeves unerring eye for story and character, his ability to direct great action sequences, the performances he is able to get from his actors, the ability he has to choose and trust in all of the other creative people involved in films like these (while pretty obviously being able to communicate his vision), it somehow worked. Reeves Apes films are a shocking accomplishment. None of this should work, and it doesn't just work, it winds up being excellent. 

With all this being true, when The Batman was announced in mid-2017 and Reeves was attached to direct, there was no shortage of cynicism to be found. I wasn't immune to this. I was absolutely in the camp that wondered if we needed another Batman film, even if Matt Reeves was going to be taking the helm. The casting of Robert Pattinson as Bruce Wayne/Batman was met with equally mixed reaction. Pattinson has a small army of fans from his Twilight days who'd watch the man gaze at the sea for two hours and berate any awards committee which didn't grant him it's highest honor, but he's also developed critical respect because of his turns in the films he's chosen since, and the level of performance he's brought to them. Still, there were questions about him playing Batman. Casting announcements for the rest of the roles were met with a similar, puzzled sense of "Well, this could go very well or it could go very badly." 

It turns out Matt Reeves successful interpretations of what the Apes series could be weren't simply the result of a perfect match between filmmaker and subject. The Batman is a damn good movie, maybe a great movie (I'd like to get another chance to see it before I go quite that far). 

Reeves takes this iteration of the character in a very different cinematic direction than we've seen previously. There are elements of film noir, western, action, police procedural and horror ( this particular mix brought Se7en to mind at a few points), creating what might be the most Batman of Batman films, in the best those connotations can have. It's clear he's taken elements from the comics (The Long Halloween storyline stand out most), but he's also been equally attentive to insuring they work as film. This is what stands out about The Batman, in comparison to the many other Bat films we've seen. It's centrally interested in being a story and film about Batman, as in the film comes first, not the comic books or further inflating the heights of the characters place in our cultural mythology. Reeves set out to make the best movie he could make, with the characters at his disposal, instead of choosing which characters he most wanted to play with or what storylines from the comics he most wanted to see interpreted on film. Somehow, he ended up making a movie which more embodies the complicated history of the character than any of the other films to date. 

One of the things making this film so good is how visually gorgeous the it is. There are a few stunning shots in it, but instead of focusing on creating something which is resting on Batman iconography, it's focusing on beautiful cinematography overall. Light, color and darkness are all used to give the film a rich visual universe. It never feels flat. In a visual sense, it feels like the film is stuffed with life. Some of that life is hiding in the shadows though, and we might not want it come out. At best, it's The Batman coming out of those shadows, and it might not be, which might or might not be worse. The whole thing is beautifully shot.  

Adding to the cinematography is Reeves interpretation of Gotham City. The cinematography helps to make it look great, but it's also in the choices of location (it is clear there was a lot of shooting on location) and in the design which was added digitally for some of the wide, aerial shots. This is a realistic feeling Gotham, but it's obviously not Chicago or New York. It calls to mind the cinematic presentation of those cities we're accustomed to seeing, but Tokyo, Beijing and other cities too. Gotham feels like a character in the film, looming over the events like some pernicious god, while also feeling like a very real city. Anyone who has ever lived in a large city, understands how real this feeling can be. This is as much a story about Gotham as it is a story about Batman, which contributes to what makes this different from previous Bat movies. Burton's Gotham was beautiful and mythical, but never felt real. Nolan's Gotham felt like a real place, but was consistently flat visually. Reeves has found something his own, and at the meeting place of those two. 

This isn't just for show. This Batman is a product of Gotham as a whole, not just his parents deaths. All of the characters feel like products of Gotham. They exist because of this city. Batman/Bruce Wayne is also not someone or something bigger than Gotham. No matter how considerable his will and the wealth that come with it may be, he's not going to exerted it over Gotham without the city responding. This is one way Reeves is taking elements of film noir, and using them with precision. Gotham is parent, adversary, villain, victim and savior, all at once. In many ways, The Batman is about Bruce Wayne coming to understand this and that he can't win the fight for vengeance, but he can do something with real purpose if he lets go of the selfishness which that vengeance is centered in. To this end, Gotham has to evoke the sense of being its own character, while also feeling like it could be a real place or the journey the Pattinson's Batman takes wouldn't work. Gotham is his cradle, his enemy, and the people he has to choose to save. 

Pattinson is excellent here too. In the same sense that Gotham feels like there is life teaming in every inch, because of the use of light, color and shadow, Pattinson plays the duality which is requisite for Batman/Bruce Wayne in a way we haven't seen before. The Batman is brimming with life, as a character. It may be anger and rage giving that life meaning, but oddly, he feels most alive in the costume and not like a persona. Bruce Wayne feels like the shell of a human being. He's barely alive. Batman feels like a person. A person with an unhealthy obsession that's probably going to kill him, but a person. Bruce Wayne isn't the oafish playboy. This is the recluse, who has given up being Bruce Wayne and seems pained by and impatient with Bruce Wayne existing at all. When this film starts, there basically is no Bruce Wayne. He's even more the elusive legend in Gotham than Batman is. To the people of Gotham, Batman is ever present. Bruce Wayne is everything but. This is plainly an interesting way to tell this story. Batman is usually the mythical figure, and there is a bit touching on this, but Bat movies are usually much more a story of something about Bruce Wayne's life or something that becomes an equal part of Batman and Bruce Wayne which is the stabilizing or corrective aspect. That's not the case here. What we really get in The Batman is the story of why Batman needs to resurrect Bruce Wayne. Pattinson gives all of this in his performance. 

There isn't a bad performance in the movie. It's a stacked, veteran cast, with Zoe Kravitz being the least experienced. She comes across as every bit the equal to Pattinson's Batman when they're on screen together. This is also an important part of Gotham being a character. Selina Kyle never feels like a damsel in distress. Batman and Catwoman need each other, because the city is too much for anyone to take on alone. Her story intersects with his, paralleling it in some ways, and avoids feeling like she's a character put in for fan service or just to serve Batman's story. The part of the writing for Selina also takes from film noir. There's a bit of femme fatale, but Kravitz imbues her with more nuance than the phrase conjures and Selina written in a more full, rounded way. With her taking her place among the line who've played Catwoman, it's possible to say there hasn't been a bad portrayal of Catwoman yet. Eartha Kitt, Julie Newmar, Michelle Pfeiffer, Anne Hathaway, Halle Berry and now Zoe Kravitz. Even when the writing for the character might not have been very good, the performances have been. Kravitz version, both in the writing and in her performance, has gotten the most realistic on screen version so far and she nails it. Yes, Batman would absolutely fall in love with this woman, and she is absolutely his equal who isn't defined solely by that fact. 

This is an aspect of the comics Reeves is using to create the best movie, as opposed to creating a definitive Batman movie. The Joker is the most recognizable and most popular of the Batman villains. We are imprinted by the Joker because his iconography is so strong, and because he's the most brutal and sadistic of Batman's villains. As a character and archetype, Joker is pretty terrifying. The Joker isn't his equal though. In the comics, Catwoman went from strictly being a villain to being Batman/Bruce Wayne's most recurrent, off again/on again love interest and sometime target, because she is the only one in his rogues gallery who is his equal. In the instances when Catwoman is the subject of his investigation, she's as likely to get away with whatever she has planned as he is likely to stop her. He's as likely to need her help as she is to need his, and especially when they're in an off again stage, there's some degree of mutual need or benefit involved. It's part of what makes her one of the more interesting characters in the Batman universe. When characters are portrayed for some length of time as being Batman's equal, they are almost always a variation of funhouse mirror distortion of Batman. At some point, he always overcomes this though. Catwoman is not a mirror to him. Selina Kyle and Catwoman aren't even two separate personas at this point, as the comics go. Every cop and criminal in Gotham knows Selina Kyle is Catwoman. The cat suit isn't about protecting her identity. It's a signature and a tool. Batman hasn't overcome her. She's still as likely to get away with her plan as he is to stop her. 

Carrying this equanimity into the film helps make it something more interesting. It would have been very easy to make Selina Kyle a damsel in distress. Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises essentially does this. Burton's Batman Returns does a bit of it too. Making Selina Batman's equal means he is going to hear things from her he's not going to hear someone else say, and also takes the romantic nature of the relationship in a more realistic direction. It's easy to see why these people might fall in love. There's more to it than it being a convenience for the script or a matter of, "Yeah, they are both ridiculously attractive, and I'd be weak if he/she looked at me like that too" (even as they plainly are). Because she's also not just a mirror of him and is still his equal, she's also coming from a perspective he hasn't considered. Especially in this case, where we're dealing with a young Batman who has only been donning the cape and cowl for a comparatively short period of time, it's a perspective he needs to hear. 

This is also the best on screen relationship between Jim Gordon and Batman. The trust has been built before the movie begins, and Jeffrey Wright plays Gordon as completely understanding there is a man under the suit and the suit doesn't really matter. He's working with the man, not The Bat. Batman is also candid with Gordon in the way he talks to him about the Riddler and the investigation as a whole. They feel like they're friends, as much as Batman can bring himself to have a friend, at least. It doesn't just feel like a work relationship where each sees the benefit of working with the other. It feels like real trust. It's in both the relationships with Selina Kyle and Jim Gordon some of that life in Batman shines through, where Bruce Wayne seems so utterly lacking in it. It's a smart way to convey these things through dialog and the interplay of characters, without using dialog to explain them. Batman is the one who needs these people, which causes ramifications for Bruce Wayne, not the other way around.

Bruce Wayne's only relationship is with Alfred Pennyworth, played here by Andy Serkis. Serkis is excellent as always. It's not a warm relationship though. Alfred is obviously trying to get Bruce Wayne to live, and Bruce resents every second he has to engage in being Bruce Wayne, including listening to or having a relationship with Alfred. There are little bits of information about what it has taken for this Batman to exist. There is no Wayne Industries technology for him to use. He has no relationship with Wayne Industries, he doesn't care whether it exists. He obviously dedicated the time and energy to learning the intricacies of the internal combustion engine and the physics of structural engineering though, because he needed this version of The Batmobile. 

Overall, this Batman's wealth isn't a net good for him. It's clear as the film progresses he doesn't know what he doesn't know, and a lot of that has to do with the way wealth has insulated him. This isn't a guy whose known plumbers, carpenters, electricians etc. He doesn't know how the other half lives, in any real sense, and has no clue how other people think because he's been so completely obsessed with his own loss. To become The Batman of comic lore and other film representations, the great detective, he has a lot to learn, including what learning to be aware of what he doesn't know. He's portrayed as having the kind of quick, thorough mind necessary to become that, but the tools aren't all there yet. It's a really interesting way to show this is a younger, more inexperienced version of the character. Again, Pattinson handles all of this very well, and often subtly, with nothing more than a look that shows some combination of surprise, but also the quick mind at work, processing what he's just been told. 

Colin Farrell is unrecognizable as The Penguin, and he's also excellent. The prosthetic makeup is great. In the watching the movie, this is The Penguin. It's not Colin Farrell in prosthetics. This is a testament to all of their talent. Farrell seems like he's having a great time with this character too. Penguin comes across as a character that is both very smart and in need of finding a way to command the respect he feels he deserves, while always having it be just beyond his reach. It should be interesting to see where this character goes should they continue these films. 

Paul Dano is great as The Riddler, though we don't get very much of him, considering he's the ostensible villain. What we do get is equal parts sad and disquieting. It's enough for him to be a constant presence, like Gotham itself. It works because of how much the script is centered on mystery. Too much of him would have eased the tension the sense of mystery creates. Somehow, in addition to the rest of this, the mystery is interesting, compelling and goes in a surprising direction without feeling like a cheap cop out. Here, The Riddler is a kind of mirror image of Batman, and the one big scene we get between The Riddler and Batman is excellent. Dano nails it, and the writing is very, very good. 

And then there's John Turturro... The man is a legend, for good reason. He brings a subtle intelligence, manipulativeness and menace to Carmine Falcone that is delicious and repulsive. What can't this guy do? It's a testament to Zoe Kravitz talent that not only does she not disappear when on the screen with a guy dressed in an ostentatious bat costume, but she is also standing toe to toe with Turturro as he is giving such a great performance. With this character, there is no line between manipulation and outright violence. It's all the same thing to him, and he acts it all in a way that says it should always be polite and respectable. His violence isn't rage. It's what is supposed to be. He's preventing order from being reduced to chaos. He is supposed to be the most powerful man in any room he's in, because that's just how it's supposed to be. It's magnetic and disturbing in equal measure. He doesn't get a ton of screen time, but every second is memorable. It's going to get passed over as people talk about Pattinson, Kravitz and Farrell, but Turturro is giving us a great villainous character here. 

Then there's Michael Giacchino's score. It's epic and it is absolutely excellent. There are flavors of spaghetti western mixed in with the theme he gives Batman, and it just works. The entire score just works. It works in doing what any score should do, help elevate the emotional center of a given scene, and on top of that, it's gorgeous. He finds a way to use the traditional orchestral score in interesting ways, and if it hasn't been clear before, it's clear here. Giacchino is one of our great score composers. 

It's necessary to talk about the action sequences in this film too. On top of directing the film in a way which gives us a great story, shot in a way that is gorgeous, with an overall design concept that looks great, Matt Reeves can direct the hell out of an action sequence. There is a car chase in this movie that is compelling, thrilling and manages to speak to character, while also never being confusing, losing any of the action or the geography of the characters in relationship to each other. One of the most common and valid criticisms of super hero films over the last ten or twenty years has been that the action scenes are often incoherent or they feel empty. They feel like they don't have stakes or they've been tossed in so audiences don't lose interest in the story. They have no sense of drama and/or it's impossible to clearly understand what's happening in any given moment (I believe this is the reason the John Wick series is both so popular and escapes the criticism of being yet franchise, just cranking out sequels, the actions sequences are excellently directed). There are exceptions to this rule (the assault on the ship at the beginning of Captain America: Winter Soldier being one), but on the whole, it's not an invalid criticism. The action in The Batman is the antithesis of this. Even in a scene with intermittent flashes of light in the dark, so we're only seeing what's happening in a kind of strobe effect, it's still clear what's happening and it has weight. There are some extremely well directed action sequences in this movie, and when presented as well as these are, the difference between well directed action and not so well directed action is thrown into dramatic relief. Reeves brings home the bacon, where the action is concerned. 

The Batman isn't 8 1/2. It isn't The Bicycle Thieves or The 400 Blows. It isn't Black Narcissus. It's not a titanic achievement in the art of cinema. It's not going to end world hunger. It's not going to solve racism or wealth inequality in America. It's not meant to do any of that though. It is what it's accused of being in some ways, big budget movie about a guy running around in a cape, based off of an ever popular comic book character. We probably do have a few too many of those movies lately. 

It's also true that if we were only going to have a few superhero movies, The Batman would be one we should have. We're going to have some kind of big budget, blockbuster entertainment for the foreseeable future. As long as that is going to be the case, they should be as carefully crafted and well made as this is. Once again, Matt Reeves has taken what seems like they should be far too many pieces, approached what many considered the impossible puzzle of making another Batman movie worth giving a shit about, and proved he could turn all of that into compelling, smart, heartfelt storytelling. At this point, any studio should be willing to hand the man a check for anything he wants to make. At three hours and ten minutes, Reeves has crafted a great big budget, mass audience film which doesn't overstay its welcome for a second. He's doing what many say is impossible, and by doing it so well, he's proving he deserves to be in consideration as one of the great filmmakers of today.