Finally I understand the backstory to Batman and I enjoy the character all the more for it. In Batman Begins, an unequivocal masterpiece of filmmaking, Christopher Nolan takes the teetering Batman franchise back to its roots. Nolan has staked his claim in American filmmaking on the backs of Memento (2000) and Insomnia (2002), films that demonstrated his ability to produce both creatively active cinema and more thoughtfully paced drama. Who knows what these producers were thinking picking someone with so much indie cred to put together yet another comic hero summer blockbuster, but it worked. A more learned critic could certainly discuss at length the possibility that in Batman Begins we have a seamless convergence between high and low culture. Umberto Eco, a cultural critic bent on abolishing this arbitrary distinction between highbrow and lowbrow even once said, “I've always said that I learned the English I know through two sources -- Marvel Comics and Finnegan’s Wake.” Batman was born in DC Comics, but Eco’s quip is convenient nonetheless.


Batman Begins is at times suffocating. Nolan’s Gotham is the downtrodden Chicago of an alternate universe, its famous elevated transit system pushed to garish extremes and its apocalyptic slums piled right up against a glittering skyline. This is like Lang’s costly Metropolis, but after such urban imagery ceased to be just the fancy of science fiction novelists. The film is also at times as crisp and engaging as any Scorcese film, as many scenes of Bruce Wayne in his street clothes are as effective as similar scenes in The Aviator. The Bruce Wayne of Batman Begins is forced to alternate between his public front-page tabloid persona and his private troubled orphan crime-fighter persona. Much like in The Aviator, the audience becomes part of this duplicity through a crisp visual storytelling steeped in the mood of each persona. And then at times the film is distinctly Nolan. Built on large blocks of narrative and visual contrast, often slipping into potent visual abstraction, and dealing deftly with chronology, Nolan makes Batman Begins all his own.


The film opens with the orphaned Bruce Wayne in a foreign prison camp, soon to be sprung by the mysterious Ra’s Al Gul, guru of an organization feared by criminals worldwide for doing the sort of justice cops aren’t allowed. In a secret Himalayan base camp, Bruce Wayne is trained as a ninja into this League of Shadows by his new mentor, Henri Ducard (Liam Neeson), who also forces him to adopt his deepest fear (bats) as a supernatural reserve of strength. After refusing to practice the radically absolutist sort of justice taught by Ra’s Al Gul, Wayne escapes back to Gotham City to avenge the death of his parents by waging a shock and awe campaign on corruption and injustice. Painfully building the Batman persona by trial and error, the last half of Batman Begins chronicles Wayne’s discovery of an appropriately outlandish plot to destroy Gotham. Little does he know, but he may have to face his mentor again much sooner than he thinks. If I recall correctly, Ra’s Al Gul in the comic novels was of Arabian descent. The choice of the filmmakers to cast his character as a much more neutral nationality is helpful, as a film about a radically absolutist terrorist from Saudi Arabia attacking Chicago would probably not have gone over very well right now.


The pacing of the film drops only once or twice, and only then to dwell intensely on the emotional and visual reasoning behind the “bat” motif. The amount of story crammed into the script, and an abundance of perfectly cast characters (Gary Oldman as a “good cop,” Tom Wilkinson as a Mafia boss, and Michael Caine as Wayne’s cast-iron butler just to name a few), defy any review to finish at readable word count. As what is slated to be the first of a few Batman films seemingly determined to rescue the franchise from the slapstick excesses of previous attempts, its fierce pacing whets audience appetites for more. Christian Bale’s perfect performance deserves a few sequels as his brooding Batman far outstrips Keaton’s roguish charm, Kilmer’s bland affectations, and Clooney’s inability to nail the part. Bale reminds us of how serious and thought provoking a comic hero can really be.


Nolan and Bale have set the stage for a new perception of Batman. In Batman Begins, the script frequently returns to social justice as a thematic center. This Batman is incensed by the corporate skullduggery that has overtaken Wayne Enterprises in his absence. He is outraged by the ineffectiveness of police to seal convictions on brazen criminals. And he is intent to stand between the lower classes and oppressive political powers they have no control over. Wayne perceives the heart of Gotham’s problems so clearly that he knows exactly what public persona he has to adopt if he is to hide his identity as Batman. The furthest thing he can think of from “social justice” is the moral excess of a millionaire playboy. The celebrity glitz, the cavalier debauchery, the front page of the style section… These things are sure to take him off the short-list for possible Batman candidates. It is tellingly ironic that the screenwriters cast the distinction between his personae this way, as we have hard-won social justice set against the false glamour of celebrity. Hopefully, we will see more of this Batman, who at all points is so relevant to our current cultural climate. Regardless, I am pleased that we have a comic-based film that will undoubtedly make my top-ten list this year. I have been a closet fan of even the schlockiest films of this genre since the first Superman, but in Batman Begins Nolan has made it socially responsible to be an open advocate.