I first saw Batman Begins on its opening
day, during the heat of the last week of the
school-year, thoroughly tired and ready for a bit of
mental hibernation in the coming months of summer. I
walked into the screening expecting a film of escapist
derivation akin to that of, say, X-Men. With such
expectations, I left the theatre totally puzzled by what
I had seen, mainly because I could not understand huge
amounts of critical acclaim surrounding the film. I
found it to be completely unrewarding, as I had a
problem viewing the vengeful protagonist as the hero he
was supposed to be. I didn’t understand what director
Christopher Nolan, the genius behind Memento and
Insomnia, was going for. At all.
A week later, after school’s end, the mentality of
the summer season had fully set in and, as was with
every other year in the past, I found myself completely
bored out of my mind. I decided to give Batman Begins
another try, mainly out of the desire to see what other
critics had seen in it. Ready to further develop my
ideas on why I didn’t think it worked, wide
awake, and well rested, I returned to the very same
auditorium I had seen the film in, just seven days
before. I was ready to feel the same way about it that I
did the first time; instead, it was as if I was watching
a movie I had never seen before. I was swept away in the
moving cinematic glory of the experience.
Batman Begins is not the kind of
comic-book-adaptation that we’ve come to expect out of
Hollywood. In a sense, it is the perfect example of the
anti-comic-book-adaptation. It is a thinking, breathing
motion picture that requires thought and a desire to
immerse oneself in its richness to enjoy. Nolan’s work
displays a true command of the interconnectivity between
visuals and themes in film; unlike those in many other
motion pictures of this nature, his protagonist always
acts on ideas of true substance. In other words, the
action in the movie is built around the plot, not the
other way around.
As expected, the look of Batman Begins is
nearly perfect. The CGI in the movie couldn’t have been
better implemented, playing an especially remarkable
role in the creation of stunning cityscapes, which paint
the rough, dark atmosphere of the movie beautifully. Not
to mention, without giving away too much, the wonderful
evil of the antagonists’ plot is highlighted by the
visuals which ensue as a result of it.
Even more remarkable than the material of a
computerized origin is the fact that the cast actually
acts, refusing to conform to idea of creating the
one-dimensional, cookie-cutter characters found in most
other films of this sort. Christian Bale is, by far, the
best Batman ever portrayed on film, mainly because of
his brilliant face-work when in costume. Cillian Murphy,
as Scarecrow, makes for a profoundly creepy villain.
Morgan Freeman, Katie Holmes, Michael Caine, Tom
Wilkinson, and Liam Neeson (despite the ridiculousness
of some of his dialogue) round out the cast by providing
some terrific support.
Looking back on my experience with Batman Begins,
I realize that it isn’t so much different as it is
well-done. Structurally, it’s actually somewhat similar
to other films of its kind. It’s the marrow inside its
bones that’s atypical, pardon the cheesy analogy. It has
all of the massive montages, quiet moments between the
protagonist and his subtle love interest, and showdowns
between good and evil that make the
comic-book-adaptation what it is. The reason why the
film is so much more successful than its peers, however,
is because these moments, combined, add up to something
as meditative and thoughtful as it is exciting and
exhilarating. I blame my own wrong expectations and
sleep deprivation for not liking Batman Begins
the first time and am endlessly thankful that I gave it
a second chance. I’m not exaggerating when I say that
this is one of the best motion pictures of the year.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews