On March 4, a new Batman movie swooped into theaters. “The Batman” is the latest in a long line of feature films centered around the Dark Knight, stretching from Adam West’s campy 1966 outing to Ben Affleck’s battle with Superman in 2016. This time, it is Robert Pattinson, previously known for the Twilight movies, behind the mask and Matt Reeves, who directed two recent “Planet of the Apes” films, behind the camera.
These movies have varied wildly in style and tone. Compared to these earlier films, the most distinctive aspect of “The Batman” is its protagonist’s violent streak. Pattinson is considerably less restrained than prior versions of the character. In one shot, Zoë Kravitz’s Catwoman watches, disturbed, as an enraged Batman beats a helpless criminal to a pulp. In another, he easily dispatches a charging gang member, then proceeds to repeatedly punch the incapacitated attacker into the ground.
When I first saw that scene, I thought “That’s awesome!” I was excited to see a new, more visceral take on one of my favorite protagonists. In time, though, I reconsidered my initial reaction, as well as my adoration for the Batman character more broadly. I started to wonder why I so enjoy stories about a violent, masked vigilante and what it says about America that countless others love him too.
I am not alone in adoring Batman. He is enduringly, enormously popular among the American public. At the box office, his solo outings have made over $2 billion domestically, and he stars in more live-action movies than any other comic-book character. What’s behind this rampant Bat-mania?
Numerous nerds, geeks, and YouTubers have offered explanations for why we love him. Many say it’s because he has no superpowers — he’s just a normal guy, but that is obviously not true. Batman may be more relatable than other heroes because he lacks fantastical abilities — but his alter ego, Bruce Wayne, is not a relatable person like high-schooler Peter Parker or Clark Kent, the Kansan farm boy. Normal men could never afford the armor, rocket-powered car, and high-tech gadgets that enable Bruce to live his vigilante lifestyle. He may not have laser vision or the power of flight, but he is not powerless. Batman’s superpower is wealth.
Movies and comic books usually depict Batman as the inevitable product of a rotten city. Gotham has a crime problem that Bruce is determined to solve. Because the city’s police and political leadership are so corrupt, however, he has no choice but to use his immense resources to fight violent crime with violence. In other words, Batman must be morally righteous, no matter his methods — without him, criminals would never see justice and the public would never be safe.
But there is a major problem with this narrative. Bruce’s method of stopping crime consists of breaking the perpetrators’ bones and sending them to prison. This approach is morally suspect for its brutality alone, but there are reasons to doubt that Batman’s punitive strategy would even be effective. Real-world data indicates that excessive punishment does little to prevent crime. Historically, the U.S. has taken a punitive approach to crime prevention, resulting in much higher rates of recidivism than other developed countries. Across 34 U.S. states, 71% of state prisoners released in 2012 were re-incarcerated within five years. If all Batman is doing to fight crime is locking criminals in jail, we can predict most of them will be out and committing crimes again within a short time.
In short, the Batman films — and the character in general — promote a violent vision of criminal justice that fails to confront the underlying social issues at the roots of criminality. The Batmobile and Batcave must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars to build; what if Bruce had instead used those funds to fight poverty, substance abuse, and parental neglect?
Batman represents a quasi-fascist ideal. He — and other superheroes — send the message that “might equals right,” as Glen Weldon writes in NPR, and that a small set of privileged individuals, unchecked and endowed with immense assets or superhuman abilities, should shape the definition of justice. He implies that going outside the legal system is ethically justified when the system is broken, a message that explicitly challenges the rule of law. Bruce seeks to punish people for breaking the law, but his vigilantism sends the message that the law is insufficient. Batman’s very existence undermines people’s faith in the societal norms he seeks to uphold. And there are other ways to compensate for a corrupt legal system; he could instead use his wealth to fund reformist political candidates or investigate crooked leaders.
Framed this way, Batman sounds more like a villain — but few of us see him this way because none of his earlier films wrestled with the darker implications of his philosophy. Despite their diverse approaches to the character, every director from Burton to Nolan has wholeheartedly endorsed what Batman stands for with heroic theme music and lines like “He’s the hero Gotham deserves.”
Thankfully, Reeves’ new movie is more nuanced; Bruce struggles with the fact that crime rates remain high two years into his vigilante career, the villain forces him to reflect on his wealth and privilege, and at the end, Batman realizes he cannot save the city with violence alone — he must inspire people as well. But no one leaves the theater thinking that Bruce is going to stop being Batman and become a legitimate philanthropist. He is still wearing the cape and cowl in the final shot of the movie. Even this film does not seriously consider the possibility that Gotham’s corruption and crime can be solved through legal means.
When you strip away the movies’ grandeur, the Batman story is about a rich, white man who spends his nights pummeling criminals because the legal system does not satisfy him. Since he doesn’t like the rules, he neither obeys them nor attempts to reform them — and he has the power and privilege to get away with it.
If Batman sends such a disturbing message, why does America love him so much? Perhaps it’s because his vision of justice aligns perfectly with this country’s flawed approach to criminality. We love Batman because he reinforces our belief that criminals deserve to be treated with violence. He reassures us that we’re right.
Of course, it is possible to both enjoy the Batman films and reject a punitive approach to crime prevention. Still, it is telling that we relish watching him pummel bad guys at the cinema — and that he is one of the earliest depictions of criminal justice many of our children are exposed to. Batman and most other superheroes represent the notion that a higher form of justice exists outside the law, in the hands of certain privileged individuals who answer to no one and dodge accountability by hiding behind a mask.
The original artwork for this article was created by Harvard College student Duncan Glew for the exclusive use of the HPR.
