Dark and maniacal: Gotham’s architecture as the protagonist of The Batman

Let’s proceed with order, starting with the most impressive aspect in terms of spatial perception: the characterisation of the locations in spatial and architectural terms. Thanks to an enormous study of the details, each space becomes a sort of cinematographic icon, able to tell its purpose explicitly from the first to the last shot. For instance, Wayne House and the Batcave are two sides of a coin. They perfectly express the inner dichotomy experienced by a character as complex as Bruce. On the one hand there is the decoration, the imposing furniture and the opulence of the family mansion. On the other, there is the darkness, the bats (yes, they are there too) and the essentiality of his superhero lair. The entrance to the lair is carved out of a ruined underground passageway – belonging to an underground service tunnel – which overlooks the ancient foundations of the family mansion. The orphan who carries his legacy on his shoulders, and the vigilante apostle of revenge who rages in the streets every night.

The streets of Chicago, where the film was partly shot, are a dark reflection of the “dirty and nasty” street genre that was so popular in the 1980s. Iron and stone urban bridges and railways are marred by dirt and atmospheric agents, mirroring the moral and emotional degradation experienced by the city itself. It is precisely from this haunting darkness, from these threatening alleys and disused infrastructures, that the mythological figure of the half-animal, half-man hero emerges, as a modern divinity on earth.

Matt Reeves’ Gotham is a city on the brink of collapse. All its inhabitants keep on minding the space that surrounds his or her footsteps so as not to give in to horror, furnishing that small space in the image and likeness of himself or herself. From the general glance to the smallest detail, the attention to the setting is truly maniacal, particularly through the objects linked to the status of each individual and the sharp contrast between the rooms and the figures in them. This is why, in a city that is going down the tubes, the inhabitants take refuge in new cathedrals. On the one hand, the Penguin’s club, where the deafening music deafens the patrons and intoxicates them with its dazzling lights, in a setting closer to a prison railing with flashing lights and rave music than to a typical disco.

On the other, the church. The only place where natural light is fully accepted, albeit filtered by a leaden sky, revealing the very few white stone lines and figures that appear throughout the film. Finally, the places of evil. The Arkham Asylum, with its vertical, rotten light illuminating the essential: an interrogation table and a door separating the sane from the insane. The Riddler’s room, diametrically opposed in terms of the arrangement and obsessive choice of the elements it contains, in contrast (among other things) with the flat where the criminal carries out his first murder.

Almost all of the film is set at night or in dark places. Therefore, artificial light takes on a dual role: for the ordinary citizen it represents safety zones surrounded by darkness, while for the Caped Crusader it represents the superhero’s atavistic and deep call to duty. From the moment Jim Gordon summons Batman by projecting the iconic sign into Gotham’s leaden sky, the action unfolds almost entirely in darkness, more suited to the sight of bats than criminals. Nevertheless, every sequence is clear and easy for the audience to read, from the quieter dialogues to the more concise scenes (notably, a scene from the Batmobile chase).

Apparently, there are very few main lights depicting spaces surrounded by darkness, and for this reason they have a truly remarkable narrative importance. In particular, Batman’s first appearance on the scene is particularly successful, accompanied by a pounding soundtrack that raises the tension and makes you feel the fear of seeing him pop up around every corner. It is precisely from the darkness that first the sound of his suit emerges, then his footsteps and finally his figure illuminated by the static light: a climax that recalls Darth Vader’s first appearance on the scene in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story – the best representation of the greatest villain ever – this time used for a hero.

After each night, the light of dawn marks the transition between the vindictive man and the mask of survival, with Mr Wayne returning to Alfred after another night of struggle and pain. Finally, the longed-for daylight rarely appears, as a distant chimera, recounting illusory moments of gathering and hope, as changeable and brief as the blink of an eye.

As the theory of perception teaches, in absence of light, colours appear less saturated, and the human eye favours the perception of shapes over that of chromatic nuances. On the other hand, in the dark the arrival of a danger is more important than its secondary characteristics.

Generally speaking, the whole film has a grey palette (perhaps smog, or fog), almost “rotten”. Everything seems dulled by pain and despair, bathed in the yellow lights of the night lamps and the more acidic neon lights. In this well-defined visual scheme, the very saturated colour peaks are particularly striking: the fire of the explosions, the lights in the clubs and the “Batman red” (also featuring in the film’s promotional materials), just to give some examples out of context, avoiding spoilers. Finally, on this well-defined palette has a particularly important scenic presence the black, typical of both the Bat and the Cat, which paradoxically makes them even more recognizable in an unsaturated but dark and gloomy visual context.

The sound that emerges from silence can be scarier than the figure that suddenly appears, if it is well contextualised and well edited. When Batman appears on the scene, his heavy, “metallic” footsteps dominate the space he moves in.

They intimidate the thugs who are about to face him. It is the sound of breaking bones and blind shots that best convey the power of a fight when the light is flickering instead of the choreography being filmed in full. The Riddler’s voice echoes in the places it is heard, distorted and inescapable, as if it were directly in the head of the listener. The music in the club, in opposition to Batman, narrates an alienating and absurd context for both eyes and ears.

Finally, the sound – as well as the visual – characterisation of the vehicles: the roar of the motorbikes, as much as the deep rumble (because this is heard) of the Batmobile, more a novel killing vehicle than a real one. Even with eyes closed, the design of these companions of the two protagonists are not only tools to move from one part of the city to another, but embody their personalities, so distant, yet so similar.

As mentioned at the beginning, this work synthesises a visual grammar that has certainly already been seen and well assimilated over the past decades, while maintaining a strong personality. It is impossible not to detect, especially in the opening and in the course of the first act, a flavour similar to that of the city in turmoil of Batman v Superman represented by Snyder, and a clear reference to his Watchmen, with the urban clashes that rage and seem to lay down the law instead of the established order. Moreover, the whole gothic and decadent component of the film seems to bring into the 21st century the architectural whimsy realized by Burton thirty years earlier in his Batman, with tones and shots that are certainly less artificial and more realistic, but still fascinating in their uniqueness. Moving on, we find the clearest reference (also in terms of narrative devices, as well as in visual tones): Nolan and his city in the hands of thugs, with Reeves’ villains just as good as the villains of the Dark Knight trilogy. 

Finally, last in terms of chronology but certainly not in terms of quality, the street-level component of Phillips’ Joker, which once again comes to the fore in speaking to people’s everyday lives through familiar visual elements, with the management of dialogues immersed in cramped and uncomfortable spaces, making each character always profoundly human, looking for salvation.