Batman Begins
I had low expectations, but it really is that good.
I’ve excused so many plot holes, crap dialog, and spandex with the phrase, “well, it’s just a comic book movie,” I’d forgotten how comics, real comics, could be dark, emotionally intense, psychological affairs.
Batman Begins reminded me of what I loved about the old Frank Miller take on the character. Here was a man so ravaged by loss, he tries to rid an entire city of crime by himself.
Batman has no superpowers. He was not bitten by a radioactive spider, not touched by magic space gas, not fallen from a distant planet. What he has is rage. Guilt. Anger. And, to be honest, a whole lot of money. Which, ya know, helps.
Batman Begins sheds the skin of the dopey Tim Burton movies (yeah, the first one was great, the rest got worse and worse) and pays absolutely no heed to the campy 60s TV series. If it’s like anything, it’s the brilliant animated series from a few years ago. But even that is a faint reference.
The movie has totally reborn the character and the storyline. It’s characters are real and the performances brilliant. And unlike the first Batman movie, the best parts aren’t already in the trailers.
For the first time in a long time, it’s a comic book movie that’s not “just a comic book movie.” Go see it. You won’t be disappointed.