The Unicorn Scale: The Batman

Batman casts a long, variegated, weird shadow on popular culture. Beginning in the 1940s as a dark, realistic(ish) response to Superman’s “alien powers” schtick. A major difference between the rest of the superheroes and Batman is that he’s always kind of existed on the fringe of edgy sexuality, with undercurrents of BDSM, questions about Batman and Robin’s real relationship, and whatever was happening between Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, the thief known as Catwoman.

In the 1960s, she was played by many actresses, and they were surprisingly frank with her sexuality, considering the time. She was revived in the 90s by Michelle Pfeiffer, giving a performance that can only be interpreted as a vinyl suited erotomania victim, licking and purring her way through the most deviant German Expressionist art film 1992 had to offer. (What can I say? I was 12, it left an impression. The girl I took to the movies said the same thing after. Not exactly in those words, but you knew what she meant.)

Catwoman, let’s be frank, has always been queer. Batman, the entire mythos, is rife with queer symbolism, both in the costume design of the leads, the whole "double life” Bruce Wayne leads, and the deep archness of all the villains. None more so than Catwoman, whose whole deal seemed to be to exist as an omnisexual ID to Batman’s rigid law-and-order superego. She wore tight leather, cracked a bullwhip (to paraphrase Kate McKinnon, “you know, like cats have”), and was played by not one but two queer icons, Julie Newmar and Eartha Kitt. So, news that Zoë Kravitz, putting on the bodysuit in this latest outing, “imagined the character as bi” is massively exciting, 

But it could’ve been so much better! Needless to say, minor SPOILERS follow, and if you are unfamiliar with our rating system, be sure to take a look over here. 

Gotham is in serious trouble this time, with a power vacuum in the city’s crime families allowing for the arrival of a masked serial killer, who targets crooked politicians and public servants, decorating murder scenes with cryptic, sadistic riddles. The Zodiac killer is the obvious inspiration here, with the hood-mask thing he wears, and the ciphers he leaves for the cops.

In trying to solve this crime spree, Batman meets club waitress Selina Kyle, who is desperately trying to find her “friend” Annika. Mostly she frets and is frustrated, but charmingly, because it’s Zoë freakin’ Kravitz. Things go sideways, catsuits are donned, and sexual tension increases.

What I Liked:

Both Zoë Kravitz and Robert Pattinson have fueled rumors of late as far as their orientations and preferences. Various social media posts made in the wake of Zoë Kravitz’s divorce and tales of R-Patz being “caught” with men have set the internet rumor mill whirling madly, and the performances themselves are pretty great. It’s well past time that we start saying the quiet part loud, and I for one am slightly surprised and happy that DC, often viewed as the redheaded stepchild when it comes to superhero movies, is so far ahead of the curve and the competition in terms of representation of queerness. Between this, Wonder Woman, and Harley Quinn (at least in the cartoon version), I'm hoping to see more over time.

What I Didn't Like:

The idea that both Batman and Catwoman are being played by prominent bis is an enticing possibility, but if that were the case, one would hope they would want to approach the material slightly more sensitively than it is treated here. Between Annika’s “fridging” and Selina’s rush to Bats for comfort, one wishes there was more development, either of Selina and Annika’s relationship, Selina’s grief in the wake of her disappearance, or frankly, both. Selina’s entire raison d’etre for the first half of the film is figuring out what happened to her “friend”, who is CLEARLY more than that. There’s essentially one scene between her finally finding the LITERAL CORPSE of the woman she loves and Selina and Bruce snogging each other’s cowls off in desperate, mopey sadness on a sunset-y rooftop. For a movie that’s so invested in being a Serious Examination of Superhero Psychosis, that transition was straight-up bonkers.

What’s the deal? If so much of the press surrounding this film is going to focus on the queerness of the lead, why is it that the movie falls so far short of actually going all in and using a word like “bisexual” in the context of the film? The reticence of a movie that isn’t afraid of being as gritty as humanly possible to acknowledge something so basic, and intrinsic to the character historically, is deeply frustrating.

The Rating:

Batman and Catwoman, and their audience, deserve better than what they’re given here, in terms of representation. Selina’s relationship with Annika is the only thing driving her for half the movie, then ten seconds after she dies, it’s all Batman all the time. What gives? So, while the “most bisexual Batman ever made” (according to one review I read) doesn’t quite live up to the hype, it’s still a well-made, exciting, interesting film worth watching for its villains as much as its heroes. I’ll probably watch it again, eventually.