Transcription
Okay, stop me if you've heard this a million times before. Why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals? That's a pretty loaded question, huh?
The most common counter-argument is, "Batman has the Wayne Foundation. Don't you read the comic books?" The statement in this counter-argument is technically true. The fictional narrative of Batman in the comic books, and sometimes other media, references the caped crusader's charitable donations. But this counter is only meaningful if we're talking about whether or not the fictional Bruce Wayne gives some of his fictional money to a fictional city, which we're probably not.
The question, "Why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals?" is not a condemnation of Batman as if he were real, like a real guy. It's not some righteous indignation about some man, some bebotted man who doesn't exist. It's only a question about our values in the real world. This question about Batman is not about Batman. The question is really, can there be justice under capitalism?
Capitalism does not resolve poverty. Capitalism simultaneously enforces poverty through stratified economic classes and income disparity, all the while criminalizing poverty to protect private property interests of the ruling class. Marginally improving conditions under capitalism does not serve to resolve capitalism but to stabilize the labor class enough to continue labor. Furthermore, many crimes are the products of poverty, and crime cannot be resolved under a system that enforces and criminalizes its own poverty. The contradictions of capitalism cannot be resolved.
This question about Batman is not really about judging or exonerating Batman. Thus, the answer to this question cannot be about judging or exonerating Batman either. I mean, I think we all love Batman, or we all hate Batman. I can't keep up. The Wayne Foundation counter-argument applied to the real world is simply another way of saying that this is the best we can hope for: capitalism with a somewhat more socially conscious ruling class, a teeny tiny bit less Jeff Bezos and a centimeter more Oprah Winfrey. And that's it.
Isn't this perspective the result of capitalist realism, thinking that this is as good as it gets and we should all ever expect? We enter into our viewing of The Batman with this cultural bias about our relationship with wealth and the wealthy, a presupposition that helps hold up the narrative, and a presupposition that could be deconstructed. Isn't this fun? Talking about art, seeing how art relates to reality, trying not to get too defensive about it. I enjoy this. Let's talk about film criticism.
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A structuralist approach to film criticism puts more emphasis on the fixed nature of language conventions and code to convey particular information. A structuralist analysis relies on the premise that communication has a specific goal or meaning, and that finding that meaning through signifiers and the signified is the essence of analysis. Here is that tree you've seen before. A structuralist analysis of The Batman would emphasize how Batman's character arc fits into the pre-existing conventions of film, how well it adheres to this, and how much it subverts it.
A post-structuralist analysis to film criticism recognizes that words and images we choose to convey information are imperfect, and that this communication contains contradictions. A post-structuralist approach to film criticism might emphasize the pre-existing cultural biases of the creators of the film, as well as the presumption of those cultural biases in the audience. For example, The Batman addresses race and class but spends more time ignoring grievances related to race and class than it does acknowledging these grievances. Mere absence is not immediately meaningful, but absence as contrast might be.
For example, the absence of a floating pink elephant in The Batman might not be meaningful to a post-structuralist because there is no opposite of this, no signifier of its contrast. But the absence of significant commentary on criminogenic conditions in a film that frequently references crime and comes to its own conclusion about how to resolve crime might be meaningful to a post-structuralist. At the risk of being reductive, a structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the author, signifiers, and signified as the primary subjects of examination, whereas post-structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the viewer, the existence of the viewer, and the viewer's world between the signifiers and signified.
Just to be clear, this is not a complete definition of pro-structuralism or a proper lesson. Also, in reducing these terms this way, I run the risk of inaccuracy, but this is also, you know, a YouTube video.
Here is a structuralist approach to explaining The Batman. In the beginning of the film, Batman's inner monologue mythologizes crime in Gotham City. We experience it as a force of nature or human nature, something in the air or something in our blood, but in either case, inevitable. Batman is skeptical of our humanity and believes more should be done to fight crime. Batman is visually represented as shadow, as the darkness of night. His first targets are thrill-seeker criminals performing unambiguously vindictive acts on complete strangers, randomized violence with no goal except the act itself, and perpetrated by a stylized evil visage that is completely dehumanized. When his voice-over monologue is complete, his first spoken words are, "I'm vengeance."
At the climax of the film, Batman recognizes that vengeance is not the same as justice. Batman leads his people out of darkness and toward the light, visually represented by his torch and finally by the dawn that shines on them on this new day. A structuralist analysis might conclude that justice outweighing vengeance is the authorial point of the film, or the message of the film, or the meaning of the film, because it has laid bare at the climax where it's supposed to be, and because it is foreshadowed many times, and that this is the progression of the protagonist's character arc. It was dark, but now there is dawn. Justice has been served. Batman is a hero, a pseudo-biblical figure that leads his people from bondage and sends them towards the heavens. Whatever else this is, rest assured that this is justice. This is what the movie is trying to say.
A post-structuralist approach might say that at the end of the film, Batman uses different words to describe Gotham City and his mission, and he is visually represented differently. But he still mythologizes crime as a force of nature or human nature. Within the film, there are multiple explicit references to income inequality and a passing reference to a comorbidity of racial inequality and income inequality. But this is all practically suppressed by what Batman tells the audience, both before and after his character arc is complete.
The audience for The Batman is expected to have a cultural bias about criminogenic conditions, the circumstances that produce crime. The Batman ritualistically moralizes crime and speaks in platitudes that are originally dark, eventually uplifting, but always vague, and most importantly, apolitical. The passing reference to the conditions that create crime are covered under the banner of an apolitical unity that tends to ignore disparate racial and economic power dynamics in the film.
The company called the Gotham Renewal Corporation, originally intended to assist Gotham City, has been corrupted by a series of criminals. In the end, these criminals are exposed or pushed out, and the day is saved. This relies on the presupposition that our systems are good and are only corrupted by bad apples. What is vengeance in The Batman, anyway? Is Batman saying he simply needs to exercise a lighter touch? Because it feels like what Batman is instead pushing back against is corruption and radicalism. Corruption in the form of renewal, and radicalism in the form of those who oppose renewal, the Riddler and his people, and Catwoman's willingness to use more violence than Batman is willing to use.
Radicals are portrayed as only seeking vengeance instead of justice, and the audience's presuppositions about our systems and about radicalism are what makes this ring true to them. In the end, in The Batman, justice seems to be working within our institutions. The Batman recognizes corruption and acknowledges corruption, but recognizing corruption is not a condemnation of our institutions because corruption is the institution not working as intended. Recognizing corruption only condemns corruption and may still tacitly endorse the institution.
But what if the institutions working as intended create and enforce poverty? What if they create and enforce injustice? What if they must be replaced by something more than reform, something that requires more than voting? Well, that's radicalism, and in The Batman, that is portrayed as vengeance, not justice. For only within our institutions can justice be found, no matter how much evidence exists to the contrary. The mayor was dirty, but the new mayor will not be dirty. The bad politician is bad, but the good politician is good. Trust in liberal democracy. The police initially do not trust Batman, and there are dirty cops, but Batman tells Jim Gordon that he's a good cop. The bad police are bad, but the good police are good. Trust the police.
The wealthy criminals control much of Gotham, but Bruce Wayne has sway in Gotham as well, and Alfred reminds him of his responsibilities. The bad billionaires are bad, but the good billionaires are good. Trust in capitalism. Batman also operates outside the system, but in the end, he is part of the system, an ally of the system, with all that that implies. Trust in our institutions. Corruption and radical politics are both outside of the system in equal measure, and in the center, an apolitical unity that ignores the actual causes of crime and indeed the causes of injustice.
Is this a good take? Is this a bad take? I don't know. As always, that is entirely for Twitter to decide. To clarify, I'm not judging who is right within the confines of the narrative that they made. The Riddler kills a bunch of people and floods a city. I'm analyzing why the narrative looks like this in the first place and what it says about our culture. The Riddler is not right, but the Riddler is also not real. The portrayal of his fight for the downtrodden perspective as radical, dangerous, terroristic, and motivated only by vengeance and not justice is a choice by the filmmakers. The conclusion of the film that basically serves as a love letter to the good people who reinforce our ultimately good institutions that exist to serve justice is also a choice.
These choices do not necessarily have these intentions, but finding authorial intention is not the goal here. These choices are worth thinking about because they reveal cultural biases and presuppositions that existed prior to the creation of the film and outside of the industry of film.
So why don't I talk about movies on my channel that much anymore? Part of the reason is that I find discussing politics more urgent right now. We still need art, and we still need art criticism, but other things have captured my interest and my sense of urgency. Pretty sure there are other people with better, hotter pop culture takes. Anyway, I'm passionate about politics, but only in the sense that that is life. I'm passionate about film because I enjoy watching movies, I enjoy thinking about movies, I enjoy analyzing movies. It's fun, but making the thing that I think is fun also my job compromises the fun. If the space in which I do my job is surrounded by toxicity, my political videos also get reactions from people of opposing politics, but those meltdown reactions at least feel relative to the incendiary nature of the subject matter. Pop culture meltdowns from the chud space are sad in a way that feels different, and I can't ignore it either because I can't help but interact with the space I occupy. It ends up hurting my enjoyment of film, and I would love to get that feeling back.
I'm gonna try to get back into watching movies, but on my own, instead of in public or on my YouTube channel. I don't regret making this video. It was very cathartic. I originally started writing this in a more melancholy mood, and it was about twice as long too, but in the end, I was like, "Yeah, I think I'll watch and analyze movies on my own and not in public, and I'll get that magic back again for myself, just for myself." Maybe the occasional video about Star Trek, purely as a palate cleanser, but that's it. At least once a week, someone comments under one of my videos with, "Oh, remember when this channel was about movies?" Yeah, I do. But I'm not a channel, I'm a person, and I don't want to do that anymore, at least not right now.