“They think I am hiding in the shadows, but I am the shadows.”

Even grittier and moodier than Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, Matt Reeves’ The Batman explores the popular superhero’s detective side with a Seven-esque serial killer investigation in a Gotham City rain-drenched and beset by political corruption. Surrounding the title character (Robert Pattinson) with a handful of familiar names—Catwoman (Zoë Kravitz), Gordon (Jeffrey Wright), Penguin (Colin Farrell), Falcone (John Turturo), Alfred (Andy Serkis)—Reeves’ screenplay (co-written with Peter Craig) is driven by clever clues left at crime scenes by the Riddler (Paul Dano), a societal outcast and anonymous online agitator who has taken to expressing his discontent by murdering dishonorable politicians (Rupert Penry-Jones, Alex Ferns, Peter Sarsgaard) with a modus operandi that recalls both Zodiac and Saw. When the hero and villain finally come face to face (after briefly meeting over Facetime during a hostage situation—a goofy scenario that is oddly captivating), the Riddler confesses that he has always viewed Batman as a fellow freedom fighter. The vigilante disagrees, but what have his two years of vengeful crime fighting done for his beloved city? That the Riddler has targeted Bruce Wayne forces the billionaire to introspect. A similar dilemma exists for Selina Kyle (Kravitz) as she seeks retribution for her mother’s murder by playing a long con, working her way into the inner circle at mob boss Carmine Falcone’s underground club. The pair’s paths inevitably cross as their dark family histories are dragged out into the light of the public eye and the full scope of the Riddler’s twisted game is revealed.

Taking inspiration from New Hollywood films like Klute and Chinatown rather than fall in line with the current brand of overstuffed superhero blockbusters, this comic book noir refreshingly positions itself outside of the connected DC universe (though it will inevitably launch its own), telling a self-contained story that nevertheless draws on the pop culturally ubiquitous Batman mythos. Though the plot is too simplistic to sustain a taut whodunnit that stretches to nearly three hours, the film does well to employ the dramatic visual language of both comic books and neo-noirs (Greig Fraser manned the cameras), to emphasize the deep-seated societal corruption with roving gangs reminiscent of Walter Hill’s The Warriors, to stage a handful of bravura, tactile action sequences (I particularly enjoyed the close quarters combat lit only by staccato muzzle flashes), and to smartly integrate a Nirvana track and a rendition of ‘Ave Maria’ with Michael Giacchino’s memorable score. Instead of vying for the tainted camp of Tim Burton’s films (Batman, Batman Returns) or the mythic grandeur of Nolan’s, Reeves offers a brooding, pulpy take on the character that relies primarily on its weighty atmospherics. It never strays so far outside of the boundaries of conventional tentpole filmmaking to feel truly brave, but this is solid blockbuster filmmaking and a welcome refresh of a timeworn icon.