When it comes to deconstructing
the superhero genre, there is the misconception that grim, dark and brooding
automatically translates to something smarter and more adult. The trend started
in the eighties with graphic novels such as Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns, and Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke and Watchmen.
This continues throughout modern superhero blockbusters; apparent in the
verisimilitude of Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, Logan’s morose musings, and Batman
v. Superman’s overdramatic, po-faced seriousness. While this approach can
produce intelligent treatises on the genre, it also limits another viable
option: parody. Lego Batman rejects
the former option in favor of its protagonist’s colorful legacy, juvenile
origins, and vulnerability, to strip the character to its very core.
Batman is one of
the most flexible figures in pop culture, able to inhabit the bright goofiness
of Adam West or the ultra violence of Miller. One of the film’s greatest
strengths is how it incorporates all these ideas. A more decisive film such as Batman v. Superman would only try to
deconstruct a narrow, thin interpretation of him, thus alienating a majority of
moviegoers. Lego Batman on the other
hand, states all previous incarnations are canonical, and uses iconography from
all Batman media. For example, they use live action footage from the sixties
show. Will Arnett’s Batman and Doug Benson’s Bane voices are parodies of their
Nolan counterparts. Billy Dee Williams even reprises his role from the original
Burton film in a wonderful bit of fan service. This not only leads to a variety
of in jokes, but also allows the audience to connect with their version of the
character. Is their Batman mopey or fun? Is he kind yet tragic or simply an
egotistical fascist? Arnett’s Batman at one point or another exhibits all these
traits while still being a consistent, unique character.
The
facet most modern takes ignore but Lego
Batman understands best is that Batman is, fundamentally, a childish concept.
Batman was created specifically for a younger audience, even in those early gritty
noir style publication days. Instead of distancing itself from this history, as
other “adult” takes on the character do, Lego
Batman revels in it. Building the world and characters out of colorful
Legos reinforces the inherit silliness. Smaller details contribute to the tone;
characters shout “pew, pew” when they fire their weapons and assure the
audience that everything is non-lethal. The villain’s big plan amounts to the
cinematic equivalent of a child mixing together everything in their toy box.
Here is the same raw, childlike appreciation of creativity that made 2014’s The Lego Movie a success, and it is
absolutely integral to the film’s thesis. Acknowledging the character’s power
fantasy and unabashedly loving his colorful past feels like a direct criticism
to the franchise’s current default mode of dourness. It also provides a
different perspective into Batman’s flaws as a character.
Lego Batman’s reason for the franchise’s
juvenile appeal is both simple and poignant. Its titular character is in a case
of arrested development. Afraid of reliving the pain of abandonment, Bruce
Wayne has shut himself off from anyone who could make a connection with him. He
acts ungrateful towards his surrogate father Alfred, and cannot acknowledge the
importance of his most iconic foe, the Joker (the film plays their relationship
as a gay couple where Batman has commitment issues). His alter ego is merely a
chance to feel love and praise without risking heartbreak. One of the film’s
more brilliant moments is after Batman saves the city for the first time, and
returns home to sulk around an empty, cavernous Wayne manor, eating cold
lobster alone and talking to his parent’s portrait.
This
sets up Batman’s character arc. Here, the audience sees the repercussions of
Batman’s initial stoicism and brooding. Batman feels unsatisfied in his
isolation, his refusal to even say, “I hate you” to the Joker leads the villain
to unprecedented extremes, and he eventually has every terrible thing he said
to his friends thrown in his face. His redemption arc comes in the form of an underutilized
concept from the source material, the Bat family. Batman unwittingly adopts a
young Robin and reluctantly teams up with Barbara Gordon to fight crime. Just
like in the comics, Batman learns to use his pain in a healthier method, by
empathizing with other victims of trauma, and building an extended family that
gives him much needed emotional support.
Lego Batman is by no means the first
story to explore Batman’s dysfunctional behavior, or the first superhero movie
to explore the idea of recovering from trauma with a surrogate family. Yet it
works because of the movie’s competent direction and smart storytelling. It’s also
not the first to joke about Bat nipples or Bat shark repellant or the possible
undertones of his ongoing struggle with the Joker. The movie simply makes it
fresh with its clever visual gags, fast paced humor, and balance between
self-aware winking and genuine love for these elements. Lego Batman is something unprecedented since the nineties’
acclaimed Batman: The Animated Series,
an ageless piece of animation that pays tribute to every previous incarnation
of the character while retaining an identity all its own.
