‘The Batman’ and vigilantism in film and pop culture
Batman’s revenge fantasies are exposed as his foes no longer only hide under bridges but also brazenly roam the corridors of power.
It is a cold and rainy Halloween night in Gotham, a city blighted by violent crime, institutional dysfunction, poverty and drug abuse.
Along with these social ills, masked vigilantes and serial killers roam the rubbish-strewn streets.
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‘VIGILANTES ARE HIGHLY DISTURBING’
Over a sinister orchestral score, a narrator describes his personal war on the “criminal element” of the city:
“They think I’m hiding in the shadows, watching, waiting to strike. But I am the shadows.”
In a dilapidated subway, a street gang in ghoulish clown make-up is about to attack a lone commuter. They are stopped, however, by the sound of a terrifying figure slowly emerging from the dark, boots dragging on the concrete.
This creature of the night proceeds to beat up the gang – aside from one young member who wisely stays out of the fray.
But rather than being elated that he has been saved from crime, the terrified commuter begs Batman, “Please don’t hurt me”, in fear that he’s next. And he is right to be afraid of the looming spectre.
Vigilantes are highly disturbing.
Rather than protecting helpless victims of crime, they are often associated with extreme public violence, xenophobia and extortion, such in the miltarised Operation Dudula, which has recently been in the news for its attacks on migrants in South African townships, or the right-wing death squads that terrorise the impoverished in the favelas of Brazil.
FICTIONAL VIGILANTES
It would be a mistake to reduce vengeance tales to right-wing politics. In the past few years, a wave of films and television have explored women’s responses to men’s violence, such as Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale (2018), Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You (2020) and Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Women (2020).
In Fennell’s take, Cassie (Carey Mulligan) becomes a vigilante after her best friend is raped at their college and then commits suicide when authorities decline to investigate the “respectable” man who perpetrated the crime.
She now spends her nights exposing and shaming predators by feigning intoxication but then revealing she is sober when men attempt to take advantage of her.
The film reflects how the criminal justice system, not only in the US but throughout the world, is dismissive of victims of sexual assault.
Cassie’s vigilantism is a response to the failings of the authorities, but, even though a legitimate desire to right wrongs fuels it, the story shows how it can become destructive.
Cassie’s rage emerges out of the gap between the laws that supposedly govern society and the cynical reality of power, where wealth and influence allow even the worst criminals to evade censure.
The fictional vigilante, therefore, becomes a form of wish fulfilment, offering the rough justice we do not readily see in the world.
In the most recent season of the TV show Succession, the Waystar-Royco corporation is being investigated for years of abuse against its employees.
As the family who owns the corporation attempt to use their political influence to avoid investigation, one character expresses fear that law enforcement may “go Batman” in their prosecution, indicating how the rich and powerful dread having laws properly applied to them.
Instead of cartoonish street gangs, the most destructive criminals and abusers are often hidden in plain sight, not lurking in the shadows, but in the brightly lit corridors of power.
This article was first published by New Frame. Author: Christopher McMichael