Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice – Film Review by David Turpin

Starring:  Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Jesse Eisenberg

Directed by Zack Snyder

Conceived as a sequel to director Zack Snyder’s Superman ‘reboot’ Man of Steel (2013), the cumbersomely titled Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice also doubles as a ‘reboot’ of the Batman franchise, as well as an extended trailer for an in-gestation Justice League film, and who knows what else.  Anybody approaching the film in the hopes of a jolly matinee showdown will be sorely disappointed – as well as possibly deafened – by Snyder’s colossally pompous and oddly ramshackle offering.  Conservatively priced at a quarter of a billion dollars, Batman V. Superman is certainly big, but it’s less the monolithic entity it imagines itself, and more a heaving pile of miscellaneous stuff that rattles around very loudly for two-and-a-half hours.

The narrative consists mainly of a collection of subplots that kill time until a final hour devoted almost entirely to digitally enhanced combat and destruction.  Broadly speaking, it all involves a grudge held against Superman (Henry Cavill) by Bruce Wayne/Batman (Ben Affleck), who has suffered various losses in the wake of the cataclysmic battle that closed Man of Steel.  To add shading, we also get yet another recap of the death of Wayne’s parents, in case anybody has forgotten what happened to them in Tim Burton’s Batman (1989) or Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins (2004).  Superman, meanwhile, spends a lot of time hovering and being adored and/or misunderstood, reserving much of his actual super-heroism for the needs of Lois Lane (Amy Adams).  As in Man of Steel, his Clark Kent alter-ego is given rather short shrift, perhaps because he threatens to introduce some levity into proceedings.

Since both Batman and Superman are valuable DC Comics properties, the film’s promise of a duel-to-the-death is rather disingenuous – clearly its real role is to forge an alliance between them that can be mined for future joint endeavours.  The inciting villain of the piece, then, is Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg), who rather easily manipulates our heroes into conflict, while quacking on interminably about Nietzsche and other things that 14-year-old boys take very seriously.  Eisenberg is perfectly dreadful in the role, but one couldn’t call his performance forgettable.  Most of the rest of the cast make little impression in the cacophony.

As Lois, Adams once again seems vaguely bemused by proceedings.  A gifted comic actress, she would have been terrific had Snyder retained any of the warmth and humour that characterised Richard Donner’s 1978 Superman film.  Wit and effervescence are positively anathema to Snyder, though, and she flounders.  Other returning cast members including Diane Lane and Laurence Fishburne are underutilised.  New conscript Holly Hunter has a throwaway part as a plucky Senator, while Jeremy Irons chews the few pieces of non-digital scenery as Batman’s trusty butler Alfred.

All there is to say about the heroes themselves is that, for apparently opposing poles, they both seem trapped in the same glum rut.  Affleck’s Batman is a cypher of relentless sternness, while Cavill’s Superman is, well, much the same.  Indeed, Snyder has here extended his Superman-as-Christ analogy to such ridiculous extremes that one might be forgiven for thinking Cavill’s wooden performance had been whittled out of a chunk of the True Cross.

The film’s distended running time gives plenty of opportunity to muse on how inherently dull both Batman and Superman are when drained of any enlivening flourishes, like Donner’s knack for comedy, or Burton’s visual imagination.  Furthermore, while its socio-economic politics aren’t quite as outwardly noxious as those of Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises (2012), Snyder and company still haven’t conquered the problem of how to inspire audiences of the 99% to Batman seriously as a ‘hero’ when his only actual ‘superpower’ is that he’s really, really rich.

Of course, the roster of merchandisable characters doesn’t end with the eponymous duo, because Wonder Woman also crops up, in the form of Gal Gadot, an alumnus of various Fast and Furious instalments.  It isn’t much of a part and, on this evidence, Gadot isn’t much of a performer, but her presence does serve to defuse any lingering suggestion of the homoerotic that might tickle viewers looking for a way to stay amused into the film’s third pummelling hour.  Without Gadot, Snyder’s relentless fixation on hyper-masculinity might have struck Tom of Finland as a little one-note.  Ultimately, though, his titter-worthy fetishisation of his lead actors’ distended physiques is less sexualised than it is of a piece with his approach to special effects and to running time – the only value that matters is bulk.