Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (dir. Zack Snyder, 2016)
by Christopher B. Barnett
Batman v Superman is an intriguing premise in need of a better movie. For most of its 151 minute running time — a running time that, trimmed of excess explosions and frivolous plot excursions, should’ve been closer to 100 minutes — it produces more sardonic laughs than genuine thrills. My favorite: late in the film, Lex Luthor (a manic Jesse Eisenberg) unleashes a gigantic monster on the city of Metropolis. Known as Doomsday, it is a mutant fusion of the body of Superman’s former nemesis, General Zod, and Luthor’s own DNA. Needless to say, it ain’t pretty:
Apart from apparently hitting the weights — no CrossFit for this thing, just straight iron — Doomsday is also surprisingly nimble. It bounds up buildings in the manner of King Kong, and, to make matters worse, it absorbs whatever energy is fired at it, including nuclear warheads. One might quibble that the creature’s look is too derivative (it could be the love child of the Incredible Hulk and one of the Uruk-hai from The Lord of the Rings), but this is not a monster you’d ever want to see in your city. Thus I audibly laughed when a stoic news anchor, covering Doomsday’s destruction of the Metropolitan skyline, comments that at least it didn’t happen during rush hour!
Such unintentional laughs are not uncommon in Batman v Superman, but they hardly exhaust the film’s problems. Again, the plot is horribly convoluted: in addition to genetically-engineered monsters, there are Russian arms dealers, African warlords, Senate hearings, the wreckage of alien spaceships, father-son issues, and even a love-scene in a bathtub. And yet, all of this is but window-dressing for the essential plot concern, which seems to make more sense in the abstract than in the film itself: Batman (Ben Affleck) has come to distrust Superman (Henry Cavill), because he recognizes that Superman bears power that, wielded improperly, could destroy humanity. Thus he aims to kill Superman by way of kryptonite-flecked weaponry — a plan that Luthor himself facilitates, believing that his path to world-domination would be cleared if Superman were out of the way. But Luthor’s scheme is ultimately exposed, and, in an epiphanic moment, Batman and Superman realize they must work together if Luthor (and his pet demon) are to be stopped. I won’t spoil the ending, but suffice it to say that Doomsday lives up to its name, even as director Zack Snyder ensures that a sequel remains in the offing.
To be sure, no one is going to confuse this narrative arc with, say, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). But there is potential for depth here. Snyder has set up a classic allegory, which owes more than a little to the Christian tradition. Superman, of course, represents the divine, whose otherness is experienced by human beings as both a source of hope and fear. Batman seizes on this latter aspect, thereby intimating a distinction emphasized in medieval theology (William of Ockham, especially) and later in the thought of Reformers such as Martin Luther and John Calvin — namely, that the divine will is not “limited” by the good but, rather, is radically contingent and self-determining. What God did yesterday, so to speak, has no bearing on what God may do today; God can do as he pleases. Such a perspective seems to safeguard divine freedom, but there is a cost: faith in God becomes a matter of blind trust and, consequently, rationally indefensible. True, some may cower before the divine will, but others will perceive it as a threat that demands neutralization. The latter is effectively Batman’s position, which he doesn’t renounce until he realizes that Superman’s will is, indeed, conditioned by the good — that is, by the fact that Superman’s love for his earthly parents reveals his essential humility and benevolence. In turn, Superman and Batman are not only mutually sympathetic but can now unite with one another in order to conquer evil and death. Thus the immanent virtues inculcated by Batman (justice, fortitude, devotion) are analogous to and perfected by the transcendent attributes of Superman, who, in the film’s denouement, demonstrates the very depths of love’s sacrificial character.
Such, at any rate, is how one might try to read Batman v Superman theologically, and, seen in these terms, it suddenly looks like an attempt to cinematically manifest certain key elements of the Christian message. Of course, I’m hardly the first person to make this connection, and it’s worth adding that Batman v Superman‘s predecessor, Man of Steel (2013), was directly pitched to Christian audiences. Now, in and of itself, this is not necessarily a bad thing, and I appreciate Snyder’s desire to explore the ostensive conflict between immanence and transcendence and how it might be overcome through divine self-giving. There’s only one problem: Batman v Superman is just not a very good movie. Instead of letting the story speak for itself, Snyder overwhelms it in a barrage of explosions, CGI effects, and schmaltzy dramatics. Batman v Superman may be a film about faith, but, in the end, it is defined by a lack thereof.