Batman, the Benevolent Billionaire?

In March of last year, former Twilight heartthrob Robert Pattinson donned a black cape and graced the big screen as DC Entertainment’s newest Batman. But he’s noticeably different from previous Bruce Waynes — his under-eye bags are a bit heavier, his voice is a tad softer, his detective skills are a little sharper.

He’s also the most sympathetic portrayal of the character yet.

Pattinson is almost the inverse of Christian Bale’s Batman, a playboy who flaunts his wealth and commands Gotham’s socialite sphere with a sparkling smile. He deviates from Michael Keaton’s suave smooth talker who can disappear into mysterious fog at a moment’s notice.

Instead, Pattinson’s Batman is a recluse with disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. He’s especially tortured by the loss of his parents, eschewing the gilded trappings of his billion-dollar inheritance and spending hours in his basement scrolling through secret footage of Gotham’s crime circle. 

This Wayne is a dedicated do-gooder. He’s willing — itching, even — to sacrifice himself for the common man. As he sulks in his $500 million mansion, his butler Alfred confronts him about his family’s depreciating assets. “I don’t care about that,” he sullenly responds. “If I can’t change things here, if I can’t have an effect, then I don’t care what happens to me.”

The issue with The Batman is not that it shies away from addressing systemic issues. In fact, the money-mongering misdeeds of Gotham’s biggest mob boss Carmine Falcone are central to the film. When Batman confronts the District Attorney Gil Colson about the city’s scandals halfway through the movie, Colson yells: “It’s so much bigger than you could ever imagine. It’s the whole system!” In The Batman, it seems as though everyone is corrupt: the politicians, the police officers, the billionaires. 

But The Batman touts exceptional individualism as the antidote to these systemic issues. We don’t need communities or collective actions to remedy society's ills, just someone exceptional — a savior, a hero, a white knight, a Dark Knight. Bella Real is the “exceptional” politician with an earnest mayoral campaign for real change. James Gordon is the “exceptional” police officer (a “good cop”) who is immune to Falcone’s bribes and a steadfast ally to Batman’s righteous pursuits. 

And Bruce Wayne, of course, is the “exceptional” billionaire. Unlike Carmine Falcone and the Penguin, who use their wealth to get wealthier, Wayne simply wants to rescue Gotham from its vices. He embodies reformism, contrasting sharply with the film’s villainous Riddler who has a more radical approach: murder the corrupt politicians and drown the whole city.

In the end, the exceptional elites — and the reformism they represent — triumph. During the last minutes of the film, Mayor Bella Real delivers a moving speech vowing to rebuild “people’s faith in [the] institutions, in [the] elected officials, in each other.” Batman ultimately sheds his former “Vengeance” alias, choosing instead to be a beacon of hope for the people of Gotham. He is the reasonable reformist, the exceptional elite, the benevolent billionaire. 

But this is where the fallacy lies. Billionaires and millionaires will not save us. They have amassed such inordinate amounts of wealth because they deny their employees livable wages and humane working conditions. Painting them as relatable and sympathetic erases this violence. It pacifies us into believing that such drastic economic disparities are normal — and that they can even be a force for good.

No matter how noble the intentions, billionaire’s philanthropic efforts often fail to make a real positive impact. When the wealthy shell out millions of dollars for a good cause, the unequal power structure remains the same; the rich continue to profit from exploited labor and the majority continue to struggle to make ends meet. Philanthropic foundations actually invest about 95% of their donations into Wall Street to garner more wealth. And out of the remaining 5% offered in grants , communities of color receive only 8%. Jeff Bezos, for example, donated $100 million to the food bank nonprofit Feeding America two years ago. But this seemingly generous contribution was a only minuscule fraction of the $162 billion net worth he accrued by abusing Amazon workers. 

What’s more, corporations often weaponize their donations to co-opt and control the organization they are supposedly helping. In 2016,, the Ford Foundation pumped millions of dollars into the Black Lives Matter movement and then proceeded to promote “All Lives Matter.” Researchers Carl Rhodes and Peter Bloom said it best: “when it comes to giving, the CEO approach is one in which there is no apparent incompatibility between being generous, seeking to retain control over what is given, and the expectation of reaping benefits in return.”

What is especially pernicious about The Batman is that the problems it portrays are real — systemic corruption, the failure of institutions, political buy-outs. But the solutions it proposes are not as realistic. Billionaires will not save us.