Christopher Nolan got the tonal balance exactly right on Batman Begins

By Joe Allen Published June 15, 2025

It’s been 20 years since Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins first hit theaters, and in that time, the superhero movie has evolved dramatically. The entire Marvel Cinematic Universe came after Batman Begins, as did Ben Affleck’s version of Batman. Given all of that new history, you might think that Batman Begins would look a bit quaint by modern standards, the same way that Tim Burton’s Batman remains an interesting movie as a new generation was indoctrinated by Nolan.

What’s more, Nolan’s Batman movies have developed a reputation as the trilogy that proved that you could take superheroes seriously. They spawned an entire generation of fans who would get upset when it felt like the characters they loved weren’t being treated with the kind of weight they deserved. That’s basically the entire project of Zack Snyder’s DC Extended Universe, which is now about to be wiped off the map by yet another version of DC.

When you actually go back and watch Batman Begins, what you’ll realize is that Nolan’s gift was not turning the knob marked “seriousness” all the way to 10. Instead, it was his gift for blending serious, earnest ideas with the more cartoonish aspects of the story. Batman Begins is not a perfect movie, but it’s indicative of all the things Nolan seems to intuitively get about making a comic book movie.

Batman Begins starts the way nearly every Batman movie does. Bruce’s parents die, and Bruce discovers that he has a fear of bats. Then, the second half of the movie is Batman’s origin story. We see him try to avenge his parents, fail, and ultimately travel the world to acquire the training necessary to become the caped crusader.

All the while, we get a sense of Gotham as an almost comically corrupt city run by Carmine Falcone, a crime boss of mythical proportions. This is not the gothic funhouse that Burton’s Gotham could sometimes feel like, but crucially, it’s also not just, say, a particularly bad part of New York City. In creating his version of Gotham, Nolan is heightening its criminality and its smokiness for effect.

He does the same with Bruce’s journey, recognizing almost intuitively that there’s no real logical way to explain why a billionaire would decide to dress up like a bat to solve crime. Nolan understands the fundamental tension at the heart of his story. He can make a movie that feels grounded in its own rules, but not one that feels like it exists in anything resembling objective reality. So, he gives us a version that feels like a compromise, one that seems to internally cohere even if it doesn’t always conform to our understanding of reality.

Of course, it helps that Nolan had the credibility and the skill to cast exactly the right people for every major role. This movie cemented Christian Bale as a star, and his version of Batman is a man who dons the cowl because he feels like he has to. He’s surrounded by total pros, from Michael Caine’s perfect Alfred to Liam Neeson’s impeccable villain.

Cillian Murphy, a longtime Nolan collaborator, is excellent as Scarecrow but is also another example of the way this movie is less grounded than people might remember. Neeson’s villainous performance feels fairly natural and grounded, even if his plan to destroy Gotham is a little bit silly.

By contrast, Murphy’s scarecrow is characterized by exaggerated mannerisms. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a performance that totally works for the character he’s been given, but it’s also one that probably wouldn’t work in a movie that felt a little more grounded or serious. Gary Oldman is an actor who can go big, but he’s doing muted and grounded work as a young Commissioner Gordon.

The movie’s only casting misstep — one that’s been discussed ever since the movie’s release — is Katie Holmes’s Rachel. Even so, it’s not so disastrous as to destroy the movie or its sense of reality. It’s just the kind of performance that never fully gels with Nolan’s slick aesthetic. In fairness, Nolan has never been a director who was particularly good with his female characters.

For all the credit Nolan gets for making Batman Begins into something serious, the movie itself is an almost perfect combination of silly and serious. It’s a movie that, crucially, understands how Batman can tackle meaty, philosophical questions without ditching all the things that make the character fit for a comic book.

We live in an era dominated by superheroes, but one where fewer filmmakers than you might expect understand how to strike the balance between serious ideas and the vibes and aesthetics of your typical comic book. A great comic book movie should feel like its source material, and that doesn’t have to detract from the ideas it’s wrestling with. Comic books are fun and serious; the movies that adapt them should be as well.