How a Bat Fights

Since being cast for the role, Jensen had been putting in the work. He was already in fantastic shape, but for Batman—knowing the character inside and out, and being a lifelong fan—Jensen had pushed himself even harder. He had taken up martial arts training, determined to truly embody the physicality of the Caped Crusader. Now, as I watched him with his trainer, the results of his dedication were undeniable.

Jensen's muscular frame was a sight to behold. His arms, now thicker and more defined, rippled with each controlled movement. His shoulders were broad and powerful, tapering down to a lean, solid waist, and the man never skipped leg day either. He looked every bit the Batman I had envisioned—imposing, capable, someone whose mere presence could strike fear into Gotham's underworld.

Jensen's training was brutal. Shirtless, his skin glistened with sweat, his muscles straining with every strike. His trainer stood across from him, pads in hand, while Jensen unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks. Each strike was precise and deliberate, the sharp sound of impact echoing through the training space.

This was exactly what I wanted for the film—how Batman's fighting style should feel. Though I hadn't enjoyed Zack Snyder's overall vision of the DCEU in my previous life, there was one element I loved: Ben Affleck's Batman and his fighting style. It was raw, powerful, and perfectly captured the kind of combat I imagined when reading the comics. I wanted that for Jensen's Batman—someone who could fight with ninja-like precision when needed but who could also dish out brutal, overwhelming attacks in hand-to-hand combat.

This was what I had advised Jensen to aim for. Convincing Nolan to embrace more of these intense fight scenes hadn't been easy. Nolan favored Batman's reliance on stealth, on theatricality and deception. And while that was a critical part of the character, I wanted audiences to see the other side of Batman—the unrestrained brutality that emerged when he had no choice but to engage.

As I watched, Jensen moved almost predatorily—circling his trainer, eyes sharp and focused, waiting for the perfect opening. He struck with a series of rapid, bone-crunching blows, each movement imbued with purpose.

There was already a fight scene with Ra's al Ghul in the script—yes, it was well-done, but I wanted more. I wanted something unforgettable, something that would cement this Batman in the minds of the audience—a scene that would set the tone for who he was.

Standing there, watching Jensen, I recalled a conversation I had with Nolan just a week ago—a suggestion I had made about changing a certain scene.

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1 week ago

"I understand you want to focus on a certain aspect, but this could be so much better," I said to Nolan, my tone firm yet respectful as we stood in the production office.

We were discussing a pivotal scene—Batman fighting a group of Falcone's goons. But the way it was currently planned, there were too many quick camera cuts, creating chaos and action at the expense of clarity. It was a common technique, but it wasn't what I envisioned.

"Hell, the audience won't even be able to see the fight properly with all these cuts," I added, gesturing to the storyboard spread across the table. "Look, Chris, I love the build-up—the way Batman takes out the goons from the shadows, making them feel fear before they even see him. That part is fantastic. But we could elevate this scene so much more with what I'm suggesting."

Nolan crossed his arms, his eyes flicking between me and the storyboards. He didn't seem entirely convinced, but he wasn't dismissing the idea either. I pressed on, sensing an opportunity.

"What I'm saying is that when Batman finally reveals himself, he steps out of the shadows—and we hold the shot. We keep the camera moving, no quick cuts, just a smooth, continuous take as he advances through the goons. The camera pulls back as he moves forward, taking them down one by one. It's fluid, it's brutal, and it resonates. It lets the audience truly see Batman in action—each strike, each takedown."

In my mind, I could already see it—Batman moving down the narrow corridor formed by the container boxes, fists flying, each thug dropping like dominoes under the relentless force of his attack.

Nolan was silent, his brows furrowed as he processed my words. He repeated it aloud, as if testing the idea. "We keep the camera moving back as he advances, taking them down one by one. No cuts."

I nodded, catching a glimmer of interest in his eyes. "Exactly. One smooth, continuous sequence that shows Batman's raw physicality. It's not just about the fear he creates—it's about what happens when fear isn't enough, and they fight back. We show how utterly outmatched they are, how hopeless it is to take him on."

Nolan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes flicking back to the storyboards.

Finally, he nodded. "Alright," he said. "We'll shoot it and see how it looks."

A smile tugged at my lips. "It's going to be perfect, Chris. I know you initially wrote this scene with Bale in mind, and I love what you've done with the character and the story. But Jensen needs moments like this—something that truly showcases what he's capable of, physically. A scene that people will remember."

Nolan regarded me for another moment, then gave a short nod. "Let's see how it looks, Daniel. We can make the call after that."

"Fair enough," I said, feeling a surge of satisfaction. This was a win.

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I was pulled back to the present as the voice of the stunt coordinator echoed across the large hangar. "Alright, let's run the harbor fight!" he called out, his voice carrying easily through the space.

More stuntmen stepped forward, taking their positions around Jensen, who stood at the center, cracking his knuckles, a confident grin playing at his lips. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, "Beat them up, Batman!"

A ripple of laughter moved through the crew and stunt team, lightening the atmosphere.

I watched, captivated, as Jensen and the stuntmen began to work their magic. It was everything I had imagined—the kind of sequence that would keep the audience on the edge of their seats. Jensen moved with a natural intensity, his body flowing effortlessly through each sequence. Punches flew, bodies twisted and fell, and it was clear to everyone watching just how much dedication had gone into perfecting this moment.

After a few more minutes of practice, the stunt coordinator called a halt. "Great work, everyone! That was fantastic."

Jensen nodded, giving the stuntmen around him appreciative fist bumps.

"Alright, guys, let's take a break," the coordinator said, waving everyone off for a breather.

Jensen walked past me, giving me a nod and a quick grin, his eyes alight with adrenaline. "I think this is going to be great. Can't wait to see it on the screens," he said, still catching his breath.

"Can't wait to see it with the suit," I replied, smiling back. "Now go get suited up. I think we're running a bit late."

He flashed me a thumbs-up before heading off to change into the Batsuit. I knew it would take some time—probably a few good hours. The suit was no joke; it required meticulous effort to put on. Meanwhile, I had my own responsibilities to tackle. Executives from Stardust were scheduled to arrive soon, and I knew I needed to be well-rested for whatever corporate politics they were bringing my way today. With some time to kill, I decided to grab a power nap. Just a quick one—enough to recharge.

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I stood near the entrance of the Cardington Airship Hangar, watching as the executives from Stardust arrived. Victor Steele, Becky Thompson, and five others approached, all sharp in their tailored business attire. I straightened, putting on my best welcoming smile.

As soon as we exchanged greetings, Becky wasted no time diving in. "I've been going over the numbers again," she said briskly, her voice carrying authority. "There are a few areas where we could trim some of this fat." She paused, flipping through a few sheets on the clipboard handed to her by her assistant. "Why do we need all these reshoots, exactly?"

I smiled patiently. "Becky, it's part of the process. Nolan is meticulous, and it's paying off," I said, gesturing toward the set where the crew was fine-tuning the lighting for the next scene. "Besides, we need to keep Nolan happy. He's not just making DC movies—think of the possibilities if he sticks around for more projects."

The other executives murmured their agreement, nodding. I could see the bigger picture wasn't lost on them—Nolan was an asset, and keeping him content was worth far more than saving a few dollars on reshoots.

Before Becky could press further on budget concerns, Victor stepped in, his signature smirk firmly in place. "So, Daniel," he said, lowering his voice a notch. "What's this I hear about your new production company? Midas Productions, right?"

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though I could sense where this conversation was headed.

Victor tilted his head, an eyebrow arching slightly. "You're already a major part of Stardust. Why the need for something... separate?" His tone was casual, but the underlying challenge was clear.

I kept my voice light, giving the rehearsed answer I'd prepared. "It's something I've wanted to do for a while. I want to develop my own projects—more independent, smaller films, you know?"

Victor's eyebrow inched higher, his skepticism apparent. "Indie, huh?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Funny how your first big 'indie' deal happens to be with Netflix."

I chuckled, brief and noncommittal. "And Stardust gets a piece of that pie, too—don't forget." I offered a polite smile, leaning in slightly. "Let's just say I've got a lot of creative energy to burn."

Victor opened his mouth, ready to dig deeper, but I shifted gears before he could. "Why don't we check out the scene we're shooting right now? It's going to be something special."

The other executives murmured in agreement. Becky and Victor exchanged a quick, knowing look before nodding along with the rest of the group.

We moved closer to the monitors, keeping a respectful distance so as not to disrupt Nolan, who was intently focused on the setup. This was the scene I had been advocating for over the past few weeks—a single, continuous take that would draw the audience in. Everything was set, and Nolan was giving his final signals to the crew.

The camera began to roll, and Jensen—fully suited as Batman—stepped out from the shadows. His cape flowed behind him, the dark material swaying in sync with his measured, deliberate movements. His fists were clenched, his eyes locked onto the group of Falcone's thugs who surrounded him.

The camera pulled back smoothly, capturing Batman as he advanced. One of Falcone's men lunged at him, and Jensen, in character, sidestepped with lethal precision—twisting the man's arm and disarming him in one fluid motion.

Another thug swung a wild punch, but Jensen ducked, countering with a powerful elbow to the jaw. I watched, my arms crossed, as the scene played out exactly as I had envisioned. Batman was relentless, methodically taking down each opponent, his every move efficient and brutal.

At one point, Jensen grabbed a thug by the collar, yanking him forward into a knee strike before spinning—his cape swirling dramatically—to elbow another attacker in the face.

The choreography was tight, the brutality evident, and the unbroken shot kept the tension high. The camera moved as Batman did, capturing each strike, each fall, each desperate attempt by the thugs to gain the upper hand—each of which ended in failure.

All the practice had paid off. Jensen and the stunt team nailed it without a break in the scene. The camera kept focus, following Batman as he systematically dismantled Falcone's men.

Finally, Batman stood alone, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of his opponents. The camera pulled back, showing the devastation he had wrought.

"Cut," Nolan called.

For a moment, there was silence, and then applause broke out among some of the crew. I turned to gauge the reactions of the Stardust executives. Even Becky looked impressed, her usual tight expression softening slightly.

Becky was the first to break the silence. "Alright, I'll admit—that was... something."

Victor nodded, his gaze still fixed on the monitor. The rest of the group seemed equally convinced—their confidence in the film's success visibly growing.

Victor turned to me, his smirk transformed into something more genuine. "I've got to say, Daniel, that was impressive."

As they began to leave, Victor brought up Midas Productions once more. "We should talk more about Midas sometime soon."

I nodded, keeping my smile polite, though his continued interest in Midas was beginning to grate on me. I was doing my best to keep my ventures distinct, and I could already sense that Victor's curiosity wasn't entirely in my best interest.

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I pushed open the door to my apartment, and the familiar scent of home enveloped me, a wave of comfort washing over me instantly. The long trip back from the UK had drained every ounce of energy from my body, leaving me feeling like a walking zombie. My shoulders slumped as I dropped my bags by the entrance, my mind already drifting to the comforting thought of collapsing into bed and sleeping for an entire day.

But as I stepped further into the living room, I was surprised to see Margot lounging on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. Her face lit up the moment she saw me, her eyes brightening with delight.

"Daniel!" she exclaimed, leaping up and rushing over. Before I had time to react, she was in my arms, her lips finding mine in a kiss that took me completely by surprise.

I blinked, the fog of exhaustion still clouding my mind. "I thought you were shooting all week?" I mumbled, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

Margot grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "There were some problems with the schedule, so they moved it to next week." She leaned in closer, her voice softening as she added, "I missed you. It's been two weeks. Let's go somewhere, just the two of us."

I chuckled, running a weary hand through my hair, each movement feeling slow and deliberate. "I'm wiped out, Margot. Not today," I said, a tired smile tugging at my lips.

She pouted slightly, her lips pushing out in that endearing way she did when she didn't get her way. But then she nodded, her expression softening as she took in my tired features. "Alright, not today," she said, her voice gentler now. "I can see how exhausted you are. What about tomorrow, then?"

My gaze drifted to the TV, where a colorful Disney commercial played, bright animation dancing across the screen, the happy music echoing through the room. An idea suddenly struck me—something light, something fun. Something we both needed after the whirlwind of work we'd been caught up in lately.

"What about Disneyland?" I suggested, my smile growing as I turned back to her. "I've never been to the one in California."

Margot's eyes widened in surprise before excitement spread across her face, her entire expression lighting up. "Yes! It's a date!" she beamed, leaning in to give me another quick kiss. She pulled back just enough to study me again, her gaze softening as she took in my disheveled state. "Now go get a shower. I'll order you some food. You look like you could use a real meal."

I let out a deep, contented sigh, my smile widening as warmth spread through me. I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Now that's the best thing I've heard all day".

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