After the official opening credits, morning had already come on the screen.
Inside an old-fashioned yet lavish mansion, Alfred Pennyworth, the butler played by Anthony Hopkins, carried a tray into a bedroom. A television murmured in the background. Bruce Wayne, shirtless on the edge of the bed, was tending a wound on his shoulder.
After wishing him good morning, Alfred set the tray down with worry written all over his face. With a sigh, he stepped closer to help dress the injury.
The camera shifted to the television.
In the noisy footage, a swarm of reporters surrounded Gotham Police Commissioner James Gordon, played by Tommy Lee Jones, pelting him with questions about what had happened at the docks the night before.
"Commissioner, is it true a bat-man attacked more than twenty gang members?"
"It's said this arms-smuggling case involves the mob boss Sal Maroni. Is that true?"
"Commissioner Gordon, I'm Vicki Vale from the Gotham Times. Rumor has it this isn't the first time the bat-man has acted. How would you define this kind of behavior?"
"..."
"..."
Gordon had been pushing forward in silence through the crush of microphones. At Vicki Vale's question, he finally stopped and faced the reporters.
"I can't comment on the details of this case. But I do not support any kind of private vigilante law enforcement. It's extremely dangerous, and it's a crime in itself."
With that, the scene grew even noisier.
Alfred looked away and continued treating Bruce's shoulder, speaking in a low voice. "See? They don't approve of what you're doing."
Bruce Wayne fell silent for a moment. A hint of sadness crept into his eyes, but his voice stayed firm. "Alfred, I don't need their approval."
"Very well," Alfred said. He finished the bandage, then pulled an invitation from his suit pocket and handed it to Bruce. "But you may need this."
Bruce glanced at it. An invitation to a JANUS Group shareholders' gathering, signed by JANUS chairman and CEO Roman Sionis.
As Alfred brought the tray closer and arranged the utensils, he said, "Roman Sionis. Remember him? You used to be classmates. The Sionises died in an accidental house fire a few years ago. Roman inherited JANUS."
Bruce still studied the invitation, then said abruptly, "That fire felt wrong."
Alfred only shook his head calmly. "Perhaps. The police never found anything."
Bruce tossed the invitation aside. "Alfred, I'm not interested."
Alfred picked it up and set it back within reach. "Master Bruce, you have to be. Or do you want everyone to notice that the young master of the Wayne family returns to Gotham after years abroad, then lives like a recluse, and suddenly the city gains a Batman who goes around beating criminals every night?"
Bruce surrendered, looking at his butler. "But Alfred, what am I supposed to do at a thing like that?"
"Socialize. Meet a nice young Gotham girl. Marry her. Have a child. Stop going out every night to 'run wild,' and carry on the Wayne family honor," Alfred lectured with earnest gravity. When his young master looked unimpressed, Alfred sighed helplessly. "Fine. We'll start with socializing."
Inside the Shrine Civic Auditorium, Alfred's nagging and that final, resigned tone drew a wave of laughter.
At the same time, those few minutes, though they looked like nothing more than a conversation between master and servant, were packed with information, and it worked for both comic fans and non-fans.
For comic readers, Bruce Wayne and Alfred needed no introduction. Neither did Commissioner Gordon, Roman Sionis, or mob boss Sal Maroni.
And comic fans could catch familiar details hidden in the exchange.
For instance, the Sionises dying in a house fire. Anyone who'd read the comics knew they were burned to death by their own deranged son. Dig deeper, and Bruce questioning the fire while Alfred avoided the subject was also meant to keep Bruce from thinking about his own parents, who had also died violently.
Then there was Sal Maroni. In the comics, it was this brutal mob boss who threw acid in prosecutor Harvey Dent's face in court, creating Two-Face.
For viewers who didn't know the comics, even without that background they still got several key threads.
Gordon's resentment toward Batman. The suspicious fire that killed the Sionises. The mob boss Sal Maroni whose business Batman had just ruined. And the film's villain, Roman Sionis, the Black Mask.
What came next would obviously revolve around those people.
On the big screen, the scene shifted to evening.
In another mansion, clearly luxurious yet nowhere near the scale of Wayne Manor, servants bustled to set up for a party. A waiter accidentally knocked over a poster in the hall advertising "Angel" face cream and was scolded by the head butler.
In the brief exchange, the audience learned Angel was a brand-new cosmetic JANUS was about to launch. Tonight's party existed to promote the upcoming product to JANUS shareholders.
Then the scene moved upstairs.
Roman Sionis, played by Willem Dafoe, looked up from a document, his face tightening with anger. "One in a hundred thousand, Jack. The company spent three years developing Angel. It's about to launch, and now you're telling me there's a one-in-a-hundred-thousand chance it causes an allergic reaction. Do you understand what that means?"
"Mr. Sionis, it's a fact we have to acknowledge. If an allergic reaction occurs, in the worst case it could even cause sudden death."
Roman gripped the report, his expression shifting in the space of a few breaths. Then he looked up sharply. "Will it disfigure them?"
The executive, Jack Slade, froze, then shook his head. "No. Mainly it..."
Roman didn't let him finish. "Jack, you know better than anyone what we poured into this product. You know what it means for our stock price. So you understand, don't you?"
"But..."
"One in a hundred thousand," Roman said, eyes locked on Jack. "And if it doesn't disfigure them, then maybe it's food poisoning. Or pollen. Who's to say it was Angel?"
Jack stared at his boss's face, which had begun to twist toward something ugly, and still did his duty. "Mr. Sionis, if this is discovered, the consequences will be severe."
Roman slammed his fist onto the desk and finally exploded. "If Angel doesn't launch on time, JANUS collapses. Is there anything more severe than that?"
Jack flinched at the outburst and didn't dare speak again.
A knock sounded. The butler who had scolded the waiter entered and informed Roman that guests were beginning to arrive. Roman's expression smoothed back into calm. He waved Jack away, stood, and locked the Angel test report in a safe. Then he went downstairs to greet his guests.
Night fell.
The party at the Sionis estate grew lively. Bruce Wayne arrived late, driving a silver sports car alone.
The moment he stepped out, reporters lingering outside spotted Gotham's most famous heir and rushed over, snapping photos and firing off questions.
After dealing with them, Bruce was about to go inside when an arm slid around him. A woman in a red gown leaned in close, her black bob cut sharp at her jaw, her voice carrying a faint Italian accent.
"Sir, need a date?"
Bruce nodded, ever the gentleman. He handed his invitation to the doorman and brought her into the party.
Once inside the hall, before Bruce could even ask her name, the woman leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"Thanks."
Then she drifted away, light as smoke.
Bruce shrugged, watching her disappear into the crowd with a faint, amused smile, then turned his attention to Roman Sionis, who greeted him with eager warmth.
Elsewhere, Selina Kyle, played by Valeria Golino, a Catwoman everyone in the audience recognized immediately, slipped through the crowd with practiced ease. She flirted when men approached, and before anyone realized, she'd circled past waiters and guards and reached the upper floor.
A moment later, a hidden door eased open.
Selina slipped inside, blinked at the roomful of handguns, and muttered to herself, "A boy's private little corner."
Then she backed out again.
Clearly, Catwoman wasn't interested in guns.
In the theater, plenty of viewers smiled knowingly at that line. Others understood it was a piece of foreshadowing. In the comics, Roman Sionis's marksmanship was good enough to go toe-to-toe with Deadshot.
In the blink of an eye, Selina had found her way to Roman's study, where he'd spoken with Jack Slade, and located the safe precisely.
Downstairs, the glittering party carried on, drenched in music and light.
Bruce Wayne, visibly uncomfortable in this environment, forced his way through a cluster of flattering guests, then excused himself to the restroom.
The camera cut.
In Roman's study, Selina had opened the safe. She was reading the Angel test report when an unexpected alarm suddenly blared.
Under her breath, she cursed. Then, in two quick motions, she cleaned up her traces, rolled the document, and slipped out.
A ripple of commotion spread through the party, but nothing serious.
Dodging the guards who charged upstairs, Selina made it out of the mansion and saw the reporters still waiting outside. Without hesitation, she stuffed the document into the satchel of one of the journalists.
A familiar silver sports car pulled up and stopped beside her.
The door opened. Bruce Wayne looked at her almost too politely. "Need a ride?"
Selina glanced back as guards burst out of the mansion. She smiled sweetly. "Sure."
She slid in, and Bruce drove them away from the party.
A moment later, sensing something off, Selina turned to him. "Darling, where are we going?"
Bruce flicked his eyes toward her. "The police station."
Selina's body stiffened, then she relaxed again, all velvet and purr. "Wow. You're really not romantic."
Bruce kept driving.
When he didn't respond, Selina asked, "How'd you figure it out?"
Bruce glanced at her again, as if searching for something. "If you like that wallet, you can keep it. But you have to give me the photo inside."
"Cheap man," Selina said, understanding at once how she'd slipped. She reached into the bodice of her dress, pulled out a black wallet, and handed it to him. Her expression shifted into something soft and pitiful. "So can I go now?"
Bruce opened the wallet and looked at the photo of himself with his parents. Unmoved, he said, "You were too smooth disabling someone's alarm system. You should still go to the station."
Selina blinked, then understood why the alarm had still gone off even though she'd dismantled the system. She smirked. "You're pretty smooth at fixing alarm systems, too."
As she spoke, Selina tested the door a few times and found it locked. She looked at him again, her voice slipping into a small, pleading note. "You really won't let a poor girl go, Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce looked surprised. "You know who I am?"
"Of course," Selina said. "Is there another Wayne family in Gotham?" Then she added a tiny threat, almost playful. "I'll come 'visit' sometime."
Bruce was about to speak again when Selina leaned in close.
A honey trap?
Inside the car, and in the theater, the same thought rose in different minds at the same time.
Catwoman using a honey trap on Batman, in a speeding sports car.
Just imagining it was a little thrilling.
And honestly, even with only a few minutes on screen, Valeria Golino had already shaped Catwoman into someone seductive, changeable, catlike, hovering between hero and villain. Viewers had also clearly noticed her stuffing the Angel report into the reporter's bag. For many, that was obviously a key detail pushing the plot forward.
On the screen, just as everyone expected Catwoman to seduce Batman, maybe even turn it into something steamy right there in the car, Selina wrapped her arms around Bruce, and the tone flipped violently.
Using his body for leverage, she braced one long leg against the door.
Then.
Bam.
A dull impact, and the window shattered completely.
No one even had time to react. With a single kick, she had smashed the window of a luxury sports car.
Bruce hadn't anticipated it either. His grip on the steering wheel wavered, and the car swerved hard.
"Bye, darling."
She pecked his cheek one last time. Then, with a cat's impossible softness, Selina slipped through the broken window and landed lightly on the ground.
By the time Bruce managed to pull over, scramble out, and look around, she was gone.
"That was cool!"
In the Shrine Civic Auditorium, amid countless stunned stares, that same voice rang out again.