by Chloë Lucien
Chloë Lucien is a Music major with a Dance minor from Mattapan, MA. Chloë explains that this essay was deeply personal because Batman’s story has always been more than a comic book origin to her. “Batman himself has become a mirror I could look into, a reflection of my own journey from pain to purpose,” she shares. Writing about Bruce Wayne allowed her to explore how mental wounds can coexist with, and even fuel, acts of courage, challenging the simplistic “hero-versus-villain” narrative while bringing self-acceptance to her own ongoing work of healing. For Chloë, the essay became more than an academic exercise; it was a space for reflection. She found herself connecting her own struggles with mental health, control, and identity to Batman’s psychological complexity. “I saw myself in the way Bruce Wayne transforms trauma into purpose—not because he’s healed, but because he has no choice but to act,” she reflects. Batman’s contradictions of isolation, control, and compulsion to create meaning from pain felt familiar and offered Chloë a lesson in resilience: pain can either break you or become a source of strength. Even though the essay began as an assignment for English 102, Chloë found it therapeutic and enjoyable. “I wasn’t escaping into fiction,” she says, “I was using Batman to explore questions I didn’t yet have language for.” Beyond the classroom, Chloë is committed to self-mastery through boxing, journaling, and creative work, and she expresses herself through fashion and poetry. Above all, she values meaningful relationships that challenge her to grow and stay grounded while pursuing her personal and creative goals.
In popular culture, the superhero is often seen as a paragon of strength, self-sacrifice, and moral clarity. Yet few figures disrupt this ideal more profoundly than Batman. A man shaped by trauma, Bruce Wayne assumes a persona not to escape fear, but to become it. Across film adaptations like The Dark Knight (2008) and The Batman (2022), Batman is depicted not just as a savior of Gotham, but as a psychologically fractured figure whose mental health appears as complex and unstable as that of the villains he pursues.
As Mandy May writes, “filmmakers hold so much power for how people think about mental illness, and for the most part, they do not take the proper amount of responsibility for what they create” (May). This argument serves as the foundation for my inquiry: how do Batman films, through their portrayal of Bruce Wayne’s mental state, shape our perceptions of mental health, heroism, and sanity itself? These portrayals blur the line between mental instability and heroism, inviting viewers to reevaluate what defines “normal” mental health and question conventional presumptions about who is truly sane or insane. By portraying Bruce Wayne’s heroic persona as both a moral crusade and a psychological defense mechanism, this essay contends that Batman films complicate binary understandings of hero versus villain and sanity versus insanity, forcing viewers to reevaluate mental illness through the heroic lens.
Carl Jung’s concept of “the Shadow” refers to the darker, unconscious aspects of the human psyche–qualities individuals repress but must confront to achieve psychological wholeness. Batman, in many ways, is the embodiment of this archetype. Rather than suppressing his darkness, Bruce Wayne embraces it and channels it into a symbol of fear. Travis Langley, a professor of psychology and author of the book Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight, explores this idea by analyzing Batman through both Jungian and Freudian psychological frameworks. Langley explains that “Bruce Wayne confronts his own darkest nature early in life, chooses to work with it, and uses it to instill fear in others” (Langley 189). This observation closely aligns with Jungian theory, suggesting that Bruce integrates his psychological trauma and suppressed aggression into the Batman identity.
Langley further argues that Bruce Wayne’s relationship with his own “Shadow” is not purely dysfunctional but can serve as a form of psychological integration. He writes that “because Batman is himself a shadow character, his Shadow does become more freakish, more complicated than strong/dumb/amoral or mortal/smart/immoral” (Langley 189). In other words, Batman does not merely resist his darkness – he weaponizes it in a morally directed way. Rather than falling into villainy or psychosis, Bruce uses his “Shadow” constructively, though not without moral and emotional cost. By showing that Batman channels his inner turmoil toward justice, the films challenge the notion that darkness and obsession are always pathological. Instead, Langley’s analysis invites us to consider that mental instability and heroism may not be opposites at all, but deeply intertwined.
As Dr. S. Taylor Williams writes, “one of the aspects of superheroes that most endears them to society is that they, like us, are not perfect—they have flaws” (Williams 252). This reflection supports the idea that audiences relate to heroes like Batman not despite their psychological complexities, but because of them. His flaws, especially those rooted in trauma, are what make him both heroic and human.
Although Batman appears disciplined and in control, his behavior aligns closely with clinical definitions of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Dr. S. Taylor Williams, a psychiatrist writing in the peer-reviewed journal Academic Psychiatry, examines Bruce Wayne’s psychological profile in his article “Batman Begins and PTSD: Analyzing Trauma and Recovery in Bruce Wayne’s Journey.” Williams argues that Batman’s behaviors align with PTSD, particularly symptoms involving avoidance and obsessive coping. He writes that “Bruce Wayne meets criteria for Symptom 4 – markedly diminished interest for participation in significant activities. Given that the creation of the persona of Batman is an avoidance symptom, this leaves the non-Batman activities of Bruce Wayne as those for which participation must be ascertained” (Williams 254). Williams’s analysis reframes Bruce’s behavior not as noble sacrifice, but as a clinical symptom of psychological withdrawal.
This lens casts Bruce Wayne’s metamorphosis into Batman in a more tragic light. The Batman persona functions as an emotional refuge–an obsessive identity built to contain and suppress trauma. Even Alfred, the loyal butler and confidant, sometimes shows concern, though he continues to support Bruce’s increasingly troubling behavior. Bruce withdraws from a normal social life, suppresses his emotions to protect himself from vulnerability, and becomes psychologically fixated on his alter ego. What might look like noble discipline is, in fact, compulsive behavior rooted in unresolved psychological pain. This complicates the viewer’s understanding of his heroism: is Batman admirable because he devotes himself fully to justice, or is he tragic because he cannot function outside of it?
By presenting heroism as inseparable from psychological dysfunction, Batman films challenge viewers to question the supposed boundary between mental illness and moral purpose. If Batman is driven more by trauma rather than free will, then his actions become less about courage and more about psychological compulsion. This ambiguity prompts a reevaluation of how mental health is portrayed–and misunderstood–in heroic narratives.
In The Dark Knight (2008), Batman and the Joker function as psychological foils, each exposing the instability within the other. Bruce Wayne’s reliance on violence, secrecy, and emotional detachment mirrors the chaos of the villains he battles, particularly the Joker, who famously declares, “You complete me.” This disturbing line underscores how narrow the divide is between hero and villain. Even in The Lego Batman Movie (2017), a film with a lighter tone, this dynamic is explored with surprising depth. The Joker tells Batman, “What we have is special.” And when Batman denies any emotional connection, insisting, “There is no ‘us.’ Batman and Joker are not a thing. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. You mean nothing to me,” the Joker is visibly heartbroken. This kid-friendly, exaggerated, yet emotionally resonant portrayal emphasizes that the hero-villain relationship often mirrors an unhealthy codependency rather than a clear moral opposition. The idea that heroism and villainy share psychological roots is further supported by Travis Langley, who writes: “Because Batman is himself a shadow character, his Shadow does become more freakish, more complicated than strong/dumb/amoral or mortal/smart/immoral” (Langley 189). Langley’s perspective reinforces the notion that Batman’s psyche is not simply a reflection of villainy in reverse, but a morally directed channeling of the same inner darkness.
This complexity is deepened in The Batman (2022), where Bruce Wayne is portrayed as a socially isolated, obsessive figure consumed by his crusade. Richard Lawson, a film critic for Vanity Fair, examines this portrayal in his review titled “The Batman Is All Dressed Up With Few New Places to Go.” Lawson critiques the film’s depiction of Bruce Wayne as psychologically withdrawn, writing that “Reeves’s handsomely mounted film offers us a Bruce Wayne … who is no dashing playboy. He’s instead a reclusive creep … skulking around at night in the Batman cowl, violently … accosting low-life crooks” (Lawson). Lawson also reminds readers of the absurdity in Bruce’s transformation. He explains that “there is, also, a silliness here that even Reeves’s assured, sinewy muscle can’t overcome. We are, as ever, talking about an oddball in a bat costume (complete with cape) who runs around bopping people on the head” (Lawson). This tension between seriousness and absurdity deepens the ambiguity around Batman’s mental state, suggesting that his heroism may be indistinguishable from obsession, or even delusion. Rather than romanticize Bruce’s trauma, this interpretation underscores how his compulsions and emotional isolation are signs of unresolved psychological wounds rather than symbols of stoic heroism.
Ultimately, this blurring of lines between sanity and insanity destabilizes the traditional binary of hero versus villain, prompting audiences to reconsider what “normal” mental health looks like in a society that valorizes vigilante justice. The moral ambiguity of Batman’s mission, combined with his obsessive behavior, challenges the idea that sanity aligns with virtue. By mirroring villainous traits while serving a moral purpose, Batman forces viewers to confront how thin the line between heroism and mental instability truly is.
Works Cited
Comerford, Chris, and Tracey Woolrych. “Becoming the Shadows: A Gothic Noir Reading of Empathy, Psychopathy, and Anti-Heroism in The Batman (2022).” M/C Journal, vol. 28, no. 1, Mar. 2025.
Jung, C. G. Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self. Translated by R. F. C. Hull, Princeton UP, 1979.
Langley, Travis. Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight. 2nd ed., Wiley, 2022.
Lawson, Richard. “Review: The Batman Is All Dressed Up with Few New Places to Go.” Vanity Fair, 28 Feb. 2022.
May, Mandy. “Film’s Depictions of Mental Illness.” Undercurrents: A Journal of Undergraduate Composition.
Powers, Mark B., et al. “Predictors of PTSD Symptoms in Adults Admitted to a Level I Trauma Center: A Prospective Analysis.” Journal of Anxiety Disorders, vol. 28, no. 3, 2014, pp. 301–309.
Williams, S. Taylor. “Holy PTSD, Batman!: An analysis of the Psychiatric Symptoms of Bruce Wayne.” Academic Psychiatry, vol. 36, no. 3, 2012, pp. 252-255. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.ap.36.3.252
The Batman. Directed by Matt Reeves, performances by Robert Pattinson, Zoë Kravitz, and Paul Dano, Warner Bros., 2022.
The Dark Knight. Directed by Christopher Nolan, performances by Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, and Aaron Eckhart, Warner Bros., 2008.