The Batman Meets The Sopranos in HBO’s The Penguin

Image Courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures/HBO

By Joey Broom

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed The Penguin, the eight-episode mini series that serves as an interlude between 2022’s The Batman and its upcoming sequel set for 2026. Looking back, I don’t think I should’ve been surprised –Colin Farrell’s Penguin was one of The Batman’s biggest highlights, and the film teased a rich world ripe for further exploration–but I’ve grown tired of the villain origin story trend that’s infected the entertainment industry.

If The Batman was director Matt Reeves’ tribute to New Hollywood, The Penguin is him and showrunner Lauren LeFranc paying homage to 2000s prestige TV, especially The Sopranos. The Penguin’s mannerisms, storytelling, and philosophizing recall those of James Gandolfini’s Tony Soprano, and there’s even a subplot concerning him caring for his dementia-stricken mother.

The Penguin blends the Sopranos influences with elements from the 1999–2000 comic miniseries Batman: Dark Victory, which depicts the decline of Gotham’s organized crime and the rise of Batman’s rogues gallery in its place. However, it uses them as simply a jumping-off point to explore its own themes and characters. If you’re familiar with the Dark Victory story, it challenges your expectations of how it’s going to play out. This is most obvious when it comes to the serial killer Hangman’s identity reveal, which turns the comic’s twist on its head in an inventive and frightening way.

I’ve always found the Penguin one of Batman’s most fascinating enemies. Unlike most of Batman’s rogues gallery, the Penguin is sane. He’s not motivated by an unbridled crave for chaos and destruction; he merely seeks to enrich himself without any regard for the cost of his actions. Farrell does a fantastic job conveying his sheer cruelty, all the way from the series’ opening to its closing moments.

The other performances are fantastic. The biggest highlights are Cristin Milioti, who provides the series with an unnerving yet mesmerizing villain in Sofia Falcone, and Rhenzy Feliz, who conveys a moral decline that feels both tragic and realistic as the Penguin’s teenage enforcer Vic. Other standouts include Clancy Brown’s thunderous performance as Sal Maroni and Deirdre O’Connell’s heartbreaking portrayal of the Penguin’s mother Francis.

The Penguin retains one of The Batman’s biggest strengths–its portrayal of Gotham. Many live-action Batman adaptations fail to understand that the city itself is a character: it is the armpit of America, a nigh-unlivable city rife with gang violence, corruption, and debauchery. But you wouldn’t know that from many of the movies. In Batman Forever, it’s garish and neon; in The Dark Knight Trilogy, it’s just Chicago. Here, it’s disgusting and grimy. Buildings are run down, trash covers the streets. 

Even though it’s a TV show, The Penguin feels incredibly cinematic. Darran Tiernan does a fantastic job maintaining Greig Fraser’s style of cinematography with muted colors, noirish shadows, and little glamor. The third episode opens with a harrowing reprise of The Batman’s finale with visual effects that look indistinguishable from those of the film. Likewise, Mick Giacchino’s accompanying score is suitably unsettling, intense, and on par with the work his father did for The Batman.

One of The Penguin’s most refreshing qualities is that the Penguin isn’t an antihero – he’s a full-blown villain protagonist. Unlike, say, Michael Corleone or Walter White, the Penguin has precisely zero redeeming qualities. You come away from the series with a good understanding of why he’s like this, but at no point do you ever feel his actions are justified. The series ends with a shocking, harrowing, agonizingly long scene that renders it virtually impossible to sympathize with him in any fashion.

Batman himself doesn’t appear–in fact, he’s only mentioned once throughout the entire series at the beginning of the first episode. I actually enjoyed this, as it allows the series to stand on its own and not feel bogged down by needless worldbuilding. His absence also elevates the stakes tenfold–you can’t help but look at this city, these characters, and realize how desperately Gotham needs Batman.