departure. The vehicle's rear is stacked with four 44-inch Humvee tires, and the front is covered in jagged plates of armor. It
looks like something Pablo Picasso might take to a monster-truck rally—a muscle car for a tortured soul. Perfect for Batman.
The Batmobile may have been step one, but on the set, nothing gets more attention than the Batsuit. Whenever Bale is in
costume, two people trail him to keep it smudge-free; another person is charged with making sure his cape billows
dramatically. In the movie, the suit is translucent at first: it's a futuristic military design complete with body armor and
muscle-recovery devices. Wayne sprays it black to camouflage it. "Chris wanted a serious, matte finish—not shiny or gloopy,"
says costume designer Lindy Hemming. "We
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didn't want to depart from the classic silhouette, but we also didn't want to go too much in the homoerotic direction." Got it: no
nipples.
On this particular day, Bale has been in the Batsuit for nine hours, and his brain is starting to boil. But he keeps up his
good humor. After one take, Nolan instructs him to try a line again with more intensity, and Bale answers: "How much more Batman
can you get? The answer is: None more Batman." Later, freed of his suit, Bale plugs his nose with a handkerchief soaked in Olbas
oil, a Swiss remedy for headaches. "This is obviously the highest-profile movie I will probably ever do," Bale says. "And
sometimes on a huge movie like this, every take becomes an event. You can easily lose any kind of intimacy. But it feels as good
as it can here, because at the core of this huge production is Chris Nolan." And if "Batman" is going to begin again, it's all up
to the man at the top.
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