The
Dark Knight Rises
For a lot of people, the opening of The Dark Knight
Rises was a sad affair, and it had nothing to do
with a psychotic gunman mowing down twelve moviegoers in
As a stand alone film, The Dark Knight Rises is a fitting tribute to the groundwork laid by the earlier two installments. It tells its own sweeping story of challenge and triumph, good and evil, while delivering the same silver screen suspense that we've come to expect from this particular brand of superhero tale. It did not disappoint; at least, not in the way it will when they reboot the entire franchise five years from now.
As the film opens, we are clued in to the ramifications
of Batman's decision at the end of The
Dark Knight to take the fall for the wayward Harvey Dent.
Of course, in the comic book multi-verse, peace can never
last. A bulging brute of a man named
Bane kidnaps a Russian physicist and lays siege to
Regardless, it becomes obvious to our hibernating savior
that he must reemerge and save his beloved city from the threat of Bane. But things aren't quite so easy this time
around (as if they ever were). Having
taken so much time off, Batman has lost some of his fighting fervor and
possibly some of his belief in himself. Coupling this crisis of confidence with a
traitorous Catwoman, a financial empire in
ruin, and
the staunch opposition of a masked behemoth trained by the League of
Shadows,
it becomes clear that Batman has his work cut out for him.
To make matters worse, as
As usual, the film's true strength comes from the man at
the helm, Christopher Nolan, and his almost literary devotion to theme. He uses his plots and characters as
reflections of the larger issues at stake.
Batman's (and all superheroes') primary struggle is finding
their
appropriate identity and purpose. The
caped crusader grapples with his future just as often as he is haunted
by his
past. Which is why it makes sense that
after the eight year gap between The Dark
Knight and The Dark Knight Rises,
Bruce Wayne has not moved on, collapsing into a regretful self-despair.
Bane's allure to the people of
But as a character, Bane is one of the more
frustrating. Because comic book villains
are necessarily temporary, due to the episodic nature of the
narratives, their
worth is relative. I can't tell if Bane
seemed a bit too obscure to identify with because of inadequate
character
development or because the Joker was so effective in the previous film. In many ways, Bane was doomed from the start,
as Heath Ledger's performance was so dynamic and memorable that he
could never
have stacked up. But overcoming evil is
essential to the superhero tale, and the exact nature of that evil is
of
particular importance. And if the Joker
was provoked by innate menace, Bane seems pretty unfocused. What exactly does he want out of all of
this? Sure, an endgame is explained in
the waning minutes of the film (which I won't spoil here), but it is
much less
satisfying than the pure simplicity of the Joker's unfounded nature. If the Joker never had a motive for anything
he did; Bane has far too many motives. Bane
is a mash-up of interests: the struggle to avenge his dark past, the
struggle
to destroy
However, Bane's true role fits in nicely with the foundation laid in Batman Begins, the oft-forgotten first film in the Dark Knight trilogy. This was a deft move by Nolan, as it brought the films a sense of cohesion that had been lacking (The Dark Knight seemed like a film unto itself, completely disconnected from the original). And the closing half hour of the film was a pitch-perfect maelstrom of action that provided an appropriate swansong to the electric intensity that permeated the entire trilogy. I will be shocked if this film doesn't win the Oscar for Best Editing, as the seamless transitions through the last portion of the film, with so many things happening at once, are breathtaking. I could have done without the heavy nature of the dialogue (there were a few too many extended monologues and back stories), whereby it seemed that every word spoken by every character was intended to carry some dramatic resonance, but by and large, Nolan has created yet another riveting script that has translated into a captivating feature film.
Still, true to form, The Dark Knight Rises is about the possibility of one man making a difference in an indifferent world. The pit at the prison serves as a rather obvious metaphor of this theme: while we may be alone in our struggle towards the light and freedom, that does not cheapen the importance of the process. Regardless of the sacrifice it requires, doing the right thing is always justifiable. And always worth it. In these troubled times, with financial obstacles pressing down upon us and the violence of criminals every bit as real as that which we see on movie screens (or at movie theaters, for fuck's sake), accepting the shackles of our limitations just isn't an option. We have to climb that wall no matter how many times it takes. Modern life is one extended opportunity to "Rise" to the occasion; we mustn't squander it with fear and presumed defeat.
It is the crux of what it means to be a superhero, or a
cop, or a fireman, or a soldier, or a teacher, or a priest, or any of
the other
roles that we might assume in our lives: what difference will you make?