The Dark Knight Rises

Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises brings to a close what has arguably been the greatest series of Batman films ever made. From Tim Burton’s hyper-stylized, gothic Batman and Batman Returns, which all but drowned our hero inside overcooked Wagnerian operatics and overacted villains, to Joel Schumacher’s playfully canted funhouse of hyperbole with Batman Forever and then Batman & Robin, the last two decades have shown Batman to be far more adaptable to the signature vision of his director than any of his colleagues, from universes both DC and Marvel. And now Nolan, hot off the success of Inception and The Dark Knight, resolves the increasing progression from the fantastic to the grittily realistic in this one final, expansive chapter. Tightening the psychological noose around our caped hero and casting him into a modern-day Gotham where terrorism, occupation and class warfare resonates with current events, The Dark Knight Rises is not just the blockbuster event of the summer (sorry Avengers), it is the new gold standard for the true crime superhero film.


This is not to say there is no time or place for the completely superficial and potentially equally entertaining thrills of more traditional, effects-laden, comical adaptations like The Amazing Spiderman or The Green Lantern (hence the word “potentially”), but Christopher Nolan has been onto something here for the last decade, and The Dark Knight Rises is the culmination of his career-long journey, an epic work of staggering immediacy and top-tier filmmaking that earns its right to be considered an equal among any drama at next year's Oscars. TDKR picks up eight years after its predecessor, with a virtually crime-free Gotham city, but with a scapegoated Batman, his mantle replaced by the late great Harvey Dent. Our hero has been shelved by his alter ego, Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale), driven into seclusion by equal amounts of public and self-loathing, and a battered body that displays the physical scars of the psychological torment of battling the Joker and subsequently losing everything. But when a new criminal mastermind, Bane (Tom Hardy), infamous from ink as the man who broke Batman’s back, and looking like a cross between a WWE wrestler and Hannibal Lecter, unleashes a terrorist plot to first liberate the citizens of Gotham City from all government intrusion and then destroy them all, Bruce Wayne is compelled to return to the bat cave, body and mind completely unprepared. Batman actually takes a backseat for much of the film, as Bruce Wayne must find himself through yet another chapter of identity crisis, “rising” from the emotional pit of despair, here made quite literal by a giant hole in the ground, named the most terrible “prison” on the planet, where he is exiled by Bane for much of the film, leaving Bane free to exact his terrorist plot. Along for the ride are the usual suspects, CEO of Wayne Enterprises Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), trusty Alfred (Michael Caine), and Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman), along with some new faces, Selina Kyle a.k.a. Catwoman (Anne Hathaway), police officer John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and green (as in eco) business rival Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard).

If some of these names sound familiar it’s because several of them were featured in Christopher Nolan’s Inception a few years ago.  If all of these names sound like a recipe for an overcrowded mess a la The Avengers and Iron Man 2, it’s best to take a second look.  Just look at the upcoming cover art for the blu-ray release of The Avengers, which betrays a proportionality between the size and visibility of an actor’s head and his/her importance in the film, which, likewise seemed to be determined by the box office gross of each superhero’s standalone film.  The posters for Nolan's Batman films achieve the opposite, shrouded in darkened, emblematic secrecy.  The secret, it would seem, lies in, get ready now, allowing the story to dictate screen time rather than a hierarchy of popularity, and Nolan, along with his brother Jonathan have obviously spent a lot of time perfecting what made it to the screen.  Here, Alfred is jettisoned for most of the film, but not before Michael Caine earns his salary through three of the most powerful scenes I’ve ever seen in a film of this caliber, easily more than the genre has a right to. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, the invaluable Arthur from Inception, is equally so here, all steely resolve and poise, the moral center of a film which sees its main character lost in a vacuum for most of its running time. Christian Bale may be that main character, but it should be of no surprise that the true delights are in those who surround him, no doubt the reason Bale has never been shy about his desire to, um, bail from the series after this installment. Being the hero doesn’t always have a real world equivalency; just ask Michael Keaton and Val Kilmer. But being the villain is a never ending gold mine of audience takeaways, and Tom Hardy (Eames from Inception) and Anne Hathaway are definitely not ones to be accused of phoning it in. With most of his face hidden by a vulgar black mask, and his speech altered by electronic amplification it is through sheer talent that Hardy manages to create such a memorable Bane. Let's be honest, he’s no Heath Ledger (could anyone be?), and he takes some getting used to, for the above reasons, and for his awkward choice of which words to emphasize in any particular sentence; but ultimately Bane is a masterful combination of body language, furrowed brows, and stylized intonation. Anne Hathaway is a revelation, her character stripped of any overt designation as “Catwoman,” a perfect example of Nolan’s desire to recontextualize the fundamental elements that comprise a typical “Batman” tale into a reality-based, psychological crime story, which allows a knowledgeable audience, and of course the media, to connect the dots for the uninitiated, as opposed to the makers of his box office competitors, whose agendas seem to be to revel in their characters’ superheroness. Hathaway brings a much overdue sexual tension to the series that neither Katie Holmes could manage nor Maggie Gyllenhaal had time for.  Whether she is drop-kicking thugs while vacuum-sealed into black latex, or trading barbs on the dance floor with Bruce Wayne, Hathaway is the best reason I’ve ever seen for a Catwoman sequel.

Eschewing the more fantastic and mystical elements of Batman Begins, and avoiding the pitfall of an overplotted third act that comes from too slow a burn, which hampers the last forty-five minutes of The Dark Knight, TDKR is marvelously paced and plotted, a prerequisite for maximum veracity, and manages to stake its own claim without forgetting where it came from. Yes, TDKR is very much the third part of a continuing story; on the surface, old characters make a return appearance to the extent that a revisiting of Batman Begins prior to seeing this might not be a bad idea.  Also, Gotham City is finally pushed to the brink of obliteration, and while Hans Zimmer’s career highlight, highly repetitive, percussive score calls attention to itself often, it remains a natural evolution of the propulsive strings that underlined key moments in the first film. But unlike other trilogies, the true arc of Nolan’s films takes root under the skin, in the power struggle between defining who you are, and being defined by it. It’s precisely what makes the films timeless; their plots rise to the demands of Bruce Wayne’s subconscious without ever surpassing them, even when the lives of millions of people are at stake. It’s the seamless integration of character and story so many films try for and fail at, and even more films completely ignore. This is where Nolan’s beginnings as an independent filmmaker benefit him the most, and when all is said and done, this is his show. Subtext aside, TDKR is filmmaking at its most exceptional. There is a rhythm to each scene, and not a single one overstays its welcome, making the near three hour running time unnoticeable. The parallel storylines unfold effortlessly, and when they finally collide, Nolan deftly alternates between his characters without sacrificing momentum, and proves that the last half-hour of Inception, with its depiction of many simultaneous dream states, was no fluke, but instead a trial run for a grand finale befitting his epic trilogy. TDKR is not only the best of that trilogy, it’s the best Batman film ever made.

The Dark Knight Rises ***** out of *****