The Dark Knight Rises (Christopher Nolan, 2012)

(I know, I know, but Nolan's last word on this comic book character and possibly one of the year's biggest movie events is too irresistible a target. Watch out: story discussed in close detail)

Art of darkness

I'd already said pretty much everything I needed to say about Nolan's take on Batman. Does he redeem himself with this version? Some, not enough.

Nolan's better at shooting action-- no more shaky-cam (much), and he's learned to keep the camera trained on fight sequences till they're over. That said, he still hasn't learned to keep his camera trained on the money shot--in The Prestige he cut away when a crucial trick was performed (invalidating the magic of the trick); here we have a leap across space to an impossibly far ledge, and the man still has to insert a reaction shot from everyone below. He's improved, but still lacks confidence as a filmmaker. 

Nolan's doing better as a writer-- somewhat. Borrowing entire pages of detail from Frank Miller's seminal The Dark Knight Returns (with Wayne's retirement shortened to an eight-year absence, and the villain Bane (Tom Hardy) standing in for the mutant leader) he knows how to weave complex plots, twist and turn strands, startle the audience, build and maintain intensity. Probably his biggest problem is that he wants it to be all intensity, which at two hours and forty plus minutes gets wearying (not to mention repetitive), this imminent sense that something terrible is about to happen, about to happen, about to happen. Nolan like Peter Jackson wears his geekiness proudly on his sleeve when what's needed is an artist's skepticism, the ability to stand back and ruthlessly assess the material-- what should go, what should stay, what should radically change. 

(And for all his geeky knowingness and immersion in matters both Bat and scientific, Nolan doesn't seem to understand the forces that act on a suspension bridge-- that if you sever the two main cables the center span will collapse (I stared at the bridge with its span cut. What was holding it up-- wishful thinking?)).

Nolan tolls the bells of rhetoric well enough (too well; you get the sense that he loves the sound of his own voice coming out of other peoples' mouths-- witness the endless speeches Commissioner Gordon delivers at the conclusion to the last two movies). He loves to pontificate on profound themes, banging the gong when there's a moment to spare (perhaps his idea of giving the audience a break), even when there isn't a moment to spare (with the big reveal, one character can't resist stopping the entire picture's momentum to explain the significance and consequence while Batman lies bleeding. "Slow knife" someone at one point says. Slow knife my ass-- I thought they were trying to talk him to death). 

Nolan tries for relevance and unfortunately achieves it-- every time someone pulls out an assault rifle, every detonation of a planted explosive whether intended or not leaves a sour taste in the mouth. More, Bane's plan of upending the 1% and leaving the 99% in charge sounds like a parody of the Occupy Wall Street movement-- so is Bane the leader of liberal idealism and Batman the conservative reality? Not sure I approve.

For all of Nolan's eloquence, he still hasn't learned to be funny. Hathaway as Selina Kyle has a handful of sparkling lines, but you don't get the demented dialogue of a Daniel Waters ("Just the pussy I've been looking for!"). And while we're on the subject of Selina, Hathaway doesn't come anywhere close to Michelle Pfeiffer's glorious incarnation. Hathaway looks wholesome and healthy; Pfeiffer was a knife's edge away from shattering. Hathaway looks svelte in her catsuit, Pfeiffer looked stitched-together fragile, barely able to cohere. Hathaway added a touch of don't-give-a-fuck (her gradual changeover to commitment actually seems like a betrayal of the character); Pfeiffer was the film's emotional core-- loses it early on, barely able to keep it together, still manages to be funny ("Life's a bitch; now so am I"). Hathaway enjoys a little career boost; Pfeiffer delivers the performance of her life. 

I'd add this much on the difference between Nolan and Tim Burton. Nolan writes straightforward Syd Field scripts, where the twists and turns of time travel (Memento) or dreams (Inception) are laid out yet kept coherent, the genres efficiently exploited for their narrative hooks; Burton uses the script as a springboard to leap into thin air, depending on the heedless beauty of his imagery (and whiff of melancholy they give off) to keep him afloat. Nolan is a clever writer who to retain control of his material turns director; Burton is a trapeze artist, a high-wire act.

Give me something better. Give me Escape From New York (1981), yet another science-fiction adventure set in the near future where yet another maverick hero infiltrates an isolated Manhattan to save the city and perhaps the world-- at least Carpenter's nightmare vision has wit and genuine edge to it, not to mention an 'R' rating (compared to Dark Knight Rises' wimpy 'PG-13'). Come to think of it Dark Knight Rises does borrow elements from Carpenter's classic-- just not enough to make a difference.

Give me the ostensibly lighter-hearted but more emotionally complex The Avengers. Wouldn't call Joss Whedon as talented an Burton, but (comparing Nolan's latest to more recent efforts) his latest is for me the more impressive achievement, the dialogue far more entertaining (more audible too-- half the cast in Rises seem to mumble, and when you listen more closely Nolan punishes your attention with a loud drum in your ear, banging for about a hundred and sixty minutes). Whedon, smartly, focuses less on complicated narrative and more on character interaction (which was what the original Marvel Comics stories were about, anyway), and leavens the drama with bits of humor, even silliness (the shawarma scene that caps the credits). 

(Humor is an underrated virtue, especially in this age of superserious superheroes (witness the trailer for Man of Steel, where the late Christopher Reeve's charmingly low-key Kryptonian has been reduced to roaring across the sky like supersonic aircraft). Humor can serve to sharpen the horror in films, can serve as distracting patter while the drama sneaks up behind. Humor is one of the most powerful weapons in a storyteller's arsenal; Nolan seems to use at most half of his-- or possibly that's all he's got, which would be even sadder).

If Dark Knight Rises feels more intense than The Avengers that, arguably, comes from focusing on a single character's plight instead of seven. Whedon is no slouch at telling streamlined stories-- his Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog delivers more drama and pathos and poignancy in forty minutes and for about $200,000 (set to music) than Nolan ever does with his hundred and sixty-four minute, $250 million white elephant. Want a movie full of darkness and doom (leavened with imagination, wit, hummable tunes)? Don't waste your time with The Dark Knight, or for that matter The Avengers-- download Dr. Horrible instead. Be careful; break your heart, that will.

Revised 8.8.12

As a suggestion for further reading, friend was kind enough to send me a link to an in-depth discussion. Enjoy! 

And David Bordwell has as usual a thorough thoroughly considered appreciation of Nolan's career as a filmmaker (a lot more balanced and sober than mine-- but you know me). Article includes a link  Jim Emerson's ruthless takedown of Nolan's superhero flick-- check it out. 

8.26.12