Director: Christopher Nolan
Runtime: 165 minutes
To say that expectations have been high for The Dark Knight Rises would be a monumental understatement. Christopher Nolan certainly got off on the right foot with the 2005 reboot Batman Begins, bringing a brooding and gritty vibe to Gotham's Caped Crusader. With Nolan at the helm, the story of Bruce Wayne took on a newfound sense of darkness and dread, devoid of the campy sensibility that so pervaded Tim Burton's two late 80s/early 90s films and the much-maligned Joel Schumacher films (Batsuit nipples; never forget). Here was a superhero movie that stood, more than any before it, as a testament to the post-9/11 mindset of America, and the world at large.
Runtime: 165 minutes
To say that expectations have been high for The Dark Knight Rises would be a monumental understatement. Christopher Nolan certainly got off on the right foot with the 2005 reboot Batman Begins, bringing a brooding and gritty vibe to Gotham's Caped Crusader. With Nolan at the helm, the story of Bruce Wayne took on a newfound sense of darkness and dread, devoid of the campy sensibility that so pervaded Tim Burton's two late 80s/early 90s films and the much-maligned Joel Schumacher films (Batsuit nipples; never forget). Here was a superhero movie that stood, more than any before it, as a testament to the post-9/11 mindset of America, and the world at large.
Now, I'll admit, I've avoided using the term
"post-9/11" to describe Nolan's bat-flicks until just now. Yes, the
two (now three) films exist in a darker and more realistic world, but the
thematic connection to 9/11 seemed not to click. But the mind has a way of
working these things out when we least expect it. Nolan's films show
realistically rendered depictions of attacks on American soil in so many ways
that have otherwise been absent in comic book adaptations.
Violence, even for superheroes, was now capable
of achieving a rather chilling resonance, whether it was watching
Ra's Al Ghul try to launch a biological attack on Gotham in Begins, or watching the Joker's
attempts to instigate anarchy across the city, the threats felt more powerful
because we lived in an age where A) these things were eerily possible and B) we
knew there were people out there who wanted to hurt us. If Sam Raimi's first
two Spiderman films (and to a lesser extent, the first two X-Men films) took
comic book movies into late adolescence, Batman Begins took them into
full-blown adulthood.
Yet it was 2008's The Dark Knight, with a
large debt owed to a certain Mr. Ledger, that turned Nolan's series into a
critical and financial mega hit. In addition to the gushing praise for Ledger's
turn as the Joker, Nolan's film also became labeled as the best comic book
movie of all time. And, among certain segments of the population, it has even
been hailed as one of the best movies of all time. Period. As in, people were
prepared to compare it to The Godfather (let's not go there).
The big question for Nolan and company, of
course, then became "how do we finish this trilogy without letting people
down?" And when it comes to answering that question on paper, The Dark Knight Rises seems
firmly headed in the right direction. Instead of trying to repeat the success
of The Dark Knight's iconic villain - a lone figure who essentially defined the film
- Nolan has split villain duties (sort of) between Tom Hardy's hulking Bane and
Anne Hathaway's slippery Selina Kyle (Catwoman, sans moniker). Lightning
doesn't strike in the same place twice, and Nolan was smart to try and spread
the role of antagonist among multiple characters.
Yet for all that seems okay on paper, there are
equally as many missteps in the writing and in the execution on-screen. There
are many individual aspects to pick apart, but it all fits under one giant
umbrella: Nolan (and co-writer/brother Jonathan Nolan) have simply tried to
cram in too much, despite the 2 hr 45 min duration. Batman Begins contained
itself with ease, and The Dark Knight, despite sometimes bursting at the seams, managed to hold all of
its pieces together, if just barely. Yet the pressure to create an epic and
satisfying ending has, unfortunately, blasted a massive crater in the
franchise's armor. The characters and subplots are many, yet even with nearly
three hours, there's barely room for any of it to breathe. Combine these
problems with the serious tone and massive expectations, The Dark Knight Rises often
buckles under its own weight.
Nolan has never made a film that I've found
dull, but here he's finally made one where I was actively distracted by the
pacing issues. The scenes don't drag so much as they feel like Nolan has
misplaced the emphasis. After a fun, Bond-style opening introducing Bane, the
movie settles in for quite a bit of set up, which involves everything from a
cop (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) trying to help a boys' shelter, to a Wayne
Industries board member who won't stop inquiring about an abandoned clean
energy project (Marion Cotillard), to Bruce Wayne's physical and emotional
recovery after eight years away from his alter ego. Nolan has so many dots to
connect that he often races things along. It gives one the feeling that the
writer/director simply expects us to just go with each development without
daring to question it. The film may never become stagnant (thanks again, Lee
Smith), but so often it feels, well, off. As lovely
as Ms. Cotillard is, the romance that develops between her and Bruce comes
right the hell out of nowhere, only so that it can be used later for a BIG
moment that ultimately rings hollow and completely wastes the actress.
All of this is compounded by two big issues:
dialogue and narrative structure. Nolan's tendency to have his characters spell
out themes and motivations has, sadly only become a bigger problem since Inception. Sometimes it feels
entirely appropriate (variations of Begins' "Why do we fall? So
we can pick ourselves up again" line), yet often it’s just unnecessary.
The personalities of the characters struggle to shine through because they're
burdened with such heavy dialogue and thin characterization (as such, the
series' returning players achieve the strongest emotional resonance). As for
the structure, Nolan falls into an odd cycle of repetition. I'll avoid the
details, but the film essentially puts Bruce Wayne through an arc of physical
and emotional recovery twice during the film, when all it does is eat up time. It's the
second arc that really deserves the time, yet a period of nearly half a year
ends up flashing by so the film can charge into its conclusion. Not only does
the second arc have the potential for more resonance, but it's also more
interesting in what it reveals about Bane, and how it brings the trilogy full
circle.
And so when all hell breaks loose in the finale,
Nolan is stuck making a bunch of revelations and cutting among a bunch of
threads so that they can reach their conclusions. On their own, any one of them
could have worked, but in trying to be so epic in scope, the film accomplishes
the plots with most of them not coming off as meaning much. In the end, only
Wayne and Batman's story, though it has its share of rushed moments and implausibility,
resonates. Against all odds its ending provides a lump-in-the-throat moment
amid an otherwise emotionally-distant film.
That's not to say that the film is a complete
loss, by any means. There's quite a bit that's well done, once one looks past
the flaws. The performers, at least those with something to work with (sorry
Ms. Cotillard, Ben Mendelsohn, Matthew Modine...) are all perfectly engaging.
Bale does nice work in his last run as Wayne/Batman, adding an extra amount of
pain and exhaustion where the script fails him. Hardy's Bane is also enjoyable,
and his oddly suave and cheeky tone make him a compelling presence, even though
he lacks the Joker's overt psychotic tendencies. The film's biggest
and best surprise, however, is Hathaway, who manages to make Selina teasingly
sexy without making her ludicrously sexual. Watching her switch her personality
on and off with an effortless snappiness is one of the film's strongest
elements, even though Nolan saddles her with a strange subplot in which she's
looking for a powerful computer program.
On the production front the film is also aces,
with nice cinematography and art direction. The only puzzling exception is that,
for the first time, Gotham actually looks like it's made up of multiple cities
(scenes were shot in New York, Los Angeles, and Pittsburgh), instead of a
cohesive metropolis. Hans Zimmer's kettle drum-heavy score, despite being
repetitive, is used nicely to either enhance the tension and momentum, or add
them when the film can't quite generate them on its own. And, as much as Nolan
is to blame for the film's flaws, he also deserves credit for some of its
successes. As a director, he remains capable of moving an audience through a
dense narrative with surprising ease, despite the problems that pop up along
the way. And, when it comes to pulling out show stopping moments that actually
carry weight, his skills remain firmly intact. A massive attack at a football
stadium is, besides massive in scale, truly stomach-churning, and the
aforementioned finale is nicely handled despite the borderline ridiculous
circumstances.
How it ends, I won't say, but at the very least
Nolan ends with his best foot forward, more or less. The journey can be rough
and overcrowded, but at the very least the ambition deserves some level of
admiration, even when the execution sometimes falls short. Unfortunately, it's
not just a case of expectations. The film is easily the weakest of Nolan's
trilogy, despite some compelling stretches and decent acting. It may improve
with time, once the disappointment has worn off and the flaws accepted, but
it's a shame that such an adult-minded trilogy had to start tripping over
itself as it crossed the finish line. As far as its craftsmanship and ambition,
however, The Dark Knight Rises is still more successful than your average summer
blockbuster. But in trying to cover so many bases instead of just cutting to
the core narrative, this franchise's epic final chapter struggles to stay
afloat. It doesn't sink, but only by a hair's breadth, thanks to its conviction
and the goodwill built up from its two vastly superior predecessors.
Grade: B-
