Oppenheimer (2023)

Last week was the fifteenth anniversary of The Dark Knight. It was a seismic and seminal moment in blockbuster cinema, a sort of coming-of-age for me as a filmgoer and for superhero cinema writ large. It was the movie that made comic book movies a billion-dollar business, and after a decade and a half it hasn’t lost a step. But it also made Christopher Nolan a household name – no mean feat for a director to become ostensibly the auteur star of his own show.
 
Oppenheimer is Nolan’s sixth film since The Dark Knight, which is (for better or worse) the North Star for his entire career. I think you’d be hard-pressed to say that The Dark Knight isn’t still his best film, a perfect diamond absolute of a film, but Oppenheimer is in a way his most ambitious since, precisely because it’s Nolan without his characteristic science-fictional flair, his high concept effects wizardry. It’s still got all his stylistic quirks and puzzle-box structure, but for a director who has been criticized for being impersonal and unemotional, Oppenheimer is a riveting three-hour character study of one of history’s greatest enigmas.
 
Cillian Murphy stars as J. Robert Oppenheimer, the father of American quantum physics and director of the Manhattan Project, which yielded the world’s first atomic bomb at Los Alamos, New Mexico. Nolan’s intricate approach to the biopic catches three distinct moments in Oppenheimer’s life – his path to Los Alamos, his 1954 security clearance investigation, and a 1959 Senate confirmation hearing for Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey, Jr.), an American bureaucrat who frequently butted heads with Oppenheimer.
 
Nolan has cited Oppenheimer as “the most important person who ever lived,” which – coming from one of the most important directors who ever lived – is high praise and certainly fair justification for the man who created Inception to turn his camera toward one particular scientific genius. Nolan has become one of those directors whose decisions (and films) may seem initially inscrutable, but like any good magician (cf. The Prestige) Nolan has a way of hiding his endgame in plain sight, only revealing his purpose at the moment when it best suits him. There are many moments in Oppenheimer that take one’s breath away – the Trinity bomb test certainly is orchestrated that way – but the film’s final exchange of dialogue recontextualizes the film by delivering Nolan’s ultimate thesis.
 
Nolan is both academic and prestidigitarian, technician and artisan, but what’s somewhat surprising about Oppenheimer is the example it sets of Nolan as a friend – of humanity, sure, but of his entire cast of players. Cillian Murphy has been a veteran of Nolan’s company since 2005’s Batman Begins, but his turn as Oppenheimer is a gift any performer would be envious to receive: three hours of, more or less, a one-man show about a living cipher, a man who embodied contradictions and challenged binaries, insisting all the while on neutrality and unreadability. Even his greatest triumph, the creation of the bomb, cannot be rendered in anything but code, as when he tells his wife over the telephone, “Bring the sheets in.”
 
As his wife, one of the two unwieldy women in his life, Emily Blunt is another performer treated by Nolan with kindness and grace. While the film is nominally her husband’s, Kitty Oppenheimer is given her own moments to shine, her own room to be her complicated self, petty yet resilient, sturdy and yet agreeing with her husband that they are “awful selfish people.” Blunt can do plenty with a steely look, particularly in two impactful sequences late in the film, but she can equally channel that quiet nerve into an explosion of emotion. Meanwhile, Florence Pugh is heartbreaking as Oppenheimer’s mistress Jean Tatlock, unable to articulate her own desires or her needs from a man who is himself less than forthcoming. Pugh is arguably one of our preeminent scene stealers; case in point, she was the only ray of sunshine in the paint-by-numbers Black Widow, though her work in fare like Midsommar proves she’s equally gifted as a lead performer.
 
And speaking of Marvel performers, Robert Downey Jr. is already being fitted for a Best Supporting Oscar for his monochromatic antagonist Lewis Strauss. For those of us who are used to Downey as the flawed-yet-saintly Tony Stark, his turn as Strauss is a reminder of how versatile he can be. Strauss is instantly dislikeable, vindictive and self-righteous, and Downey creates an all-time classic screen villain. I can’t recall ever seeing a Downey character as loathsome as this one, but I certainly hope it’s not the last time he plays the heel, because it’s equally apparent that he is having a ball interpreting Strauss’s version of the story.
 
I did not join with so many of my fellow moviegoers in partaking of the “Barbenheimer” double feature. Truth be told, I was enervated after three hours of Oppenheimer. Not that the film was overlong and stupefying – quite the opposite. The cast is chock full of characters, some of whom are played by quite famous faces in surprisingly small roles, but each of them adds something quite special and unique to the stew. (Shout-out to Gary Oldman in one scene as Harry S. Truman.) But in telling a story out of sequence, as Nolan is wont to do, he takes the audience on a scenic tour through one man’s life, which as it turns out might well be the fulcrum point of human history. But Nolan’s method of delivery is not unlike an atomic bomb itself – a bright flash of light, followed by a roaring shockwave of impact. If you let out a breath as the credits rolled, as I did, it would have been one of recognition, of understanding. And before you draw air again, you’ll have to reckon with a sobering proposition that followed Oppenheimer all his life. And that, dear readers, is the most amazing magic trick of all – that Nolan created a biopic with a surprise ending, an interpretive twist that shouldn’t be spoiled.
 

Oppenheimer is rated R for “some sexuality, nudity, and language.” Written and directed by Christopher Nolan. Based on the book American Prometheus by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin. Starring Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr., Florence Pugh, and Kenneth Branagh.

Dunkirk (2017)

For a while there, Dunkirk ruined more than a few movies for me. The trailer for this movie, particularly the seven-minute IMAX preview, is so good that every time I saw it, I thought to myself, “Well, forget this movie. I want to see more of Dunkirk!” Thank heavens it’s finally here, so I can get back to my regularly scheduled programming, and thank heavens it was worth the wait because it shall come as no surprise that this Christopher Nolan disciple found much to love in the master’s latest work.

Dunkirk is the true story of the 1940 evacuation of Dunkirk, France, in the midst of World War II, told across three intersecting narratives – the land evacuation (starring Fionn Whitehead, Harry Styles, and Kenneth Branagh), the civilian boats recruited to aid the effort (starring Mark Rylance and Cillian Murphy), and the air cover provided by British fighter pilots (starring Tom Hardy).

With Interstellar in 2014, Nolan drew more than his fair share of comparisons to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey – including from myself when I said that Interstellar “combin[ed] Kubrick’s science-fictional aesthetics with Nolan’s knack for tight and highly personal storytelling.” Surprisingly, though, Dunkirk also feels a bit like 2001, with its trio of timelines looking at what it means – and takes – to be human in a time of crisis, but Nolan out-Kubricks Kubrick by intermingling the timelines (one week, one day, and one hour) and playing them off against each other in a cerebral way that takes for granted an audience’s ability to keep up. For those of us who didn’t need navigational charts for Inception and Interstellar, Dunkirk is similarly smart, though it is less self-reflexively clever than past Nolan ventures; where Inception had occasional bouts of exposition and Interstellar made the MacGuffin of time travel a function of the plot, Dunkirk proceeds with its narrative play as a matter of course, again cycling back to the classic Nolan theme of the subjective experience of the time and the way we form communities around common goals.

Nolan veterans like Tom Hardy (playing to type as an unintelligible masked man) and Cillian Murphy (playing against type as a shell-shocked soldier) turn up and do the good work we expect of them, while Nolan newcomers like Kenneth Branagh and Mark Rylance – the closest we get to expositional figures – appear as sobering reminders of the moral challenge presented by Dunkirk, gifted actors prepared for the subtle challenges of their sophisticated roles. Dunkirk is largely, however, fleshed out by fresh and nameless faces who don’t have long and recognizable filmic pedigrees like their named counterparts, but there is something even more humanizing about a nameless sea of evacuees, and these actors are remarkable for their abilities, like Keaton or Chaplin, to evoke a range of emotions in largely silent stretches of the film.

In this way, too, Dunkirk evokes 2001 with its extended, silent, balletic scenes of aerial combat, of divebombing and running along the beach. 2001 began and ended sans dialogue, and there are similarly few conversations in Dunkirk, opportunities for Nolan and his performers to show off their command of the visual language of film. And again Dunkirk steps beyond 2001 with a dynamite score by Hans Zimmer; 2001 included the “Blue Danube Waltz” and “Also Sprach Zarathustra” but by and large didn’t carry the auditory weight that Dunkirk does. Like Inception before it, Dunkirk succeeds largely on the shoulders of Zimmer’s score, which is masterfully, unrelentingly, elegiacally tense.

“Unrelenting” is probably the best word for Dunkirk. From its first scene, the film grabs the audience by the shoulders and demands attention until the film is over. There are moments when that ending seems to come sooner than expected – even without noting that the film is, at 1:46, much shorter than most Nolan fare – doubtless mirroring the false hopes given throughout the Dunkirk evacuation, but Nolan’s actual finale grounds the film in a surprising way, a kind of echo of Inception’s last-frame fakeout but with more heart than Nolan is often acknowledged as having. It is an affirmation of Nolan’s continued status as a master filmmaker and – and I do not throw this word around lightly – a true genius.

Dunkirk is rated PG-13 for “intense war experience and some language.” Written and directed by Christopher Nolan. Based on a true story. Starring Fionn Whitehead, Aneurin Barnard, Barry Keoghan, Harry Styles, James D’Arcy, Mark Rylance, Cillian Murphy, Kenneth Branagh, and Tom Hardy.

Interstellar (2014)

It’s been a good month for science – we landed on a comet, Big Hero 6 brought scientific imagination to the Disney crowd, and the Internet was able to withstand the gravitational pull of Kim Kardashian’s bottom.  But leave it to Christopher Nolan to outdo all of the above by treating us to what a true filmmaker can do with his own material and his own vision.

Matthew McConaughey stars as Cooper, a top pilot turned farmer in the midst of a total collapse of the earth’s ecosystem.  Without giving away too much of the plot, Cooper is torn between his loyalty to his daughter Murph (Mackenzie Foy) and the initiative spearheaded by Professor Brand (Michael Caine) and his daughter Amelia (Anne Hathaway), which promises hope for humanity among the stars.

Interstellar is, to be quite blunt about it, Inception meets 2001: A Space Odyssey, combining Kubrick’s science-fictional aesthetics with Nolan’s knack for tight and highly personal storytelling.  Where 2001 lacked humanity amid god-babies and monoliths, and where Inception delved deep into an individual’s dreamspace, Interstellar opens the scope considerably, beyond galaxies, while never forgetting the heart of the story is Cooper’s love for his family.  This, I think, will be the crux of Nolan’s oeuvre – high concept anchored by a deeply personal love story (especially, more recently, the love of a father for his children).

It’s been six years since Christopher Nolan’s last wholly original film – with 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises in between, concluding his take on the mythic DC Comics character – and as much as I loved his Batman films I couldn’t be more excited that Nolan is doing his own work again.  By way of disclaimer, I do feel a bit like a devout churchgoer when I attend a Nolan film, seated quietly as the lights dim and expecting to receive some enlightenment or at least feel the touch of the divine.  Nolan hasn’t disappointed me yet, and I appreciate his emphasis on the cerebral.  Nolan is, for my money, one of only a handful of “directors to watch,” whose output has been consistently strong and who deliver a stable brand of films.

Interstellar is through and through a Christopher Nolan product, which is to say that it continues to develop his major themes, continues to push the envelope in terms of practical effects, and does so in a very smart way that resists the puzzle-box style of Inception while preserving that film’s investment in dense scientific concepts.  That is to say, Interstellar isn’t a rigorous intellectual workout like Inception, but it isn’t any less clever for being more temporally straightforward; Nolan is still interested in the relative experience of time, but it’s grounded more in Einstein than in Freud.  It is the high science-fiction followup to Inception that I wanted from Transcendence, but Wally Pfister – Nolan’s frequent cinematographer – gave us more an impression of than a exercise in Nolan’s brainy auteurism.  Interstellar doesn’t just look like a Nolan film (as Transcendence did); it thinks like one, and it even feels more deeply than Nolan films usually do.

The heart of the film – and indeed, it has one – comes from McConaughey’s love for his daughter, and The New Yorker couldn’t have been more right when they dubbed this stage of his career “The McConaissance.”  There’s a moment in the film where I thought to myself, “This is the same guy from How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?”  I wouldn’t be averse to seeing McConaughey join the troupe of Nolan staples, as Michael Caine has (and, to a lesser extent, Hathaway).  Nobody in the film is bad – Jessica Chastain continues to be reliably compelling in everything from Zero Dark Thirty to Mama, and John Lithgow does crotchety-old-man quite well.  McConaughey, though, is the emotional center of the film, perhaps a step in the evolution of a filmmaker who’s been accused of being a sort of cinematic Tin Man.

Interstellar is Nolan at his biggest and most expansive, his longest film to date but also his most emotional, leading to a few misty-eyed moments.  I don’t think it’s his best – Inception is still a masterpiece, and The Dark Knight is just consummate filmmaking – and it is a little bit long, though I struggle to see what could have been cut from a movie as tightly crafted as this one.  What it undeniably is, though, is another strong creation from a big-budget auteur with an unmistakable vision and a profound understanding of the value of cinematic spectacle.  Your eyes may mist, but they’ll be wide in astonishment.

Interstellar is rated PG-13 for “some intense perilous action and brief strong language.”  Like most Nolan movies, Interstellar is entirely bloodless; there are a few explosions, fistfights, and tidal waves, including one very successful jump moment.  Two F-bombs are heard, and there is a pervading sense of just how dangerous space travel is.

Man of Steel (2013)

Tall order, Zack Snyder:  direct the heck out of a Superman movie so we can move toward a Justice League franchise while we forget entirely about Superman Returns.

Mission accomplished.

After a dynamite Krypton scene introducing the coolest Jor-El (Russell Crowe) this side of Brando, we catch up with Kal-El (Henry Cavill) on a journey of self-discovery – until star reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) finds him first.  But before the man who will become Superman can reveal himself to the world, the mad General Zod (Michael Shannon) arrives and demands to reclaim Kal-El and the Kryptonian race.

I always feel a bit starstruck writing these reviews for movies I went into expecting to like.  It’s a Superman movie godfathered by Christopher Nolan:  I’m admittedly biased here.  So if you like, take a grain of salt to go with this review.  But while I’m less agog than I was at The Dark Knight or its Rises successor, I’m prepared to say I liked Man of Steel better than Batman Begins, a “first film” with which it shares many similarities.

The first of these is the film’s smart emphasis on the man before the Superman.  As with Bruce Wayne in Begins, we care about Kal-El as a character caught between two worlds without feeling at home in either.  And it’s on Cavill’s able shoulders that the film rests; tasked with playing Kal-El (not heroic Superman, not geeky performance Clark Kent), Cavill gives us a compelling and engaging protagonist who we actually appreciate for his complexity.  Watch the moment when Kal confronts a belligerent trucker; the simmer is there, and the punchline reaction is pitch perfect.

The rest of the cast is stellar, too – no complaints about Adams or Shannon, who both turn in reliably solid work; Adams is spunky and darling as Lois Lane, and no one does crazy-angry like Michael Shannon, whose Zod is a megalomaniacal ball of fury who never descends into caricature.  The real surprises, though, are the gripping performances of Russell Crowe and Kevin Costner as Kal’s two fathers; Crowe makes Jor-El interesting beyond Brando’s stuffed shirt (seriously, can we get a Jor-El prequel?), and Costner is moving to the point of misty eyes as the weathered all-American Pa Kent.  Better still, we can see how these two parents informed the man Kal becomes, partly through the flashback structure of the film (again, Batman Begins) and also through Cavill’s interactions with them.  (As Ma Kent, Diane Lane gets just enough screentime, though one suspects she’ll have a larger role in the sequel.)

Finally, major major kudos go to Hans Zimmer, the stalwart composer of some of the best blockbusters of the past decade.  Zimmer manages to sidestep the issue of the iconic John Williams score by giving us a rousing and optimistic theme that soars with the protagonist, booms with Zod’s invasion, and actually – unlike his early Batman stuff – gets stuck in your head.  Equal parts Batman, Pirates, and Inception, Zimmer’s Man of Steel score sets the stage for what ought to be a stellar Justice League jam.

And yes, the build-up toward Justice League is acutely felt, even though the stage is entirely Superman’s (eyes open for nods to Wayne Enterprises and Lexcorp).  What we’ve got in the meantime is a thoroughly engaging cross between the fanboy fidelity of Zack Snyder (see Watchmen, slavishly so) and the relentless realism of Christopher Nolan.  The film does, as Eddie Izzard would say, do a bit of “pissing about with the myth” (too many people might know Superman’s secret identity, and Superman makes a controversial climactic decision which I suspect sets up a sequel), but this original take on the classic character ought to leave plenty of fans satisfied.  And from the box office receipts, mainstream moviegoers are pretty pleased, too.

Heck, Man of Steel doesn’t say it in the title, but it’s super.

Man of Steel is rated PG-13 for “intense sequences of sci-fi violence, action and destruction, and for some language.”  Some of the action/fight scenes are relentless, lasting dozens of minutes at a time.  They’re almost entirely bloodless (Kryptonians apparently don’t bleed), though some have been distressed by the apparent 9/11 allegory at work.  Lois Lane has a few mildly salty lines, but they’re more endearing than offensive.

Top 10 Comic Book Movie Moments - #2-1!

And now for the stunning conclusion of this week’s Top 10:  “The Top 10 Greatest Comic Book Movie Moments.”  A few words of definition:  First, this is not a list of the Top 10 Greatest Comic Book Movies, so you may find your favorites wholly unrepresented on this list.  Instead, what I’m cataloging this week are the scenes that encapsulate what a comic book movie ought to be.  These scenes can fall under one (or more) of three categories:  scenes that translate the experience of reading a comic, scenes that adapt the source material in a brilliantly original way, or scenes that use the language of film to do something that comics can’t (or simply haven’t) done.  Finally, the list is subjective; if I only chose iconic moments, the list would seem predictable, but in sharing my opinions I hope to spark a bit of debate. 

#2 – The bank robbery (The Dark Knight (2008))
I struggled over whether this was Moment #2 or #3, but I settled on #2 simply because it’s longer than the first few minutes of Iron Man and perhaps more artfully and deliberately crafted.  Here’s another example of an impossible choice of moments:  how do you pick the best scene in The Dark Knight, which I would say is the greatest comic book movie of all time?  There’s so much that the film does right that it’s a disservice to select just one among the many – the interrogation scene, the confrontation with Two-Face, Lucius’s subtle “Good luck.”  But one standout in the film is Heath Ledger’s iconic Joker, and his introduction into the world of the film is nothing short of cinematic perfection.  This audacious bank robbery is meticulously planned by The Joker – and filmed by Christopher Nolan – demonstrating the mad genius of both.  It also lets us know that this might not be Batman’s movie, after all; indeed, following this heist all we wanted was more Joker.

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#1 – Bruce Wayne rises (The Dark Knight Rises (2012))
Will this list look different in five years, after the hype dies down?  Possibly.  But for now, Bruce Wayne’s escape from Bane’s prison is the greatest comic book movie moment because it does precisely what comic book movies are supposed to do:  combining the possibilities of film with the iconography and mythology of comics to entertain, to move, to rouse, to inspire.  I’ve written at length about the majesty of this moment, but as the greatest comic book movie moment of all time Bruce’s escape brings our hero back from the death of his soul.  Broken, at rock bottom, equal parts angry and afraid, Bruce realizes that his survival depends on his inner strength and a penultimate confrontation with his demons before facing Bane for the last time.  As Hans Zimmer’s score rises, Bruce climbs with it, ready to make a leap of faith.  Surrounded by a cloud of bats – his chosen avatar – Bruce leaps – and lives, and the Dark Knight rises.


(Since the film is still in theaters, we'll have to content ourselves with the thrilling Zimmer score. Imagine the fire.)

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Honorable Mentions
These were moments that made my list but didn’t crack the Top 10, comic book movie moments that would probably comprise #11-15 on this list, presented here without comment and in chronological order.

• “Care to step outside?” (Superman II (1980))
• The Joker as “Partyman” (Batman (1989)) 
•  The kiss (Spider-Man (2002))
•  Hartigan’s suicide (Sin City (2005)) 
•  Hit-Girl’s final battle (Kick-Ass (2010))

The Dark Knight Rises - EPIC Review

Enough time has passed, I believe, that a more extensive and more specific look may be taken at Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises.  In the tradition of 2008’s “Epic Review” of The Dark Knight, I’ll be discussing more in depth what I enjoyed about the film, which will inevitably entail spoilers of both general plotlines and specific dialogue which I’ll invoke.  The goal is, I hope, to provide a more detailed assessment of the film beyond my earlier review which gushed over the technical aspects of the film but could only allude to the story and its effect on me.  For safety’s sake, the bulk of the review can be found after the jump; those reading this review from anywhere other than the front page will be advised that spoilers begin below the first image in this review.

I cannot stress this enough:  if you have not seen The Dark Knight Rises yet, do not read any further.  The success of the film depends wholly on allowing it to develop at its own pace; any spoilers therein would detract from the overall experience.

Heroes, Hope, and The Dark Knight Rises

I had fully intended yesterday’s spoiler-free review of The Dark Knight Rises to be the final entry in my unofficial “Nolan Week,” but the recent events in Colorado – and the subsequent media coverage of the tragedy – have made it clear that the discussion of the film and its importance to American culture is far from over.

I am not writing a news piece; I was not there.  I am not writing a vitriolic condemnation; it is superfluous.  I am not purporting to know the truth; likely, sadly, it cannot be known.  But what is known is this:  without trivializing the events in Aurora, filmgoers were attacked by a man who represents everything that The Dark Knight Rises asks us to reject – tyranny, terrorism, and hopelessness.

I wish to be empirically clear.  I do not wish to claim that Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy is a tool to combat such evil (I will not name him – his alleged alias, “The Joker,” tells us all we need to know about this madman).  Rather, these events illustrate in a very tangible and tragic way the precise “point” of the trilogy, which the media in its bloodlust has steadfastly refused to acknowledge.  Again, I do not wish to belittle by this comparison; rather, I want to explore the ways in which media coverage of the events in Aurora entirely overlook the reality of this devastating moment.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012) -- Spoiler Free

I mused yesterday about whether or not Christopher Nolan could create a successful and fully realized trilogy – something no superhero director, for one reason or another, has been able to do.  After attending a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises, the verdict is in.

He has.

In many ways, I would have been able to write the bulk of this review without ever having seen the film.  I was expecting to gush.  I was anticipating that feeling of being blown away.  I had few (if any) doubts in the back of my mind.  And ordinarily a film which fulfills expectations might ultimately be a disappointment.  But when expectations are this high, merely meeting them is worth the price of admission.

And The Dark Knight Rises, impossible as it may seem, even exceeds expectations.  One might even say it “rises” to the challenge.

I’ll forego the usual plot summary in deference to the cloud of secrecy and spoiler embargoes necessitated by our digital age (even our late night talk shows were thought to be dangerous).  Suffice it to say that The Dark Knight Rises joins Gotham eight years after the death of Harvey Dent, eight years after Batman entered a self-imposed exile, and just as new foes are rising to threaten the very foundations of Gotham City and its new era of peace.

Of the performances, I can only quote the words of Stan Lee – “Excelsior!”  Bale bears the bulk of the film – no surprise here, since he’s playing the eponymous Knight; as has been the case with the past two films in “The Dark Knight Trilogy,” the focus is as much (if not more so) on Bruce Wayne as on Batman.  His character evolves without ever feeling forced to do so, his quest both understandable and relatable, and his return to the Batsuit a welcome and applause-worthy moment.

Bale’s backed by a cast that doesn’t disappoint.  The old favorites – Michael Caine as Alfred, Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox, and Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon – continue to turn in solid performances.  Bonus credit to Caine, who manages to do create (particularly in two specific scenes) a real and accessible version of the trusty butler that hasn’t been reached in the character’s seventy-year history.  More than just the snarky chauffeur or stolid voice of reason, Caine’s Alfred is a friend first, as much a father as Thomas Wayne was, and we feel his agony when he sees what Bruce has allowed himself to become.

As for the new faces, they’re welcome additions to the cast.  I see now why we needed so many new faces, and I’m glad especially that Joseph Gordon-Levitt was among them.  His John Blake is easily the most interesting new protagonist (more on the villains later), embodying many of the film’s – and trilogy’s – main themes without ever feeling shoehorned into an already full film.  I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again:  JGL is bound for stardom (if he’s not there already), and The Dark Knight Rises is another fantastic line on the résumé.

But after Heath Ledger’s unforgettable turn as The Joker, can the film’s villains surpass the decade’s most iconic force of evil?  Honestly, probably not, but Tom Hardy’s Bane and Anne Hathaway’s Selina Kyle (note that the name “Catwoman” is surprisingly never invoked) aren’t trying to outdo their predecessor.  Rather, they create entirely new – and gratefully fresh – versions of significant members of the Batman mythos.  More surprising than Hardy’s Bane is what Anne Hathaway manages to do with Selina; it’s a performance I didn’t quite know she had in her, managing to distinguish herself from the Catwomen before her with breathy intonations and evident internal conflict.  Bane, however, is head-to-toe conviction; though he’s given the unenviable task of emoting with much of his face obscured, Hardy manages to convey through his body language the smug self-satisfaction and confident physical dexterity for which his character is known.  (A fuller take on his voice remains to be seen; though it has been lampooned ad infinitum, I suspect my theater’s audio system wasn’t equipped for the booming bass of the film, and so I’ll have more thoughts on that later.)

But what’s most remarkable about The Dark Knight Rises is not the able work delivered by qualified thespians.  The greatest compliment I can pay the film is to repeat what I’ve already said time and time again – Christopher Nolan is a master storyteller who wastes not a frame of film in delivering his definitive statement on the character and what he means.  As before, The Dark Knight Rises is filled with moments that tie together and layer new meaning on important scenes; conversely, perhaps the worst thing I can say about the film is that it doesn’t stand on its own as well as The Dark Knight did.  Indeed, The Dark Knight Rises is very closely related to Batman Begins, revisiting moments and referencing plot beats in a way that echoes without plagiarizing.  But as the final installment in the trilogy (and not just a sequel, as The Dark Knight was initially envisioned), Nolan rewards his viewers just as Lucius Fox was rewarded in The Dark Knight for his faith in Batman’s mission.

If Batman Begins could be distilled to a meditation on overcoming fear, and if The Dark Knight can be said to be a film about defeating the forces of chaos and conquering fear which has escalated into weaponized terror, The Dark Knight Rises is about precisely that – about rising, about overcoming once more.  But here Nolan makes explicit what’s been suggested all along:  the greatest heroism in the world is born through hope, both the hope that an individual can make a difference and that that difference will be a positive one.  And though I’m much more attached to films which engage me on a cerebral level – which this film does, unequivocally – The Dark Knight Rises also makes me feel, deep inside of me, that there is always hope.  It’s a film that made me shed a few tears for a variety of reasons – finality, sorrow, ecstasy, unrestrained jubilation – and it’s a credit to Christopher Nolan that I do not begrudge him a single salty drop.  He has earned it.

The Dark Knight Rises is rated PG-13 “for intense sequences of violence and action, some sensuality and language.”  Violence and all-out action sequences are prevalent as before but are almost entirely bloodless, though Bane’s methods and physicality are more brutal than we’ve seen in the trilogy thus far.  There is one clearly implied sexual encounter, with no more than bare shoulders, while another character is implied to be a prostitute; Selina is extremely sultry and uses that to her advantage, without transgressing beyond an astonishingly tight suit.  Language is mostly tame and is probably PG-quality taken on its own.

Rest assured, loyal readers, I haven’t said my last words on The Dark Knight Rises.  I saw The Dark Knight eight times in theaters, and I am certain repeat viewings of this film will come in the days to follow.  And once the statute of limitations on spoilers has been lifted, I’ll give more in-depth comments on specific moments in the film and the thematic importance of the trilogy as a whole.  Stay tuned, loyal readers – we return on Monday with our regularly-scheduled “Monday at the Movies” post!

Top Ten Reasons I'm Excited for "The Dark Knight Rises"

Back in 2008, on the eve of The Dark Knight, I posted a "Top Ten Fears about The Dark Knight," a tongue-in-cheek listing of absurd fears about the upcoming film.  A lot's changed in four years, and I'm a much more optimistic person than I was then.

And so, twelve hours before I'll be in line for The Dark Knight Rises, and in recognition of the fact that I've become a kinder, gentler Cinema King, here's a more optimistic - and more extensive - Top Ten List, this time about the reasons I'm excited for The Dark Knight Rises.

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part Three

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the final part of our Armrest Review of The Dark Knight, the middle entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part Two

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the second part of our Armrest Review of The Dark Knight, the middle entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.  

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part One

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

I’m joined again by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side once more.  For today’s Armrest Review, we’ll be watching The Dark Knight, the middle – and perhaps greatest – installment in The Dark Knight Trilogy.

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part Three

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the final part of our Armrest Review of Batman Begins, the first entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.  

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part Two

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the second part of our Armrest Review of Batman Begins, the first entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part One

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the debut of this series.  For today’s Armrest Review, we’ll be watching Christopher Nolan’s 2005 Batman Begins, the first installment in The Dark Knight Trilogy.

Cinema King:  As the opening titles come on – no credits here, no time to waste before the movie begins – a big welcome to The Popcorn Prince.  Prince, glad to have you.

Popcorn Prince:  Thanks, King.  Truly an honor to help debut a new series.  I’ve only seen this movie a few times, so it’s good to go back right before the new movie comes out.

Monday at the Movies - July 16, 2012

Welcome to Week Twenty-Six of “Monday at the Movies.” With The Dark Knight Rises only five days away, we’re kicking off a week of exciting content focused around Christopher Nolan, the man behind this generation’s definitive interpretation of the Batman mythos.  Throughout the week we’ll be looking at the trilogy, but today let’s take a few minutes to revisit the body of work which preceded “The Dark Knight Trilogy.”

On the docket for this installment of “Monday at the Movies,” we have reviews of the three Christopher Nolan films not yet covered on this site; we also have links to coverage of films we’ve already reviewed so you can see our assessment of each film in context.  Happy reading!

 Following (1998) – I was in disbelief that I’d never seen Christopher Nolan’s first film, recognizing that it was high time I patch that hole in my cinematic CV.  Following introduces many of the classic Nolan characteristics – nonlinear smart writing which plays with the audience’s expectation and understanding, obsessed characters who dress stylishly, moral ambiguity – and uses them without the disappointing incapacity of an underdeveloped filmmaker.  Bill (Jeremy Theobald) is an aspiring writer who begins following pedestrians for inspiration, but the game is turned when he follows Cobb (Alex Haw, of no relation to Dom Cobb from Inception), a burglar who enlists Bill’s help in a few break-ins.  In classic Nolan fashion, the film functions much like a puzzle box, with at least three distinct timeframes narrated simultaneously and disorienting the viewer.  The film begins somewhat slowly, with Theobald’s narration a bit less than inspiring (though still leagues better than Kevin Costner’s in Dances with Wolves), but once Cobb enters the picture things become vastly more interesting, in part because Haw is both charismatic and enigmatic and because many of the twists in Nolan’s screenplay revolve around Cobb’s real motivations.  The film is, unfortunately, very short (69 minutes, including credits), and I can’t help feeling that the film would have been stronger with 20 more minutes; while the structure is similar to that of Memento, the final twist ending has none of the weight of Memento’s, mostly because the film answers all our questions.  The ending may be neater than we’ve come to expect, but Following is one of the strongest first films I’ve ever seen, sharp and slender.

Memento (2000)
 
Insomnia (2002) – Christopher Nolan’s only remake and only directorial outing for which he didn’t also write the screenplay, Insomnia is also the least Nolan-esque Nolan film, but if it’s the least successful film on today’s list it’s still far and away better than a lot of what Hollywood has to offer.  But let’s be clear – Insomnia is not a bad movie; it’s a taut psychological thriller grounded in strong performances.  But I’m having trouble seeing it as a Christopher Nolan film.  There are no Nolan regulars here – Al Pacino stars as Detective Will Dormer, a homicide expert investigating an Alaskan murder with the help of Hilary Swank, while the killer (Robin Williams in classic creepy form) taunts him from afar.  The film, like every Nolan film, is about obsession, both the killer’s obsession with his victim and Dormer’s obsession with closing the case; the Alaskan setting, however, becomes the focus of the film as it begins to weigh on Dormer’s psyche, impairing his ability to sleep and ultimately function as a human being.  Rather than utilize a structure which forces the audience into a character’s shoes, Insomnia opts to represent as starkly as possible Dormer’s deteriorating consciousness; it’s a fine distinction, to be sure, but it proves how deft a filmmaker Nolan really is.  It’s comparably easier to confuse an audience while a character is confused, but it’s a bit more difficult to craft a film in such a way that we feel Dormer’s insomnia without staying up for five nights in a row.  And Nolan does what few have been able to do in the last decade – elicit a solid performance from Pacino.

Batman Begins (2005)

The Prestige (2006) – Before Inception, this was the film that made me think the hardest, and it’s guaranteed to leave you scratching your noodle.  Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale play rival magicians bound up in a cycle of revenge and one-upsmanship with the women in their lives (Piper Perabo, Rebecca Hall, and Scarlett Johansson) and their mutual assistant (the ever-avuncular Michael Caine) caught in the middle.  With The Prestige, Nolan returns to interwoven chronologies in a story that warns you in advance to be on guard for a twist – “the prestige,” the moment in a magic act when the magician performs the unexpected.  But what the film doesn’t tell you (and it won’t be spoiling anything to do so) is that there are multiple prestiges in the film, at least one for each of the three acts of the film with several right at the end.  It’s ingenious storytelling, regardless of what you think of the story itself; while some complained that the twists were “unfair” or “unintelligible,” Nolan continually reinvents the film to prevent us the filmgoers from ever getting too far ahead of the protagonists.  In this way, Nolan proves himself a master of “movie magic” (whatever that is), expertly controlling what we see and don’t see, leaving us to puzzle out not “who” and “why” like most thrillers but instead forcing us to wonder “how” – how the magician does his trick, how the story will end, and how two hours can whiz by so quickly.

The Dark Knight (2008)

Inception (2010)

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week for more brief reviews, but don’t forget to stick around for tomorrow’s debut installment of an exciting new series – “Armrest Reviews” – in which we’ll reassess Batman Begins on the eve of the trilogy’s final installment.  Stay tuned!

Memento (2000)

Memento was Christopher Nolan's first big picture (a smaller film called Following preceded it), but it's indicative of the caliber of filmmaker Nolan is that Memento displays none of the unpolished nascence that many "early films" possess. Instead, it's a smart film, engaging in many of the same ways that Nolan's other films are.

The protagonist of Memento is Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce), a former insurance salesman who, following the murder of his wife, is no longer able to form new memories; since he has only a weak short-term memory, Leonard must write down or photograph anything he needs to remember. Leonard is aided by Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss, in her pre-Matrix days), who has also lost someone, and Teddy (Joe Pantoliano), a cop who apparently was one of Leonard's wife's attackers. Take note - that's not a spoiler. The entire film is told backwards, with Leonard killing Teddy at the beginning of the film. Consequently, the film unwinds in reverse, putting the audience in Leonard's shoes as we try to connect scenes and uncover motivations.

The hallmark of any Christopher Nolan movie is its intellect, and Memento is as sharp as anything else Nolan's done thus far - perhaps even smarter than its successors (though Inception is pretty darned brainy). What's particularly brilliant about Memento is the way that it creates and sustains audience interest by forcing us to feel the psychological plight of Leonard; just as he cannot remember where he has been, so too are we left in the dark, fumbling for answers about backstory. When Leonard asks himself (as he does repeatedly), "Where am I?" the audience is asking right along. But the added level of ingenuity comes from the fact that the film doesn't simply feel like it was written forward and then put backward; the screenplay instead makes perfect sense in its own nonlinear format, spiraling backward to answer one mystery while asking yet another. It's like Lost at its most addictive, with a plot twist every five minutes - only here, the mysteries matter, and most of them are answered at the ending.

No, Memento doesn't tie everything in a neat little bow; like a crazy straw, it forces the viewer to work hard and only then follow the path that the film has taken. If you're coming to a Christopher Nolan movie without moral noir in your bloodstream, you're in the wrong theater. Memento, like everything else Nolan has done, is marked by brutally murky shades of moral ambiguity, especially once the film reveals who's lying to whom (hint: the lies we tell ourselves, the film suggests, may be the deadliest of all). Consequently, the film hits what might be a slip-up for some; Memento appears on first glance (and even on second) to fail to explain the significance of the story of Sammy Jankis, here heartbreakingly played by the criminally underrated Cinema King-favorite Stephen Tobolowsky. Sammy Jankis suffers from the same disorder Leonard does, and Leonard tells the story of Sammy Jankis throughout the film; he even has "Remember Sammy Jankis" tattooed on his hand. But remember him why? The lies told by characters throughout the film call into question the integrity of the Sammy Jankis narrative, to the point where you'll ask the question that almost every Nolan film inevitably invites - is any of this even real? If the ambiguity weren't intentional, I'd be complaining, but I think I've got it cracked, anyway. (Hint: it's all about lying.)

But there are other things going on in the film other than cerebral interrogations of morality and the art of knowing things. There are some very good performances, chief among them Pearce's; though Pearce has been a favorite of mine since his turn as the villainous Mondego in 2002's The Count of Monte Cristo, Memento is probably his strongest role, equal parts mysterious and mystified and perfectly plausible as a man with all the answers but who has forgotten where he has put them. Moss is solid and a little shady as Natalie, making me mourn the fact that The Matrix series seems to have put an otherwise promising career on hold, and as Teddy "Joey Pants" reminds me how delightfully seedy he always is (particularly in his top role, as the scummy Ralphie on The Sopranos). And I've already praised Tobolowsky, with whom readers should know I'm cinematically in love.

Memento is certainly not for everyone. It's intelligent unlike a lot of what Hollywood's churning out, but its downer note on the human condition's tragic attraction to self-destructive moral uncertainty. But for anyone acquainting themselves with Nolan's oeuvre, Memento is a fine place to continue your sojourn. Just try to keep up.

Memento is rated R "for violence, language and some drug content." The violence gets a little on the bloody side in a few fight scenes, and the film isn't shy about F-bombs (about 75). There's some brief discussion about rape, an implied romantic interlude, and fleeting rear nudity during a fight scene that seems like a precursor to Eastern Promises.

Inception (2010)

Before I launch into my review of Inception, let me just say that this is a fantastic film, downright dynamite and an absolute must-see. I'm just giddy about it. And now, the review proper:

Christopher Nolan's Inception is one of the most anticipated movies to hit Hollywood in a long time - probably the first of that anticipatory magnitude since Nolan's last and perhaps greatest venture, 2008's The Dark Knight - for a few very good reasons. First, it's Christopher Nolan's next film, and everyone's dying to see if he can continue his winning streak after making a comic book movie that's in the runnings for "instant classic." Secondly, Inception's marketing campaign is tantalizingly vague, unrevealing in an expertly intriguing way. Finally and most significantly, it's one of the only movies this year to be wholly and unequivocally original; it's not a sequel, a prequel, a remake, a reboot, an adaptation, a rip-off, or a retread. Inception is wildly imaginative, delectably innovative, and enthusiastically entertaining - unquestionably one of the best films of the year and a strong contender for the year's top honor.

Those in the know (namely, those who have seen it) are extremely reticent to talk about Inception on a plot level, desperately afraid that the uninitiated will have the movie spoiled for them. But what's delightful about Inception is that it's practically unspoilable; the major joys of the film come not from what happens, but how and why it happens. Still, if the following plot summary is in any way lacking, it's because I'm holding back; after all, being there is half the fun.

Inception introduces us to a radical new world, one in which dreams can be invaded, manipulated, and harvested. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Cobb, a self-styled "extractor" who specializes in entering dreams and stealing important information from his marks - extraction. Already on the run from the law after mysteriously parting ways with his wife Mal (Marion Cotillard) who regularly appears in his dreams, Cobb is offered a chance to return home by pulling off a heretofore unheard of and presumably impossible task - inception, planting an idea rather than stealing one. And so, assuming inception can be done, Cobb assembles a team (which includes Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Ellen Page as researcher and dream architect, respectively) and sets to work.

Essentially, Inception is a heist film turned on its head; it's a heist film in which the object is to plant, not to steal, but thatn's not where the similarities end. Here we have the protagonist with a dark past, the characteristically complex team of misfits, the young novice (Page, who respectfully restrains her trademark snarkiness in deference to the film's concentration on verisimilitude), the mark (Cillian Murphy as a coolly cold corporate heir apparent), the shady yet wealthy backer (Nolan standard Ken "Fake Ra's" Watanabe, who adeptly handles the shift from suspicious to endearing), and the twist-upon-twist format that Nolan employed to widespread approval in his fabulous magician's duel The Prestige. Inception warrants comparison to The Prestige because both films relied upon warning the audience they were about to be tricked, but Inception takes it one step further by letting the audience in on the game; we're not on the sidelines but rather in the field with the team, figuring it out as we go along rather than letting our protagonists do it for us.

If I had to review Inception in only two words, I'd choose the phrase "mental calisthenics" because I can't remember the last time a movie made me keep my mind so concentrated to the point where I actually felt tired at the end of it all. Never mind those who say that the movie is "confusing" because what it actually is is engaging; Inception spells itself out for you, but it's up to you to follow along. The concept of "inception" is explained once and only once, so pay attention; this is a thoughtful movie but it's also a high-octane adventure picture with no time to backtrack or recap. Like the train that features into the film's climax, the course of Inception runs fast and unrelentingly forward.

There really aren't enough positive things I could say about Inception. It's a downright brilliant film, anchored by sharp and solid performances from all around. TheWrap.com recently argued that the coming generation doesn't have an A-list in the bunch, but DiCaprio and JGL are obvious contenders for the next breed of A-listers. Riffing on his role in Shutter Island, in which he also had difficulties separating reality from imagined delusion, DiCaprio takes center stage here and holds the audience's attention, proving that he's at his best when he's playing a character with a few cards hidden - both from his fellow characters and from the audience. JGL is much more straightforward, doing a great job as a serious actor after proving he's got solid comedic chops in (500) Days of Summer. And working with very little character description, Cotillard is a vision (often literally) as Mal, maintaining a perfect balance between the mystery surrounding her character and the sense of importance underlying her many appearances. I've already spoken well of Page, Murphy, and Watanabe, but let's not overlook a small but vital role from Michael Caine as Cobb's mentor and tether to the world Cobb has had to leave behind.

The script is smart, the performances sterling, but the visuals are downright eye-popping. Nolan boasted of filming in six different countries (up from three in The Dark Knight), and it shows - scenery is strikingly gorgeous, ranging from Tokyo bullet-trains to the nighttime cityscape of Paris to the snowy mountains of... well, someone's dream. The standout visual piece, though, is a hotel in which conventional rules of gravity no longer apply (to explain why would be to betray one of the film's better surprises); while the scene has Kubrickian undertones with a rotating corridor straight out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Nolan ups the ante by staging a fight scene in zero gravity - and it's one of the most breathtaking fights in recent cinematic history, outdoing the "bullet time" of The Matrix and the quick-cut style of the Bourne trilogy. Nolan's style is one that continually leaves his audience breathless because Inception insists on outdoing itself - visually and creatively.

If you haven't already figured it out, I'm nothing short of gaga about Inception. Before this review turns into abject gushing, let me close by noting once more that Inception is undebatably a top movie of 2010, a must-see for a myriad of reasons, and a sheer delight to behold. As if I weren't already stoked about Nolan's third Batman movie.

Inception is rated PG-13 "for sequences of violence and action throughout." Overall, it's pretty tame, with more emphasis on thrills than gore, although blood appears sporadically but never explicitly.

Call Me, Christopher Nolan - We'll Chat

Other than turning over the reins of the highly successful Batman franchise to the guy who does these Lego trailers (he's called Keshen8 over on YouTube), there's a lot of ways to do another Batman film that could possibly live up to the mantle of The Dark Knight. Since there are literally scads of ideas floating around on the Internet - and since I'm one of the most devout disciples of the Caped Crusader in my circle of amigos - I thought I'd chip in my two cents. Call me, Christopher Nolan; we'll chat.

Shadow of the Bat

The third film would focus on the theme of loneliness. Here we'd take inspiration from Loeb's Dark Victory (as beautifully illustrated by Tim Sale) and from his Hush storyline (with Jim Lee's astounding artwork). The film would explore how Batman and Commissioner Gordon have become lonely without being able to depend on each other. Introduce a slimy deputy of the mayor who's on hand at the MCU to ensure that Gordon doesn't collaborate with Batman. Gordon's loneliness at work is compounded when his wife leaves him (something that happens in the comics), so we may even want to make this mayoral spy Sarah Essen, Gordon's eventual second wife.

The film's major contribution to the franchise would be the introduction of Robin, who needn't be as young as Loeb/Sale depict him but who would be ideally suited to represent and eventually cure Batman's loneliness. Dark Victory proved, despite Nolan's repeated avowals that Robin has no place in his franchise, that The Boy Wonder can and does work with a dark detective like Batman. We'd stick to Robin's main origin as Dick Grayson, with the acrobats but remove the Schumacher influence of placing Two-Face at the crime. Make it a last grab from the mob and Boss Zucco to keep Gotham before the freaks take over.

Enter the freaks - Catwoman and The Mad Hatter. We'll use Catwoman as Hush depicted her - a sensual love interest for Batman, who he mulls trusting since she's an anti-hero more than an outright villain. In Hush, Bruce even reveals his identity to Catwoman, but we don't need to go that far. The point of Catwoman being in the film would be to show that Batman needs someone he can trust - beyond just Alfred and Lucius, who have to be in the movie because I love Michael Caine & Morgan Freeman.

With The Mad Hatter, we'll depict him as a societal loner, a pedophile with an Alice complex who is the dark mirror of Batman's loneliness, muttering lines from the Lewis Carroll works (he thinks, for example, that Batman is the Jabberwock). At some point, The Mad Hatter kidnaps Gordon's daughter - or maybe the mayor's - thinking she's Alice, and the good guys have to turn to Batman, knowing that he's the hero they deserve. Using the child's mind that Robin has, Batman tracks The Mad Hatter down and apprehends him, reconciling himself with the city.

At the end of the film, a la the ending of Hush, Catwoman says something that happens to be a line from Alice - "Oh my claws and whiskers!" Batman, unsure that he can trust her, pushes her away, leaving her free to be a villain or ambiguous love interest in a future film. Robin joins Batman's team, and the Dynamic Duo is born.

Untitled Fourth Batman Project

I haven't come up with a name for my proposed fourth Batman film, mostly because The Dynamic Duo is too cartoonish, but I kind of like Streets of Gotham even though it suggests this is more about cops than the caped crusaders.

All I have on this one right now is Brittany Murphy for Harley Quinn. If she frees her Mistah J, he can don the Red Hood outfit and fall into a vat of acid, emerging as a different actor (Daniel Day-Lewis can be a renegade psycho). I'd love to see Johnny Depp as The Riddler, especially if he takes a cue from his Hush incarnation. The Riddler could kill Mr. Reese, because Batman's identity is a great riddle and only The Riddler deserves to know the answer - on his own. Or, we could utilize Paul Dini's characterization of The Riddler as a pop private investigator. Throw in Philip Seymour Hoffman as The Penguin - he must own a nightclub and not actually be a penguin like Danny DeVito's interpretation - and/or Ben Kingsley as Mr. Freeze.

Call me, Christopher Nolan; we'll chat.

The Dark Knight (2008) - EPIC Review

I suppose that by way of apology I should explain pour quoi this review was so long in coming. I know that after my first viewing - which was (be jealous) truly an IMAX experience - I was so overwhelmed that not only could I not speak for five minutes on the car ride home but I also knew on some level that any initial reaction to this movie would have been no more than one could get from a teenybopper seeing The Jonas Brothers for the first time.

So I had to see it again. Within 24 hours. And then again. And again. And guess what? I'm going back. Because it's the movie we need and the movie we deserve. <-- That's a reference to the movie. If you haven't seen it, it might not be a good idea to read this review since I'll both be liberal in referencing dialogue and discussing plot points (although I won't be revealing any on the scale of "Rosebud is the sled" I will be exploring issues with which even casual Batman fans should be familiar), and I'll be featuring a proliferation of images that (again) won't give too much away but might be better left unseen by the uninitiated. Just go and see the movie, then check back with me, since you'll get more out of this review. Back? Where do we begin? Three years ago a little director called Christopher Nolan made a little movie called Batman Begins which, if we're being honest, made only comparatively little splashes at the box office. But then again, it's not about the money. It's about sending a message. And the message was that comic book movies could be serious works of cinematic literacy without compromising the source material.

The Dark Knight is no exception to this rule and unquestionably is the golden standard by which all other comic book movies - and indeed perhaps all other movies, period - will be weighed. (I can feel nothing but pity for future directors of comic book movies who are destined to fall short of this cinematic perfection.) Picking up where the first movie left off, The Dark Knight finds its eponymous hero (Christian Bale, back in the role for which he was born) facing escalation in the form of amped up enemies and do-gooder Bat-doppelgangers -- and a new nemesis, the self-professed "agent of chaos" known only as The Joker (the divine Heath Ledger, who's receiving all the accolades he deserves for this, his final and most magnificent role). All the old cast are back for this one, save Katie Holmes who's replaced by the less irritating Maggie Gyllenhaal. And we have a few new faces, too - of course, Ledger as the "dog chasing cars" man supposedly without a plan, Eric Roberts as mobster Sal Maroni, and Aaron Eckhart as Gotham's white knight Harvey Dent, the straitlaced D.A. with a touch of destiny about him.
Why so serious? For some comic relief, we have (Sir) Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman back as butler Alfred and CEO Lucius, respectively, but a great deal of the laughs - uncomfortable ones though they may be - come from Ledger's Joker, upon whom I cannot heap enough praise without sounding like either a sheep critic who feels obliged to respect the actor in light of his ultra-untimely passing or a giggly fanboy (the latter of which is probably closer to the truth) marveling at this, the truest interpretation of Batman's greatest nemesis. Though his first scene on-screen - a heist brilliantly planned by The Joker - won't get a lot of chuckles, his second appearance most certainly will. The Joker holds the mob financially hostage, unveils his master plan for correcting Gotham, and executes - and I do mean executes - the strangest, most audacious magic trick since Nolan's 2006 magical mystery tour The Prestige. Should we laugh at something like that? It's difficult not to. He does that, makes us question our ethics and morals for laughing at the more gruesome moments of life. It makes one think, that's all.

Making us think is one of Nolan's specialties here. This is so much more than just a seminal entry in the world of comic book adaptations - which, make no mistake, it is. The Bat-gauntlet has been thrown down. But The Dark Knight is, among many things, a mature rumination on the very nature of heroism, of deceit, of good and evil and the mutual necessity one has for the other. The very concept of heroism is up for grabs here, as well-intentioned civilians doll up like the Bat and take on crime themselves. "What gives you the right?" one asks Batman. Hockey pads or not, one has to admit that it does take a certain brand of madness to dress as a Fledermaus and dive from rooftops. And "madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push."

Where the first film devoted a great deal of contemplation to mulling the power and pains of fear, here the main issue at stake is duality - the mirror relationship between good and evil - with a liberal dose of secrecy thrown in for good measure. The clearest example of duality is of course the nature of the battle between Gotham's Dark Knight and its anarchic harbinger of lawlessness, The Joker. "I don't want to kill you!" the Joker cackles at one point. "What would I do without you? You... you complete me." Earlier, in a home video of sorts, Joker grins as he decries Batman's need for secrecy and suggests "This is how craaaaaazy Batman's made Gotham."

Surely this is cause for contemplation; Batman's first villains in this series were mere mortals (not so mere, though, should Nolan choose to play up Ra's al-Ghul's immortality in later installments) with fear toxins and utopian aspirations. Gotham before Batman had never seen a man so without rules as The Joker, a man willing to allow himself to be killed for a punchline.
And no discussion of duality could be complete without Harvey Dent. Just as Scarecrow was the perfect way to explore fear, the district attorney - the white knight - is Nolan's masterstroke in the discussion of doublethink. "I believe in Harvey Dent," the oft-repeated aphorism goes. To believe in Harvey Dent, though, is to believe in a world that doesn't need Batman, a world where crime can be stopped in the courts. The Joker, of course, begs to differ and endeavors to "turn [Dent's] little plan on itself." Failing to corrupt The Dark Knight (even finding him "too much fun"), Joker turns to the white one. Because all it takes is a little push to win the battle for Gotham's soul. Aaron Eckhart's performance as Harvey Dent is sadly lost in the shuffle of praise for the movie - and undeservedly so. As Dent, Eckhart has the unenviable task of playing an optimist in a world without hope, a task made all the more impossible once everything is taken from him - even his Robert Redford good looks. In a way then, Harvey is a mirror of Batman as well; where Batman lost everything and chose good, Harvey seeks revenge and sense in a world gone mad - decency in an indecent time, as Dent cries at the film's second climax.

Oh, yeah. There are two climaxes to the movie. You read that right. The screenplay by the Nolans is a marvelous examination of the Batman mythos, drawing on all of the best Caped Crusader chronicles to create what is the most complete, most honest, most magnificent Batman story ever told. (And this from a reviewer who loves Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween!) This two climax bit is part of the magic of the movie (and also a nod to the rise of Two-Face?); just as one major threat is defeated, Batman is reminded that the battle for Gotham's soul has yet to be won. This final act of the film is haunting - pure poetry. The chills that ran up my arms couldn't have been from the air conditioning in the theater, because I felt the hair on my arm stand up at all four screenings - in different venues, no less. As The Joker hangs upside down and taunts Batman with his notion that "I think you and I are destined to do this... forever" the camera slowly does a 180 and turns so that The Joker appears to be right-side up... but he isn't. The world, Nolan tells us in a brilliant use of visual language, has been turned topsy turvy, on its head just as the "SLaughter is the best medicine" semi earlier in the film.
For me to delve any further into scholarly analysis would be to give short shrift to my duties as a reviewer (although if I haven't by now convinced you of the film's marvelous nature, you might need a quick reminder - Rotten Tomatoes ranks it 94% fresh, but only because 6% of critics are afraid to join the crowd). Every actor brings an A-game or better to the table, so we might as well go right down the line. Christian Bale actually plays three parts here: gravelly Batman, "fake" playboy Bruce Wayne, and the real Wayne who legitimately wants to do right but understands the necessity of his facades. As butler and confidante Alfred, Michael Caine is pitch-perfect, providing the perfect amount of levity while also bringing gravitas by keeping the secret that could crush his employer's spirit. You'll never believe Gary Oldman is British, since he plays such a spot-on Chicago-style cop as Lt. Gordon. I've already lauded Aaron Eckhart's turn as Harvey Dent; the biggest compliments I can give Maggie Gyllenhaal is that she's not Katie Holmes and that she made me forget that I really don't like her - especially in a scene where she finally gives Harvey "an answer." And of course Morgan Freeman, who's rapidly becoming one of my favorites, is unindictable, saying more with an enigmatic smile than, oh, let's say Keanu Reeves can do with a whole movie. Heck, even Eric Roberts comes close to inciting curiosity that he wasn't in one of the Godfather movies.

Then there's Heath Ledger, who's in a caliber all his own. Where each other actor is physically recognizable (well, except for Eckhart in the second half), Ledger completely immerses himself in the role and disappears behind that David Lynch voice and a face only Baby Jane Hudson could love. If you thought Johnny Depp's turn as Captain Jack Sparrow was a physical transformation, wait until you see this. Ledger blows Jack Nicholson (as much fun as he was) out of the water with a dark and gruesome anarchist who delights in chaos and physical abuse. Moviegoers aren't screaming "Oscar!" for no reason, and it's got nothing to do with the tragic passing of Ledger back in January. It's got everything to do with the highest echelon of acting that I've ever seen.

There are some who say that the editing befuddles, but these must be the same nitwits that cried foul at the "confusing" plot of the second and third Pirates of the Caribbean movies. The only confusing thing about this movie is how it can be so irreproachable and still be made by humans. It's as layered as an Alan Moore plot, with little nuggets to reward repeat viewings - like the year imprinted on Harvey's silver dollar or the ballerina grace with which the opening bank robbery is choreographed. The script is endlessly quotable without being showy, by far surpassing 300 for "Most catchphrases in a single bound." A great deal of that is delivery, because when you get down to it there's nothing truly remarkable about the line "Here's my card."

The soundtrack, too, is everything a movie score should be - gentle in spots (courtesy of James Newton Howard) and aggressive in others (characteristically Hans Zimmer's work), all without screaming "Listen to me!" From the chaotically frenzied Joker theme ("Why So Serious?" on the soundtrack) to the majestic Batman action theme ("Like A Dog Chasing Cars" and "I'm Not A Hero" as best highlights), the score swoops like a - "Like a submarine, Mr. Wayne. A submarine." And the special effects - well, they're virtually nonexistent. You see, Nolan is an advocate of hyper-realism in his filmmaking, so almost none of what you see is CGI. Yes, Nolan really blew up the Brachs candy factory (which stands in for a somewhat more targetable facade). Yes, Nolan really flipped a semi on its head. Yes, Nolan really filmed a car chase scene on Wacker in Chicago. I'm pretty sure he didn't really crash a helicopter into a skyscraper, but it looks damn cool anyway.

I'm this close to announcing a new king in the land of cinema. No, I'm not abdicating my throne as The Cinema King. I'm mere centimeters (or one more screening, preferably IMAX) from placing The Departed at #2 on the list of Greatest Movies of All Time. Because here's another perfect movie. It's unquestionably the best movie of 2008, and I see no competition in sight.