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By Erik Lundegaard
Special to MSN Movies
You know the
feeling. You've seen the trailers, heard the buzz, read an article or two. You
think, "They're not going to do that, are they? They're not that
dumb, are they?" Then you see the film and they do that. They kill
Professor X, make someone besides the Burglar responsible for the death of Uncle Ben, cast Jessica Alba as the Invisible Girl. You leave the
theater shaking your head, thinking, "I can't believe they did that.
How could they be so dumb?"
I had the opposite experience with "The Dark Knight."
I'd just written an article about the history of Batman on the big screen . I'd been struck
by the fact that if you divide the two Batman serials and six feature films into
their three natural groupings -- the '40s serials along with the 1966 film,
which was a hipster comment on those serials; the Tim Burton/Joel Schumacher movies of the '80s
and '90s; and the current Christopher Nolan films -- the same pattern develops:
Batman starts out as a vigilante, becomes a crime-fighting institution, then
descends into camp. I warned that, as dark as the Nolan series was, this process
seemed inevitable.
There's an inherent problem with the Batman myth. Batman becomes Batman to
strike terror in the hearts of criminals. That's why he wears the suit. He's
supposed to terrify. In 1943's "Batman," he takes a crook into his "bat's cave"
and scares him into confessing. In 1989's "Batman," he's an urban myth, "The
Bat," who may or may not drink the blood of his victims. In 2005's "Batman Begins," he can ultrasonically call thousands of bats to
cover his getaway. Of "Batman Begins," I wrote, "This incarnation of Batman is
effective even after everyone realizes he's just a man. Because if a man is
nutty enough to do what he does, what won't he do?"
Once he becomes legit, however, once he's aligned with Commissioner Gordon,
once you bring him out of the shadows and into the daylight, what's there to
fear? He's actually kind of absurd. Put him in a room with Gordon and you
basically have two cops -- but one is dressed like a bat.
The bat signal, as cool as it is, encourages the hero's passivity. Look at
the two Tim Burton movies. In 1989's "Batman," we first see Batman prowling the rooftops in
search of crime. In 1992's "Batman Returns," we first see him as Bruce Wayne doing ... what
exactly? Sitting at Wayne Manor. Brooding. He doesn't stand and act until the
bat signal appears. He's a dog. Come, boy.
Worst of all, the question that terrified criminals -- what won't he do? --
has now been answered . He has rules. He has a code. He won't kill anyone. So
what's there for criminals to fear? The whole raison d'etre of Batman
-- striking terror in the hearts of criminals -- has been expunged.
To distract us from this inherent problem -- that Batman only works as a
vigilante, not as a law enforcer -- filmmakers generally add more
stuff: Bat-this, bat-that. Robin, the Boy Wonder. George Clooney. Eventually the whole enterprise can't
help but descend into camp. Nolan's series, I assumed, would simply follow this
path.
(At this point, please accept the usual SPOILER WARNINGS.)
So, early in Nolan's latest film, "The Dark Knight," I found it interesting
that, despite the bat signal, Gordon tells the press, "Official policy is to
arrest the vigilante, the Batman, on sight." I thought, "Good for them. They're
holding onto Batman-as-vigilante as long as possible." I knew it wouldn't last.
Midway through the movie, things got more interesting. The Joker taunts
Batman about his moral code. There are things Batman won't do, he says, but
there's nothing the Joker won't do, which is why he'll win. It's a familiar
dilemma for any hero: The hero has to work within the lines, the criminals
don't. But the dialogue echoed the problem in "Batman as institution," which was
where the film was heading. It was inevitable.
Then I watched the last five minutes.
To say I was surprised is an understatement. Here's how I ended my history of
the big-screen Batman article:
But the easiest way to save Christopher Nolan's Batman is to yet again
follow Frank Miller's lead. In "The Dark Knight Returns," Miller simply
introduced a new, tight-ass commissioner to Gotham, one who didn't like Batman,
and thus returned the caped crusader to his primitive vigilante state. Consider
it like Mao's perpetual revolution -- except with a hopefully happier
ending.
"The Dark Knight" didn't bring in a new, tight-ass commissioner, but the film
still took care of every single problem inherent in the Batman myth. I
was floored.
There are still problems with "The Dark Knight." Nolan's direction is so
relentless that the climaxes never feel climactic. At the same time, I realize
that relentlessness has been the formula for blockbusters since "Star Wars," or at least "Raiders of the Lost Ark," and these
blockbusters keep speeding up. They've probably just sped past me. In other
words, relentlessness won't be a problem for 99.9 percent of the audience. It
is, in fact, what they came for.
There are better superhero movies out there: "Spider-Man 2," certainly. But the reason why "Spider-Man 2" is
better -- it satisfies us by giving the hero (Peter Parker) what he's always
wanted (Mary Jane) -- is one reason why "Spider-Man 3" was so awful. (Story Continues On Next Page...) |
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