When director Christopher Nolan set out to reboot the Batman franchise in the early 2000s, the words "series" or, let alone, "trilogy" were things he didn't want on his mind. Just the origin story that he and co-writer David Goyer were looking to make.
From the beginning, Nolan (whose previous credits include the critically-acclaimed thrillers Following [1998], Memento [2000], and Insomnia [2002]) and company established grounding a comic book icon (and his alter ego, Bruce Wayne) in reality. What that required (unlike a majority of the original films from the late-1980s through the 1990s) was real investment in the characters, their dilemmas, and their conflicts. Therefore, we, the audience, become invested in the human drama, the intensity, the emotion, and the tragedy displayed onscreen. (Look at this impressive trailer if you don't believe me.)
"What do you fear?"
Batman Begins (released in 2005) is done in the style of a hero's journey, like an ancient ninja/samurai legend, as a young Bruce Wayne (a incredibly-cast Christian Bale) goes from watching his parents murdered in front of his eyes to travelling the world to better understand how the criminal underworld (i.e., that of the corrupt Gotham City) works. "This is a world that you never understand," one mob boss tells him, "and you always fear what you don't understand."
Bruce eventually gets some answers in the form of a vigilante organization known as the League of Shadows, headed by the mysterious Ra's al Ghul. When Bruce learns that their worldview involves killing the citizens of Gotham City, as well as an apparent lack of empathy, compassion and redemption, he refuses and becomes their enemy, and vows to serve justice instead of revenge, and to do so through the persona of a particular symbol.
"People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy, and I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I could be ignored, I could be destroyed. But as a symbol, I can be incorruptible, I can be everlasting."
The origin story of Bruce Wayne had never been expressed to such an extent onscreen, especially for the first-half of this film's running time, long before he puts on the famous cape and cowl. And his motivation for doing what he does is clear, from when he witnesses the horrible death of his parents (a tragedy he blames himself for, because of his fears) to his failed attempt to settle the score years later to when he begins to understand that justice and revenge are not the same thing. The motivations of his allies are made clear as well, including his butler Alfred (who grows concerned for the billionaire playboy), detective Jim Gordon (a beacon among dirty cops), childhood friend Rachel Dawes (now a defensive and determined District Attorney), and Applied Sciences head Lucius Fox (who supplies Wayne with all the resources he'll need in his mission).
Speaking of resources, the weapons and gadgetry at Bruce's disposal (while, perhaps, not fully believable) are very plausible. From the military suit, to "memory cloth" used for his cape, to an urban assault tank used as the Batmobile, Bruce incorporates these resources into what he fears the most, being bats ("It's time my enemies shared my dread"). On the opposite end, one of his new adversaries, Dr. Jonathan Crane, uses that same element against various people, but in the form of the masked Scarecrow (think Pennywise as a psychological hallucination).
When Bruce returns, he puts on a new facade that makes one wonder who actually returned: Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, or Batman and his alter ego? As one character tells him, "Your real face is the one criminals now fear." Even more, it's a question from not only his allies but also the citizens and criminals of Gotham (whom he almost always tries to stay or get one step ahead of) if the Caped Crusader's motivations are personal or more than that. He's even seen by some as an untrustworthy character, in terms of taking the law into his own hands. (Remember the scene in the original 1989 film, between Michael Keaton and Kim Basinger?)
One of the strengths of the brilliantly-made Batman Begins (2005) is that it stands on its own with an equally-brilliant three-act structure (although one video describes it, instead, as having a four-act structure), while leaving the door open for a sense of continuation and not the conventional sequel bait that plagues so many franchises these days. (Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale did the same thing with the original Back to the Future in 1985.) In other words, while the film's ending signals potential hope for the restoration of Gotham, there's also the potential for "escalation" to come into the picture, ending with the Joker's calling card, and therefore what Wayne's/Batman's actions will potentially cause.
"You've changed things. Forever."
If Batman Begins is the Act 1 origin story and hero's journey of Bruce Wayne's fears, his moral code, and his mission to restore Gotham City from criminality, then The Dark Knight (2008) is the Act 2 flip side of the same coin, showcasing an ultimate adversary's anarchic attempts to reveal Batman's moral code and influence as a weakness (and to push masked vigilante and his allies to a breaking point).
Set one year later, the crime world of Gotham is afraid to meet at night, thanks to the new presence and influence of the Caped Crusader. In the mean time, Lt. Jim Gordan helps lead the local police, while the new District Attorney Harvey Dent (also known as the "White Knight") is on a fast track to clean up the city. This convinces Bruce Wayne (who considers Dent "the face of Gotham's bright future") that his days as the masked vigilante may be coming to an end. In other words, has Gotham City become a better place? Can it become a better place?
And then, the psychopathic villain, known only as the Joker, unleashes his reign of destruction and anarchy on the city. While taken for granted at first, as things in Gotham start shaping up, it's not until things start getting "serious" that the role of power gets twisted and toyed with.
Bruce and Alfred discuss this moral dilemma in a scene that perhaps sums up the theme of the film.
Bruce: "I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. They've crossed the line."
Alfred: "You crossed the line first, sir. You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation. And in their desperation, they turned to a man [the Joker] they didn't fully understand."
Bruce: "Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. We just need to figure out what he's after."
Alfred: "With all due respect, Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either. . . . Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. [Even criminals assume that's what the Joker's in it for.] They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."
Even Alfred's Burma story of government officials who try to gain respect of tribal leaders "with precious stones" is similar to how Batman tries to gain the loyalty of Gotham City.
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| (l-r) Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, and Gary Oldman |
Penned by Nolan (along with brother Jonathan, as well as Goyer), The Dark Knight stands more in the guise of a crime-thriller a la Michael Mann than a mere superhero film. This is a story of three men (Batman, Dent, Gordon) against an unstoppable foe (the Joker), and the latter's goal of pushing these men, and eventually others, to a moral breaking point and bringing them down to his level. "To them, you're just a freak, like me," he tells Batman. This expands the first film's theme of people taking matters into their own hands, whether out of desperation, vengeance, or without reason. Says one mobster, "You got rules. The Joker, he's got no rules."
Obviously, the performance that people remember the most here is the late Heath Ledger as the Joker. (And understandably so.) Contrary to Jack Nicholson's iconic, over-the-top, playful and frightening interpretation, Ledger's version is diabolical, unpredictable, menacing, nihilistic, and an embodiment of unapologetic evil. (Check out this thought-provoking YouTube video analysis.) But that reason alone (which may have been the biggest aspect in the film's initially-overhyped release in 2008) shouldn't overshadow the film's other compelling and underappreciated aspects, both from a filmmaking and philosophical standpoint.
This film is more ensemble-driven, thought-provoking, riveting, and menacing. It may be the deepest, bleakest film based on a comic book character ever made. It's also darker, more violent, and even palpable at times, with such emphasis on the Joker's presence and mayhem (an echo of Nicholson's dominance in the 1989 original).
Like Ra's al Ghul in Begins, the Joker sees Batman's moral code as a "weakness," a "joke." Has Batman really made Gotham "a better place," or has he only added fuel to the fire? The Joker also believes that the very people Batman is trying to protect will turn against him, and that they (the people) will kill each other (by chaos). Take the climactic sequence involving the two ferries, for instance, which pit two groups of humanity against each other and force each other to make the difficult choice as to who will live and who will die. It's a lot of heft, for sure, but it ultimately shows "people ready to believe in good." But the Joker's intentions prove much deeper than that, as it's already been implied he's not merely after money or world domination or to beat the so-called "heroes" of the day (or, in this case, night). In fact, he tells Batman, "You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you" (my emphasis).
This underlying spiritual aspect and philosophical theme also carries into the underappreciated but important character arc of Harvey Dent, from his idealism as a hopeful District Attorney to his downfall as the villainous Two-Face. Aaron Eckhart's equally-underappreciated performance shows Dent initially as the most ideal hope for the future of Gotham ("a hero with a face"), as well as his subtle ambiguity. Rachel Dawes, Bruce's childhood friend and the Gotham assistant DA, represents Bruce's (and Dent's) hope for a normal life and a promising future, despite her belief that "the day won't come when [Bruce will] no longer need Batman." Dent also represents two sides of the same coin, much like Batman and the Joker, and he becomes the tragic figure in the end (even intensely holding a family at hostage), echoing Ra's al Ghul's belief (and common theme throughout this series) that Gotham cannot (nor ever) be saved. The same goes for the misguided belief that no one can be trusted in this gray world ("You can't rely on anyone these days, you got to do everything yourself"). But Dent makes this former belief personal, saying he can't be saved from what he's become nor from what he's lost. "You think I want to escape from this? There is no escape from this!"
Bruce Wayne even comes to a sense of his own limitations, such as not enduring guilt over people's deaths, the safety of loved ones, the idea of being an outlaw and, perhaps, being more than a hero. Gordon (a perfect Gary Oldman) and Dent clearly show their faith in the Caped Crusader, despite what the general public comes to believe. "I was meant to inspire good, not madness, not death," he tells Alfred during a moment of sorrow and regret. But for Wayne, he gets moral reasoning not just from Alfred ("Things are always going to get worse before they get better"), but also from Lucius Fox ("At what cost? This is too much power for one man"), and, in the end, makes the difficult choice that no one else can: becoming the hunted so that the City can endure. Bale is still as imposing and vulnerable as ever.
The score by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard (who collaborated on the first film), particularly for the Clown Prince of Crime, echoes John Williams' score for Jaws, in terms of sensing when the villain is present, whether we see him or not. The opening crime heist showcases the Joker's unpredictability, and his psychotic mind, illustrating the theme that this is a character nobody fully understands, like that of the crime world. This sequence also implies that even criminals used to believe in something. One question that resurfaces later is whether those who represent criminality or misguided power really deserve to die. (Again, look at the ferry sequence.)
It's a film for intellectual and action-crime-oriented filmgoers, and for people who love movies, with all its spiritual, ethical, and political undertones. Even more fascinating are what each character's actions are motivated by. Batman's are by choice, Dent's are by chance, a lawyer's, out of revealing the secret identity of Batman; and the Joker's, because he just does. Talk about "letting the clown out of the box".
And because Batman is accused of the deaths of many people; in the end, he takes the blame for said deaths for what he believes is the greater good of the city ("I'm whoever Gotham needs me to be"). Perhaps no film in recent memory illustrates the flaws and frailties of humanity quite like this one does. These are characters who have flawed personalities, who are pushed (or tempted) to the point of chaos. The late Roger Ebert described The Dark Knight as "a haunted film that leaps beyond its origins and becomes an engrossing tragedy."
Many consider it one of the best comic-book movies ever made as well as the best of Nolan's Batman films. I can agree, in terms of its grand scale, visceral and operatic thrills, and complex themes revolving around an entire city and not just a masked defender. On the other hand, the film carries a void that, in a way, ends hopelessly.
Fortunately, the series didn't end there. The third film (released in 2012) would represent the Act 3 negative impact and pain of the horrific tragedies of a once-ideal hero.
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| Anne Hathaway ("I'm adaptable.") |
The Dark Knight Rises opens eight years after the tragic events of Harvey Dent, when Gordon and the Batman endured Dent's reputation by building a lie to ensure Gotham's survival, and hope for the future. Wayne is older, but more bruised and battered as Gordon is secretive and guilt-stricken. Gotham has, at least on the surface, become a city that no longer needs Batman, and have branded him an enemy, which Bruce took upon himself. But beneath the facade (or, in this case, the sewers of Gotham, and later cracking ice) lies a secret terrorist organization, led by a masked mercenary known as Bane, that begins to bubble up. The first scene between Gordon and Batman sums up the film and the events to come.
Gordon: "We were in this together. And then you were gone."
Wayne (masked): "The Batman wasn't needed anymore. We won."
Gordon: "I started a lie. And now this evil rises, from where we tried to bury it. The Batman has to come back."
Wayne: "What if he doesn't exist anymore?"
Gordon: "He must. He must."
While the themes of Begins and Knight were fear and chaos, respectfully, the theme of Rises is pain, like that of a ghost coming back to haunt our main characters (or a ghost of something they're running from). Even the score sounds like a(n ethereal) ghost.
The questioning of whether the Batman is needed or not seems confirmed, at least by Alfred who doesn't believe so. Look at the scene where he pleads with Bruce not to go through with it anymore, even going so far as to reveal the truth about Rachel Dawes to Bruce. "Maybe it's time we all ought to stop trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day." Alfred even confesses that he never wanted Bruce to return to Gotham in the first place (and anticipated some potential failures), and instead has been fantasizing about how they could have moved on in their lives. "I knew there was nothing here for you but pain and tragedy." Otherwise, Bruce would've never helped try to bring hope back to Gotham.
Even Bruce's own lifestyle becomes questioned, as the stock market and everything around him (including, maybe, his own facade) begins to crumble, even as he tries to keep his resources and allies out of the wrong hands. He does still have a few allies, including Lucius Fox, as well as a young ideal cop named John Blake (an excellent Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Wayne Enterprises board member Miranda Tate (the incredible Marion Cotillard), and the ambiguous cat burglar Selina Kyle (a scene-stealing Anne Hathaway). Most of these characters (Bane included) represent figures in masks, much to intriguing effect, and even imply the idea of children born in tragedies.
The film's emphasis on economics and welfare is rampant throughout, with echoes of Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities," from the aforementioned stock exchange to sewers of work for the desperate and homeless to Bane's overall hostile and physical takeover of Gotham, not to mention his deceptive view of himself as "necessary evil". Tom Hardy is certainly imposing and intimidating as the masked mercenary, with his clawed-figured breathing mask, Victorian-era coat, and liberation of Gotham into a wasteland by using hope to "poison" the souls of its citizens. (Consider the 9/11-esque imagery of policemen going down into the tunnels.) But his voice is the most interesting and unexpected. (Hardy was inspired by real-life English-born bare-knuckle fighter Barley Gorman for the character's voice.)
If the film has a weakness, it may be in the character of Miranda Tate, who arguably proves a questionable and mysterious character throughout. "You have to invest if you want to restore balance to the world," she tells Bruce. There are times where her character doesn't really work (neither does her romance with Wayne, including an unnecessary love scene), at least until her true character is revealed, showcasing Cotillard's stellar and sharp range. Bruce's ambiguous relationship with Selina Kyle, in the mean time, works much better, and proves one of the best and most complex relationships in a comic-book-related movie.
The thematic imagery of climbing out of a pit (much like the well Bruce fell in as a child) comes full circle here. With a rousing chant composed by (once again) Zimmer, Bruce embarks on stopping Bane's plot of not just breaking Gotham's city and people, but their spirits as well. Selina's early views of this (and her reactions) foreshadow the horrors she knows are to come, and which she herself tries to escape from. "There's more to you than that," argues Bruce.
Like Inception (Nolan's incredible sci-fi caper from 2010), I initially thought The Dark Knight Rises ended on a cheap note. In retrospect, that turns out to be a smart trick on the filmmakers' parts, including Goyer's and the brothers Nolan (who conceived and wrote the script). Watch the reactions and actions of Gordon, Blake, Alfred, and aircraft technicians, as well as references to a string of pearls missing and a new signal in place. The series (at least Nolan's interpretation) is, therefore, complete. But, like the first two films, Rises has a sense of continuation and possibility. Again, smart moves.
"Oh, boy, you are in for a show tonight, son!"
Nolan and company have done a brilliant job in grounding these films (particularly Knight and Rises) in reality. From real sets to location shoots to state-of-the-art IMAX footage and minimal CGI (techniques he would use in his later films Interstellar [2014] and Dunkirk [2017]), the results phenomenal, expertly made, and thoroughly gripping. That goes just as well for Nolan's experimental domino effect of intensity and spontaneity in action and dialogue for various cinematic moments. Did I mention Wayne operates out of an underground warehouse, and from a penthouse (as Wayne Manor is apparently under reconstruction) in The Dark Knight?
That being said, it's worth noting a few standout sequences in this franchise, including the Dark Knight's first appearance in Begins, the Tumbler's roller-coaster public debut (which Gordon drives later), the opening sequences of central villains (the Joker's bank heist in Knight, Bane's aerial takeover in Rises), Batman and the Joker's iconic interrogation (a halfway mark for the trilogy?), the Bat aircraft's appearances in Rises, the football stadium chillingly intercut with "The Star Spangled Banner," Batman fighting Bane in broad daylight, and what may be the single greatest action sequence in the history of cinema (or, at least in the 21st Century): the semi-truck chase (and actual flip) and the debut of the Batpod (also a halfway mark in this trilogy).
It's also worth noting the impeccable casting in each of these films, which helped transcend that a comic-book movie could cross genres and simply be great movies. Christian Bale. Michael Caine. Marion Cottiard. Aaron Eckhart. Morgan Freeman. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Meggie Gyllenhaal. Tom Hardy. Anne Hathaway. Katie Holmes. Heath Ledger. Liam Neeson. Gary Oldman. Ken Watanabe.
Another relevant (and timely) theme throughout these films is that Batman represents more than a name and a man and a mysterious figure. He's a symbol, an ideal for something more: that anyone can be a hero. Other characters may be misguided in their own journeys, including the League of Shadows (what they and Bane consider "necessary") as well as Harvey Dent ("You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain"), and Batman does tend to use some questionable methods in the process. He may not "have the luxury of friends," as he initially claims, and yet he tries to maintain a higher moral code, going so far as to never killing his adversaries (a noble act on his part, for sure).
These films did culminate into what eventually became known as The Dark Knight Trilogy. In retrospect, Nolan and company created a three-film structure that not only works stronger altogether than as individual films (much like Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy). These films have also further redefined what tentpole movies are, especially comic-book-based or superhero-related, a feat later seen in films like Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Logan (2017), and now Black Panther (2018). They could even be an alternative to our current trend in cinematic universes courtesy Marvel and DC.
