"WRITER'S CUT": A collection of previously-published posts that have been thoroughly reexamined and re-edited by yours truly. (The following piece was originally posted on August 26, 2018.)
WARNING: I generally try to avoid this with every writing, but because of these films' complex and philosophical underpinnings, a few significant plot spoilers will be discussed.
When director Christopher Nolan set out to reboot the Batman franchise in the early 2000s, the words "series" or, let alone, "trilogy" were not at the forefront of his mind. Just the origin story that he and co-writer David Goyer were looking to make, not to mention a grittier interpretation eight years after the disappointment that was 1997's Batman & Robin.
From the beginning, Nolan (whose previous credits included the critically-acclaimed thrillers
Following [1998], Memento [2000], and Insomnia [2002]) and company sought to ground 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 characters, their dilemmas, and their conflicts, thereby investing the audience in the human drama, intensity, and tragedy displayed onscreen.
"Would you like to see my mask?"
Released in 2005, Batman Begins is essentially a hero's journey, starting out as something akin to an Akira Kurosawa epic. A young Bruce Wayne (played by an incredibly-cast Christian Bale) travels across the world to better understand how the criminal underworld works. "This is a world that you never understand," a 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 (Ken Watanabe) and right-hand man Ducard (Liam Neeson, in a then-radical turn). 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. From there, he 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 nearly-two-and-a-half-hour runtime. 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, and when he begins to understand that justice and revenge are not the same thing. The motivations of his allies are apparent as well, including his butler Alfred (Michael Caine), who grows concerned for the billionaire playboy; detective Jim Gordon (a superb, almost unrecognizable Gary Oldman), a beacon among dirty cops; childhood friend Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes), now a determined District Attorney; and Applied Sciences head Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), 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 and an urban assault tank used as the Batmobile, Bruce incorporates this technology into what he fears the most: bats ("It's time my enemies shared my dread"). On the opposite end, one of his new adversaries, Dr. Jonathan Crane (a chilling Cillian Murphy), uses that same element against various people in the form of the masked Scarecrow.
When Bruce returns, the facade he puts on makes one wonder who actually came back: Wayne and his alter ego, or Batman and his alter ego? Even more, it's a question from not only his allies but also the citizens and criminals of Gotham (the latter of whom he almost always tries to 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 figure, in terms of taking the law into his own hands. (Remember the 1989 film?)
One of the strengths of Batman Begins is that it stands on its own with an engrossing three-act structure (although one video argues for four acts), while concluding with a sense of continuation and not the conventional sequel bait that plagues so many franchises these days. (Screenwriters Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale did the same thing with 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 enter the picture, ending with an infamous calling card and therefore what Wayne's/Batman's actions will potentially cause.
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| Christian Bale in Batman Begins |
"You've changed things, forever."
If Batman Begins is the Act 1 origin story of Bruce Wayne and his fears, moral code, and mission to restore Gotham City, then The Dark Knight (2008) is the Act 2 flip side, showcasing an ultimate adversary's various attempts to push Batman over the edge.
Set one year later, the crime world of Gotham is afraid to meet at night, while Lt. Jim Gordan helps lead the local police and new District Attorney Harvey Dent (also known as the "White Knight") is on a fast track to clean up the streets. This convinces Bruce (who considers Dent "the face of Gotham's bright future") that his days as the Caped Crusader 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. While taken for granted at first, things suddenly start getting "serious" as the role of power gets twisted and toyed with. Bruce and Alfred discuss this moral dilemma (along with a story from Alfred's past, mirroring how Batman tries to gain the loyalty and respect of Gotham City) in a scene that perhaps best 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. . . . 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."
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| (l-r) Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, and Gary Oldman in The Dark Knight |
Penned by Nolan (along with brother Jonathan, and Goyer), The Dark Knight is more of a crime-thriller in the same league as Michael Mann. This is arguably a story of three men against an unstoppable force, and the latter's goal of bringing said men--and eventually everyone else-- down to his level. "To them, you're just a freak, like me," the Joker wheezes. This expands the first film's theme of people taking matters into their own hands, whether out of desperation, vengeance, or without reason. "You got rules," says one mobster, "The Joker, he's got no rules."
The performance that people remember the most here is that of the late Heath Ledger, who received several posthumous accolades including an Oscar. Contrary to Jack Nicholson's iconic, over-the-top interpretation, Ledger's version is diabolical, menacing, nihilistic, and an embodiment of unapologetic evil. But that reason alone (which may have been primarily why the film was initially overhyped and made more than $1 billion at the box-office in the summer of 2008) shouldn't overshadow the film's other compelling and challenging aspects, both from a filmmaking and philosophical standpoint.
The Dark Knight is more ensemble-driven, thought-provoking, and riveting. It may be the deepest, bleakest film based on a comic book character ever made. It's also darker, more violent, haunting, and even palpable, with much emphasis on the Joker's presence and mayhem (an echo of Nicholson's dominance in the 1989 original). The overall intensity proved too much for some viewers--many of whom believed the film should never have been rated PG-13.
Like Ra's al Ghul in Begins, the Joker sees Batman's moral code as a weakness. 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 not only turn against him, but will also go as insane as the Clown Prince of Crime himself. Take, for example, the climactic sequence involving the two ferries, which pit two groups of humanity (civilians and lowlifes) against each other with the difficult choice as to who will live and who will die. It's a lot of heft, but in the end it shows "people ready to believe in good." But the Joker's intentions prove much more than that, as it's implied by this point that he's not merely after money or world domination or to beat the so-called "heroes" of the day (or, in this case, night). "You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you," he confesses to Batman.
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| Christian Bale and Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight |
This underlying spiritual aspect and philosophical theme carries into the 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 as an ideal of hope ("a hero with a face"), along with his own subtle flaws and ambiguities. Rachel Dawes (played here by Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Holmes), 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 menacingly holding a family hostage), echoing Ra's al Ghul's belief that Gotham cannot (nor ever) be saved. The same goes for the misguided notion that no one can be trusted in this gray world. But Dent makes this personal, arguing he can't be saved from what he's become nor from what he's lost.
Bruce Wayne even comes to terms with 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 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 laments during a moment of sorrow. 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 ("This is too much power for one man"), and, in the end, makes the difficult choice that no one else can: taking the blame for Dent's crimes and becoming the hunted so that Gotham can endure, but at the cost of his and Gordon's own ethics. Bale's performance is as imposing and vulnerable as ever.
The score by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard (who collaborated on the previous film) echoes John Williams' score for Jaws, in terms of sensing the villain's presence. The opening crime heist showcases the Joker's unpredictability (and his deceptive mind). 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 do deserve to die. (Again, look at the ferry sequence.) Even more fascinating are what each character's actions are motivated by. Batman's are by choice; Dent's are by chance; and the Joker's, without reason. Talk about letting the clown out of the box.
Perhaps no film in recent memory illustrates the flaws and frailties of humanity quite like this one does. 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 (if not the greatest), 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 revolved around an entire city and not just the titular character. It's a film that intellectual moviegoers--and people who love movies in general--hold in high regard, with all its spiritual, ethical, and political undertones. On the other hand, the film (and this series) is for everybody, need I remind you; because it's ultimately a tragic story, it ends on a perplexing note. Fortunately, the series altogether didn't end there, as a third film (released in 2012) would represent the Third Act resolution, this time in the form of an epic disaster movie.
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| Anne Hathaway in The Dark Knight Rises |
"There's a storm coming."
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. Wayne is older but more bruised and battered, while Gordon is guilt-stricken. Gotham has, at least on the surface, become a city that no longer needs the Caped Crusader, having branded him an enemy since. 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."
Batman: "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."
Batman "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) spectre.
The question 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 ("Maybe it's time we all 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 instead has been fantasizing about how they could have moved on with their lives ("I knew there was nothing here for you but pain and tragedy, because I wanted something better for you"). Otherwise, Bruce would've never helped try to bring hope back to Gotham.
Even Bruce's own lifestyle gets questioned, as the stock market and everything around him (including his own facade) begins to crumble, all while he tries to keep his resources 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 exemplify 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 hostile 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 claw-figured breathing mask, Victorian-era coat, and liberation of Gotham into a wasteland. (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 Bartley Gorman for the character's voice.)
If the film has a weakness (aside from a few flashbacks to the previous two films), it may be in the character of Miranda Tate, who arguably proves questionable and mysterious 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. (I should mention that the second and third installments have also gotten a lot of flack because of Bale's scruffy, Clint Eastwood-like delivery, which are a bit distracting, to be sure.) Bruce's ambiguous relationship with Selina Kyle, on the other hand, works much better, and provides one of the most dynamic relationships in a comic-book-related movie. (They've had an interesting dynamic since the comics to begin with, as well as in Tim Burton's Batman Returns and the animated series from the Nineties.)
The thematic imagery of climbing out of a pit (much like the well Bruce fell into as a child) comes full circle here. With a rousing chant composed once again by Zimmer sans Howard, Bruce embarks on stopping Bane's plot of not just breaking Gotham's city and people, but their spirits as well. (Sound familiar?) 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). The reactions and actions of Gordon, Blake, Alfred, and aircraft technicians, as well as references to a string of pearls and a new signal in place, are more effective and detailed in that regard. 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.
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| (l-r) Tom Hardy and Christian Bale in The Dark Knight Rises |
"I'm still a believer in the Batman, even if you're not."
Nolan and company have done a brilliant job in grounding these films (particularly Knight and Rises) in reality, although there are pros and cons to this approach. From real sets to location shoots to state-of-the-art IMAX footage and minimal CGI (techniques Nolan would use in his later films Interstellar [2014],
Dunkirk [2017], and Tenet [2020]), and impeccable casting, the results are phenomenal and thoroughly gripping. That goes just as well for Nolan's experimental domino effect of spontaneity in action and dialogue during various moments. Did I mention Wayne operates out of an underground warehouse (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 and the Tumbler's roller-coaster pursuit in Begins; Batman and the Joker's interrogation in Knight (a halfway mark for the trilogy); the Bat aircraft's flights, and the football stadium chillingly intercut with "The Star Spangled Banner," in Rises; 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 flip) against the Batpod in Knight.
Before I conclude, I need to address and acknowledge the elephant in the room. It shouldn't be ignored that this series has unfortunately been affected by certain tragedies, including the unexpected passing of Ledger in January 2008, while an advanced screening of Rises in Aurora, Colorado, during opening weekend in July 2012 was robbed by a shocking theater shooting. (For many, it's hard to separate film and television from real-life violence.) Christian Bale, to his credit, made a significant contribution to the latter community when he willingly visited the families of Aurora, exemplifying real-life heroism and generosity.
On that same note, another relevant and timely theme throughout these films is that Batman represents more than a name, more than a man, more than a mysterious figure. He's an ideal, a symbol that anyone can be a hero. Other characters may be misguided in their own journeys, including the League of Shadows and Harvey Dent ("You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain"); even Batman tends 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 opponents (a noble act, 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 together as opposed to individual films (much like Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy). These films have redefined what tentpole movies are, for better or worse. From reboots to sequels to other three-act narratives, especially comic-book or superhero-related, this feat was subsequently seen in films like Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Logan (2017), Black Panther (2018), and even non-comic book entities like the rebooted Planet of the Apes series (2011-2017). The Dark Knight Trilogy could even be an alternative to our current trend in cinematic universes courtesy Marvel and DC. It certainly is a distinct interpretation in Batman's long and versatile history.
