Traditionally, in the superhero and comic book film genre, there's a pretty clear definition of who or what is "good" and "evil." A superhero has his antithesis, his supervillain, and they'll spend probably 95% of the movie eschewing vital components like plot and dialog to duke it out and see which side will prevail. And now, for the second time in as many weeks, we stumble across a film out of that genre that throws that logic aside and opts to go its own way. And fortunately for us all, The Dark Knight does with far more competence and thus far more success, all but obliterating the other such film - the disastrous Hancock - from our memories.
If you think about it, director Christopher Nolan's never been one to adhere to tradition. With 2000's Memento, he gave us a protagonist with no short term memory, who ultimately unlocked a completely new perspective on the detective caper. 2005's Batman Begins saw him reinvent the legendary caped crusader - breathing new life into a franchise that suffered from poorly realized villains who were impossible to take seriously and the ultimate low - a dreaded benippled Batsuit - among thousands of other shortcomings.
But with The Dark Knight, he's done one better. Using the same series as his template, Nolan and his team have managed to completely redefine the superhero genre as a whole. It's more than just action-packed, clear-cut "good" and "evil" designations that even the most non-witted of moviegoers could figure out; here he's taken the two qualities (personified ultimately in the extremes of Batman and the Joker) and blended them into the middle ground, among regular, less drastic versions of themselves. It becomes a thinking-man's film, one with a stunner of a script that, in addition to telling a story, makes us reconsider our notions, values and applications of "good" and "evil."
Gotham City is Batman's town. Has been for as long as any of us can remember. Whenever criminals manage to elude the police force, he's there lurking in the shadows, ready to restore order. It's sort of automatic. He's embraced while simultaneously taken for granted, as much a superhero as a fleeting thought in the heads of Gothamites. But suddenly, their relationship starts to become strained. The city has elected a new district attorney, Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), who has cracked down on crime and earned near-universal admiration, including from both sides of the Bruce Wayne/Batman persona (Christian Bale).
In Dent, the city seems to have found what it's really wanted all along: someone with the same nullifying effect on crime, but realized in a likable public figure to whom people can relate. So even as Batman's role is reduced, the heads of organized crime still find themselves wallowing into desperation and desperately in need of a catalyst.
And it's here that we meet the Joker. Think it's going to be Jack Nicholson's tongue-in-cheek Joker from Tim Burton's original film? Think again. Nolan's realization of Batman's arch-nemesis is one of the most compelling antagonists in movie history. Combine his superb writing along with Heath Ledger's flawless performance, and you get more than a mere "bad guy;" you get a true villain - nearly as difficult to resist as he is to read.
This Joker's really been there. His green hair is greasy and unkempt, his makeup invoking feelings that skip mere uneasiness and land closer to utter doom. The tales of his facial scars differ each time he tells them, as Ledger orchestrates seamless personality shifts from comical to psychopathic. But what's truly haunting is his motivation by chaos. Money and power don't matter; all the Joker seems to want is for everything - be it the physical Gotham City or even more conceptual entities, such as its hero's anonymity - to be destroyed.
Thinking about it only makes the concept scarier, but at the same time, you can't take your eyes off him. With each new crime, he leaves Gotham wondering who he's working with, and for what. Such is his effect that the only emotional certainty is a sudden anger and resentment towards their beloved Dark Knight. As the Joker becomes more powerful, Dent seems to become less and less relevant as the city drifts back into Batman-land. Unfortunately, Bruce Wayne wants no part of it; he's convinced that a strong Dent equals a strong Gotham. Or does he just want out?
"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain," Dent tells him at one point. As it unfolds, it's mere small talk at a dinner party, but it's quite astonishing as to how significantly the movie's further developments all come back to that one resounding line. Can inaction, even if brought on by irrelevance, condemn even the best men to villainy? Gotham seems to think so. And consequently, we leave with Batman cast in a far different light than we've ever seen him in before. "Good" versus "evil" is no longer absolute, left instead to become a subject to interpretation.
The result is a film that transcends its oft-meandering genre. It's not enough too just sit back and observe; the movie demands that we open our minds and turn our experience into an active one. And sure, there were a handful of negative elements spread throughout, but nothing enough to completely negate the ultimate movie-going satisfaction fostered by witnessing something as revolutionary as this.
And though the movie takes its name from its long-revered hero, this time around it's all about the Joker. You simply can't get enough of Ledger's performance. When he's on screen, it's all you think about; when he's not, all you can do is wonder when he'll be back. It's saddening to think that Ledger will never again dazzle us as he does here, but that difficulty is lessened once you realize he saved his greatest performance for his last. As The Dark Knight unfolds, it's easy to forget that the we're not watching a murderous psychopath, but just a regular man acting as one. If that's not the mark of an Oscar-worthy performance, then what is?
3.5 stars out of 4
8.5 out of 10
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