Movie Review: "The Dark Knight Rises" (Christopher Nolan, 2012)

THE BAT RISES, AND THE MAN TOO by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Christian Bale in a scene from Mr. Nolan's film

 

Why are superhero movies so successful?  Courtesy of box office behemoths like “The Avengers,” that question has become increasingly relevant.  But as critical discourse so frequently proves, it’s also an unfair query, a cue for cynics to sneer that audiences will pay to see anything explode if the conflagration’s cause is a dashing man in tights.  And while there may be truth in that response, I believe in an even more important truth: that the idea of a superhero—of someone who is different and strong and capable—is exhilarating and empowering.  And for me, that ability to inspire is an innate part of the genre, whether it’s embodied by Superman, Spider-Man, or, most recently, Batman, as portrayed in the “Dark Knight” movies directed by Christopher Nolan. 

Of course, it is inspiration of a somewhat savage nature.  From the very beginning, Mr. Nolan’s Batman has exuded extreme aggression, starting in “Batman Begins” (2005) when he made his debut by ripping a crime boss through a car roof and growling, “I’m Batman!”  Yet the director never let his bat become a bully—instead, he made him hopeful athleticism personified, a man with the nerve to gracefully leap down to a dark stairwell and run swiftly through an asylum hall, leaving wide-eyed inmates in his wake. 

But heavy weighs the body that bears Batsuit.  In the years following that marvelous action sequence, the “Dark Knight” trilogy (which Mr. Nolan, his brother Jonathan, and David S. Goyer adapted from Batman comics by Bob Kane and numerous successors) accrued a complex history and mythology.  That much is clear from the wistful opening scenes of “The Dark Knight Rises,” which revisit a funeral from a previous installment (“The Dark Knight,” 2008) and soon after scan a shelf of framed family photos from happier times. 

The photos belong to Bruce Wayne (the aging billionaire who once fought crime in the guise of Batman) and they all are of people who are long dead, from his parents to his paramour, Rachel Dawes.  But Bruce hasn’t just lost his family—he’s also lost the sense of purpose that once made him a formidable fighter for truth and justice.  Having long since throttled the last criminal in his hometown, Gotham City, the Dark Knight has retreated into his manor and while he certainly sulks with style (early in the film, Batman/Bruce portrayer Christian Bale sports a dignified-looking robe and beard), it’s hardly a life.  The Batman has fallen into a funk, which is why he’s more than ready to ride into action when an army of terrorists is found sequestered in Gotham’s sewers, waiting to strike. 

What follows is a compelling narrative about the perils of obsessive vigilantism and the violent breakdown of a metropolitan society.  Yet “The Dark Knight Rises” is hardly an academic project.  True, Mr. Nolan belabors some heady themes, but he also uses the film as a vehicle for his own personal style, which is blissfully predicated on staging every moment in the most gargantuan and dramatic manner possible. 

Just watch the scene where Batman batters a thug who’s been vaulted from a motorcycle.  The movie doesn’t just show us the Batman—it shows us a hard close-up of his formidable black boots and trailing cape, juxtaposed against gray concrete while Hans Zimmer’s score beats like an atonal thunder clap.  It’s a powerful shot, not only because it’s spectacularly photographed (by Wally Pfister), but because it’s beautifully positioned within the film’s narrative—by showing Bruce as a broken man first, Mr. Nolan lets us savor the exultation of his regained strength all the more. 

That said, such intensity is not always pleasant.  Throughout his films, Mr. Nolan has nurtured an interest in sickening villainy and in “The Dark Knight Rises,” he fulfills it chillingly by unveiling the masked brute known as Bane (Tom Hardy).  At first glance, the character is not particularly unsettling—his penchant for neck-breaking and nuclear bombs may induce nausea, but it’s levied by Mr. Hardy’s darkly droll delivery (“Search him,” he orders a subordinate who has captured a police officer.  “Then I will kill you”). 

Yet for all his bravado, Bane is ultimately a plain dictator intent on shattering Gotham’s civil façade.  How?  By sending his followers on a destructive rampage that’s supposedly targeting the wealthy, but mainly just spreads indiscriminate pain and death.  And while we don’t witness all of what happens, what we do see is disturbing—men with guns storming a football stadium; columns of smoke rising amidst gray skyscrapers; and an old man in a bathrobe, standing on the sidewalk, raising his hands to surrender. 

So—does “The Dark Knight Rises” delve too far into despair?  Maybe.  But it’s not the first great superhero film to risk overwhelming you emotionally.  And despite the story’s horrific elements, what has always made Mr. Nolan’s work so beautifully cathartic is the combination of high stakes and strong emotions that spurs his characters to act.  He may deconstruct Gotham partly to see how its citizens will react, but he also does it to give Bruce an opportunity to prove himself by not only saving Gotham, but by saving it in the right way—for its people and not his own ego.  And in creating this challenge, Mr. Nolan not only tops his previous Batman films, but creates a climax to Bruce’s adventures, an emotional reckoning that sheds some triumphant meaning on the embattled superhero’s life.  

Bruce needs it—the loss of his loved ones hangs heavy over both him and the movie like a grimy fog.  Yet it is this kind of despair that makes “The Dark Knight Rises” a satisfying film.  Because by now (thanks to both this film and its predecessors), we are so familiar with Bruce’s dreams and foibles that there’s truly something at risk when he goes into battle, something to invest in.  Thus, when our hero caps the movie’s penultimate act by fearfully scaling a gigantic prison wall, we understand that he’s not just participating in a spectacular spectacle—he’s rejecting his physical and psychological limitations, overcoming the anguish we know so well.  Next stop?  Gotham proper, where he reunites with his partner in crime-fighting, Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway).  “I thought they killed you,” she calls as she sees him walking out from under a long snowy bridge.  “Not yet,” he replies. 

There’s something special about such smoothly confident moments.  For me, watching them has been personally fulfilling, both in recent years and on the first day that I saw “The Dark Knight Rises.”  By that time, I had put so much energy into wishing for a great film that I needed Mr. Nolan to succeed, to give us one, to reward the faith I had placed in him.  And yet I also hungered for Batman himself to emerge victorious, because in a way, I felt that his triumph might make me more optimistic about what my future might hold.  My own quest, Mr. Nolan’s, and Batman’s were in a way all the same and even though it was out of my hands, I prayed for my two heroes to succeed.

And they did.  For all of its darkness, “The Dark Knight Rises” left me with a feeling of hope.  It ends with some reassuring, knowing nods and finally, the image of a man standing on a platform as it rises from dark water, filling the frame.  It’s a great ending shot for the trilogy but watching it, I didn’t (and still don’t) feel weighted by the nostalgia of the saga ending.  Movie-Batman may be gone for now, but his story concludes with such heartfelt defiance that there’s no need for any tears except the happy kind.  And that’s why I couldn’t help but applaud while watching the film for the first time, feeling emboldened and ready, above all, to rise.