The Dark Knight

Rating: Null/10 (28 July 2008)

A retrospective look illuminates a not wholly unsurprising parallel between the progress of the comic book film, and that of the comics industry itself. From highly successful beginnings in the Superman and Batman franchises, the comic book film moved into less auspicious territory in the 1990s, what with juvenile monstrosities like Captain America, The Phantom, and Batman and Robin  an era not dissimilar to the similarly juvenile comics of the 1950s and '60s.
Then, like the '70s, in which some welcome maturity was injected into comics, the late '90s and 2000s saw a boom in more grown-up and technically accomplished comic book films, such as Blade, Hellboy, and the X-Men and Spider-Man series. But something else was started with Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan's sombre reboot of the Batman franchise. Something akin to Alan Moore and Frank Miller's revitalisation of comics in the '80s. Something that has come to full fruition with Nolan's follow-up to Begins, The Dark Knight. Yes, The Dark Knight may just be the Watchmen of comic book films.
The film picks up at an unspecified, but assumedly brief time after Begins, with Batman (Christian Bale) continuing his crusade against a weakened and desperate mob. In an early scene, he apprehends a somewhat unhinged Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy), now reduced to peddling his fear toxin to Gotham's drug dealers. The Caped Crusader is "assisted" by a gang of Batman wannabes - a positive but unwanted sign that Gotham's citizens are being inspired by Batman's example.
But Batman believes that the time is coming when Bruce Wayne can hang up cape and cowl and call it a day. He hopes to pass the beacon of hope on to chiselled District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart). Dent is a man not afraid to go that extra mile in the fight against crime; at one point he manages to convict over five hundred criminals at once.
Of course, it's not long before a wrench is thrown into the gears. A wrench in the shape of a scarred sociopathic madman known only as the Joker (Heath Ledger). Adorned in a purple suit, white make-up, and a red rictus grin, the Joker first manages to once again unite the mob, then has the citizens of Gotham cowering in terror from his reign of pure chaos.
Posthumous Oscar nomination aside, Ledger's performance is a dark and sometimes disturbing gem that deserves every bit of praise that it's getting. The heavy make-up that obscures the actor's face is only an exterior symbol of the extent to which Ledger fearlessly dives into the Joker's psyche. The young man who charmed his way through A Knight's Tale, and mumbled his way through Brokeback Mountain, is nowhere to be seen.
Instead, Ledger licks his lips, moves with an edgy, unpredictable grace, and snaps from comical to creepy in the blink of an eye. He spreads disorder throughout Gotham, taking character's moral codes and twisting them into impossible situations. As the Joker says himself, "The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules." But, contrary to recent press coverage, this is not solely Ledger's show. Christian Bale, returning to the Batsuit, is just as good as Bruce Wayne/Batman as he was in Begins, if not better. He is not as tormented as in the previous film, having found in Batman a effective outlet for his anger and grief; but he still smoulders with the intensity required to make this difficult character believable. Gary Oldman also stands out, having a much more significant role this time around; Lt. James Gordon seems to occupy the moral middle-ground between Batman and Harvey Dent, two characters prepared to bend, and maybe even break the rules in their pursuit of justice.
The film's supporting roles are also above par. Michael Caine's fabulously dry Alfred adds some welcome humour into the otherwise totally bleak proceedings. Morgan Freeman continues to exude class as Lucius Fox. And Maggie Gyllenhaal's spunky Rachel Dawes is vast improvement over Katie Holmes' ingratiating version of the seemingly superfluous character (Dawes is much more important this time around).
The narrative drive of The Dark Knight, however, belongs to Dent. Eckhart is perfect in the role. He has the charisma and integrity to pull off the crusading D.A., and the pathos and emotion to make his descent into the vengeful Two-Face a truly tragic turn of events. And when it comes to the all important scarringwell, Tommy ain't got nothing on this.
Other directors might have treated all of this as nothing more than popcorn entertainment. But not Christopher Nolan. Right from the opening shots, Nolan declares that The Dark Knight is not just a comic book film, not even a sophisticated comic book film; but rather a sophisticated crime drama. The neo-noir visuals, the dark urban settings (shot masterfully by cinematographer Wally Pfister), and the carefully staged action sequences could more easily have come from something akin to Heat or Se7en as a summer blockbuster.
It seems strange comparing a Batman film to cinema's great crime sagas, but there is no way around it. Nolan and his brother Johnathan have written a perfectly crafted thriller that uses its otherwise outlandish characters to explore the very nature of morality, and especially that nature in terms of our governments' war on terror. One of Batman's tools will certainly spark debate concerning our progressively more pervasive surveillance culture. And when was the last time a comic book film sparked any kind of serious debate?
I said at the beginning of this review that The Dark Knight is the Watchmen of comic book films. I can think of no better way of putting it. Alan Moore's graphic novel showed readers that comics can be dark, complex, and intelligent. Similarly, The Dark Knight will prove to audiences that comic book films aren't just mindless flashy entertainment; they can engage us, explore the very nature of humanity. And most importantly, they can make us think.