July 22nd 2012
Heroism is steadily becoming an overrated profession these days. No one gives you the respect warranted by your deeds and accomplishments. For our protagonist Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) and his alternative identity as Batman, the people of Gotham City have moved forward eight years since the crime-infected days of The Dark Knight - since the city's white knight Harvey Dent was killed.
Director Nolan's final film of the successful Batman franchise does well to home in on the significance of public memory, remembrance, and the image of hope. For the truth of Dent's murder is only known to a precious few, and none of them feel it is time to rewrite what exists for Gotham. As a result Batman has been the scapegoat for all this time, forcing Wayne to slip into retirement and disappear from both his public profession as part of the city's lavish elite, and from his role as protector. It is this reluctance that Wayne's lovable servant Alfred (Michael Cain) picks up on, noting the psychological damage it is causing to the last member of the family. This complex emotion becomes key to the rise of the plot's antagonist Bane and his formidable plan to watch Gotham burn by exploiting this weakness.
We get two notable newcomers: the capable junior police officier Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), frustrated with the refusal of his team and superiors in believing that there is something beyond what they have been told about Batman. Knowing Wayne to be the man behind the mask, Blake puts forth fresh determination into how true heroism should be defined and re-evaluated. Then there is the theiving Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway) working with Bane to pursue 'a clean slate'. To Batman she is trapped by her past and thus contains more than subservience to the villain, which brings our hero to his knees and direct confrontation with the biggest challenger: himself.
Some of the film's best scenes take place when Wayne is pushed to the limit, forced under Bane's clutches to physically and spirtually starve. He learns a great deal about the depravity of hope and the true nature of despair, and it is a relief to see Nolan do a fine job handling the Sisyphean symbolism of the film's mid-section. Any mistakes in pacing could have deteriorated into heavy-handed preaching, but instead we see Wayne discover the roots of his failure and unlock the answer to his rise, bringing him much closer to his adversary than he could have otherwise imagined.
In just under three hours (165 minutes), The Dark Knight Rises is not a short film and responsibly uses the time frame. Nonetheless the story attempts to cover a lot of ground, from the meaning of heroism and psychological discovery, corruption and the 1%, the ascent of criminal decadence to replace order with anarchy, childhood nostalgia for a pure protector, and reconciliation with the past and the fulfillment of a familial legend. Then there are consistencies with the original graphic novels that, to my knowledge from loyal fans, carry through quite well for the most part. For the ambitious finale of a trilogy The Dark Knight Rises is a stellar piece of filmmaking and storytelling, and we can certainly forgive Nolan for dubious moments with nukes and science.
Gotham coming under seige and left abandoned by its main hero must be an unimaginable feeling for its people. The rug underneath them has been pulled, leaving them out in the rain with the cold truth about protection and miracles. For Wayne it has always been about being anonymous, so that Batman could be "anyone in Gotham City" rather than another possession of his household that has many enemies. The Dark Knight Rises delivers as much about Batman's past as it does for his future, and for the city and people of Gotham, Nolan tells us an important thing about heroes: they don't need a mask and high-tech equipment, but a spirit able to return from collapse and choose the many over the few.
