Runtime: 2 hours, 45 minutes
Rating: PG-13
Director: Christopher Nolan
Quick Impressions:
The opening sequence of this movie terrified me. Since our family was on vacation in Disneyland on the day of the film’s release, I didn’t get to see The Dark Knight Rises until it had been out for just shy of three weeks. In that time, of course I’d heard all about the horrible events in Aurora, Colorado.
When the lights went down and the movie started, I suddenly felt a flicker of terror, trying to imagine what those unsuspecting victims must have experienced that night. Such random acts of violence never fail to unnerve me. They could happen at any time, to anyone. And I’m someone. (Though it probably seems ridiculous, I kept a paranoid eye on anybody leaving or re-entering the theater.)
But honestly, even without the chilling subtext of recent events, the audience’s introduction to Bane is intense, and the character is larger-than-life and burgeoning with menace. With such high energy tension on the screen, you really can’t look away from this riveting opening, and what follows continues to captivate. The Dark Knight Rises never feels long or boring, an astonishing feat given its near three-hour runtime. Its intensity barely wavers, so it’s not going to win any prizes for feel-good movie of the year, but it definitely concludes Nolan’s Batman trilogy with a masterfully crafted neatness I never thought possible.
The Good:
The Dark Knight had a crackling electricity, a demented manic energy that Nolan’s third installment doesn’t even attempt to recapture. It’s a different kind of movie with slow, stagey pacing, and an epic, apocalyptic feel. Tonally, it seems much more like Batman Begins than The Dark Knight, which is fitting because key elements of its plot also link it closely to the first film. One of the greatest things about The Dark Knight Rises is best appreciated in retrospect—how well it concludes the story and ties together so many elements, resulting in a cohesive trilogy.
Sometimes I look back on blockbusters of my youth (comic book adaptations, in particular) and wonder, Were they even trying to make those movies good, actually good? (I’m sure they probably were, and I’m not trying to knock Tim Burton’s first two Batman movies. I really loved Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman. If she put on the cat suit right now, I’d buy a ticket, even if there wasn’t a movie. (I’m not quite sure what that means. It’s meant to convey my enthusiasm.))
But Christopher Nolan has achieved something extraordinary with this trilogy. He has a clear (narrative) vision for these films, and it’s one that he’s able to share with audiences.
The Score:
When I try to remember which scenes were most effective and when I felt stirred or engrossed, all I can think of is Hans Zimmer’s wonderfully compelling score. In particular, I can’t forget the chant that accompanies the Dark Knight as he rises. Well, actually, to be more accurate, I can’t remember it. (When I try to recall the words, I can only think of people chanting, “Sick, sick possum.” It sounds very majestic in my imagination, but I wish I knew the real words.)
But you’re just going to have to take my word for it (or see the movie yourself), Hans Zimmer has written a wonderful score. The scene near the end of the movie when the rising anthem plays on the streets of Gotham is amazing, entirely because of the power of the music. And the rest of the score is good, too (though less obtrusive). It seems perfectly paired to what’s happening on screen.
(Side note: I was so glad that the Dark Knight actually did rise, that they actually had a reason for calling the movie that.)
The Villains:
Bane scared me consistently in a way that no other Nolan Batman Villain has done before. Was Heath Ledger’s Joker better? Well, of course, but that’s not a fair comparison, and the whole question is stupid, anyway, and shouldn’t even be asked.
I remember early on, some people very vocally had trouble believing that Bane could be the main villain in The Dark Knight Rises. Well, I’ll say this. Bane is incredibly scary, and Tom Hardy dominates every scene he’s in. (And I know there’s some debate over this, but I liked his voice. I thought it was quite terrifying, basically because you think, Nobody with a voice like that could be serious. That’s a voice you use for playacting. But then you find out he is serious. He’s not pretending to be the monster. He really is the monster. That’s extra terrifying.)
But is Bane actually a monster? I really liked the character and thought Tom Hardy’s performance was absolutely fantastic.
To me, Anne Hathaway always seemed like a strange choice for Catwoman, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt because I think she consistently does good work, and I like the respect she shows to older actresses and the respect she shows to people in general. (Her portrayal of Agent 99 in Get Smart was like a love letter to Barbara Feldon, and not every young actress would care so much about those who came before her.) I have to say, though, as much as I liked Michelle Pfeiffer’s unhinged Catwoman, I liked Hathaway’s interpretation of the character equally.
To be honest, Hathaway’s Catwoman was my favorite part of the movie (which is saying a lot because Hardy is fantastic as Bane, Marion Cotillard is one of the most gorgeous and compelling actresses alive, Michael Caine is a pro, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is another favorite of mine, and Christian Bale himself is nothing to sneeze at. And oh yeah, Gary Oldman and Morgan Freeman.) But Hathaway’s Catwoman not only injects much needed humor (and pointedly hope) into the story, but she also makes so much sense as a character. Hathaway does some fantastic acting, making her seem strong and terrified, brazen and vulnerable, disillusioned and hopeful, often all in the same long glance. And, as my husband noticed, her “ears” are really cute.
Best Scene:
I liked the last thing Batman said to Commissioner Gordon, but I’m a sucker for stuff like that. Surely that can’t really be the best scene. I also liked the moment when the doctor told Wayne the actual secret to making the climb. That felt a little heavy-handed, but I didn’t care. I love stuff like that, and it was a huge turning point in the story (not just the plot of this movie, but in the greater arc of Bruce Wayne’s emotional journey.
Best Scene Visually:
This movie doesn’t go easy on the symbolism (visual or otherwise). In fact, when Bruce first arrives at the place where he learns he needs to rise, the symbolism is overwhelming. There’s even a character who’s conveniently there just to explain directly how deeply symbolic it all is. Visually, though, there’s a great moment seen even in the previews, when Hines Ward runs across a football field that’s collapsing behind him.
Best Action Sequence:
Catwoman’s clever use of a cell phone, and the way she behaves in the aftermath brought a smile to my face, but in terms of intensity, it’s hard to beat the plane crash at the beginning of the movie. Notably, this movie has tons of action—and particularly lots of chases—but relatively little fighting by Batman. Most of that occurs in his first showdown with Bane, a gripping scene, partially because of Catwoman’s role.
Funniest Scene:
I personally like the theft of the pearls, particularly the interaction with Alfred afterwards. What Alfred said to Bruce actually made me laugh out loud. It really shouldn’t have. It’s not that funny. But maybe I’ve just heard it from my mom enough times to appreciate the tone.
Best Impression of Hines Ward:
As we walked out to our car, my husband asked, “What did you think?” and I answered immediately, “It’s cool that Hines Ward was in the movie.” My husband replied, “He was?” I said, “Well, I mean, they filmed in Pittsburgh, and he was number 86, and it looked just like him.” When I got home, I confirmed that it really was Ward, not some scarily good Hines Ward impersonator. That’s a nice way to retire.
The Negatives:
Definitely this movie places an uncanny (and sometimes annoying) emphasis on the power of staring into someone’s eyes across a crowded room. It’s all about hunches, connections, realizations—just basically all kinds of gut feelings you get when you stare into somebody’s captivating eyes. John Blake looked at Bruce Wayne once, and, bam!, he just got him! Bruce Wayne stares at Selina Kyle, and bam!, he just gets her! We stare at the heavenly eyes of the child in the prison, and bam!, we just get it! (Or, anyway, we should. The movie all but spells it out in closed captioning at the bottom of the screen.)
Acting on a hunch because you feel an inexplicable, instant, core connection with someone is the beating heart of Nolan’s final Batman film. When people raise their beautifully lit eyes in The Dark Knight Rises, you’d better believe that they see something. And it’s what matters. And it stirs them to the very core. And that’s all the evidence/incentive/assistance they need. To do anything (even if it is not actually humanly possible).
That’s all well and good when we’re watching with conflicting emotions as Bane’s enormous eyes fill with tears or Catwoman makes a bitter realization. But when Alfred’s eyes suddenly light on something of interest in a café—well, that’s a bit much, isn’t it? No wonder that scene has conspiracy theorists spouting out all kinds of frenetic nonsense. That scene felt a little off to me. It was just too much. (And can you blame the conspiracy theorists for confusing that moment with the ending of Inception? It’s like déjà vu all over again. And Michael Caine is there.) I personally think the Inception ending enthusiasts are reading too much into the final scenes. If the ending is meant as some kind of bizarre twist, it kind of spoils the otherwise tremendously gratifying closure of the three-film journey of Bruce Wayne. So I don’t think the ending is meant to be anything other than obvious.
Still, the supremacy of intuition that drives this film gets to be a bit much. You really have to be willing to suspend your disbelief. I mean, who wrote this screenplay? The Nolan brothers or Charles Dickens? (Of course, maybe the reading from A Tale of Two Cities is a deliberate nod to the fact that they’ve noticed all these tendencies in their own script.) Actually, what I really want to know is not why so many characters follow their intuitions to the truth, but rather why so many others don’t. Characters just “getting” something is hard to justify on screen, but in life, instinct is hard to ignore and often makes a more compelling case than the most cogent argument. Personally, I’ve had many a, “Why do you think that?” “Because it’s true,” moment, and if others don’t get it, that doesn’t make it any less true. But in a movie…
I love The Dark Knight Rises because it supplies such a neat ending to the trilogy, but on the flip side, it supplies such a neat ending. Such a neat ending. Such a neat ending! No matter how impressed you are, part of you is like, “Seriously? And what happened to Miss Havisham?” Nolan crafts his Batverse with such gritty realism—and then the most amazing, unbelievable stuff happens! In some ways, the film’s greatest strengths are its greatest weaknesses, and I’m not sure how it could be otherwise.
Also, the villain’s entire evil plot for what to do with Batman seems a little weird. For both Bruce’s emotional journey and the film’s symbolic subtext, what happens to Batman is perfect. But on the actual narrative level—seriously? Isn’t that plan kind of convoluted? (I’m watching Phineas and Ferb with my daughter right now and can’t help but think of Heinz Doofenshmirtz saying, “Wait, just hear me out…”)
Also, for what it’s worth, John Blake is my least favorite character. He’s the embodiment of the whole “it’s going to work because I just know” vibe that dominates The Dark Knight Rises. His character seems convenient, contrived. In just the way that Gotham needs Batman, The Dark Knight Rises needs John Blake. And so he is there.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and I am definitely not knocking his performance. I’m also not saying that Blake isn’t a likeable character. He seems like a plot device with a steely glare, though. Everything about him just feels a little forced.
I also wasn’t crazy about Foley, played by Matthew Modine. I appreciate that Christopher Nolan loves putting past their peak 80’s stars in his movies, and I liked what they were trying to do with the character, but I wish they’d used someone who had actually been in the previous movies. I didn’t think Foley’s story was as moving as they obviously intended for it to be because of all the new characters introduced, he was the least interesting, so I never really cared about him. I barely registered him.
The Dark Knight Rises does take itself pretty seriously, but it’s a serious piece of cinema and deserves to be taken seriously. It does contain probably more than its fair share of dramatic, sanctimonious speeches. And it’s definitely not subtle. In ways besides the resemblances I’ve noted to Dickens, it really does seem like something you’d read in a high school English class. The symbolism is pretty heavy handed—but to be effective on the screen, it kind of has to be. Some people may think it’s a little long, but if you’re a fan of Nolan’s franchise, then you shouldn’t really care. (And if you’re not a fan, I can’t imagine why you’d pay theater prices to see a three-hour movie, somehow deluding yourself that you’d like the third one when you didn’t like the other two.)
Overall:
Watching The Dark Knight filled me with more delight and surprise than watching The Dark Knight Rises. Still, The Dark Knight Rises entertained me the entire time it was on the screen and never disappointed me once. And with some distance, the movie seems even better. As I lay sleepless in the middle of the night last night, I realized, I really liked that movie, especially the ending. If you believe it, it seems a little too contrived, like something by Charles Dickens.
But I love Dickens, and I love contrived endings, and I loved The Dark Knight Rises. I may have to watch it again before it comes to Blu-ray.