'Batman Begins - The Bildungsroman movie that people deserved' or 'Harap-Alb as Batman?! Surely you jest...'

'Just some nut'.

Hey, remember that time I wrote a post on The Dark Knight? It's only the post with the most views on this blog, about one of the best movies to have come out of the noughties. 

Oh, you don't?

Oh, you've never read this blog?

Oh, you've read it, but you thought it was utter drivel?

Ah, well, that explains it, then. That particular post is three years old anyway, so its 'success' probably has something to do with the 'Batman' and 'Dark Knight' tags, because I can apparently predict the future and in no way have I just realised the usefulness of post tags just now.

Ahem, it's been a long time coming, but I want to focus on Batman Begins today. Having rewatched it recently for the first time in two or three years, I thought it'd be a good time to finally talk about it. Truth be told, as much as I love The Dark Knight Trilogy, the fact that I had watched both BB and TDK a bazillion times by 2012 kind of took its toll, in the sense that I felt like I had exhausted myself when it came to these movies - essentially, oversaturating yourself on good things is a fact of life (whatever that means). In any case, that's my 'excuse'; nobody cares about that, so let's get into it.

It might be a weird starting point for a post focusing on BB, but the latter is more or less completely blown out of the water by TDK, its first sequel (less so to not really by its other sequel, The Dark Knight Rises). On the other hand, TDK does that with every other superhero flick released up until this point imo, so there's that. Then again, without BB - and I don't mean just the movie on its own, its commercial and critical success, as well as its status as the starting point for the story presented in this trilogy, there would be no TDK. Of course, there are still other people who simply prefer BB to TDK as a Batman movie, but the reason I've made this point right at the start of this post is because despite TDK being an improvement on it in almost every sense, BB still stands on its own as a quite remarkable achievement, both in terms of its place in the superhero genre, as well as its place in a wider cinematic context.

For one, it was BB which started this trend in Hollywood of rebooting franchises whenever they hit a dead end (in other words, whenever they stop making a fuckton of money). The problem is that more often than not it seems that what Hollywood understood from BB's critical and commercial success can be summed up in the following rather crude terms: "Hey, we know that last movie in the franchise really disappointed you and all, but we're restarting it with another origin story, which is totally not the same as the one we showed you before, despite it being the same character's origin story. Oh, did we mention that we got different actors to play the parts? Oh, and also, we're making the main character edgy and brooding, despite their origins. You guys love Batman, right?". *cue the third Spider-Man reboot in the space of 10-15 years*. Okay, that was not as crude as I was originally planning and went on for longer than I would've wanted, but I digress.

The first overall aspect you notice about BB is that, much like the other two films in the trilogy, it works on several levels; in BB's case, you've probably got three or four levels - it functions quite flawlessly as an origin story, it's a very good superhero movie and, in broader cinematic terms, it can also be viewed as a rather surprisingly grounded story about the resilience of the human spirit. And finally, you've got the overarching level of a Batman movie, not a genre in itself of course, but considering that there had been several Batman movies released by the time BB got made, there were definitely grounds on which to properly judge it as such. Origin story-wise, it has shades of a bildungsroman (aspects which I will be focusing on during this analysis, in case the title wasn't self-explanatory), especially once Bruce Wayne sets out on his path of exploring and attempting to understand the criminal world. It is interesting that the character who sets Wayne on this path is mob boss Carmine Falcone (played by the scenery chewing and scene stealing Tom Wilkinson of Rock'n'Rolla fame), who points out that as a result of his status as 'Gotham's favoured son' and bonafide rich boy, Bruce has no real understanding of the concepts of desperation and fear. Falcone can, as such, be viewed as one of Wayne's mentors in the context of a bildungsroman structure. Of course, it's worth delving into the reasons for why Wayne seeks out Gotham's biggest mob boss for, ahem, 'spiritual advice'. He's not necessarily a mentor in the traditional sense, but his influence is rather crucial. And, of course, he's basically the first 'bad guy' Batman beats up, the first trial, as it were, on his hero journey (yay character progression!!), whereby beats up means applying a headbutt after terrifying the shit out of him. A Batman staple, to be sure.

This being a Batman (origin) story, the events are basically set in motion by the murder of young Wayne's parents in front of his eyes by random mugger, Joe Chill (who is also the leader of the White Walkers in Game of Thrones, because of course he is). It's rather refreshing that the scene in question is not dragged on too much for dramatic purposes and indeed, it's not really referenced directly anywhere else in the trilogy. Point is, his parents were fucking murdered in front of him when he was a kid, of course it's going to traumatise him for the rest of his life and, as such, there's not really much point bringing up the event repeatedly in order to reestablish what's already been established. Having said that, it is given its due importance seeing as it's clearly emphasised as being the event that triggers Wayne's journey towards becoming the Batman. It also leads to one of the many genuine emotional moments that this trilogy does so well - in this case, it's the moment where young cop James Gordon (played by Gary Oldman) comforts young Bruce Wayne by putting a coat around his shoulders 'to let him know the world hadn't ended'. There's a lot of symbolism going on even at this early stage in the trilogy - for example, unlike other movies which show us our protagonist as a child in order to...well, I'm not exactly sure why; just because heroes were kids too, I guess? (I'm looking at you Phanton Menace and Amazing Spider-Man), the scenes of young Bruce Wayne in BB actually serve a purpose; the most pertinent of these, the one where he falls down into the well and is swarmed by bats, is representative for Bruce's emotional struggle throughout this trilogy, as he's essentially stuck in that well, psychologically speaking, for almost the entire duration of the overarching story - in this sense, it's significant that it is only with his father's help that Bruce can get out of the well as a child (come to think of it, didn't Harap-Alb fall into a well in John Branch's original tale too?). It's no coincidence that this is the first scene in BB and, consequently, in the trilogy, as it's the start of Bruce Wayne's arch as a character (something the character's never really had on film before). I've also always enjoyed the 'Why do we fall? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up' line - it's cheesy, yes, but it also concurrently serves as another prevalent theme throughout the trilogy. It's also quietly significant in its first iteration (it's what Thomas Wayne tells young Bruce after rescuing him from the well) because this is a family of rich people we're talking about here - you would have thought they would come up with something along the lines of 'Let's get you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, money will ensure that we're first in line' or maybe even something like 'Shrug it off kid, it's no big deal'. It's of course important to point out that Thomas Wayne's an actual doctor, but we get a hint of what sort of upbringing Bruce had been receiving from this particular line of dialogue - instead of pampering and spoiling him or, even worse, ignoring him altogether, there's an encouragement towards accepting his mistake and learning from it, thereby finding the inner strength to overcome hardship on his own.

By now, it should be clear that there's a lot of humanising going on with the Bruce Wayne character in this movie - one particular touch which I enjoy is that the twenty something Wayne, having returned to Gotham, tries to take justice into his own hands and attempts to shoot his parents' murderer. Which, you know, if you think about it, is a totally human reaction to having your parents shot down in front of your eyes as a child. I appreciate that this aspect is not glossed over, since it's one of the things that makes the character relatable - which is important both in terms of  this being an origin story, where it's crucial for the audience to be invested in the character's arch, as well as in the wider context of this being a rebooted Batman story, which was following in the wake of the unmitigated trainwreck that was Batman & Robin. The scene in question also leads to another iconic Batman moment within the movie, namely the scene where Wayne emphatically discards the gun he was about to kill his parents' murderer with (quick clarification, the latter is actually murdered by a hired gun working for the aforementioned Falcone). Beforehand, there's also a shining moment for the much-maligned character of Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes in this movie), who underlines the difference between justice and revenge to Bruce, as well as going ahead and literally slapping some sense into him after he reveals the gun he was going to use on Joe Chill. Rachel, of course, is another one of Bruce's mentors in the context of the bildungsroman discourse. She's also, rather ham-fistedly, his love interest in the movie, which doesn't really work here, but they do turn it around in subsequent movies where it's pretty clearly established that Bruce had idealised her as being both representative of his life before the tragedy of his parents' murder (given that they were childhood friends), as well as a means of returning to the aforementioned life. This, of course, does not sound like a healthy relationship at all and this is what subsequent movies establish in broad terms - in this sense, the whole Bruce-Rachel angle does work as a sort of anti-relationship which was never going to work on romantic terms, which sets these movies even further apart from your usual comic book movie romance, where the hero almost invariably seems to be on a 'romantic' collision course with the first female character he's being chummy with.

Since this movie doesn't end abruptly with our hero finally on the path towards becoming Batman, this post will go on for a while longer, despite being of quite significant length already. There are, of course, several other mentor figures throughout Bruce's journey during this movie - the most prominent of which is Henri Ducard aka Ra's al Ghul, if you haven't indulged in rock-dwelling for the past ten years. Played rather fittingly by Liam Neeson and being the leader of a secret group of ninjas bent on bringing balance to the world, the character is probably Wayne's harshest mentor, putting forth the notion that it was a lack of conviction which prevented Bruce's father from stopping the mugger who murdered him and his wife during one of several excellent scenes from this movie (it kind of gets forgotten that BB has its own share of epic and quite powerful scenes, considering the usual prevalence of TDK and TDKR). The particular scene I'm referring to is the duel that takes place on the ice, but the extended scene featured in the link does a good job of demonstrating why Ra's is not simply being a dick to Bruce for the sake of it - his argument has merit and it's also meant to help Bruce focus and channel his anger and guilt into something greater: strength in both mind and body ('Why do we feel anger and hate? So that we can channel them into POWAAAAHHH!! UNNNNNLIMITEEED POWAAAAH!!!'). Um, sorry, wrong movie there. Moreover, Ra's is the one who plants the seeds for this universe's iteration of Batman's mission - Gotham is depicted as a decadent mess, mired by corruption at almost every level of society, so much so that the 'good people' of the city see no viable way of upsetting the established order; as such, the Batman is meant as an incorruptible symbol of hope, something which transcends the mere trappings of mortals (as dramatic as that sounds - literally), meant to inspire the people of Gotham out of their apathy in order to take control of their city. 'A dramatic example', if you will. Of course, Ra's' own plans for Gotham entail upsetting the status quo as well, but in a much more extreme manner, whereby the city and its people will be destroyed so as to allow them to rise from their own ashes, born anew, without all the 'benefits' of the aforementioned corruption. It's here that the conflict with the future Batman is cemented - it's good vs evil, sure, but it's more muddled than most iterations of the conflict and, at its core, it's ideological: Ra's essentially considers that society can only be truly cured of corruption if it starts from scratch, that its people have time and again proved that they cannot overcome corruption on their own and, as such, require a 'little push' from an outside source; while, on the other side, Batman/Bruce Wayne has faith in the people of the city and their ability to enact change, should they be provided with a symbol of hope to get them moving in the right direction and act on their impulses. In other words, their views do not sound so different at first glance. It is of course quite clear that Batman himself represents an external influence in this context and, moreover, one who operates outside the law (Batman is a complex, elitist prick like that). And yet that is the crux of the conflict, the manner in which the two characters seek to accomplish their goals - Batman trusts in the people, but not necessarily in the system, while Ra's trusts in neither.

Of course, if you've been paying attention so far, Bruce Wayne's faith in people doesn't come out of nowhere in this movie - it's a result of the influence his other mentors have had on him throughout his life. We've already mentioned an aspect of the (rather) brief upbringing he receives from his parents, whereby onus and faith is placed on the individual's ability to learn from their mistakes and 'pick themselves up' in their aftermath. It's also notable to point out that the Waynes are not your typical rich people either - in their brief time on screen, it's established that Bruce's parents are quite the philanthropists, using their wealth and influence to help Gotham. They even receive praise in this sense from the fanatical ninja leader himself. High praise indeed. I've also pointed out how Jim Gordon provides hope through the simple, yet compassionate act of placing a coat around young Bruce's shoulders in the aftermath of his parents' murder in an attempt to comfort him. One would be severely amiss not to mention Wayne's faithful butler in this context as well - played by the ever-present (in Nolan movies) Michael Caine, Alfred Pennyworth serves as Bruce's moral compass throughout the trilogy, as well as a surrogate father figure. In this sense, he's not as blunt as Ra's with his criticisms, but he's not one to hold back on them either, whenever Wayne seems to be getting lost in the monster that is his Batman persona or whenever he genuinely fucks up (character development, yay!!). That being said, he understands what the Batman represents for Bruce and, as such, helps him however he can in his endeavours under the guise of the former. But, perhaps most importantly, he nevah' loses faith in the man who is his son in all but blood. It's these moments in Bruce Wayne's coming of age (here, have this scene as well, it's quintessential Alfred) that basically ensure he's not a total cynical prick by the time he becomes an adult and, subsequently, Batman. As we've established, he's not a complete idealist either - the mere fact that he creates the Batman persona is proof of this, but it makes for a complex character and really, this is one of the major strengths of Nolan's Dark Knight Trilogy, that it taps into the potential of the Batman character in this manner. It's why they felt and still feel so fresh in the wider context of the ever-growing superhero movie genre.

I keep underlining or otherwise alluding to the fact that character development is a staple of these movie (and, by extension, the trilogy proper), so let's cite some specific examples as well. Some of the examples might come across as character progression instead of full-on development, but it's worth pointing them out, nonetheless. In one of his first outings in the movie, Batman does some nice detective work and tracks down a stash of drugs concocted by one Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow (aka the mesmerising Cillian Murphy) - everything goes well for our beloved bat vigilante: he successfully infiltrates the hideout where the drugs are located, knocks out some mooks by using the shadows to his advantage, you know, your usual Batman routine. This is until the good Dr Crane gets the jump on him, dousing him with a more than healthy dose of his infamous fear gas, before proceeding to set the Batman on fire, but not before spouting a pretty bitchin' one liner - here, take a look (seriously, I'm pretty sure all the villains in this trilogy have bitchin' one liners at one point or another; Batman has his share as well). It's pretty jarring to see Batman set on fire - I know I was taken aback first time I saw the movie, but the whole point of the sequence is to indicate that he's still new to the whole bat vigilante thing. Again, he's treated as a character, a flawed one at that, who underestimates the threat posed by the least physically imposing member of the three man group he takes on in the aforementioned hideout. It goes without saying at this point, but it makes him relatable - I mean, how many times have any of us underestimated a nerd who proceeded to set us on fire, amirite? Not very good jokes aside, it further humanises Batman/Bruce Wayne as a character.  Alfred is, of course, on hand to pick up the spoiled rich guy who dresses up as a bat at night in order to punch criminals with his bare hands and take him home, while Lucius Fox (played by non other than Morgan Freeman) concocts an antidote for the effects of the fear toxin. And now, for the character progression (!!!) - when Batman confronts Dr Crane and his goons a second time later on in the movie, this time at Arkham Asylum, he meticulously takes out each mook, before turning the tables on the good doctor by dousing him with his own fear gas, before proceeding to make the latter crap his pants for good measure. And, of course, he delivers his own one liner to boot. It's quite cool and satisfying to see, especially in light of his initial failure against Scarecrow.

Perhaps the more dramatic (and debatable, at that) example of character progression comes in the scene where Batman defeats Ra's al Ghul, who is bent on having Gotham 'tear itself apart through fear' (watch the movie to see what that entails, scene in question is here). It's the manner in which he defeats him which is interesting and rather controversial in terms of the Batman character - he essentially leaves Ra's to die on the train, which you know, considering Batman's much vaunted no killing rule, is equatable to heresy. But here's the thing, it's a morally grey decision instead of a purely dark one, as it might seem at first. In this sense, it requires context: it's important to keep in mind (and I've only noticed this on my latest viewings of the movie) that Ra's sabotages the train's controls by stabbing his sword through them when Batman tries to stop the train himself at the beginning of their fight. This distinction is important in light of Batman's line to Ra's before leaving him to die with the train - 'I won't kill you, but I don't have to save you' (because you fucked up the controls yourself and also, I've saved your life once and look where that got me). It also establishes that Batman is not there to outright kill Ra's - his plan, although not outright stated in the movie, seems to have been to manually stop the train and, failing that, have Gordon destroy the rails as a failsafe. He probably didn't count on Ra's stabbing his fucking sword through the controls in an act of fanaticism, but then again, it's an act which is consistent with the latter's characterisation in the movie. It's still rather jarring to see Batman do this, especially on first viewing, but to be frank, the 100% no killing rule has always seemed too idealistic and goody two shoes to me - it's basically a staple of the so-called 'Batgod' from the comics and from the cartoons who can essentially do anything and beat anyone (including Superman) with enough prep time and who's not really a character with an arch for that matter. Not to mention, Batman has killed at different points in the character's history (here, have some Cracked as proof). In any case, I bring this up as character development because it's a rather emphatic 'apprentice surpassing the master' moment - Ra's repeatedly points out to Bruce that he 'lacks the courage to do what is necessary' (true conviction, in other words, aka 'veritable cojones'), while also harping about how compassion is such a big weakness at various points in the movie. So for Batman to turn the tables on his mentor and demonstrate that he does indeed have the conviction to make a decision like this, just not in the manner Ra's had taught him to (it's quite neatly summed up in Ra's reaction in light of Batman's decision; thank you, Liam Neeson), as well as in light of his saving the latter at an earlier point in the movie, is a triumphant moment in the character's growth over the course of this movie. Predictably, the scene also serves as a crowning bildungsroman moment too, whereby the protagonist demonstrates a new-found maturity - a 'coming of age' moment, to be sure, one of the staples of the genre. Yes, it's a morally grey decision, but in light of what happens in the movie, namely Ra's returning to attack Gotham after Bruce had saved him earlier on, as well as Ra's' destruction of the train's controls, it's not really something which can be held against our protagonist. I could also argue that it's actually the measure of a true hero to be able to make such morally grey decisions (which is why I liked Superman snapping General Zod's neck in Man of Steel as well), but that's probably a subject best left for a separate, ahem,  'fucking long post'.

So now that I've basically spoiled this movie for our rock-dwelling crowd out there, it's waaay past high-time I concluded this post. I really can't do so, though, without a few words about Nolan's Batman/Bruce Wayne himself, Christian Bale. I believe I've mentioned all of the more prominent actors in the movie until now, but it really can't be stressed enough just how good a casting choice Bale was in the context of the version of Batman that Nolan was attempting to sell with these movies - a flawed and human character, to be sure, but a remarkably driven and gifted one at that. Bale sells all three distinct facets of the character pretty flawlessly - the genuine Bruce Wayne persona we only get to see in the presence of Alfred or Rachel, characterised by a quiet intensity specific to Bale, the playboy Bruce facade he puts on in public (which he's perfect for, considering his previous role as Patrick Bateman in American Psycho), as well as the pure rage and anger which drives his Batman persona. The latter, I feel, has received the most scrutiny among fans and critics alike (more often than not because of the voice he uses, although his take on it is at its best and most consistent here in BB), while his take on Bruce Wayne has received many plaudits for being the best version put on screen so far (most notably his turn in TDKR). The playboy facade seems to be taken for granted more often than not, but there's a lot of neat little acting moments throughout the scenes where Bruce is putting the facade on which really sell just how good of an actor both Bale and his character are - for example, the non-chalant 'What's that?' and facial expression which accompanies it here, as well as the line + facial expression combos here (at 0:07 and 1:02, respectively). It's interesting to note that during his conversations with Lucius about the gadgets he acquires from him, he oftentimes transitions to his genuine persona, showing yet another different side to Bruce Wayne, namely the man who genuinely gets a kick and a veritable release out of being Batman, the closest thing to the notion of 'fun' he will probably ever get (well, apart from nailing Marion Cotillard and Anne Hathaway in TDKR, as well as the numerous models he dates throughout the trilogy, but that's neither here, nor there). The fact that all these nuances come through in Bale's performance in this movie is a testament to his acting chops, as well as his suitability to Nolan's vision of Batman. I'm not really sure any other actor could've sold the character and his arch throughout these movies so well.

And that just about brings things to a conclusion - despite being overshadowed by TDK, and sometimes by TDKR, Batman Begins is a great movie on its own. While I have endeavoured to focus on its bildungsroman elements here, some of the aspects I've brought to the fore in this analysis go some way towards establishing its quality as both a comic book superhero movie, as well as a drama, thriller and action movie all at once. Besides, there have been plenty of analyses on the latter two aspects anyway (you'll have to find them on your own, of course). In general movie terms let's call them, it's got very good pacing I feel (as do the other two Nolan Batman movies), a pretty flawless cast and performances, including a more than worthy villain in Liam Neeson's Ra's al Ghul (even Katie Holmes is pretty solid), great cinematography, as well as a soundtrack which represents a fine example of how to compliment a movie's tone and feel seamlessly, while also standing on its own to boot (great work by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard, in other words). It would be amiss not to also mention that all the heavy thematic aspects of the movie, as well as the darker, moodier nature of the story, are counterbalanced by some well-timed humour as well, usually provided by deadpan snarkers supreme Alfred and Lucius Fox, but Bruce Wayne has his moments too in this sense. One other aspect I will touch upon is the heroes beside Batman who are featured in the movie - they're not main characters of course, but it can't be argued that Oldman's Jim Gordon (the lone good cop fighting against the odds within an impossibly corrupt system), Caine's aforementioned Alfred (the surrogate father figure and moral compass our hero can always rely upon) and Holmes' Rachel Dawes (the incorruptible Assistant D.A.) come across as heroic in this movie in one way or another. They're the good people of Gotham which are referenced throughout the movie who render Batman's fight and struggle worthwhile. They're also the friends he claims he does not have the luxury of, alongside Morgan Freem....errrmmm, Lucius Fox, of course.

And to cap it all off, we have the ending of the movie, which is uncanny in the way it conforms to the following: "The bildungsroman traditionally ends on a positive note, though its action may be tempered by resignation and nostalgia". Well, I wouldn't exactly call Gordon's pointing out of the flipside to Batman's crusade against crime 'resignation', but I digress. The ending is pretty flawless in that it can act as both the perfect sendoff for a standalone Batman movie, as well as the perfect note to leave open the possibility of a sequel. And I've always loved Gordon's hope-filled look just before the end - the Batman effect, in full bloom.

Ahem, addendum: Poetry in Motion

'A silent guardian, a watchful protector', anyone?

'Decent men in an indecent time' (a.k.a. WARNING: Fucking Long Post Up Ahead)

Okay, so most of you should definitely recognise the picture at the top of this post. If you don't, then you should definitely go and watch The Dark Knight. It's not too late for you. Anyway, spoilers beckon is what I'm trying to say.

So yes, it's finally here - the first part of my series on Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy and I will start with what's widely considered the crème de la crème of this movie series, 2008's The Dark Knight or TDK for short. Now, there's a lot of ways to view this movie, all of them valid to varying degrees: the epic struggle between Batman and his arch-nemesis the Joker, a pertinent social/political commentary, a crime drama that just happens to feature Batman or the movie that transcended the superhero genre. You could even describe it as the story of how a guy dressed up as a bat tries to stop a homicidal clown, if you're feeling cheeky. In short, it's a movie with a lot of layers to it and as a guy who likes being given food for thought by the movies he watches (read, hipster), this film is at the very top of the list of my all-time favourites. The multi-faceted nature of it also makes it a bitch to write about seeing as I could really just go on and on about it and it would probably take up at least two blog posts (consisting of at least 1000 words each). But it's Christmas, so I will have pity on you. Consider it a gift. This particular post will probably still be fucking long though.

I will attempt to look at the film through a prism that I don't think has been talked about as much as others, although considering how vast the Internet is, I'm probably very wrong. Anyway, enough with the cryptic blabbering, what I'm trying to say is that The Dark Knight is a paradoxical movie (in a good way). In more ways than one. Many people view it as the quintessential Batman movie and I remember hearing a lot of folks saying back in 2008 that 'this is the way Batman should be!'. And it's hard to argue with that: Bruce Wayne spends most of his screen time in the batsuit; all of the main aspects of the Batman character are emphasised (to varying degrees), from his colossal ability to kick ass to his detective skills, to his remarkable ability to appear/disappear out of/into thin air. And then you also have the presence of Batman's most iconic villain, the Joker, who puts the 'essential' into 'quintessential'. Despite this, it's interesting to note that TDK is such a thorough deconstruction of the idea of Batman it's not even funny. For one, everything bad that happens in the movie is basically his fault. The Joker is a direct response to Batman's extreme and theatrical brand of vigilantism, he is the embodiment of the 'escalation' police commissioner Jim Gordon was talking about at the end of Batman Begins (or BB - the subject of my next post), and he goes on to terrorise the city and blow up a lot of crap throughout the movie, including Batman's girlfriend (yes, I know that sounds funny), not to mention turning Gotham's citizenship against him. The villain even mentions this dynamic at various points in the movie: 'you complete me' and 'this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object' he says to Batman, as Bruce comes to see the madness he's brought upon the city ('I was meant to inspire good, not madness, not death'). To top it off, Bruce initially dismisses the threat posed by the Joker, gravely underestimating him with a casual 'Criminals aren't complicated' line (which is a nice throwback to Ra's Al-Ghul's philosophy back in Batman Begins). What's more, the only 'good' that Batman seems to inspire amongst the citizens is a bunch of idiots dressed in hockey pads (note: Batman does not wear hockey pads) who can't even fight for their lives and use guns. So in other words, a perversion of Batman himself.

Then we have Harvey Dent, whose character is in direct contrast with Batman - he is the hero with a face that Gotham's citizens look up to, the one who battles corruption and criminality as ruthlessly as Batman, but within the boundaries of the law. If the parallels weren't clear enough, both Batman and Dent are directly referred to as Gotham's 'Dark Knight' and 'White Knight' respectively. So it's clear that Batman's presence in Gotham is practically redundant with Harvey Dent around (Bruce recognises this). But this all becomes moot by the end of the movie, as the latter is corrupted by the Joker and becomes the murderous vigilante Two-Face. In other words, Batman is indirectly responsible for Dent's fall as well, seeing as how the Joker is a direct response to the former's brand of vigilante justice. In the end, Batman can only defeat the villain by turning to morally dubious and desperate methods, such as spying on the entire city and creating a lie in order to preserve Dent's reputation in the eyes of Gotham's citizens.

There's this undeniable air of cynicism to the movie and it's brought about by aspects such as the hero bringing copious amounts of grief, inadvertently of course, upon the city he aims to protect. This is again pointed out by a character in the movie, namely Jim Gordon's wife, who exclaims: 'You brought this craziness on us, you did!'. This cynicism is blatantly spelled out through the Joker's philosophy, which he details in that famous interrogation scene: 'When the chips are down, these uh, these 'civilised' people, they'll eat each other'. So basically, what he's saying is that society is inherently flawed and that shitty circumstances will bring out the worst in people (also, if given the chance, people will fuck each other up). In other words, 'deep down, everyone's as ugly as him' and he sets out to prove just that through his ferry experiment. Towards the end of the movie, he has two ferries (one filled with ordinary citizens, the other with criminals) rigged with explosives. The catch is that he hands each group of passengers the detonator to the other boat's explosives thereby putting the people's fate in their own hands. Of course, he also keeps another detonator for himself so as to actually give the boats a reason to want to blow each other up (he details his entire plan over the ferries' loudspeakers). The ferry scene has been criticised by some viewers for its rather overtly dramatic execution, but the truth is that it's an essential sequence and one of the only genuine rays of light in an otherwise very cynical and dark movie. The people on the ferries decide to NOT blow each other up, to the Joker's utter surprise (and frankly mine as well, because I'm convinced that in a real-life situation, either one or both of the ferries would've been blown up) and this is basically Nolan's way of saying that despite all the ugliness that the world is obviously plagued by, there IS good out there. This idea is further emphasised by the fact that Batman is the only one who has faith in the people to not blow each other up, as Jim Gordon is already on scene together with a bunch of SWAT teams ready to intervene. Bruce Wayne's unerring faith in the people of Gotham is also one of the only positive aspects about the character throughout this movie. The ferry scene is the moment where Batman's crusade is vindicated: the people of Gotham prove themselves to be worth saving and he is consequently proven to be right to place his trust in them despite all the crap that he's been through, both physical and psychological. Like I said, the scene is rather unrealistic in its outcome and that's why it stands out; it's like Nolan just stopped and said 'alright, enough with all this doom and gloom crap, time to show the viewers that there is indeed hope in this shitty city...also, time to prove Batman right for a change in this film'.

In fact, it's towards the end of the movie that Batman is brought back together. We have his aforementioned faith in people, which is all the more remarkable when you consider just how close one of the ferries came to blowing up the other. The possibility of either one deciding to blow up the other was distinctly present, and still Batman chooses to trust in the good of people. And then we have his actions at the very end. Never mind him saving Jim Gordon's son from getting shot, the fact that he's even willing to take the fall for Harvey's murders as Two-Face is very powerful and a rather tragic turn of events. And this is because, in the end, it turns out that Batman is indeed the hero Gotham deserves as he willingly chooses to look like a villain in the eyes of the public so the city does not lose faith in its 'true hero'. The shocked expression on Gordon's face as Batman tells him to 'call it in' offers a glimpse into how emotional this turn of events is. To recap, Batman's been through a LOT of shit before this moment: he was pushed to the edge of his psychological boundaries by the Joker's machinations; he blames himself for the loss of his childhood friend Rachel (his romantic interest and last hope for a normal life) - who was basically the last shred of the innocence and life he had before the murder of his parents (Bruce Wayne, lest we forget, also had his parents shot down before his eyes when he was freakin' 8 years old); he is indirectly responsible for the tragic fall from grace of Gotham's one true ray of hope in years, Harvey Dent; not to mention the fact that the Joker turned the city against him. Oh, and he's also found the time to beat up a bunch of SWAT teams, get mauled by some rottweilers and have his wind pipe almost crushed by the Joker beforehand. And after all that, he's still willing to become the villain for the good of the city. 'You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain' comes to mind.

There's another slight paradox in there as well. As previously mentioned, Harvey is made out to be Gotham's one true incorruptible hero throughout the film, as well as a counterpart to Bruce Wayne/Batman. Moreover, they both pursue Rachel as a romantic interest. Harvey proves to be anything but incorruptible though, pursuing murderous justice against those he considers responsible for Rachel's death (she had also told him she'd chosen to marry him, seconds before she's blown up) following a 'final (metaphorical) push' into madness courtesy of the Joker. So it's rather paradoxical that Batman's the actual incorruptible hero all along even as he takes the blame for Harvey's crimes. I also see this as the movie telling us that, at the end of the day, Bruce is the better of the two men: he doesn't cross that line of no return between murderer and vigilante despite having to go through the same emotional trauma as Dent and then some. He's very close to crossing it earlier in the movie when Joker urges Batman to run him over with his bike, with the latter deciding against it at the last moment basically. That moment pays off in their final confrontation, when Batman saves the free falling Joker, prompting the villain to say 'You [Batman] truly are incorruptible'. It's here that The Dark Knight truly earns its superhero movie tag: Batman's one true superpower is his unbreakable spirit (well, I guess his money too, but that's not very inspiring) and in the end he proves to be the better man.

It's inspiring stuff and this is a descriptor I've not often seen used when discussing TDK. Inspiring is also the way I would describe the feeling immediately after seeing this movie at the cinema: it's a little hard to describe, but it was something along the lines of 'my faith in humanity has been restored'. There's this underlying theme of hope and optimism throughout the movie that comes in stark contrast with its cynical and bleak outlook. Harvey foreshadows this theme with the line 'The night is darkest just before the dawn' and it is prevalent in the ferry scene. Beyond all the theatricality (clowns dressing up as nurses and guys growling in batsuits in the case of TDK), the spectacular action scenes and explosives inherent to any superhero flick, The Dark Knight basically tells us that being cynical is all well and good, but without taking a chance and having faith in people, good things will not come about and our perspective will remain bleak. It's a situation which we've all been confronted with at one point of our lives or another and this is one of the movie's main strengths, its capacity to tap into a reality of the human condition (and society as a whole) and to get it across even with all the other things it has going for it. 'Sometimes truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more' is another example of such a situation. It's one of the reasons I love this film to death and really, I could just go on and on about the various aspects of this goddamn movie, but I'll stop here, as my initial promise of this being a fucking long post has been fulfilled.

I'll leave you with the epic (and cheesy) monologue that concludes this flick, which actually doesn't come off as cheesy thanks to the nature of the movie it's said in, the timing of it and Gary Oldman's godly delivery: Chills, I tellz ya'!