This French cinephile mag makes it look superawesome, too. Did the world go mad or is it me?
I don't get out to the movies much. I watch them at home, on AppleTV mostly, though I used to use Netflix. Several years ago, I got a full year behind the releases, and now I've got new stuff to see every every month. Also, things can hit the rental market earlier now. The viewing set-up here is pretty luxe and comfy, with good snack, clean bathrooms, and a pause button. So, only occasionally, especially because my usual movieviewing pal hates the sticky floors and bad manners of the current scene, we will get to the actual cine-mah. So, I've been waiting and waiting to see this highly-praised film that's exactly the kind of thing I love. Last night, finally seeing it, I felt like it must have been filmed in an alien language about another species. That's how much I didn't get it. Has that ever happened to you?
There are slight spoilers ahead to THE DARK KNIGHT. I keep forgetting to do the jump thing, so you don't have to see the rest unless you want, and now I can't remember how. I'll surf up an answer or get a tutorial from Laura, and improve as a person.
I'm still peeved about being so disappointed, so onto the rant! The unacknowledged incoherence within DK's own character scheme, fallacious philosophical arguments, and booming CGI explosions in every scene can't make up for villanous expositional diarrhea, general pomposity, creation of improbable (if overtly biblical) crowd reactions, or lack of kick-assness in the stunts. Not spared stunt expense, mind you, coolness of visual or sympathetic impact. I know some people found the action scenes k-a, but I found them derivative, complicated, loud, and dull. If the camera never slows long enough for me to realize where we are or who we're hitting, the blur as we're fighting through is slick filler. I say this as an action movie fan, and this is a problem with many of the more techno films. The gasp factor's gone because it's a parade of things that don't seem to hurt or even deserve a pause. I didn't like the editing here in general, though many of the shots of Chicago were great. For scary, hemmed-in car chases, the Blues Brothers' or Popeye Doyle's were way looser and scarier.
The most subtlety was allowed to Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman whose presences relieved the angsty, line-in-sand-drawing of the leads, with an exception for Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon, who I liked in the first, too, because he plays his part like an overwhelmed human being, not a bunch of lines for impact. I really thought the first was a better film, if you like a story that makes sense.
If it's only about the boom-boom, I'd say keep the motivations simpler. Me attack him with cool toys. He respond with inexplicably high, bland voice (from an actor with great lower-reg pipes) plus the ability to rig the most complicated, undetected booby traps across the whole city despite the fact he claims not to trust underlings, doesn't believe in crime for the money so can't afford to pay qualified help, and largely employs the actually deranged. Even with ample training, I wonder how well the crackhouse-crazy handle munitions, because there were so very many explosives to rig without alerting authorities. Authorities that simply run here and there, losing assets right and left while maintaining their bureacratic, jurisdictional concerns rather than appointing even one team of proactive loony-hunters. Don't even get me started about the possibility of a steaming pile of blues that absolutely no one recognizes taking position of honor at an important municipal event. Of course, sure. 'Cause cops aren't suspicious or observant and there's no hierarchy in PDs.
As for the judgements implied here on civilians, despite one notable exception where we're all supposed to be proud of ourselves and each other, regular people are portrayed as far more irrational, passive, reactive, and cruel than I buy, even in groups. Seems like if this ONE GUY is the biggest problem, we could all just focus on taking him out. Oh, no, can't snuff him or even properly immobilize him though. Do guard him with a single, short-tempered dude. Don't strip his clothes and shoes. Don't manacle him. Don't tranquilize him. Isn't drugging him into stupor the right response to handling a criminal mastermind? After just one exploded hospital, wouldn't I be willing to suffer an Internal Affairs review for excessive tactics with the dart gun? Heck, wouldn't I be willing to lose my job if the city stopped bursting into flames on every corner? Yes, rights. Yes, due process. But deep in your heart, do you think a guy like this would get any more sympathy than real-life Dahmer when someone killed him in the prison bathroom?
In fact, the only person whose head is demanded, literally, by an angry crowd of strikingly persistent and risktaking vigilantes, is an innocent guy who knows information that the villain doesn't want exposed. The villain blackmails Gotham to kill the guy to earn his favor and spare other targets. Excellent, very good then. Who else may we kill for you master? Chaos vs. Chance vs. Choice. That's the wobbly and not-wonderfully drawn conceptual stool this film's balancing on. But in trying to make a hero not exactly a hero, it turned into an incomprehensible mess for me. Because I couldn't give into the larger currents, the sucking of each false little eddy annoyed me, too. This film did huge box office receipts, and was reviewed wonderfully by people I respect. With an hour and a half left in this two and a half hour epic, I was already detached and critical. I wanted to be transported. I don't know what's wrong with me.
Image Source here. I read that Liberty Girl. Mezzo mezzo, I thought.
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