The best and worst part of Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy is the compulsory ending. Rather than flaming-out, as film franchises often will, The Dark Knight Rises brings this Batman to an unambiguous close, leaving no room for another director to come in and foul it all up. The trouble is that any definitive end risks ill-will. With all arcs wrapped and all possibilities for future characters, storylines, speculations, and explanations finished, the finality can make some people feel abandoned, even betrayed. Some who legitimately don't care for the ending will struggle to reconcile the ending the writer/director wanted for his story with the ending they'd have preferred. This tendency is more pronounced among comic book fans, who can find a reason to hyperventilate over the slightest deviation from canon. And they frequently forget that their preferred vision of Batman is always safe in old books or TV shows, or movies or, for many of us, in the individual versions of the character we've formed in our heads from the odds and ends of different source materials (my own ideal version is an amalgam of elements from the Nolan films, the 90's Animated Series, and a few others).
Unfortunately, many will not countenance an end for Batman--it seems so un-Batman to "finish" his mission, after all. But within the more plausible "Nolanverse," it takes a deranged mind to think that not only can Bruce Wayne continue doing his job, but that he must. A character we ostensibly love must not be allowed to end his ordeal, cannot become happy. And, admittedly, TDKR tows that line for much of the run time, doling out one gut-punch after another, to a degree that often seems unbearable, especially on a first viewing. Such is the nature of viewing a psychologically-thrashed vigilante in a more "realistic" atmosphere; Batman may be mortal, yet what mortal can ever be Batman? As Alfred points out, there was probably never anything for Bruce in Gotham except pain--and he finds it. And this was always Bruce's arc, not Batman's. But as we learned last time around, the night is darkest just before the dawn, and without Batman's (and Gotham's) greatest challenge beating him down again and again, it would be hard to buy the idea that Bruce has earned the right to overcome it, to settle down, unburdened by his past, enjoy a clean slate, and finally be happy. "Why do we fall, Bruce?"
But where would the fun be if our imaginations weren't allowed to run wild? After years of saying he would never bother with Robin, Nolan threw us for one final loop. After building up to the reveal with an intriguing, understated performance from Joseph Gordon-Levitt, police officer John Blake avoids the nasty pitfall of such a reveal: seeming cheap. By quietly throwing in elements from comic book Robins (Dick's police background/years of experience, Jason's angry orphan, and Tim's straight-up reverence for Batman), it allows Nolan and Gordon-Levitt to make the slow-burn, giving us something we may not necessarily have expected, but that we can instantly accept. And because they didn't take the even cheaper route of giving us Blake in the Robin costume fighting along side the Dark Knight, it never takes away from what is fundamentally Bruce/Batman's story. We'll never get a movie with Gordon-Levitt as Robin/Nightwing/Batman II/Azrael. While that idea might be fun, I think it would be bound to disappoint in the long-run. But it always works in our dreams.
Given about sixty seconds' more screen time, Anne Hathaway might have stolen the show entirely. Catwoman (referred to in TDKR only as Selina Kyle) probably shouldn't be a tough character to pull off. But because of comics' (and comics films') trouble with women, she sometimes is. Once again though, the Nolan crew's adept handling of the Batman mythos gives us something true to the source while also giving us a genuinely good character. Take note, comic filmmakers: understanding a character's psychology and worldview is infinitely more important than getting the costume right. TDKR showcases the banter with Batman (and Bruce) that--done well--is always entertaining, as well as the visceral fanboy thrill of watching the two fight side-by-side. It never disappoints on those more superficial levels, but always keeps higher purposes in mind. A quasi-Occupy-esque Robin Hood, Kyle is a force for--forgive me--chaotic good. She sees through the elites' obsession with order and takes the piss out of a system designed--intentionally or not--to domineer those who aren't born/luck into the upper echelons of society, here meaning people like Bruce Wayne who, while doing genuine good, sometimes misses the forest for the trees in his crusade to end crime. But upon seeing the effects of Bane's gross and manipulated populism, she understands that this, too, is wrong. And while this might reek of some vacillating on class stratification, the trilogy has never totally sided even with its hero on right vs. wrong. Mistakes can be and often are made even by those with the most noble of intentions. Would that we could all have a device to wipe the slate clean.
Tom Hardy takes on the hardest job in the film, trying to live up to Heath Ledger's lighting-in-a-bottle turn as Joker. It's to Hardy's credit that he never attempts to top Batman's greatest villain, instead handing in a new rogue on his own terms. Half-reprising his performance from Bronson, he delivers a terrifying and strangely charismatic Bane. With most of his face obscured, Hardy communicates volumes through very expressive eyes, conveying a pain and tenderness that's easy to miss for the device on his head and his harsh, cold voice. Oh yes, the voice. Nolan clearly acquiesced to studio demands at least a little, adjusting Bane's voice where and when the film needed it; in a few scenes (the plane-hijacking, the first fight with Batman, and the storming of
Among other praiseworthy elements: Hans Zimmer's finest work of the Batman movies ("Imagine the Fire" is my new go-to track at the gym). Talia's death mimicking that of her father (Marion Cotilard lies to us so as not to hurt us). The whole concept of that prison in the pit. A really good (small) story for Alfred; the life of the stoic is not always a rewarding one and I've always loved the the idea of Alfred as a tragically loyal enabler to Bruce's psychoses. And Jonathan Crane returns!
The last few minutes of the movie are nothing short of spectacular and though I haven't shied away from spoilers here, I can't do them any justice by describing them. Those minutes, more than any other part of the trilogy, will--and probably already have in come corners of the internet--prove divisive among fans for several years to come. But, as previously discussed, no ending could possibly have satisfied the entirety of the Bat-fanbase. And Nolan should never have been forced to do so. What he demonstrated with this trilogy was that nothing trumps a solid vision and a willingness to tinker with the letter of the material, but never the spirit. Not all Gothamites embrace Batman as their savior and not all Bat-fans are through-and-through admirers of Nolan. That's okay. Nonetheless: when a man with a mission is given the tools to see it through, he creates his own mandate. When allowed to do his job the way he sees fit, he'll work wonders never thought possible. And despite all the mistakes that came before, a man shows what can be done when he make the concerted effort to pull himself--and others--up, out of the pit. Sometimes, a man rises.
Grade: A
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