Let me start by saying that The Dark Knight Rises is pretty much what I expected it to be - a spectacular, satisfying conclusion to Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy. It certainly has its flaws, but it is nonetheless a wonderful piece of filmmaking and storytelling by one of our best working directors. And yet the main question everyone is asking about The Dark Knight Rises seems to be, "Is it better than The Dark Knight?" The short answer is no, it is not.
The Dark Knight is a better film than The Dark Knight Rises for several reasons. For one, its story is more tightly written - everything we see on screen happens for a reason, and the different subplots all intertwine flawlessly. Whereas the final film in Nolan's Batman trilogy simply tries to do too much, forcing in too many characters and subplots that could have been condensed, combined, or left out entirely, and giving the story a rushed, chaotic feel. There is also a constant sense of self-consciousness about the film - the viewer gets the feeling that Nolan and his team carry with them the weight of the acclaim The Dark Knight earned, and are constantly trying to top themselves, rather than tell a new and distinct story which will stand on its own merits.
A perfect example of both of these aspects is the opening scene in which Bane and his thugs hijack a plane in order to kidnap a nuclear physicist. Their plan comes off as unnecessarily (and somewhat absurdly) complex - why did Bane and his men have to be captured, and why did the whole thing have to occur while the plane was in the air? This sequence calls to memory the bank heist scene in The Dark Knight - both are opening action set pieces which introduce the audience to a new villain. However, the bank heist serves its purpose far more successfully. It contains great action while not being overly complex, it moves the plot forward by establishing that The Joker is stealing the mob's money, and most importantly, it tells us a great deal about the villain. While Bane's scene is an introduction to the villain in only the most literal sense that the audience sees him and experiences his actions for the first time, the bank heist demonstrates through this one scene that The Joker is a ruthless, clever loner operating on his own terms and unafraid of pissing off the wrong people. By the end of Bane's plane heist, all we really know is that he is a big scary guy with a weird mask.
However, returning to the question of whether The Dark Knight Rises is better than The Dark Knight, the more complete answer is that these two films are both parts of a greater whole, and though drawing comparisons between the two is inevitable, trying to determine which one is truly "better" is akin to trying to decide which chapter of a book is your favorite. At its core, Nolan's trilogy is really the story of one character - not Batman, but Bruce Wayne. Looking at the trilogy in terms of dramatic structure, Batman Begins serves as the introduction, establishing a back story and setting up the character of Bruce Wayne for further development. The Dark Knight provides the rising action of the story, expanding the characters and raising the stakes while building toward the climax. And The Dark Knight Rises brings the climax and resolution of Bruce Wayne's story. And it is here, as a conclusion of Bruce Wayne's story arc, where The Dark Knight Rises truly excels. The ending of this film also serves as the ending to the trilogy, and The Dark Knight Rises delivers an exceptional finale.
So ultimately, when discussing these films, here's what I am going to say: I consider them all to be excellent movies, both independently and as parts of a whole. Do I have a favorite? Yes. I think The Dark Knight stands above the rest in terms of filmmaking, in terms of story, and in terms of personal preference. But does that mean that I wouldn't call all of these movies great? Of course not. I love the trilogy Christopher Nolan has given us, and I am sure that it will join others such as Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings in being considered one of the greatest film trilogies of all time.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Thoughts on the First Seven and a Half Minutes of "The Newsroom"
Here’s my problem with
everything Aaron Sorkin has ever done:
It doesn’t feel real. On an
intellectual level, I fucking love it; I eat it up like every other liberal,
college-educated post gen-Xer. But on a
gut level, it doesn’t totally work for me.
When watching anything written by Sorkin, I always have a tiny voice in
the back of my brain screaming “REAL PEOPLE DON’T TALK LIKE THIS!”
Case in
point: The opening scene to the first
episode of “The Newsroom”. Minutes ago,
Jeff Daniels’ world-weary news anchor just snapped and spouted off a “spontaneous”
tirade condemning the idea that The United States of America is the greatest
country in the world. Daniels does a
grand job of making the speech seem passionate and sincere, but the problem is,
this isn’t what people sound like when they’re pissed. When people are pissed, they are blunt and
crazy and they swear a lot. They don’t
spew a rapid-fire list of accurate statistics about the world which provide
solid evidence to back up the point they’re trying to make, no matter how
fucking smart they are. Jeff Daniels can
give the performance of his career, but it doesn’t matter, because no matter
how much humanity he brings to the moment, I am distracted by the fact that
this speech SOUNDS SCRIPTED. By somebody
who is so clever in his writing, he’s forgotten that cleverness is a fleeting,
elusive element in the reality of everyday life which even the luckiest of
intellectuals only attain every once in a while, and even then, only for the
briefest of moments.
A great
writer does not use every character as a mouthpiece for himself. Granted, every character is going to have
some of the writer in him (obviously no one is so ingenious that he can
entirely separate himself from his work and create something entirely unique,
even to himself), but a good writer should attempt to create different
characters, with different strengths and weaknesses. But every single person in anything Aaron
Sorkin writes is so GODDAMN QUIPPY.
Every character, from the jaded 50-something news anchor, to the
ambitious mid-30s producer to the wide-eyed 20-year-old intern is the spitting
image of Aaron Sorkin (so to speak).
Every single character on this show, regardless of their apparent
intelligence, educational background, or life experience, packs more witty
one-liners into one conversation than any reasonably intelligent person in real
life is lucky to come up with in a month.
What the fuck kind of pseudo-intellectual parallel universe are we
living in here? This is not
realism.
On some
wanky liberal-arts major level, I love it.
But on a gut level, it is both exhausting and entirely
unbelievable. Every conversation occurs
so rapidly, in a way that conversations do not occur in real life, because in
real life people actually have to take time to process and come up with a response
to what the other person is saying, not just spit out brilliant lines as soon
as the other actor has finished speaking.
Jesus.
Also, the
music is fucking terrible.
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