Showing posts sorted by relevance for query star wars. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query star wars. Sort by date Show all posts

Thursday, December 31, 2020

The Mandalorian: For Every Character There is a Season

Every since Disney bought out Lucasfilm and announced their plans to carry on the Star Wars franchise, I've approached each new installment in the Star Wars story with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Like a junkie, part of me wanted to keep chasing that high I felt from the Original Star Wars Trilogy and the Prequel Trilogy, to recapture that same feeling of wonder and adventure and excitement and strangeness like surprise incest or random '50s-style diners. But the rational part of my brain kept trying to tell me that Disney's acquisition of Lucasfilm marked the end of an era, and that the high I was chasing didn't exist, and I should devote my energies to other, more fruitful pursuits, like developing the world's first mass-produced, consumer-grade flamethrower. Unfortunately, Elon Musk beat me to this totally useful and not in any way egregious misuse of humanity's finite resources in a world where people are literally going homeless and dying from easily treatable medical conditions in the richest country in the world, so I guess I'll have to go with Plan B: miniature bidets for cats and dogs.

The Star Wars content that Disney did put out has, for me, been an exercise in diminishing returns. I'm still not completely caught up on the animated shows, but for me, Star Wars has always been about the silver screen experience: the epic storytelling, the larger than life characters and plot, the cheer of the crowd, the crushing of the enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentations of the women. At the time I'm writing this, there've been five Star Wars feature films released under the Disney Regime so far: Episodes VII, VIII, and IX carrying on the main movie storyline, and two spinoffs set between Episodes III and IV of the main series, Solo and Rogue One. Out of those five, Episode VII: The Force Awakens was essentially a soft reboot of Episode IV: A New Hope, Episode VIII: The Last Jedi stands with the best that Star Wars has to offer, Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker keeps getting worse the more I think about it, Solo was a decently fun galactic romp, and Rogue One was the movie equivalent of a couple of kids playing with their toys for a couple of hours.

Tuesday, May 06, 2014

May the 4th Be With Us All

Suck my balls Episode II can.
May 4, 2014, marked the annual unofficial celebration of an indelible part of pop culture history that has - for better or worse - contributed to the psychological development of countless grown men and women including, perhaps most notably, the proliferation of the "slave girl" sexual fantasy. May 4th has proliferated as an international day to recognize anything and everything related to the STAR WARS property (as if it needed any more recognition) due in large part to the date's name being easy fodder for geeky punsters ("May the Force/4th be with you.") who don't mind taking the chance of sounding like an offensive homosexual stereotype and the ability of the Internet to propagate information faster than people can effectively evaluate its relative worth.

In honour of the occasion, I decided to watch the originator and slapped STAR WARS (no fucking Episode IV bullshit) into my Blu-Ray player.  As I watched what had undoubtedly been a formative text in my own personal psychological library and recited entire scenes word for word (much to the chagrin of my wife), it dawned on me what imperfect movies STAR WARS and all of its sequels and (even more so) its prequels actually were.  In fact, even as a huge fan of the series, there is still a lot of stuff, even in the original trilogy that I had grown up loving, that is either really laughably bad or patently ridiculous or some combination thereof.  

Despite the fact that STAR WARS was (aside from the special effects) quantifiably a B movie, it was - and still is - pretty fucking awesome.  It wasn't because of the originality of the plot, which is filled to the brim with cliches, convenient coincidences, and (perhaps unsurprisingly frequent) lapses in logic.  Let's face it, STAR WARS is not exactly the epitome of storytelling genius.  It wasn't because of the acting, because even Sir Alec Guinness and Harrison Ford, the arguable acting heavyweights of the film, could only elevate the dialogue only so far.  As a moral tale, it didn't really say anything that hadn't been said before or present the nuances of morality.  In fact, it does the exact opposite, simplifying morality down to a really basic good versus evil dichotomy exemplified, of course, by the Light Side/Dark Side of the Force.

Monday, December 21, 2015

The Force Will Be With You, Always. No, like Literally, Dude.

Today marks the last day that my stream of consciousness will include only six Star Wars films. Tomorrow, I take my first step into a larger world. Or, more accurately, my seventh step. But who's counting? I mean, other than the execs over at Disney? Star Wars: The Force Awakens marks the seventh feature film in the now-legendary franchise, which is simultaneously an inspiring tale of hope and redemption and symbolic of a sort of uber-consumerism with merchandising tendrils worming their way from all manner of action figures to kitchen utensils and appliances to makeup. Fucking makeup!

Ever since George Lucas followed up his beloved original trilogy with the prequel trilogy, which received--to put it mildly--mixed reactions, the future of the saga remained a giant question mark. According to Lucas, his vision of Star Wars included a trilogy of trilogies and presumably orgies of cocaine and hookers dressed as wookies (at least you can always tell whether the walking carpet matches the drapes).

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

What in the Name of Yoda's Ears? The Force Help Us All... Hate Leads to Ass-Kicking

Suck this article does not.
Celebrity is a strange beast.  While it is a reciprocal relationship it is not a personal one.  Or, I suppose more accurately, it is an impersonal relationship with strangely personal emotional consequences for only half of the parties involved.  It's reciprocal in the sense that celebrities need fans and ordinary people (or at least less extraordinary people) in order to be considered celebrities and the fans get some sort of emotional and/or intellectual stimulation/satisfaction from celebrities.  On the other hand a weird kind of one-sided relationship -or virtual relationship- develops.  Through a celebrity's "art" (or at least their product) and experiencing their public persona via various interviews and Celebrity Gossip Media (be it magazine or insufferable TV program like ETalk or Entertainment Tonight or TMZ or some other such bullshit) the fans -and really the general public due to the pervasive nature of media now- "get to know" said celebrity and develop an emotional bond with him or her. 

Even though we have never met these movie stars or musicians we begin to feel like we know them, even though we couldn't possibly because we have never met them or interacted with them in any way.  What we are actually doing is constructing a character based on the information we are given and compiling a compilation of traits that we associate with a series of images we see on the screen.  We're creating characters.  We construct narratives for these personas that are based on (key concept here) real people then we work these narratives into our our own personal narratives through our emotional responses to what these characters produce and what they "do" and say in their "real lives."

But here's the real kicker.  While these relationships with celebrities we've never met are objectively Virtual they are subjectively Real insofar as that they provoke actual emotional responses in the minds of fans who have invested emotionally in these relationships.  And that makes them Real.  The only Reality that matters is perspective -both personal and collective- so while the fact that Justin Bieber is currently dating Selena Gomez is of no concern to most free-thinking citizens, to a teenage girl with fantasies of dating Bieber this is potentially crushing news, even though the fantasy may and probably will still manifest in some way.  But the emotional response was real and that's all that's important.  It matters if it matters to you. 

It's like a metamorphosis.  The Virtual is cocooned in emotion until it becomes Real.  It's one of the reasons that celebrity deaths affect (some of) us so much.  Even though we mean (literally) nothing to them through the lens of the media we have (vitually) come to know them so when they die the personas we have constructed based on the also die and we feel a (real) peronal loss.

And even though I am aware of the nature of this bond I not only continue to engage in it, I relish in it.  It brings me great (potentially perverse?) pleasure to love and hate these unstrangers who probably have nothng more in common with me than the fact I have seen them on my TV and read about them on the Internet.  I suppose it could be considered a double-edged sword, but that implies some kind of negative consequence for me, which I don't really think is the case because even when I hate a celebrity, deep down I still derive some kind of twisted pleasure from the hating. Just the sheer visceralness of the whole thing.  Misery loves company and we love misery.

Like most people I tend to take the decisions of celebrities far more personally than I probably should.  This is especially true of celebrities whose work I actually enjoy.   I don't know Christopher Nolan personally, but for making THE DARK KNIGHT I am eternally grateful and if we ever met I would happily partake in any Heracles-style Labour that he sent me to do short of sucking his no-doubt gargantuan dick.  (Oh, who am I kidding...)  More than that, I actually felt joy at his success as the media kept posting the record-breaking numbers. I was totally stoked when THE DARK KNIGHT broke the1 billion gross mark even though I would never see a cent of that money.  I got satisfaction from all of the critical acclaim the movie garnered him and his accomplishment not only of making one of the greatest films of all time, but also lending legitimacy to an entire genre of movies.

Conversely it always hurts when a celebrity that you like makes some piece of shit.  It feels like some kind of personal betrayal.  How could he do this to me?  But more importantly: why?  Perhaps one of the greatest betrayals came from none other than the Big Guy himself.  That's right, I'm talking about George Lucas.

George Lucas is a strange enough idiom in and of himself.  He's become a living contradiction: paradox incarnate.  As the creator of STAR WARS he has created one of the most pervasive and important cultural texts in the last century.  The intertext between the STAR WARS universe and modern pop-culture is so cemented that they have now become inexorably linked.  Referenes to STAR WARS now pervade our culture to the point where fictional characters and technology have become incorporated into household vocabulary.  Even people who have never seen a STAR WARS movie (I know, I know) or -even worse- have seen them but aren't fans understand these references.  Han Solo.  Yoda.  Light Saber.  My the Force be with you.  Why the hell do I know who IG-88 was?  It boggles my mind sometimes.  George Lucas is one of the few people who not only influenced our culture but actually shifted it's tragectory.  I don't even know if there is currently a cultural presence more pervasive than STAR WARS, or if there ever will be in the near future.  Even if you're not a fan of the movies or -perhaps more importantly- the merchandise, if you take a look at cultural texts around you, you will see these intertextual references popping off of te page or screen.

Now here's where everything gets screwy.  Even as George Lucas is the creator of this vast cultural empire (pardon the pun) he is also his own antithesis.  This is kind of poetic, and also kind of sad.  And at times, kind of frustrating.  As much as George Lucas contributed to our culture, and as much as he became this icon, he also seemed intent on destroying his credebility as an "artist" and a rational human being.  In seemingly complete defiance of all conventional logic George took one of the most beloved movie franchises in movie history and seemed to do everything in his power to undermine them and himself with his trilogy of prequels starting all the way back in 1999 with THE PHANTOM MENACE.

I'm not going to get into all the nitpicky details about why the Prequel Trilogy was far, far worse than the Original Trilogy, but even as an uninterested party watching all six of these movies it would be easy to see the decline in quality in the prequels.  In general there was a heavy reliance on special effects to make up for a lack of quality storytelling (a perfect illustration of the difference between "pioneering" and "beating to death"), convoluted plotlines, wooden acting, and an all-around sense of lack of direction.  And Jar-Jar Binks.  To this very day I still can't tell if George Lucas is some kind of Malevolent Entity bent on torturing mankind, or a Supreme Being testing our faith.  Neither one would surprise me.

I think what the STAR WARS prequels indicated was something fans had suspected for some time, but out of respect to their Messiah had not dared utter: George Lucas is not that great a director.  This may seem like blasphemy, and I know there are some out there who will throw AMERICAN GRAFITTI and THX: 1138 back at me as examples of his directorial prowess, however I will still be willing to concede absolutely nothing (except that their dick-sucking abilities are probably superb).  I'm a fan of those two movies as well, but they only further emphasize he point that Lucas is no maverick director.  As a director he is adequate at best.  If you look at the Original STAR WARS Trilogy and I mean really watch with a critical eye, I think the weakest one cinematically was the original STAR WARS.  Most fanboys will maintain that THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK is far and away the best STAR WARS movie (for me a very close second to RETURN OF THE JEDI) and despite so much inexplicable hatred for Ewoks that RETURN OF THE JEDI is also a better movie than STAR WARS.  I'm not saying this to malign the original, because it was ground-breaking both narratively (well, not original, but innovative) and technically and captured the hearts and imaginations of several generations and without it we never would have had the subsequent movies.  I only draw the comparison to make a point.

And the poin is this: while George Lucas is undoubtedly a visionary with a vivid imagination and a creative mind he is not a director.  I think what George Lucas is good at is big ideas, but he has trouble working out the small details and navigating the nuances of translating his ideas onto the screen.  I think it can generally be agreed upon by fans and nonfans alike that the two best STAR WARS movies were the ones that weren't directed by Lucas.

And this really sucks balls.

As a fan of STAR WARS you can't help but be a fan of the entity who created it, despite any later attempts to alienate you.  (STAR WARS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL anyone...?)  And as a fan of George Lucas I couldn't help but try to forgive what I thought was shitty about the STAR WARS prequels (especially ATTACK OF THE CLONES) and found myself in the (oftentimes) unenviable position of defending what I thought were mediocre movies just on principle alone.  Celebrity is a strange beast.  Even while defending his work both to others and myself, I still felt the need to exonerate George Lucas in my own mind for his heinous crimes against humanity (midichlorians?  WTF?).  You've probably found yourself wishing at some point in your fan-life that the object of your fandom wasn't responsible.  There must have been some other explanation, no matter how bizarre.  At times I found myself wishing that it was all just a terrible nightmare and that George Lucas couldn't have been responsible for the Prequels.  And now, thanks to YouTube I have an alternate, completely viable explanation as to what happened to bring about the STAR WARS Prequels in the form of a faux-trailer for GEORGE LUCAS STRIKES BACK which is loosely based onthe plot of OLDBOY.

There's tons of great little jokes like George Lucas getting upset at being labled "totally lame" by the media, his outrage over midichlorians, "I'm a businessman on my cell phone!," Darth Maul doing blow, assembling his team including Princess Leia, an older, rounder Short Round, and Chewbacca, Short Round's outrage over some clone trooper's admitted admiration of the new INDIANA JONES MOVIE, Greedo (not) shooting first, George Lucas fighting ninjas, clone troopers and Jar Jar, and several great lines like:

Princess Leia: "How do you take down an empire like that?"
George Lucas: "You shoot first."    

Princess Leia: "It's OK, George, even good directors make bombs once in a while"
George Lucas: "But mine go boom."

Anyway, after basically describing the whole fucking video for you just check it out below.  I found it quite hilarious and I hope you derive some pleasure out of the truth about what really happened in a galaxy far, far away...

  

Friday, November 30, 2012

The Neverending Story: Star Wars Edition

Four billion dollars sounds like a lot of money. And I guess it is.  It's also kind of a meaningless figure. If you told me you had four billion dollars, you might just as well have said you had a hundred bajillion cazillion shmashmillion dollars, because both figures are beyond my realm of comprehension. When dealing with money in particular, numbers as high as four billion become surreal and completely theoretical. The difference between having a hundred million dollars and four billion dollars is arbitrary at best. Most regular people can determine the worth of five dollars or ten dollars or even twenty dollars, because they can conceptualize the quantity of shit that amount of money equates to. We kind of have an idea, given the current (un)fair market value of most products in that price range, of the amount of physical matter we could acquire in exchange for those sums of money. Even values like a million dollars are within the grasp of most ordinary citizens. After buying a decent house and a car or two, you'd maybe have enough money to last for the rest of a decade, assuming you set aside a comfortable annual allowance of $50,000 a year and maybe invested a bit.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Lucas... Just Double Checking My Midi-Chlorian Count

In preparation for Star Wars: The Force Awakens, I made sure that in the week leading up to its release that I watched the first six movies as well as Tartakovsky's oft-overlooked Star Wars: Clone Wars show. For as long as I can remember, Star Wars has been a central part of my cultural vocabulary and an essential pillar of my own personal artistic cannon. Growing up on the margins of most social groups, the sci-fi genre was appealing because one of its core messages was always one of hope. Star Wars offered a different sense of hope than, say, the vision of the future that Gene Roddenberry gave us with Star Trek. The hope that Star Wars offered was the hope that for each of us there was the potential of completing our own version of the Hero's Journey: emerging from obscurity to stand against an unfathomably evil force and fighting back for the good of innocent people, your own survival, or to win a moral victory. It also offered the hope that no matter how badly you fuck up, like, say, making out with your own sister, you could still become a badass dressed in black walking the path of the righteous man.

In a lot of ways, Star Wars has become, both for myself and a substantial and increasing subset of the general population more than a series of movies--and video games and books and comic books and memorabilia of every variety that humankind can conceive of. It has become an icon, a cultural phenomenon that binds us and inspires us every bit as surely as the Force. Culture is a funny thing. Seemingly insubstantial artefacts are imbued with extreme significance, but as we validate that significance, we internalize it. Star Wars, like any other cultural text, is both completely irrelevant in the Grand Scheme of Things but intensely important on a very personal level and even on a macro societal level because it is integrated into both who we are and how we interact with each other. Being a fan of something isn't just some silly thing people do to pass the time and lower their chances of getting laid (by someone who isn't their sister); it's a part of their identity.

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Star Wars Episode III: The Sith, The Clones, and the Jedi


“A Kansas City Shuffle is when everybody looks right, you go left.” – Mr. Goodkat, Lucky Number Sleven

I remember going to the theatre to see Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith for the first time, and kind of being blown away by the opening sequence. I couldn’t shake the feeling that George Lucas had completely pulled the rug out from under the audience in the best of ways. As Lucas himself has pointed out, Star Wars and its subsequent sequels and prequels have always been essentially modern-day fairy tales with the requisite binary morality. Revenge of the Sith still falls along this spectrum, but if all of the previous Star Wars films were the sanitized Disney versions, then Revenge of the Sith is straight up, motherfucking Brothers Grimm. Revenge of the Sith is the version of Cinderella where her stepsisters cut off their own toes in order to have their feet fit the glass slipper only to be found out due to the copious amounts of blood easily visible in transparent footwear.

After two prequels worth of the typical Star Wars fare, Revenge of the Sith takes a dark turn early on that I don’t think a lot of people expected despite knowing where the story had to go. Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back is still hands down today the highest regarded film out of the saga among nearly any group of fans that you ask and is touted as being dark, but I think that Revenge of the Sith takes the mantle for the darkest entry any day of the week. The moment that indicated that this was going to be a different kind of Star Wars was the confrontation between Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) and Count Dooku (Christopher Lee) that ended in Anakin not just dismembering the good Count by cutting off both of his hands but then by brutally decapitating him once he is subdued and no longer a threat. Watching Dooku’s head bounce away like a tennis ball being chased by your pet nexu signalled a turning point in both the film and the series. In a film series that never shied away from casual dismemberment, there is something a lot more sinister here, something that “Oh shit” just doesn’t quite cover.

Thursday, December 04, 2014

Super Secret Sequel Teaser Trailer Roundup... Jurassic Wars Episode XI: We Can Sell Your Childhood Back to You Wholesale

This past week there was a great disturbance on the Internet, as if a million souls watching movie trailers cried out and then all reason and productivity were silenced.  In Hollywood* (*Now a wholly owned subsidiary of the Disney corporation), there is no such thing as luck because the inhabitants of that strange land have tapped into a power even greater than the Force: cold hard cash.  And it seems like they are intent on using this diabolical power to serve us up another heaping helping of franchise frozen dinners.  If revenge is a dish best served cold, then Hollywood is a dish served boiling hot around the edges but still frozen in the middle no matter how long the instructions on the box say to leave it in the microwave.

Two cinematic juggernauts are being brought back from the dead, though whether they turn out to be abominations akin to Frankenstein's monster or thoroughly awesome like Neo in the last five minutes of THE MATRIX (who totally would have beat the shit out of that impostor Neo in that weird alternate universe of the two sequels (That's the only way the world still makes sense!)) remains to be seen.  Both the JURASSIC PARK sequel, JURASSIC WORLD, and the seventh feature length STAR WARS film (not counting BATTLE FOR ENDOR and CARAVAN OF COURAGE), STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS, both started peaking down their respective birth canals.  For now they are still floating blissfully in those delicious placental juices, but far sooner than we realize, they will arrive in the world, kicking and screaming and soaked in various, life-giving, vaginal fluids, and be set on the path towards becoming president of Earth or an overweight stripper strung out on amphetamines.

Jurassic World


Friday, September 30, 2016

Star Wars Episode II: Send in the Clones, Don't Bother, They're Here

This film has been modified from its original version. It has been formatted to fit this screen.

Those fateful words will basically serve as the epitaph of an entire age of cinema. To most modern movie goers, those are words of a bygone era, but to cinephiles of certain age, they were a constant reminder of the subpar state of our home video versions of films. In those dark times, before the advent of the widescreen TV, audiences were forced to suffer through releases of films where it was possible that upwards of fifty percent of the image was chopped off just to account for the vast difference in aspect ratios between the original film stock and our televisions. In our darkest hour, "widescreen" versions of movies were paraded as some kind of special edition. Basically, it was a fucking travesty.

It always seemed appropriate to me, then, that out of my entire Star Wars movie collection, the only DVD that still bore those terrible words--Full Screen Edition--emblazoned across the top, those same, terrible words that were no doubt inscribed on the very gates of hell themselves, was my copy of Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, my least favourite of the Star Wars prequel trilogy.

I have a distinct memory of sitting on my roommmate's bed watching a trailer for Star Wars Episode II on his Mac and wondering aloud about the effectiveness of the subtitle Attack of the Clones. I don't remember exactly what it was that I said, but I do remember that it wasn't positive. I wasn't so much unimpressed as I was bewildered. For whatever reason, it didn't seem Star Wars-ian enough to me. It didn't seem to fit with my idea of Star Wars, which was, of course, the obviously correct one, and George Lucas and everyone else be damned.

Sunday, January 19, 2020

2019: A Year in Review

Like most years, 2019 seemed to pass by all too quickly, like KFC through your digestive tract. On their own, every moment seems so insubstantial, but each one bears the weight of each that preceded it, so that to examine one in any detail is to stare into that terrible abyss of all of the other moments that had to happen for that single one to come to pass. How many civilizations had to rise and fall, how many people had to die, how much cosmic chaos had to unfold just so that I could buy a couple more blu-rays or spend time at the finest amusement parks Canada has to offer?

The answer: a lot. I honour their memory in my own way and at my own pace, which is the only way one can, really. And so it is that I mark the passing of time with this rundown of some of my own personal memorable moments from 2019, that likely have no significance to anybody else in the universe.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

2015, A Year in Review. Everything it Shouldn't Not Have Been

As time continues its unending march into the black depths of the unknown, carrying us all
inexorably closer to our eventual destinies, it's important to take the time to reflect on the primordial mists from whence we emerged. Also getting high from time to time doesn't hurt either. As most years seem to, 2015 feels like it went by much faster than every single one that preceded it. More and more, I feel like I'm caught in a loop of simultaneously wanting to slow everything down to savour the good times and fend off the inevitable coldness of the grave and desperately wishing to speed everything up to see how the story unfolds.

I didn't climb Mount Everest or bake a record-breaking confection or anything, but I also didn't get cancer or inadvertently start a Twitter controversy, the very worst kind of social atrocity. I don't want to sell 2015 short, but it didn't leave the strongest of impressions. 2015 was the random blue sky puzzle piece of years. 2015 was like the Mark from accounting of years: everybody knows he exists and he's always kind of there in the background, but he's not getting invited to any office Christmas parties or included in any of those mass emails with the latest meme involving cats or some bullshit.

Without further ado, here's a rundown of a few of my own personal highlights from that lumbering behemoth known as 2015.


Friday, December 30, 2016

Carrie Fisher One With the Force

It's virtually impossible at this point to overstate the cultural impact that Star Wars has had. Its iconography has become a permanent part of our cultural landscape and has had an influence on the lives of millions of people across the world. There's something eternal about the mythology now, something that transcends time, which is maybe why it was all the more shocking to learn of Carrie Fisher's death on December 27, 2016. Official reports were saying that she died of a heart attack, but as the evidence mounts, it has become clear that she drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. As part of the Star Wars mythology, there was something timeless about her. Death seems like too mundane a thing for stars that shine that bright.

Fisher was (by far) best known for portraying Princess Leia in the Star Wars saga (and also that nun who lived by a slightly different Book than George Carlin and Jay and Silent Bob). Aside from Ellen Ripley in the Alien franchise, there are few other iconic women ass-kickers than immediately come to mind, due in large part to Fisher's performance, which had no shortage of strength and tenacity. This speaks volumes about both the positive influence Fisher had as a strong female character and, conversely, the state of the film industry (both in 1977 and in 2016) where strong female characters are few and far between. Princess Leia never went full Ripley, but she kicked her fair share of ass, and most importantly never took any shit from anybody.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

Rising Prospects Amidst Pleas for the Apocalypse... Spoilers for Life. Deep Thoughts, Wounded Souls, and Freaks Like Me

**NOTE: EXTREME SPOILERZ APLENTY**

After waiting four long years for Christopher Nolan's third installment in his seminal Batman feature film franchise, I could hardly believe it when I finally found myself sitting in the theatre waiting for THE DARK KNIGHT RISES to start.  Not content to simply create the best superhero film of its time with BATMAN BEGINS, Nolan sought to redefine not only an entire genre of films but also to remind us that the term "summer blockbuster" did not have to be used solely in the derogatory.  With THE DARK KNIGHT, Nolan  created some kind of strange, new hybrid that had the action, excitement, and scale of a blockbuster film but that was tempered with depth, substance, and integrity.  THE DARK KNIGHT was grand in the scope not only of its cinematic vision but also in terms of theme and philosophy.  It dealt with sweeping themes of morality, the nature of right and wrong, good versus evil, and self-sacrifice.  Amidst all the action and explosions (of which there were many), Nolan gave us a culturally significant piece of art that cut to the core of universal themes that humanity has been wrestling with since (*insert chronological hyperbole here*) with the insight and resonance usually reserved for ancient Greek dramas, Shakespearean tragedies, and certain HBO shows.  THE DARK KNIGHT was an independent art house flick with all the trappings of a Hollywood blockbuster without succumbing to the pretension of the former or the hubris of the latter.  It was simultaneously entertaining, emotionally poignant, and intellectually stimulating.  Nolan showed the world that it was possible to maintain artistic integrity (however you choose to define it) in as bloated and self-serving a medium as there ever was and to engage audiences both viscerally and cognitively.

In short, THE DARK KNIGHT was a game changer.

Of course the problem with THE DARK KNIGHT having been such an excellent film (if you consider excellence to be a problem) was that Nolan had set the bar so high that it was as inevitable as Icarus falling from the sky or getting laid at the prom that he could not hope to soar to those heights again.  He could get close, but how often does one achieve virtual perfection?  How could any movie, even another made by Nolan in the same universe, ever hope to match or even exceed the remarkably high standards he himself had set?  And as part of the audience going to witness this final chapter, how could I not help but compare THE DARK KNIGHT RISES with its predecessor THE DARK KNIGHT?  THE DARK KNIGHT RISES -as with any text- must be considered in the context in which it was produced, and a large part of that context is derived from THE DARK KNIGHT (and, of course, BATMAN BEGINS).  There are some who would shy away from comparisons between the two cinematic titans, because they're "too different," like comparing apples and a completely different kind of apples.  Some would say it isn't "fair" to compare TDKR to TDK because TDK was so special and so unique that TDKR couldn't possibly measure up, but I say that it is not only fair but necessary.  How is it unfair to compare a Nolan-helmed, Bale-starring Batman film to another Nolan-helmed, Bale-starring Batman film?  What the fuck is unfair about upholding a standard of excellence?

Of course, most of this trepidation was the result of the fanboy (sorry, fanperson) urge to preemptively defend a piece of art that some feared might not live up to their incredibly high expectations.  It was rationalization at it's worst ("If THE DARK KNIGHT RISES isn't as good THE DARK KNIGHT it's because almost nothing can be that good, so each movie has to be considered on its own merits.") which smacked of the self-righteous and a defeatist attitude as fans simultaneously hoped for an opus of epic proportions yet braced for some kind of vague sense of failure.  Success does funny things to people's brains, even brains that had nothing to do with it in the first place.  Unlike failure, it seems there are always people willing to help others bear the terrible burden of success.  Nobody ever wants to give Atlas a break.

I must admit to experiencing just a touch of that same trepidation mixed in with my excitement.  The concept of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES as a film had become an exercise in What If's.  What if it wasn't as good as THE DARK KNIGHT?  What if it wasn't good at all?  What if Nolan succumbed to the (supposed) third movie curse?  What if Heath Ledger hadn't died before this trilogy was complete?  What if.  Going to see Nolan's third Batman film for the third time had become a mental exercise of trying to juggle all of my uncertainties and the doubts of lesser men that had begun to grow in my mind like so many tumours. (Yes, I know Arnold, it's not a tumour.  It's a simile.)  The real mental exercise then became letting go of all of that bullshit and just experiencing the movie.

And what an experience it was.

It's difficult for me to describe how I feel about THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, even now, just over a week since I've seen it.  There's so much that's still uncertain.  The only clear emotion I can remember is the one on the drive home, which was an overwhelming sense of depression.  Not because the movie was terrible or because my expectations were not met, but because after witnessing something like THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, everything else seems so dull and small and insubstantial by comparison.  It wasn't until after the credits rolled that I got the sense of what had really happened.  I had been washed away in some strange tide and dragged out into an ocean, a world almost too vast, too grand to comprehend or take in.  The depression washed over me as the tide receded and I was deposited back on the shore of this world.  I felt as though for those two hours and forty-four minutes my mind had been expanded in order to take in Nolan's grand vision, and then afterwards had retracted again, though not to its original scope so that I still felt like there was something missing, some empty part of me that had not even existed before, yearning to be filled again.

There was one thought I had on the hour or so ride home (the nearest IMAX theatre was over an hour away from where I lived, though I felt (quite rightly, it turned out) that this particular mission necessitated the extra travel time, baffling my wife who couldn't understand what was wrong with the theatre that was literally a two minute walk from our front door) that stuck with me.  The thought came to me unbidden (or perhaps bidden by forces beyond my perception) that beauty was the conscious or unconscious willingness in a specific instance to believe in the illusion of perfection.  It was the active decision to either overlook or accept a specific subset of imperfections in the face of otherwise overwhelming grandeur.  Beauty was the abandonment of what is to the possibility of what could be: ignoring what you know to be true in favour of what you hope to be true until, eventually, what you hope becomes what you know, or crumbles under the weight of disillusionment.  I shit you not.  These are the exact thoughts, verbatim, that ricocheted around the inside of my skull after watching THE DARK KNIGHT RISES.  I knew at that moment that I had experienced art.  It was something substantial.  It was more than "just a summer blockbuster."  I can remember very few pieces of art that have actually inspired me into profound philosophical musings about the nature of beauty and art and my perception of the world as a whole.  This may sound like exaggeration or hyperbole, and to a certain extent it may be, but it is nonetheless still true.  Of course, it might also be argued that this thought was my own twisted form of rationalization for enjoying THE DARK KNIGHT RISES despite the "flaws" in the film that some people have pointed out and a desperate attempt to maintain the pedestal on which I have placed Nolan and all of his artistic endeavours.  I would argue to the contrary, however, I am not privy to the inner workings of my own psyche, so I could not argue the point with complete certainty.

One thing I am certain of, however, is that Nolan's Batman movies have, in my mind, become the seminal motion picture trilogy of our generation.  These films are game changers in the way that the original STAR WARS trilogy was a game changer, in terms of thematic significance, technological innovation, and narrative scope.  In fact, I would have to say that THE DARK KNIGHT trilogy supplants the STAR WARS trilogy's number one spot.  Nolan's DARK KNIGHT trilogy is like the STAR WARS trilogy if A NEW HOPE was more emotionally engaging, and instead of RETURN OF THE JEDI there was THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK Part II which incorporated all the emotional catharsis and all the best parts of JEDI such as Luke's badassery and Leia in her slave girl outfit.  And then imagine that A NEW HOPE, THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK I and THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK II (THE EMPIRE RISES?  THE RISE OF THE JEDI?) were more coherently unified in terms of theme and narrative and you will only begin to understand the truly impressive nature of Nolan's monumental achievement.
And 1,2,3, and 1,2,3...See?  You'll be ready for the
big dance competition in no time

In fact, there were certain times where I felt the influence or the intertextuality between STAR WARS and THE DARK KNIGHT trilogy.  The way THE DARK KNIGHT and THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK both ended on kind of a downer for our heroes.  In fact, in both of these second entries the bad guy seems to have the good guys on the ropes the whole time.  Both sequels also contain the only real love story in their respective trilogies.  In THE DARK KNIGHT RISES there is an early fight scene with Bane that is reminiscent of Luke's battles with Darth Vader in both EMPIRE and RETURN OF THE JEDI.  Bane and Batman battle along a catwalk overlooking a precipice as did Luke and Vader in EMPIRE, and like that movie, here the bad guy definitely had the upper hand.  Then in the same fight Batman hides in the shadows much as Luke does in JEDI, as their respective antagonists taunt them with bad guy shit.  Both protagonists feel the pain as Vader and Bane both wreak physical pain upon their enemies, though Batman/Bruce Wayne's punishment is definitely more severe.  A friend drew an interesting comparison between the way the rebels used cables to bring down the AT-ATs at the battle of Hoth and the way Batman used cables to bring down the Joker's transport in THE DARK KNIGHT.  The point here isn't to say that THE DARK KNIGHT trilogy owes a debt to STAR WARS and contradict my earlier assertions about the superiority of the former films over the latter, but rather as an example of how richly woven Nolan's narratives are with the cultural fabric of our time.

I have to mention here how fitting a character Bane was for the final installment.  Out of respect to the late Heath Ledger, and his performance of a lifetime as the Joker, Nolan's film doesn't even mention the Joker.  Some people get stuck on this point and are baffled that the Joker is not around.  In keeping with Nolan's themes of realism, I offer this solution:  Guantanamo Fucking Bay.  You really think the U.S. government is going to let a known terrorist hang out in a low security mental institution?  And as for no mention of him; how often do you hear about Osama Bin Laden on a daily basis now that he's out of the picture?  Suck on it.

Where THE DARK KNIGHT RISES would have gone were it not for Ledger's untimely demise is a source of endless and tantalizing speculation, however where it did go with Tom Hardy stepping in as Bane is as great a destination as any we could have speculated about.  Any worries the media stirred up about his voice were completely unfounded, and Hardy was both menacing and creepy in the role.  Some reviewers have talked about how hard it was for Hardy to "emote" as Bane, as if wearing a mask somehow detracted from the character.  That would be like saying Darth Vader was somehow less of a badass because his face was covered.  He looks menacing, he sounds menacing, and he... tastes menacing, I assume.

Not only that, but just like previous villains in Nolan's Batman universe, Bane was the embodiment of the theme of this film.  In BATMAN BEGINS Nolan's theme was fear, represented perfectly by both the Scarecrow (also with a nice cameo in TDKR, by the way) and Ra's Al Ghul.  The Joker in THE DARK KNIGHT actually verbally evokes Nolan's theme of chaos, claiming to be its agent.  And in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES where the theme is pain, Bane both dishes out a great deal, but also suffers from chronic, crippling pain which is why he wears the mask that dispenses some kind of pain killer in aerosol form.

More than that, Bane was the perfect villain to round out the series because he really was the yin to Batman's yang.  Bane is basically what Bruce Wayne would have become had he decided to kill that peasant dude in the first movie that Ra's Al Ghul wanted him to execute.  Like Bruce Wayne, Bane was trained by the League of Shadows, though unlike Bruce, Bane was excommunicated for being too extreme.  Both Bane and Batman represent two extremes, two sides of the same coin if you will, and it cannot be coincidence that the design of Bane's mask is almost exactly the opposite of Batman's cowl, revealing his eyes and the upper part of his face while Batman covers the top of face and reveals his mouth.  This contrast really brings to mind classic battle of good versus evil.

And while THE DARK KNIGHT RISES does deal with timeless themes of good versus evil, it is also, like its predecessors, a very timely film.  Part of Nolan's genius is the same genius that permeates the art of The Beatles.  Even their seemingly frivolous pop songs about holding hands or a hypothetical eighth day of the week which now seem heavily (out)dated and so much a product of their time, have a certain timeless quality about them.  In THE DARK KNIGHT RISES Nolan explores several culturally relevant themes that pervade the current Western zeitgeist.  One of the big themes Nolan explores is class conflict, where the exploited Marxist masses are put squarely at odds with the decadent, out of touch bourgeois, with clear battle lines being drawn.  This is clearly tapping into a sense of unrest in Western cultures that stems from societies evolving from an economic mosaic into a bipartisan scale with the two extremes -filthy rich and disgustingly poor- increasingly looking like the only viable options.  The erosion of the middle class at the hands of the self-indulgent, indignant, out of touch, economic elite, has lead to massive protests, the most famous of which so far has been the Occupy Wall Street movement, which, while accomplishing nothing, at least brought to light the growing sense of disparity many people are sensing.
That is one fine looking pussy... cat

Another response to current cyber culture is the Blank Slate computer program that Selina Kyle (AKA not Catwoman) is desperately searching for.  Basically the program is a digital holy grail that somehow manages to erase all digital traces of a person, essentially wiping out all record of their existence and, depending on the point of view of the target, is either an extreme inconvenience or, as the name suggests, a chance to escape one's past and start over fresh.  This, of course, taps in to contemporary concerns that have perhaps become most personified in social networking sites like Facebook, where every comment you write, and every picture posted of you no matter how compromising or scandalous is basically there for all of eternity for all the world to see.  More so for teenagers who grew up with Facebook and didn't consider the long term implications of posting pictures of themselves playing Rock Band naked with crude images of dicks drunkenly stenciled all over their exposed flesh with a felt tipped marker.  This generation of kids view social media in a totally different light than the generation of adults who will be running the workforce they will be stepping into.  The youth of today see social networking as a form of free expression and a means to engage with friends completely segmented from "the real world."  The current sense of things is that what happens on Facebook stays on Facebook.  Not so for those mourning the loss of their youth and who live in a parallel world where terms like "responsibility" and "accountability" become not only creed and contract, but also (sometimes) necessary burdens born by a grim coalition of the unwilling.  Neither side is incorrect, but there is still the fear that an errant Tweet can kill a budding career just as surely as a .44 Magnum will blow your head clean off.


But unlike other narratives, Nolan's universe holds no easy answers.  The overthrowing of the 1% at the hands of the 99%, which seems like a Marxist wet dream finally come to glorious fruition under the careful manipulation of Bane, and seems like it should be immensely satisfying to watch, is instead unsettling and deeply disturbing.  While storming the castles of the wealthy and plundering their spoils would be extremely satisfying, and in many senses just, THE DARK KNIGHT RISES shows that mindless looting and anarchy are not as appealing as they might seem.  You unseat the wealthy and punish them, and what then?  The same is true of the Blank Slate program which erases one's past.  The question posed by this movie is not only what one might do to start over, but what one might do if one could start over.  There's no program to erase one's own memories.  What we do with our future is at least as important as what we have done in our past.  At what point do you have to put aside worries about your past and move on?

There are no easy answers.  I've read a lot of reviews, and one of the things that the detractors seem to not like about THE DARK KNIGHT RISES is that it seemingly contradicts the themes of THE DARK KNIGHT.  I couldn't help but think that perhaps we had watched two different movies (has somebody already copyrighted THE DICK KNIGHT RISES?  Totally called it.  Pay up, porn peddlers.).  What I saw in TDKR was a continuation and evolution of the themes set out in TDK.  For instance there's Wayne/Batman's speech at the end of TDK where he says something along the lines of "Because sometimes the truth isn't good enough.  Sometimes people deserve more.  Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded."  And then he takes the blame for Harvey Dent AKA Two Face's crimes so the criminals put away by Dent as Gotham's DA will stay in jail and not have their lawyers spring them on a technicality like the guy who put them there was actually a murdering psychopath.  Then in TDKR we are shown the extreme  to which the pendulum has swung as hardened criminals are being put away by the barrelful in Blackgate Prison and held indefinitely.  I believe one or more characters mention the violation of the inmates' civil liberties.  Again, tying in to the timeliness of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, this speaks to anxieties surrounding institutions such as Guantanamo Bay and the huge breech of civil liberties that was (and is) the Patriot Act.  Is a violation of civil liberties a necessary sacrifice to maintain law and order?  These are the types of questions THE DARK KNIGHT RISES evokes.

This is not a contradiction of the themes of THE DARK KNIGHT.  Sometimes people deserve more than the truth.  The corollary which Batman and Police Commissioner Jim Gordon never considered at the end of THE DARK KNIGHT is that sometimes people also deserve the truth.  For both Gordon and Batman/Bruce Wayne that delicate balance becomes ever more into question in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES even before Bane arrives in Gotham and the shit hits the fan.  Both Wayne and Gordon have had to bear the full weight of the lie that helped clean up the city.  For Gordon that meant losing his family who has moved away, and for Wayne his raison d'etre, and for both an extremely troubled conscience.  Bale and Oldman do a fantastic job of showing how this burden has eaten away at both of them, and both of their characters really feel like hollowed out shells of men.  Gordon seems especially troubled as he has to continue to heap praise on the man who was moments away from murdering his son.  This evolution from rewarding faith by lying for the greater good and the ends justifying the means to trusting that people are strong enough to endure the truth and bear the burden without breaking reflects an evolution in the characters and marks a shift from a more youthful idealism to the weary pragmatism of experience.  As people evolve, their needs sometimes evolve as well.  At the time of Dent's death it was important to reward people's faith, to give people hope, but as time and circumstances progressed it may also have become necessary to reveal the deception and (more importantly) the reasons for it, and trust that the majority of people would have seen the need for it at the time and allow them to move on.

And it is precisely this lack of trust that in part leads to Gotham's downfall.  Another so-called contradiction that critics point out has to do with one of the final scenes of THE DARK KNIGHT where two boats loaded with people -one with your average Joe Citizen and one with convicted felons- are rigged with a literal boat load of explosives and each boat has the detonator for the other boat's bomb.  The Joker informs them that whoever blows up the other boat first will live and if neither boat makes a choice then both will go boom.  Batman doesn't seem too concerned because he has faith in the people of Gotham, and that despite the Joker's assertion that given the opportunity there is no limit to how far so-called civilized people will sink:

"You see, their morals, their code, it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you. When the chips are down, these... these civilized people, they'll eat each other. See, I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve."

In THE DARK KNIGHT the Joker tries his damnedest, but in the end his hypothesis seemed to be disproved by the folks on the boats who resist his sociological mindfuck.  Like Batman, who endured the Joker's demands to reveal his identity despite his promise to kill people until he did so, the people on the boats endured the fear and chaos that the Joker attempted to spread.  For critics the contradiction to the courage of Gotham's conviction is how seemingly easy it is for Bane to break the collective spirit of the citizens of Gotham City where the Joker previously failed. 

Well, it wasn't that fucking easy.  It took eight years of apathy and complacency to erode the hearts and minds of Gotham's citizenry.  With the Joker gone and the Dent Act in place allowing the cops to tackle crime unfettered from the shackles of due process, Gotham became an extremely safe, comfortable place to live.  Eight years later, with crime rates at an all time low and growing socioeconomic disparity (which had been addressed in the previous two films) the city, much like Wayne and Gordon, was eroding from the inside out. The point made in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES is that the people had not remained vigilant. It's the old cliche that the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. So when Bane comes in and starts off with his Marxist rhetoric about liberation from the oppression of the socioeconomic elite after appropriating a nuclear weapon and trapping the bulk of the GCPD underground, it's no stretch of the imagination that mass panic and group mentality would lead to uncharacteristically criminal behaviour on a large scale. There is ample historical evidence of looting and rioting on a mass scale in the wake of a disaster. The Joker was right to a certain degree. When the chips were down low enough, civilized people were capable of falling, of committing the very crimes they themselves had endured. Indeed, the people of Gotham were "only as good as the world allows them to be." Whereas Joker's full on assault came up against the people's resolve to resist falling prey to the same temptations as their enemies, Bane brought on an assault, but also preyed upon weaknesses already present in the fortification. The Joker tried to manipulate through sheer chaos, where Bane used chaos and calculated manipulation.

(Since we're on the subject (sort of), allow me to respond to another criticism of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES which revolves around Bane's (and apparnently Talia's) plan to destroy Gotham City.  Some critics cry foul and ask why Bane just didn't blow up the city with the IND (Improvised Nuclear Device) instead of letting anarchy rule for five months or so.  Thankfully, this is an easy one.  It's the same reason Ra's Al Ghul planned to release the airborn toxin in Gotham in BATMAN BEGINS and have the city "tear itself apart through fear."  He wanted to make an example of Gotham (the "world's most powerful city" and an obvious metaphor for New York) for the rest of the world, to weed out evil on the ground floor, but also to reign in the hubris of the rest of civilization.  Just like they had supposedly done in Rome and Constantinople and London, the League of Shadows wanted to make an example of Gotham for the rest of the world.  So, in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, the point of Bane's plan isn't just to break the spirits of Gotham's citizens (though it's a nice perk to help torture Bruce Wayne), but to demonstrate to the world how the spirits of any population can be broken.  It was a warning to the world to take heed of the corruption brewing beneath the surface and for other communities to take heed of their own arrogance when it came to letting evil fester.  So, yeah, it made total sense for Bane, who was trying to fulfill the legacy of the League of Shadows, to not only destroy the city, but also to first break its spirit, and break it for all the world to see to try and maintain "balance" in society.)

This is not to say that Bane was necessarily more badass or more intelligent than the Joker, merely that Bane was able to help fulfill Joker's prophesy.  After assaults by Ra's Al Ghul, the Joker, and finally Bane, there's only so much one city can take.  The themes in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES don't contradict the ones in THE DARK KNIGHT; they merely expand upon them, showing how even the steeliest of resolves can erode over time without the proper care.  The people of Gotham had lost their way.  Despite the public debate over the morality of vigilante justice that Batman's actions sparked and mixed public reaction, he had still become a symbol of hope and strength.  What Batman represented was the ability of an "ordinary" citizen being able to stand strong in the face of injustice and evil and even fight back and punch evil in the face a couple of times, or maybe give him a good kidney shot or break a few ribs.  In THE DARK KNIGHT RISES when Bruce Wayne is talking to Detective John Blake about wearing the mask, one of the reasons he gives is that "Batman could be anybody."  Assuming the identity of Batman wasn't just about Bruce Wayne concealing his identity for pragmatic reasons; the anonymity it created allowed people to see themselves in the role of Batman and feel empowered.  Another reason that the people of Gotham fell victim to Bane's manipulation was that they had lost that inspiration.  Batman was the immovable object to Joker's unstoppable force, but in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES the hope and inspiration that Batman as symbol represented was absent.  And the revelation of Harvey Dent's true actions (ie. murder death killing) is brought to light, the last remnant of hope is taken from the people of Gotham.

Thematically, this fits in with one of the overall themes of THE DARK KNIGHT trilogy, the idea of rising after a fall.  In BATMAN BEGINS when a young Bruce Wayne falls down an old well, breaks his arm, and gets attacked by a bunch of bats, his father passes on this bit of wisdom: "Why do we fall, Bruce?  So we can learn to pick ourselves up again."  The idea of hope and perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds.  When looking at Nolan's movies, and especially his Batman trilogy, at first glance they appear to be very dark, narratively speaking.  But if you really look closely and dig deeper, I think that overall his movies have a very positive if sometimes very grim message.  Yes, bad things are going to happen to you.  Yes, life might break you.  But in the midst of all that despair, it is possible to persevere, and to rise.  THE DARK KNIGHT RISES offers a more complete answer to Thomas Wayne's rhetorical question.

Why do we fall?

So we can learn to pick ourselves up again.

And so we, in turn, can help others pick themselves back up.

One of the most striking images in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES is the view from the prison where Bane exiles Bruce Wayne/Batman after breaking (or at least severely injuring) his back.  In a brilliant callback to the well Bruce Wayne toppled down as a youngster, the defining feature of the subterranean facility where Wayne is imprisoned by Bane is a large circular shaft (It's so huge!  Can I touch it?) leading directly to the surface and, potentially, freedom.  As Bane tells Bruce Wayne why this is the worst prison in the world he explains that it is because of the hope that is dangled just out of reach of the prisoners, and "Without hope there cannot be true despair."  Once again, Bruce finds himself in a subterranean hell, only this time his father isn't there to help pull him out.  He has to climb along the uneven walls of the shaft himself to rise to the surface, a feat which only one other before him has laid claim to.  There is one more image as Bruce Wayne finally manages to scale the prison walls (oh, fuck off, you knew he would) that is subtle yet powerful.  Before he wanders out back towards Gotham, he tosses a rope back down the shaft so that Bane's other prisoners will be able to escape as well, a subtle representation of this ability to inspire others and lift them up with you.

Bruce Wayne must rise both figuratively and literally if he hopes to save Gotham from its most recent plight.  But, before one can rise one must first fall, and fall Batman does.  Bane breaking his back and torturing him with a live feed of the chaos and pain Gotham is being made to endure is only the last step on the way to the bottom.  Bruce Wayne/Batman has fallen both emotionally and figuratively since his last outing eight years previous.  Batman has disappeared entirely, and Bruce Wayne has become a Howard Hughs-style recluse who has nearly driven his family's company into the ground.  Again, an interesting parallel as in BATMAN BEGINS his father, Thomas Wayne, nearly bankrupted the company to fight the economic depression, and n THE DARK KNIGHT RISES Bruce has nearly bankrupted the company trying to develop a cheap, clean energy source (another modern, timely reflection on a current cultural anxiety).

(Just as an aside, I read a review of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES by one Harry Knowles of Ain't it Cool News fame, who was "profoundly disappointed" with the film.  One of his many ludicrous assertions was that Batman wouldn't go into hiding because his girlfriend died.  Again, I wondered if we were watching the same movie.  If he had paid attention to any of Nolan's masterpieces in between chowing down on fluorescent coloured snack foods and making love to his own, hairy palms he would have recognized that Bruce Wayne didn't just hang up his cape due to the death of Rachel Dawes (although, she was kind of the love of his life, so it would be understandable even if this was the sole reason, as he kind of felt guilty about not being able to save her).  He gave up the vigilante game in the -correct- hope that becoming the scapegoat for all of Harvey's crimes, Dent's untarnished memory would live on and have lasting positive repercussions in Gotham. 

He sacrificed his identity as Batman, and as a result lost a part of himself, for as Rachel astutely pointed out she wasn't going to wait around for Bruce because she knew that Batman had become such a large part of Bruce Wayne's identity, that he needed so much to be that person, that she wasn't sure he would ever be able to exercise the demon.  Bruce Wayne gave up being Batman, sacrificing a part of his life he perceived as so central to his perception of himself, because he believed that Gotham no longer needed Batman, and that his presence at that point would be more hindrance than help.  And that sacrifice clearly ate him up inside.  In THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, it is made clear that at the first sign of real menace in eight years Bruce Wayne jumps right back in the saddle, despite the physical and psychological consequences and the emotional pleas from his butler Alfred (a surrogate father figure) when it looked as though Batman was coming up against a force more powerful than anything he had faced before.  So no, Harry, it wasn't "just because" the love of his life died horribly as he was attempting to save her that Bruce Wayne hung up the cape and cowl.  Bruce Wayne gave up something he loved, and the unrequited love between both he and Rachel and he and Batman nearly destroyed him.  Being the Batman gave Bruce Wayne true purpose in his life, and he willingly sacrificed that for what he considered to be the greater good.) 

Not only that, but Bruce's days as the caped crusader have exacted a harsh physical toll.  All the physical exertion and abuse he endured as Batman have lead to erosion of the cartilage in his knees, damage to his kidneys, and even the old noggin.  What did you expect with all the jumping, fighting and explosions?  In a nice reference to Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns, the cinematic version of Batman has to wear a leg brace so he can function at full physical capacity.  All of this coupled with the fact the Bane was able to beat the shit out of Batman and break his back, in an even nicer reference to the Knightfall comic series, gave Batman a vulnerability that is severely lacking in other super hero films.  I've been wanting to pop in some other super hero flicks lately, but I'm really hesitant to do so, because after watching THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, I can't help but shake the feeling that they won't be nearly as engaging for me as they were before.  This was the first cinematic super hero narrative where I actually felt that the hero was in any real danger, or was capable of engaging in any real sacrifice. 

The most recent example I can think of is THE AVENGERS, where to save New York, and ostensibly the world, Tony Stark AKA Iron Man grabs a nuclear warhead and flies off into some kind energy portal into the darkest depths of space in this supposed act of self-sacrifice, and his suit starts failing and he passes out.  I think the conceited Tony Stark is supposed to learn some lesson about the sacrifice it takes to be a hero, and thus provide a character arc, and it works to a degree, but there was something that was missing here that THE DARK KNIGHT RISES captures perfectly.  And that is the presence of any true danger to the character.  I understand that there's an entire Iron Man movie franchise so they can't really kill him off, but in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES Batman is ultimately not killed off, and yet there was still this undertone of personal danger like he could be killed at any second.  There was a humanity to Nolan's Bruce Wayne/Batman that is sorely lacking in any of Marvel's films that mostly has to do with that most human of experiences, death.  Nolan's Batman is imbued with a sense of mortality severely lacking in other super hero flicks.  And that shared understanding and fear of death helps the audience engage more deeply with the character and become more emotionally invested in the narrative.  In THE AVENGERS, we, as the audience, know that Iron Man, as the hero, probably won't die.  Watching THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, we, as the audience, know that Batman, as the hero, probably won't die.  But we also get the feeling that he could.  And that makes him a more relatable character, because he's just like us.

For all the haterz (I think the "z" makes it look a lot more hip) I feel I must address the sense of realism that Nolan brought to his Batman universe.  Of course, as soon as you say you want to ground your super hero movie with a sense of realism, automatically a certain segment of the population is going to automatically start nitpicking all the things that were "unrealistic."  And while I feel that Nolan did a tremendous job of grounding a fantastical narrative with so much explanation and quotidian detail, as an audience member one must keep in mind that though the films are (key phrase) grounded in realism, they are also still movies which, as an art form, are representative and metaphorical.  Case in point, the scene where the released cops clash with the mercenaries and criminals on the streets of Gotham, two opposing forces running headlong into each other is probably not as great a strategy in modern urban warfare as it was, say, in the time of William Wallace, but it was visually powerful and representative of the clash between order and chaos.  Some may say that we can't have it both ways, but I say; why the fuck not?  I see no inherent artistic contradiction between a grounding in realism and metaphorical visual representation, and I don't feel that these forces are at odds with each other or that their coexistence does anything to destabilize the coherence of the narrative.

Finally, this brings me to the ending of THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, which some might see as a cop out of sorts, but which really brings great emotional closure to the series.  You see, what some people don't understand is that Batman/Bruce Wayne did die in that explosion.  Yes, he physically survived, escaping, no doubt, in the proverbial nick of time.  But with his final act of heroism in Gotham City, the conflicted Bruce Wayne who had lived so long with the anger and guilt over his parents' death, who had lived so long with the rage and obsession of bringing criminals to justice and inspiring people, who had so desperately needed the persona of Batman to complete his identity, who had also so desperately craved some kind of normalcy and a life with the late Rachel Dawes, who seemed so hell bent in facing Bane that it seemed he was almost asking for death as a way to escape his demons, did die that day.  The man Alfred sees at the cafe is not the same Bruce Wayne.  This is a reborn Bruce Wayne, somebody who was able to exercise all those demons and who was finally able to get on with his life.

Ha, the joke's on you!  I've got ten thousand more where that came from.
And that's why THE DARK KNIGHT RISES and THE DARK KNIGHT trilogy kicked so much ass.  It was able to entertain and engage on a variety of levels, from the crazy action sequences to the philosophical ponderings of the personal and societal costs of justice.  The themes of the three movies -fear, chaos, and pain- can be summed up in a single word, however they also invite all manner of discussion and discourse on their deeper implications.  And as for the question of whether or not THE DARK KNIGHT RISES measures up to the standard of excellence set by THE DARK KNIGHT, the answer for me is that both movies are easily on par in terms of narrative value, cultural relevance, technological achievement, and entertainment value.  After all that, you can probably guess that I'm giving THE DARK KNIGHT RISES a resounding 10/10 = One Bat-Masked Head Rising Above the Rest.  

One does not simply talk about THE DARK KNIGHT RISES: one bears witness.  (I really liked this line, but didn't know where to stick it (yeah, yeah) so I awkwardly tacked it on the end.  Enjoy)

Sunday, December 15, 2013

The Darkest One: I Don't Think It Means What You Think It Means



A couple months ago I made a pilgrimage to witness STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS, the latest installment in the long-running, multimedia Star Trek franchise.  My mission: to seek out new plots and new characterizations.  I had been left to my own devices for the week and decided to seek out this strange, (semi-) new movie.  Initially I had not been excited for this latest trek, but a slick marketing campaign and a third of a bottle of Crown Royal can soften even the hardest of resolves.  Bolstered by my corporately inspired confidence and just-under-the-legal-limit-as-far-as-the-cops-are-concerned level of inebriation, I set out to boldly avoid paying the premium for 3-D at all costs.  And so I found myself sitting in a semi-crowded theatre on a Wednesday night partly because I'm a fan of all things science fiction, partly because of my Star Trek fandom in general, and mostly because they have yet to produce a full-length, live-action Mass Effect movie.

Even now, months later, I'm finding that STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS is a strange beast to pin down.  This is in large part due to the jaded mentality of which I have become a part of due to the fucking deluge of sequels, prequels, reboots, reimaginings, remakes, spin-offs, and every other conceivable cinematic circle jerk that creatively bankrupt and dick-hardeningly rich Hollywood leeches have tried to drown us with in recent years.  Despite my love of both the Star Trek and Star Wars universes in general, I'm experiencing a kind of cultural claustrophobia now that it seems that audiences of science fiction are doomed to constant rehashings of these two franchises.  These two, aging juggernauts have become tired champions, shadows of their former selves, the victims of fight promoters creating a false market and using all available means to keep any genuine contenders from gaining any real foothold in the business.  Both Star Wars and Star Trek have come dangerously close to collapsing under the weight of trying to recapture former glories (and indeed, if one were so inclined, one might be able to effectively argue that this threshold might already have been breached).  For some, it seems, that the notion of retiring with dignity has given way to bleeding them dry...  

But they are juggernauts still, and STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS still has enough of that something you can't learn in school (let's call it ZAZ) to engage the audience and, which, if not quite enough to ignite a burning conflagration in their collective imaginations, was at least still able to offer some small spark still.  Much like Harvey Dent, I am still of two minds about this movie.  It was frustrating insofar as director J.J. Abrams seemed capable of simultaneously squandering and fulfilling the promise he made with the first STAR TREK reboot movie back in 2009.        

Despite the whole concept of the previous STAR TREK film and creating an alternate timeline thereby preserving the original continuity for the most hard line (and annoyingly vocal) fans while opening up vast possibilities for future iterations, STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS is filled with meta-considerations that unnecessarily influence the plot of the movie.  It's like making a sandwich and choosing condiments based on what type of fertilizer was used to grow the grain for the bread.  These considerations are further muddled by obviously conflicting ideologies, none of which involve my dick getting sucked by a beautiful blonde with big tits and an ass that tastes like French vanilla ice cream.  The main example of this is the revelation of Khan Noonien Singh as the sort of main villain.  In the movie, the revelation of the character's name is dropped with the gravitas of a photon torpedo on an unarmed civilian population.  But the thing is that this "big reveal" is not really a reveal in the typical sense like Darth Vader being Luke's father or Bruce Willis being a ghost.  To illustrate, let's consider the reveal of Khan's identity framed in the following three contexts:

1) Fans of Star Trek, or those with a passing knowledge of Trek lore
2) The general movie-going public with little to no knowledge of Star Trek cannon
3) The context of the movie universe itself

Now, the only context that the reveal of Khan's identity has any relevance or impact whatsoever is in the first, where people already aware of who and what Khan was and what he did (which, admittedly, wasn't actually a whole lot) in previous iterations of the Star Trek universe.  The general movie-going public, at which this latest series of movies is explicitly being more geared towards, couldn't expected to give a shit about this guy's name, because for them the character hasn't been established yet.  Ditto for the protagonists of the film.  I mean, Khan name-drops himself in this really impassioned speech, and the other characters are like, "Yeah, so what?  Is that supposed to mean something to us?"  Any tension that the filmmakers were hoping to build from this meta-knowledge is lost because it is irrelevant to a large cross-section of the audience and also to the protagonists of the narrative itself.

What do you mean they don't have Netflix any more?
Even more baffling is the fact that the character refers to himself only as "Khan" and not "Khan Noonien Singh."  Khan is a pretty generic name, and there's a high probability that with the Enterprise's diverse crew there must be at least a couple of dudes with "Khan" as either a first or last name.  I mean, if the goal is to intimidate your enemies a la Heisenberg in Breaking Bad ("Say my name!"), then the point is to allow your opponents to associate your name with a specific reputation.  In order for this strategy to be successful, specificity really is the key.  Otherwise you're just another scenery-chewing schmuck whose skull I couldn't give two shits about phaser-fucking.

Compare this with the reveal of Darth Vader as Luke Skywalker's father in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK.  That reveal was relevant not only to fans of the first movie, but also to the general movie-going audience and the characters themselves.  Because major threads of this complex relationship were sown in the movie that the reveal actually took place, any fucking jawa stepping in off the street could understand the significance of that reveal.  It's kind of a psychological cluster-fuck for the antagonist of the film to be revealed as the father of the protagonist, and it's also a dilemma tied to larger repercussions that (almost) anybody in the audience could understand or empathize with (i.e., the greater good in being forced to potentially kill a family member to prevent the suffering of countless other random strangers).  It's also of extreme significance to a number of characters in the narrative and influences their development.

In STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS, Khan had no previous interaction with the main characters in any meaningful way.  Yeah, he killed Captain Kirk's (Chris Pine's) on-again-off-again-mentor and parental figure Christopher Pike (Bruce Greenwood), but he did it from afar and in a way that didn't allow for any kind of personal connection that would have made later interactions more complex or meaningful.  He's just this guy they have to track down and assassinate.  And it's not like Khan couldn't be a hugely fascinating character.  What he represents is a certain sort of transhumanist view of improving humanity through eugenics and genetic engineering, which would be a pretty prescient theme considering the current scientific and social landscape.  What makes us human?  That's a pretty fucking compelling theme, and the heart not only of Star Trek but also science fiction at large.  If Khan really was better "at everything," then how did he stay under the thumb of Admiral Marcus for so long?  The dude is obviously capable of singlehandedly raising shit on an intergalactic scale.

In the original series/timeline, Khan takes control of a Federation starship and imprisons her entire crew in a couple of days.  I know that the whole issue was that Marcus was holding Khan's crew/genetically modified tyrant superfriends hostage, but along with his whole "reveal" speech, he also touts one of his strengths as opposed to Spock is his willingness to "break bone."  It seems like he's saying that he's willing to make sacrifices for what he considers to be the greater good, which would fit in with the whole "needs of the many > needs of the one/few" theme they were trying to resurrect from START TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN.  Maybe he couldn't have saved all 78 or so of his crew, but he could have at least saved half a dozen or so, which - judging by Khan's own demonstrated mental and physical capabilities - would have been more than enough to start building a new army of genetic supermen.

It would have been really cool if the terrorist attacks and whatnot were a way of inspiring fear into the masses, then Khan and his posse step in as the new big swinging dicks on the block offering hope to people.  INTO DARKNESS aptly demonstrated that Khan's massive intellect also makes him great at influencing/manipulating people.  In the original Star Trek television show, the members of the Khan Club were seen by history as a bunch of despots all trying to carve the world out into a bunch of kingdoms.  Khan himself was heard to remark that they "offered the world order."  Then you can work in the moral debate of what if some kind of benevolent dictatorship by some kind of genetically enhanced demigod would actually be a good thing if it saved/enhanced the lives of more people. So Khan steps up with evidence of Starfleet's corruption and their inability to keep them safe, and people start flocking to him, so there's a whole rogue faction of Federation citizens that Kirk and all have to contend with.  So when Kirk comes in to bust up his party there's some personal stakes when they meet up later and it's more emotionally charged when they have to team up to take down Admiral Marcus.

Then at the end, Kirk actually takes what Khan says to heart, and where Khan was willing to sacrifice other people, Kirk was willing to sacrifice himself exposing Khan's bullshit.  Then you can work in some kind of Star Trek feelgood rhetoric about the power of the human spirit, and about how there's a strength inside of us that's greater than anything genetic enhancement can achieve, and so on and so forth.

But I guess that's neither here nor there, because what is, is, and there's nothing really that can be done about it.  I guess that like the makers of INTO DARKENESS themselves, I am caught up in the current cultural pastime of "what-iffing" shit to death. I also derive pleasure from the fine art of Ragging on Stuff I Actually Enjoy as, despite my criticisms of START TREK INTO DARKNESS, overall I actually did enjoy this latest Star Trek movie. Or at least, I'm fairly certain that I did. I still need at least one more viewing to render final judgements in the case, but at least for now I find the defendant innocent of being a stinking shit house and guilty of being mildly - moderately entertaining, if lacking a bit in depth. Despite cries from some corners of the Internet for lynching INTO DARKNESS with the moniker of "worst Star Trek movie ever" (a title rightly still held by STAR TREK V: THE FINAL FRONTIER), it is not even close to the territory of my classic dilemma of having to balance the quality of my movie collection versus owning complete sets of films/TV shows, otherwise known as the ALIEN: RESURRECTION Conundrum.

While under the direction of J.J. Abrams (and whoever the fuck directed the Next Generation movies (aside from Jonathan Frakes for FIRST CONTACT)) the Star Trek movie franchise has definitely skewed more towards the action side of affairs as opposed to the social, political, and philosophical commentary that the various series were known and loved for. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as swinging the pendulum too far in the pedantic philosophizing direction produces boring-ass shit like STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE. However, to me the key to Star Trek's draw has always been the substance (with the glaring exception of ENTERPRISE and 99% of VOYAGEUR). Luckily, though INTO DARKNESS is evidence of the driving forces behind the franchise having submerged up to their balls in the philosophically frigid waters of Pure Spectacle, the film still managed to include just enough substance to prevent it from capsizing. (Though INTO DARKNESS is getting dangerously close to the McDonalds Threshold: containing just enough actual meat to classify it as genuine foodstuff.)
Only one prime directive? Fucking pussies.

There is some political intrigue with Admiral Marcus conniving a convoluted plot to incite war with the
neighbouring Klingon Empire to turn Starfleet into a military organization instead of the scientific endeavor it was originally intended to be. Then there is some minor philosophical debate as Captain Kirk is first sent to assassinate Khan, which he is more than willing to do to get some revenge for the loss of Admiral Pike, and then realizes that as a civilized member of an enlightened society he can't in good conscience go around randomly killing people. Faithful old Scotty (Simon Pegg) also leaves the Enterprise due to conscientious objections to both the murder mission and bringing on board a bunch of untested, unlicensed weapons of mass destruction.

(On a side note can we for once have at least one admiral or high-ranking Starfleet official who isn't totally corrupt as fuck?  This is the kind of trope that should be used sparingly, if at all, because various Star Trek movies and TV shows have abused it to the point that you basically have to be a soulless monster to qualify for a position in the upper echelons of Star Fleet.  Yeah, it's great that we see the guys on the front line know what's up and that bureaucrats living in their ivory towers don't know shit and make selfish decisions that don't take into consideration the needs of the many, and yadda, yadda, yadda.  But, speaking both as a fan and as a lover of cinema, it would also be nice to see that this organization, which is supposedly guided by a spirit of exploration, scientific discovery, peaceful co-existence, and fucking hot alien babes, isn't merely a breeding-ground for legions of corrupt officials.  There must be at least a couple of non-assholes on the Federation Council.  Or at least a few who are making some tough calls but who carefully balanced out the pros and cons and made the best decision in the worst situation.  Maybe none of the writers for any of the Star Trek shows or movies never had a boss or parent who wasn't an asshole to model some kind of positive authority figure.  Then again, maybe not.  Who knows?)

Also, Khan finally lived up to all of the potential they kept slinging around in the original series and WRATH OF KHAN.  Part of it was Benedict Cumberbatch's performance (fucking Sherlock dude!), which was superb as always.  The other part was that the character was finally allowed to demonstrate so much of the genetically modified hype he kept building up for himself was back on Stardate 1967.  Despite all of Khan's bluster, though, all that he really managed to do was briefly take over a Federation starship before getting exiled for life on a random planet, overcoming the inventor and master of Kirk-Fu in a head to head fight, lifting Chekov off the ground with one hand (with the help of a conveniently placed handle), and escaping his lifelong exile only to die later the same day in his blind pursuit of revenge.

In INTO DARKNESS, Khan is finally taking names and kicking ass in a way that he always never did before.  In this movie he launches a terrorist attack, eliminates a number of high-ranking Federation officials, single-handedly takes out a squad of klingons with a Jess Ventura-worthy laser gatling gun, endures Kirk's rage beating with nary a flinch, mind-fucking the Enterprise crew into actually helping him, brutally murdering Admiral Marcus in front of his daughter (OK, in all fairness, that one might have actually warranted a Spoiler Alert), out-logicing Spock (Zachary Quinto), and crashing a state-of-the-art starship into a major urban centre causing even more death and destruction.  All in all, the new and improved Khan was a far more dangerous and engaging character.  That's not to take anything away from the originator Ricardo Montalban.  I mean, the dude was amazing with what he had to work with, but Cumberbatch was just given a lot more to work with.

Can I cook in my underwear or can't I?
In a lot of ways, though, Khan was the perfectly emblematic of everything that was both right and wrong with the STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS and the latest incarnation of the Star Trek franchise as a whole.  It's frustratingly on the verge of coming into its own and being entertaining in its own right, yet it disappointingly can't quite shake the burden of the source of its inspiration.  Again, it's the line between inspiration and imitation.  On the one hand while it was great as a longtime fan of the franchise to see call-outs like the whole Redshirt Death paradigm, allusions to Sulu's (John Cho's) promising career as a future Starship captain, the introduction of Carol Marcus (Alice Eve) the potential love interest of Captain Kirk and mother of potential children, and references to tribbles and gorn and whatnot.

But on the other hand, we also have scenes ripped line for line from WRATH OF KHAN.  And the aforementioned references to classic Trek moments were "neat" for longtime fans, they kind of missed the point of the "spirit" of what Trek was all about.  And it is important to note that in the hands of a lesser cast, what substance there was might have been lost entirely.  As interesting of a thought experiment as it is to rearrange all of the old familiar elements, what I would really like to see is for the caretakers of the franchise to "boldly go" where no filmmakers have gone before.  Not an easy feat, but as with all ideals their value lay not their achievement (for ideals by their very definition are unattainable) but in the struggle to reach as close as possible.  I guess the other problem, though, is to what ideal one wishes to set his sights.

Until further viewings the highest I could possibly rate STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS would be a 7.5/10 = One Genetically Modified Head With a Scheming Mind and an Incredible Head of Hair