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DARK KNIGHT DONE RIGHT

 

The Dark Knight (not to be confused with highly acclaimed Martin Lawrence period piece, Black Knight) ups the ante significantly from its predecessor, Batman Begins (which shouldn't be confused with Martin Lawrence's other masterpiece, Bad Boys, even though the two films share a startling similarity in their double use of the letter 'B').  Now for those women and children who were scared away from seeing the latest Batman film because of the rumors about it being too dark, let me clear the air.  This is not the darkest film of the past decade.  This is the darkest thing we as a species have ever produced PERIOD.  How dark is it?  It's so dark that it makes Requiem for a Dream look like Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue.  It makes The Killing Fields look like Field of Dreams.  Really, there are guerilla cannibal warlord drug dealers in the Amazonian jungle who can't help but put down their half gnawed femur bones in the middle of their Dark Knight sitting and say with slack-jawed astonishment, "Jesus, that's harsh."  Need more convincing?  Let me say this: The Wall Street Journal and the Republican Party are both heralding this movie as a champion of conservative virtues and a secret endorsement of the Bush Doctrine.  Yeah, it's THAT DARK.

 

It's also a taught urban thriller -- a deep, socioeconomic treatise on the nature of good and evil, power and politics, reason and madness.  A virtual snapshot of the knife upon which we as a civilization stand.  A powerhouse package that's been praised as a smart, edgy, uncompromising dark ride by critics everywhere, raising the bar for both superhero films and their fans across the globe.  Needless to say, I see it as a colossal missed opportunity.

 

Oh, sure, this is an epic expose on the pathos of our cherished pulp fiction gods and monsters.  But where's the fun?  Where's the pizzazz?  Where's the twelve minutes of Batman climbing up stairs?  As it stands, this is a decidedly stairless movie.  This movie's like 2 hours and 40 minutes long.  Would it have killed director Christopher Nolan to include an extra twenty minutes devoted to Batman hauling his tights up a bell tower?  And why not toss in seven minutes of the Joker waltzing around like a contestant for Celebrity Couples Ballroom Dancing?  Sure, the sonar vision fight sequence in the abandoned skyscraper was fun, but Batman's always in a rush.  People need to breathe.

 

You know what this movie needs?  A Chris Tucker performance.  Yes, if ever there was a film that required the magical touch of Tucker, this is it.  Morgan Freeman is busy enough narrating his way through every movie on the planet, so why not give the Luscious Fox role to Tucker?  Heck, make it a duel role and give him Robin.  Only spell it all ghetto,   like RAWB-N.  And turn the 'R' around backwards, cause that looks cool. Then watch as these two bust some moves as they bust some head.

 

And how come Batman doesn't go-go dance anymore?  In the old days, he had the good old Batusi.  In the first few minutes of this film, the caped crusader encounters an entire troupe of copycat bat vigilantes in Halloween costumes and simply ties them up and tells them to go away.  You've got to be kidding me.  All those guys in Batmen suits and not one of them thought to start a conga line?  Come on!  There's an act if ever I saw one!  Get a chorus line going.  Let's see some legs!

 

On the bright side, at least The Scarecrow shows up again.  Finally!  Retribution for his interrupted curtain call in Batman Begins.  This time, he's rounded up in a grueling two minute scurry of ... driving away!  The CAD.  Fortunately, Batman has the answer.  He... sits on his car!  Now that's the sort of epic fight I'm talking about!  That beats the minute and a half it took to taser his butt in the first one by about thirty seconds.  What an encore! 

 

Still, something's missing.  Batman simply leaves the Scarecrow tied up with the other vigilantes.  Again, I cannot stress how much this scene needs a song and dance number.  Why not add a little girl in a checkered gingham dress, carrying a dog in a picnic basket?  She can wander through the garage on her way to see The Wizard...

 

GIRL

"Why, Mr. Scarecrow, what do you want?"

 

SCARECROW

"I want to see the Wizard!  So he can give me a toxic nerve serum which will bring about everybody's darkest, most deepest fears so that I may ravage their minds and become master of the universe!"

 

Then she can let him down and they can do some charming Fred Astaire routines.  You know -- until he blasts her with a cloud of fear gas and she starts screaming hysterically about tornadoes and flying monkeys.

 

Sadly for tap enthusiasts, the film seems more obsessed with The Joker.  Oh, make no mistake, he's an interesting guy to watch.  Something like a cross between Gene Simmons and Ronald Macdonald's drunken grandma.  He robs banks, tortures vigilantes, blows up hospitals, and finds new and impeccably squishy places to store pens.  But again, it seems like he's trying too hard.  Really, a simple balloon animal would've sufficed. 

 

Unfortunately, he can't hold a candle to Commissioner Gordon.  Oh that's right.  The scariest  thing in this film isn't Heath Ledger at all, it's Hollywood's go-to freaky guy, Gary Oldman.  He plays a monster beyond depraved: a virtuous family man who diligently sacrifices himself for the higher calling of his duty and his loved ones!  Eww.  Shudder.  I swear.  It's like he wants us to think he's human.  He's not, of course.  He's Gary Oldman.  And just watching him tenderly embrace his wife while stroking his child's soft, angelic cheek as if he had genuine, human emotions simply takes me to strange and foreboding places in my stomach.  Believe me, it took a number of cold showers after getting home to wash that off.  You're a dark, dark man, Christopher Nolan, and you've created a dark, dark movie.  But I digress.

 

Anyway, getting back to the Joker!  He wants to be taken seriously -- which is a bit of a problem when your tagline is, "Why so serious?"  Early on, he busts in on a gang of mobsters and tells them that their money guy -- a Chinese National named Mr. Lao -- will inevitably squeal.  If only they would allow him to viciously kidnap, murder, and terrorize any innocent who doesn't cough up the Batman, his allies, and District Attorney Harvey Dent, then everything would go back to the way it was.  Yeah, I know.  That's pretty dark.  But wait a second... a whole gang of mobsters?  Hey, that's another chorus line!  Seriously, why not have them sing their troubles away to the tune of How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?

 

MOBSTERS:

How do you solve a problem like a D.A.?
How do you catch a cop and beat him down?
How do you find a way to whack a D.A.?
A kinky ignition?  A bomb in the engine?  A clown!

 

And for you R&B fans out there, did I mention that there was a collection of African American gang bosses in pinstripe suits?  What a perfect opportunity to have the gangbangers rebuke the Joker with the soft, sensual, finger snapping renditions of Boys II Men.

 

GANGBANGERS:

Although we've come to the End Of The Joke
Still I can't stand this ho'.
It's unnatural, this clown bothers me, and I promise you
He'll Come to the End of the Road

 

Heck, you know what?  Just turn the whole darn thing into a musical.  Harvey Two Face can sing I've Grown Accustomed To My Faces.  Bruce Wayne's torn girlfriend, Rachel Dawes can sing, I Don't Know How To Love Him.  Mob boss Salvatore Maroni can sing Send in the Clowns and the Joker's henchmen can sing, Make'em Laugh!  And if Batman can book vacations abroad, why not the Joker?  Have him take that busload of school kids he abducted and teach them how to sing Do, Re, Mi, in the Alpine hills of Salzburg.  Perhaps maybe even throw a few off them off the Matterhorn.  You know, just to keep it interesting.

 

Instead, Batman flies to Hong Kong to pick up Mr. Lao and not once does he attempt to place a courtesy call to fellow do-gooders Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat, or Hong Kong Phooey.  The last snub was particularly spiteful since Phooey is widely considered in most circles to be Number One Super Guy.

 

Back in Gotham, things escalate in every possible direction as Batman returns with a fist full of Lao and belly full of Kung Pow Chicken.  The Joker is soon let off his leash by a cornered mafia and everyone has to arrive at a do-or-die decision.  Batman has to decide whether he wants to give up the reigns to Gotham's White Knight, Harvey Dent.  Rachel has to decide between loving Bruce as a vigilante or Harvey as a District Attorney.  And everyone within earshot has to decide whether Alfred's pep talks about his time spent indiscriminately burning villagers in the Burmese jungle is a cause for concern. 

 

Meanwhile, The Joker has to figure out how to get his story arc back, and as such, declares all out war on Batman's love triangle.  This all comes to fiery head in the middle of the movie with a ten minute truck chase through the subterranean realms of Lower 5th (played with Academy Award worthy gusto by Chicago's Lower Wacker Drive^[i]).  And here's where Chris Tucker becomes indispensable...

 

For when Batman crashes in the tunnels in front of a bunch of homeless people, somebody has to smack them away.  Somebody will have to shout: "HEY!  WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'!?  DON'T EVAH TOUCH A BATMAN'S RADIO BOY!"  That somebody is Chris Tucker.  And when our heroes pull out of the wreck in a streamlined Batcycle and head into oncoming traffic?  Chris can shake his head like an epileptic Chihuahua and yelp, "BATMAN!  YOU CRAZY!  YOU CRAZY, BATMAN!  BATMAN, LOOK OUT!"  And who can resist Tucker covering his eyes and letting out his best Fifth Element style screech as The Dark Knight speeds directly into the headlights of the Joker's truck?  "OH HELL NO.  HELL NO.  BATMAN???  AAAAAAAAGH!!!"^[ii]

 

Shockingly, though, the filmmakers sidelined Tucker altogether and rendered the whole chase in heart-stopping silence.  I suppose it can't be helped if a talent like Tucker is too out of your price range, but if you're going to shoot a multi-million dollar car chase on Chicago's Lower Wacker Drive, the least you could do is toss in some Blues Brothers music.  And a little Benny Hill music would be much appreciated.  Really, Benny Hill music makes anything better.  But even without the aid of sexy saxophones, the mano y mano fight between The Joker and The Dark Knight in the steel canyons of Gotham is still pretty keen.^[iii]  And to top it off, a giant big rig flips over and crashes on its back with an earth shattering KABOOM!

 

CUE CHRIS TUCKER DOING A RUSH HOUR STYLE SUPER BOWL DANCE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET!

 

Sadly the film never gets quite that colorful.  Which reminds me.  How come Batman always has to wear black?  Boring!  Three words: novelty belt buckle.  Get a giant leather strap and a Texas sized clip on that thing.  Maybe some bullhorns.  Or a lasso which says LONESTAR in the middle.  At the very least, DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS.  And start appealing to the little people!  Maybe slap on an inspirational Obama T-shirt or something.  And look at that cape!  Soulless, black, the size of a billboard.  That's just wasted ad space!  This guy need corporate sponsors.  When that cape opens, it should read "Always ~ Coca-Cola" or "Great Taste ~ Less Filling."  Why not go literal and do a tie in with Viagra?  Maybe, "Keep It Up ~ Longer!"  Let me tell you, if I had a six foot black bat barreling down on me with a cape that promised to deliver "rock hardness for hours on end," I'd poop myself with fear.

 

In the end, a lot rides on the Joker's sadistic choice as he forces two rigged ferries to choose between which boat should blow the other up.  That's pretty bad.  Though, it would've been made much more frightening if he presented them with a real sadistic choice.  Like, let's say, choosing between watching Joel Schumacher's Batman and Robin or Halle Barry's Catwoman.  Guaranteed the stakes would be higher and the death count  insurmountable.  But the very idea of subjecting anyone to that sort of horror would garner the film an NC-17 rating.  And, really, this Batman is dark enough.  We'll just have to make do with Harvey Dent's tragic fall from grace or Bruce's countless life or death moral decisions -- the only real outcome of which is pain.

 

If this all sounds like a rope swinging good time, then good for you!  Obviously you've proven you have the testicular fortitude and complete, soulless moral vacuum with which operate in this urban nightmare of killer clowns and rubber fetishists^[iv].  I, myself, will be seeing the film at least a thousand times -- cause, you know, it's probably one of the best superhero movies ever made.  Plus, that truck thing is pretty darn cool.

 

But I'll be humming my Benny Hill music the whole way.  And in the little theater running inside my head, everything will be just right.