Dark Knight closing

There's a fair amount to be said about The Dark Knight Rising and much of it has to do with trends in the source material: the Batman/Detective comics that have been published for almost 75 years now. I think DKR was a solid movie, but I can't say it was a great one. I think it is the weakest of the Nolan trilogy, but still vastly superior to anything done by Burton or the wretched sequels that followed his efforts. Part of that is an appreciation for the character's roots and part of it is clearly an appreciation for its (relatively) very recent history. Significant spoilers below.

No matter what anyone tries from this point forward, they will likely never be able to escape the presence of Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns mini-series. Along with Watchmen, it heralded the beginning of the "grim and gritty" era of comics in the mid-80s. Those books grounded comics in "the real world"; they were emblematic of the way people talked and thought and lived in the 1980s, not some upgraded version of the 1950s that most superhero worlds inhabited. Despite dealing with drugs, sex, and racial issues from the late 60s onward (Marvel's Amazing Spider-Man #96-98 in 1969 essentially broke the Comics Code publishing authority by including a story about the detrimental effects of heroin addiction; the authority essentially ceased to be relevant from that point forward) and despite Neal Adams and Denny O'Neill having restored the Batman to his dark roots in the early 70s in an effort to escape the 1960s TV show, the culture of the worlds that comics created were still outside the realm of the everyday. They were still too staged and too preoccupied with super-powered explosions.

Then came Watchmen, firmly grounded in the Cold War and humanity's natural tendency to fear and hate whatever it didn't understand, including those weird people with the masks and very unnatural abilities. The Dark Knight Returns also rode that wave, pursuing the idea that the Batman along with those like him had been outlawed many years before, leaving a bitter and spiteful Bruce Wayne to watch Gotham City sink into chaos. In Miller's story, he attempts to save it from the utter destruction visited upon it by the gangs that control it. The Joker returns and the public blames the Batman for his actions. In the end, all-out war takes place on the streets, as different factions vie with each other and the Batman attempts to keep order, while ducking the government's attempts to capture him (with Superman, no less.). Along the way, the only person defending him is the now-forcibly-retired Commissioner Gordon. Sound familiar?

Miller reflected society and what would be at least some of the prevailing impulses and responses to a costumed vigilante. Nolan's scripts reflect this, as well, because the movie-going public will not swallow the basic reality that the comic-reading public often accepts: that seeing Spider-Man swinging down the street in pursuit of Electro and having the Batman beating the crap out of Killer Moth outside your restaurant is simply the natural order of things.

I think that the Nolans' script continues to embrace Miller's perspective (as I mentioned before, Batman Begins borrows heavily from Miller's Batman: Year One), but they've also demonstrated a willingness to adapt that perspective to tell their own story about a man so possessed by vengeance that he would sacrifice his fortune, his life, his friends, and his body in order to fulfill it. In the process, they've come full circle on that quest and shown the ripple effects of its outsized ambition. I like that. I appreciate that they showed the blowback, as it were, rather than simply dismissing what has gone before as last issue, which will only become relevant when the surely-dead major villain miraculously appears alive.

Interestingly, Bane as a character was essentially an homage to Miller's work, as well. In the second issue of The Dark Knight Returns, the Batman is beaten to within an inch of his life by the leader of the Mutant gang. He eventually returns the favor and breaks the will of the gang by defeating their leader (assisted, incidentally, by a version of the Batmobile that is more tank than car; yes, that's Miller, too.) This was the first time that Batman had been seen to be physically overmatched by another human, albeit one that was, as Wayne himself noted in the story "faster, stronger, and younger than [me] by 20 years." I think that inspired Denny O'Neill, who was an editor in the early 90s, to develop the idea of a character that would "break" the Batman, physically and mentally. Thus, Bane was developed as one of the early 90s massive crossover/super-platinum cover events which dominated the market (and almost destroyed it later in the decade) and still does to one degree or another.

In other words, Bane is a cipher. He's a plot device. He doesn't really have a motivation other than to break Batman's back, which he does, releasing chaos onto the streets, while the Batman is replaced by an almost-equally psychotic disciple for a few months until miracle surgery can be performed to return him to Gotham to defeat both Bane and the new Batman. It was all rather trite and redolent of spectacle over story... which is why I think that, despite some of the nice turns that Nolan put into the script to create Bane as something more than a device, the story still falls behind the prior two films. The central threat is not driven by anything that most audiences will be able to either relate to or even care about and, fittingly, Bane is removed from the film by a casual blast from the Bat-pod driven by Selina Kyle and, presumably, dies off-screen somewhere. In some respects, it's appropriate because, of course, the true driving force behind the whole threat is not Bane, but Talia. It's also appropriate in that, at it's root, the story is not about Bane. It's about the Batman/Bruce Wayne. But the reason that The Dark Knight worked so well and the reason that Batman/Detective comics have lasted as long as they have is that the Batman is not so much the protagonist of his adventures as the antagonist. The audience/reader wants to see the crazy stuff that the Joker, the Riddler, and the Scarecrow are going to engage in. They want to see inside the mind of the insane. The single-minded force of reason (the Batman) is already understood. What's interesting is to explore the other side. In Rising, Bane doesn't supply that because he's still more tool than character, which is a shame.

Things I liked

I like that they included Talia. She had always been an element of stories surrounding Ra's al Ghul and it's appropriate that Nolan hewed close enough to the source material to make her the driving element behind the master scheme. It's also nice to see a very capable and intelligent woman in the recent parade of superhero movies (they haven't been entirely absent, but they haven't been foci, either.) One wonders if Marion Cotillard will approach Nolan about being something less than a mildly-crazed destructive force for his next film, since that seems to be her trend. Nothing wrong with playing a villain, of course, as I tend to follow Dark Helmet's dictum on that. While the sexual/love interest contact between her and Wayne was as contrived as ever, it was nice to see their nod to that element of the two characters' relationship, which has been present since Ra's was created by O'Neill in the 70s. (Incidentally, the name Ra's al Ghul means "head of the demon" in Arabic (after the "demon star", Algol) and it's pronounced "raysh", not "rahs". Given their otherwise spectacular attention to detail, I wonder why that's never been corrected.)

I like that they never once referred to Selina Kyle as "Catwoman".  The fact that her IR goggles when pushed back on her head resembled a cat's ears seemed playfully coincidental. Hathaway played another intelligent, energetic, and capable female character and it was, again, good to see them slip in the romantic attachment that has been an element of Selina Kyle since she was first created (as "The Cat") by Bob Kane and Bill Finger in the 30s.

I liked the reduction in explosions. While there were still plenty to be had, the Dark Knight became a bit glutted by fire and shock waves to the point of tedium. More of the action in Rising was reverted to plain, old Batman fisticuffs, which can be tiresome in its own right, but was broken nicely by multiple perspectives and a lot of motion. One of the previews prior to the film was for the latest film incarnation of Resident Evil. I'm fairly certain that no more than two seconds elapsed at any point during the 60-second clip before yet another incendiary or propulsive display took place. That one got the greatest Sigh Factor™ for the day.

I liked the inclusion of contemporary issues and the public questioning of how the average citizen will survive while the owning class revels in their own existence.*

I think all of the performances were solid. Bale's was probably his best of the three films (one wonders if the Oscar win for The Fighter was his light bulb moment) as he certainly seems to have grown, not just in this role, but in his craft, overall. I continue to think that Gary Oldman is criminally underused in the staid Commissioner Gordon role, but there's something to be said for versatility (akin to Helena Bonham-Carter's performance in The King's Speech.) It was good to see Cilian Murphy return as Jonathan Crane for a few minutes. That was also a nice nod to the Robin legend at the end which was, thankfully, kept off-screen and served as a fitting pass of the torch to whomever takes up the writing/directing chair(s) in the future.

Things I not so liked

The script was uneven. There were some good lines (Hathaway seemed to get the best of them) and the characters remained as real as in the prior films. But there were some heavy expository moments that didn't involve philosophical outlooks so much as rote re-telling of origin stories or some such thing that you hoped would be shown more than told. Furthermore, there seemed to be a lot more "comic dialogue" than was present in the earlier films. When the Batman first encountered the Joker in The Dark Knight, he didn't stop to blurt out the latter's name so everyone in the crowd would know who it was. Everyone knew that already. Yet, in Rising, when he first encounters Bane, despite being aware of who he is and the audience already being fully educated, Bale stops and delivers the dramatic line: "Bane." I sat in anticipation of the Image-style posing shot before the ego-massaging/face-beating commenced.

Despite the capable direction of the action sequences, I think we've reached the limit of where the "real-time fighting" can take us. Half of the Bane/Batman engagements seemed to be a version of E. Honda's Hundred-Hand Slap: there were clearly a lot of strikes, but you didn't know where they landed or sometimes who threw them. Having practiced martial arts for a number of years, I've come to appreciate films (and actors) who've taken the time to engage in actual techniques that clearly do something other than just batter the opponent like a hailstorm. I can see the aikido and the jiu-jitsu and the escrima that Jason Bourne uses and I can see the kickboxing that Martin Blank uses in Grosse Pointe Blank; mostly because I can see them throwing punches and can see where they land. While it's all well and good to convey the speed and urgency of the encounter, I wouldn't mind going back to a little choreography that could actually be followed.

Perhaps it was simply the poor sound equipment of the theater or the position we were in relative to the speakers (we saw the IMAX version and ended up pretty close to the screen) but I heard a ton of reverb and feedback that frequently overwhelmed spoken lines. The ominous bass line of the soundtrack didn't help with this at all and, of course, the fact that Bane's voice was already distorted meant that I spent a fair amount of time trying to decipher what he said rather than simply listening to what he was saying.

On the topic of Bane, I failed to understand the whole mask backstory. The original character wore a mask for the same reason the Batman does: to intimidate his opponents. What gave him his power was a drug called Venom that was injected directly into his brain.

That's why you can see cables wrapped around him in most of his pictures from the comics. In Rising, we were presented with the idea that Bane's face had been ruined in prison and he took drugs from a unit directly attached to his face to save him from the pain of... bad dental work? The pain suppressors are what enable him to break concrete pillars by punching them? I have a hard time believing that his voice couldn't have been altered in the same way that Bale's is when he's in costume. Perhaps I'm just missing something.

*That said, I expressly disliked the idea that the revolt of the average citizen against the wealth that owns them was somehow necessarily driven by a nihilistic savage and was, therefore, implicitly wrong. Given that significant social change and some degree of justice in this country is unlikely to occur without violence, one doesn't need a terrorist and a fusion bomb to effect it. One really only needs Mitt Romney and Barack Obama as the only two sides of the argument about how many of the underclass should be sacrificed for a couple more million to flow to the top percent.

So, overall, I wouldn't call it one of Nolan's stronger efforts, but I think it was a decent end to a trilogy that will have lasting positive effect on the character and its legend for most of the public. I'd certainly recommend seeing it if you enjoyed the prior films, but it's not a must-see if you're just not into the whole Caped Crusader thing.

More is always better. God says so.

WASHINGTON -- Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Texas) said Friday that the shootings that took place in an Aurora, Colo. movie theater hours earlier were a result of "ongoing attacks on Judeo-Christian beliefs" and questioned why nobody else in the theater had a gun to take down the shooter.
During a radio interview on The Heritage Foundation's "Istook Live!" show, Gohmert was asked why he believes such senseless acts of violence take place. Gohmert responded by talking about the weakening of Christian values in the country.
"You know what really gets me, as a Christian, is to see the ongoing attacks on Judeo-Christian beliefs, and then some senseless crazy act of terror like this takes place," Gohmert said.
"Some of us happen to believe that when our founders talked about guarding our virtue and freedom, that that was important," he said. "Whether it's John Adams saying our Constitution was made only for moral and religious people ... Ben Franklin, only a virtuous people are capable of freedom, as nations become corrupt and vicious they have more need of masters ... We have been at war with the very pillars, the very foundation of this country."
Ernest Istook, the host of the show and a former Oklahoma congressman, jumped in to clarify that nobody knows the motivation of the alleged Aurora gunman. Gohmert said that may be true, but suggested the shootings were still "a terrorist act" that could have been avoided if the country placed a higher value on God.
"People say ... where was God in all of this?" Gohmert said. "We've threatened high school graduation participations, if they use God's name, they're going to be jailed ... I mean that kind of stuff. Where was God? What have we done with God? We don't want him around. I kind of like his protective hand being present."
Gohmert also said the tragedy could have been lessened if someone else in the movie theater had been carrying a gun and took down the lone shooter. Istook noted that Colorado laws allow people to carry concealed guns.
"It does make me wonder, with all those people in the theater, was there nobody that was carrying a gun that could have stopped this guy more quickly?" he asked. (HT: HuffPo)

Emphasis mine, of course, because when one is in a dark room, packed with people, many in costume, under the flashing lights of a two-story movie screen, and filled with tear gas, what better solution to the situation could there be than MORE GUNS? After all, it was doubtlessly a room full of trained police officers and combat vets there to see the midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises, right? All of those people would have understood the chaotic situation into which they were discharging a firearm, just like the individual who sowed said chaos, no? Personally, I don't give a damn if the room was filled with the local law enforcement convention. Under those circumstances, I'd rather be in a coop full of armed chickens who just got doused with water.

Newsflash: The solution to guns in our society is not more guns. It's less of them. Less access, less numerous, and lower rates of fire. Those hallowed Judeo-Christian values ("all who take the sword, die by the sword") should tell you that.

The nail ladies and their lack of understanding

This is brilliant.

New York’s rich and super-rich convened in the Hamptons on Sunday for a trio of fundraisers for Mitt Romney, expected to bring in as much as $4 million. And the well-heeled donors did little to avoid looking like, well, moneyed attendees paying for exclusive access to the Republican candidate.

While a group of Occupy Wall Street protesters assembled in the area, the Porsches, Range Rovers and BMWs streamed in. Here are some of the best quotes from the events.
A gem from the Los Angeles Times:

A New York City donor a few cars back, who also would not give her name, said Romney needed to do a better job connecting. “I don’t think the common person is getting it,” she said from the passenger seat of a Range Rover stamped with East Hampton beach permits. “Nobody understands why Obama is hurting them. “We’ve got the message,” she added. “But my college kid, the baby sitters, the nails ladies — everybody who’s got the right to vote — they don’t understand what’s going on. I just think if you’re lower income — one, you’re not as educated, two, they don’t understand how it works, they don’t understand how the systems work, they don’t understand the impact.”

Peter Cohen, the former Shearson Lehman Bros. chief, told the Associated Press — while chewing on a cigar — that Romney is a “plain-talking guy.”
Ted Conklin, who owns the American Hotel in Sag Harbor, told the New York Times that Obama is a “socialist.”
“His idea is find a problem that doesn’t exist and get government to intervene,” Conklin added, his wife, Carol Simmons, nodding beside him in their gold Mercedes.
But wait, there’s more. From the Times:

Ms. Simmons paused to highlight what she said was her husband’s generous spirit: “Tell them who’s on your yacht this weekend! Tell him!” Over Mr. Conklin’s objections, Ms. Simmons disclosed that a major executive from Miramax, the movie company, was on the 75-foot yacht, because, she said, there were no rooms left at the hotel.

 It's not like most Obama fundraisers would be any different in terms of attitudes and ignorance, but they're typically smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

"We're all liars here."

And that, of course, is how the Game is played, right to the end. It was, of course, the finale on Sunday. I've been a bit distracted by other things and part of my distraction was a somewhat mixed and/or muted reaction to what went down in episode 20. I wasn't entirely disappointed, so much as more than a little aware that I'd seen/read so much of this story before that I didn't really need a "bridge" episode to get me to the next sequence. I was and am already waiting to get there. But I'll go into that in more detail in a bit.

This episode was about lies: the major ones, like the carefully choreographed setting aside of Sansa for Margaery in the throne room, to the little ones, like Brienne telling 3 northmen that she served the Starks just moments after insisting to Jaime that she didn't; the huge ones, like the visions of the House of the Undying, to the smaller ones, like Jon and Qhorin deceiving the Wildlings about the former's loyalty. The wedding, Melisandre's visions, Theon's bravado, Tyrion's reign as Hand, the empty vault and, of course, Jaqen H'ghar. All lies, to one degree or another. Lying is how politics and power games function, whether in a fantasy medieval society or in modern America. In the end, those that can do it best tend to succeed.

It was gratifying to see Alan Taylor take the director's reins again, as I think he's probably the best among the regular group that has been employed (and he's now a producer, as well.) Little touches, like beginning with Tyrion's mismatched eyes, reminding everyone that he is still the dwarf, the outcast, are emblematic of his method. Also, opening the throne room sequence with a pile of horseshit only slightly less odorous than the careful dance that would proceed in that scene was another nice note of style.

This scene was our establishing shot for the episode. It was the wrap-up to the furious pace of "Blackwater" and a demonstration of the victors sharing the spoils. We got the first recitation of the full titles of the king in quite a while, a blatant demonstration of the ambition and deviousness of the Tyrells (admittedly, Loras (Finn Jones) could stand to have an expression on his face other than petulant child by next season), the remonstrations of duty and character by the Lannisters, and finally the acquiescence with the best moment, Sansa laughing to herself as she leaves the room... before Littlefinger buttonholes her and gives her the reality that she, once again, just misses. Sophie Turner has been great this season and this brief moment was no exception. "Look around you. We're all liars here and every one of us is better than you."

I have to say that one of the moments that put me off was the following scene with Varys and Ros. I'm all about giving Conleth Hill more moments to shine (which he did here: "I am not like most men." "That's what most men say."), but was it necessary to show a scene of this length for Ros' recruitment. I wonder if that could have been simply woven into next season as she's going about a task for him? Regardless, best hashtag I've seen recently is: #InVarysWeDoNotTrust.

Meanwhile, everyone's favorite odd couple proceeds on their merry way. Nikolai Coster-Waldau, having not been given a huge range of situations to deal with this season ("Be a prisoner. Go."), is at his arrogant finest in the last few weeks while paired with Brienne. "You're a virgin, I take it?" That said, one of the best expressions of the night was the look on his face when Brienne eviscerated (and castrated) the three soldiers in seconds, followed by the command to "Stay" as if the Kingslayer was the nearest dog. Next season is already looking good. By the same token, Robb's scene with Catelyn was a bit more stilted than before, perhaps intentionally, as he's firmly decided that her decisions no longer have any impact on what he's doing ("The only parent I have left has no right to call anyone 'reckless'.") I think they handled the wedding about as simply as it needed to be. There is some degree of dissension out in the GoT community about the presence of Talisa and why the whole love story needed to play out on screen, whereas it takes place between the 2nd and 3rd books. I didn't particularly object to the off-camera joining of Robb and Jeyne in the books, as I know that Martin was trying to convey both the progression of time and the grueling aspect of a ceaseless war. Given the difference in media, I think trying to drop a new character on a TV audience and especially one that carries such import for the story overall (alliance with the Freys, etc.), without giving them any opportunity to know about her and identify Robb's feelings for her, would have been a very poor idea. There are still reviewers that joke (humorlessly) about the endless parade of characters in the series. Adding another and expecting the audience to catch up to events that weren't even on their screens is a bit much.

It was nice to see Melisandre back on screen, obviously recovered from her postpartum depression. While their relationship seems understandable in the books, given the absolute fervor of most of those surrounding Stannis (including his wife, Shireen, who is being cast for season 3 as I write), I continue to think that it seems a little unfounded for the stern and pragmatic Stannis to have his head so spun around by the red woman with little else to go on other than "I've seen it!" That's why it was kind of gratifying to hear Stephen Dillane use the "Where's your god now?" approach. Melisandre's equally poignant response: "Inside... you." was one of the few hints at mystery that the writers have proceeded with and which, again, I'll get into a bit later.

By far, the best scene of the episode, though, was the one between Theon and Maester Luwin, while the horn of (presumably) Bolton's bastard and his men sound outside (this is why vuvuzelas were banned at the World Cup...) Theon's presentation in the books is that of arrogant prick and he never really loses that mantle, even when confronted with the reality of the loss of Winterfell and the shame to follow. His presentation here, as I've mentioned before, is far more tragic and, while he is just as stupid and overconfident as he is in the books, he's also carrying a burden that is far more pronounced than any that Martin ever assigned to him. In the same way that Osha was moved by Natalia Tena's performance from token figure to one of actual intelligence and interest (and which will be expanded upon by Martin in Winds of Winter), I think the writers of the series and Alfie Allen shifted Theon from side character to one that people could take an active interest in, not simply to detest like Joffrey, but to sympathize with as someone caught up in a world he can't possibly control but continuing to protest to everyone (even himself) that he can. This line would not have come from Book Theon: "Know what it's like to be told how lucky you are to be someone's prisoner? To be told how much you owe them? And then to go back home to your real father-!" Their later exchange only drives the point home, perhaps unnecessarily: "I've known you many years, Theon Greyjoy. You're not the man you're pretending to be. Not yet." "You may be right. But I've come too far to be anything else." The final insult to injury is the clout over the head when he's supposedly making the one "honorable" choice of his life, but which is actually just another way to escape responsibility, in the end. Dagmer Cleftjaw's pointed line: "Was a good speech. Didn't want to interrupt." was a last kick of sand into the face of Theon, never good enough to be Hero of the Beach (Ironborn, of course.) While I really missed the more elaborate events surrounding Winterfell (we're not even told who burns down the castle, departing Ironmen or invading Boltons), I understand the time constraints that required shortening the story (rhymes with "tweak"...) and I hope they'll be able to make it up sufficiently in season 3.

They could have gone further with the scar. This is one of the few complaints I've had in two seasons about set, props, makeup, or other immersion details. I'm sure Peter Dinklage didn't relish the idea of sitting in a makeup chair for six hours every day to have half of his nose removed, so I can understand some restraint there (in addition to money concerns) but I think I have scars on my face that look more dire than that one. This was a good moment almost solely for Dinklage's performance, as there was little else to be gained other than to confirm that Bronn was also removed from power and that Shae would be sticking around. Tyrion summed up my interest in politics in perhaps the most cogent manner I've ever heard:  "These bad people... Out-talking them, out-thinking them... It's what I'm good at. And I like it. I like it more than anything I've ever done."

That said, again, it is sometimes the little things that make the whole project work. At this point, my favorite piece of music from two seasons is the soft, inquisitive, vaguely eerie harp that accompanies the presence of Jaqen H'ghar. It was a great idea to leave an abrupt demonstration of his abilities as a Faceless Man to the very last moment. This is, again, one of those things that is demonstrative of a difference in medium. Leaving this kind of event to the last moment in a book would leave your readers confused. Doing so in a TV series, where so much is done visually, is exciting and I think it worked well. It speaks to how long I've been reading these damn things that at every point where Jaqen and Arya used the words "Valar morghulis" the first thing that came to my mind was "Valar dohaeris."

Aemon's last moments were also well done (again, little lies to the boys) and I appreciated both seeing a line and some actual acting from Rickon (Art Parkinson), as well as a few more seconds with Shaggydog and Summer (for the eternally absent dire wolves that are still supposedly crucial to the story...), and later Ygritte's look of wonder and surprise at Jon's viciousness when he kill Qhorin (similar to Jaime's at Brienne's display of skill earlier) and the finale showing the impending attack by the Others and a horde of wights. That last moment was the only one where lies were simply not possible. Winter is coming, indeed.

Most of what I've mentioned has been positive and not indicative of why I would be disappointed in the episode. But, as I said, most diehard fans like me have little need of a show that wraps up everything very neatly until next time. We know that the story continues. We know how the story continues. There's nothing at all wrong with leaving a few loose ends hanging (one that they did leave adrift is what happened to Davos Seaworth, as I'm quite certain that many amongst the TV audience simply believe him to be dead (with good reason)) and enticing people to find out why. Or, for that matter, using a ready opportunity to drop some questions into the plot line that people can muse about until next spring. Said opportunity was the House of the Undying.

I honestly never really liked this sequence in the books. It was one that became almost jarringly surreal in a book that was otherwise firmly rooted in the pragmatism of (literal) cloak and dagger. However, one upside to it was the chance to show scenes from Daenerys' past and a past she was not even aware of (including a figure that was clearly Rhaegar Targaryen.) It's this kind of lore and history that is what makes the series an "epic" fantasy and it is the lack of same that many fans (such as Ello and Linda of Westeros.org here) complain is missing. This kind of stuff "makes the world", as it were. Westeros.org goes so far as to suggest that, in replacing lore with sappy romance (i.e. Robb and Talisa), the producers have pushed the series past one that is "based on" A Song of Ice and Fire to one that is "inspired by".

I'm not sure that I'd go quite that far. As I noted above, I think there are very valid pragmatic reasons for leaving Robb's relationship on screen. Furthermore, some of that same pragmatism exerts control over why such things aren't shown (lack of money and airtime, which this season has suffered from far more than the first.) Most importantly, though, I think it potentially detracts from the central thrust of the story. When the furry appears in the famous moment of The Shining, does anyone really know what that means? Does it impact the story in significant fashion the way the ocean of blood or the murdered twins do? No. It's a conceit of Kubrick's and a weird touchstone for people who've seen the film. In the same fashion, did we really need to see four dwarves raping a beautiful woman in the House of the Undying? Did we need to see Rhaegar citing his son, Aegon, as the "prince who was promised"? Would that kind of stuff create intrigue in the manner that Ello and Linda suggest took place with Lost or would it just create confusion in an audience already supposedly burdened by a cast already stretching into the dozens and set to increase by a couple dozen more next season?

HBO has been doing a pretty decent job of trying to school people on the background of the books and the world in which the story takes place. They've done so largely by including features on their website and adding extras to the DVD/Blu-ray releaes. Having been immersed in the books since 1996, I really haven't paid much attention to any of that. I know it all already. But with those resources available, is that detracting from their willingness to show history and lore? Or is the show sufficiently different from one like Lost, the central mystery of which was the basis of the show's identity, to not need mysterious visions and an endless reference to names and family branches to already encourage discussion through next winter about the show and what is happening? Does this come down to a difference of stylistic approach or is it more a concern over how close the producers are hewing to the material?

For example, Ello and Linda suggest that the way Theon is represented has spoiled what made the character Theon Greyjoy. He is "not Theon". I've heard many similar complaints about key figures like Cersei and Daenerys. But, given the quicker pace and greater constraints of the medium of television, that kind of change is almost inevitable. Characters are going to be different and, more importantly, be interpreted differently in a different medium. As fond as I am of the story, I suspect that I would say that many of the altered versions as presented in the show are actually better than their counterparts in the books. Osha is undeniable (by Martin's own estimation.) Theon is far more interesting (How long could Alfie Allen have gone on being the shallow prick that is Theon in the books?) So, I'm not sure that complaining that certain presentations and detail are lost is sufficient evidence to say the producers have seemingly lost their way, even if I do agree that the House of the Undying sequence was a bit lacking in its execution. Honestly, did it really matter that she went there to retrieve the dragons rather than simply seeking an audience so they could assassinate or kidnap her, anyway (as in the book)? Isn't going there to retrieve her children a more compelling scenario?

For that matter, how would they have gone about representing who Rhaegar was, since Martin actually never specifically named him in Clash of Kings, but has generally acknowledged that, yes, that's who was in the vision. Dany never knew him. She was an infant when last in his presence. Jorah Mormont may have been able to identify him if described, but then we start veering off of Mormont's character. Put simply, I guess I'm saying that while I wouldn't have minded seeing those scenes of Rhaegar from the book, I can understand why the produces would choose to leave them out in favor of something far more pertinent to the viewers who've been watching for the last year-and-a-half:

Nice cameo by Momoa, too.

So, there it is. Another season done. I think it's still proceeding well, overall, and I'm looking forward to the first half of Storm of Swords next season. This note from Winteriscoming.net confirms casting for the Blackfish, the Reeds, the Queen of Thorns, and Thoros of Myr, among others, and I've seen an audition video for Vargo Hoat. Of course, the character I'm most looking forward to would have to be the Red Viper (House Martell fan: Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.) I have a couple conflicting images of him in my head, so I'll be interested to see how they mesh with a new face.

Avengers Assemble

I am really, really glad that they didn't use that battle cry...

 So, I finally got around to sitting down in front of The Avengers yesterday. Overall, I was OK with it. It was fun, as most of Marvel's movies are supposed to be. Character-wise, once again, Robert Downey, Jr. was the highlight as Tony Stark/Iron Man, as he's the best actor among them and had the best lines. I think that Chris Evans (Captain America) and Chris Hemsworth (Thor) do solid jobs with what they're given to work with. On that note, Jeremy Renner's role as Hawkeye was pretty monochromatic, which is a shame for a guy that did really well in The Hurt Locker and The Town. You'd hope for something a little more emotive, especially from someone playing Clint Barton, a rather tempestuous character in the comics, but it was not to be. Thankfully, they left out the goofy purple-and-blue costume with the big "H" on the forehead, just in case people forgot who he was. ("Of course! He's H-Man!")

By the same token. Tom Hiddleston was unfortunately stuck with Loki's classic golden-stag-on-PCP uniform. It's not like subtlety has ever been a large facet of the character and Hiddleston plays it for all it's worth, but you still kind of wonder at that choice. Mark Ruffalo was actually really good as Bruce Banner (Here's a bit of cultural trivia: Why was the character named David Bruce Banner in the 70s TV show? Because Universal thought that "Bruce" was a name too closely identified with gay men. I kid you not. There was even a joke about it in a contemporary issue of the comic where Banner is checking the classifieds for jobs and sees an ad for "Turkish baths" and thinks to himself: "Nah. I don't think that's for me." My reaction as an 8-year-old: "What's a bathhouse?") Scarlett Johansson (Black Widow) is herself: she's wooden, she's gorgeous, I could watch her beating the crap out of Russian mobsters all day:

and Sam Jackson (Nick Fury) continues his string of roles that will never even approach his stellar performances in Pulp Fiction and The Red Violin. It's a shame, really, because you'd think with the ethical conflicts inherent to the role (and squaring off on SHIELD's version of Skype with a shadowy Powers Boothe), he'd have a lot of room to work.

I think the script was pretty uneven, though. There were moments when someone was gabbling on about this or that topic where I was actually waving my hand as if to hurry the pace because it was pretty tedious. I don't know whether that's an effect of my knowing all of this stuff (The "tesseract" is the Cosmic Cube, which was created by AIM (Advanced Idea Mechanics) with a biological computer named MODOK (Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing; why, then, was he created to create the Cube...?) It was later used by the Red Skull to try to kill Captain America and was lost by him to the Sub-Mariner and later reclaimed by the Red Skull and later stolen from him by Thanos (the grinning, purple dude at the end), who was the only person able to truly exploit its power to reshape reality ("It's a genie in the lamp. But with a thousand wishes. And in cube form.") and try to reshape the universe and... on and on and on...) There's a lot of backstory here, most of which they dispensed with based on a tale about perpetual energy, which is a nice shortcut and certainly more relevant to a modern, movie-going audience (AIM always looked liked dorks in those yellow outfits, anyway)

but part of taking that shortcut with an ensemble cast is that you have "character stuff" that has to come to light which can't really be done as anything but boilerplate exposition, lest you lose the pace of the film. They almost did that a couple times, anyway.

It was interesting to see them run across the same problem that most comic writers did in the 80s: How do you rationalize the Batman-types (Hawkeye, Black Widow, Captain America) fighting against things that would actually provide a challenge to the Superman-types, like the Hulk and the God of Thunder? You could kind of dodge that when people didn't pay too much critical attention to stuff like, you know... story in the 60s and 70s but it became more difficult later. I still found it kind of ludicrous that, in a battle taking place across all of midtown Manhattan, the three "human-powered" types would think that whatever they were doing in one intersection would have any effect on the thousands of lives endangered by a constant flow of homicidal aliens on personal hovercraft, not to mention the gigantic flying Moray eels/troop carriers. This is where you run into the conflict between character and story that is reminiscent of what I mentioned in this post: "character" is for long-time readers; "cool SF stories where lots of stuff blows up" is often for new readers. In the movie business, it's a microcosm of the same thing and it's all about pacing.

I have no concrete opinion on Joss Whedon. I've seen almost none of his TV work, although I have many friends who swear by Buffy and Firefly, the latter of which I've seen a couple episodes of and which seems to me to be remarkably overblown, but cult audiences are labeled so for a reason and I'm as guilty of it as anyone else. Having seen Serenity, I'd say this is a step up in that it retains his often deft touch with dialogue and humor, but maintains a better handle on the cuts from one point of the ongoing battle to the next. He also handles the sadly obligatory "superheroes meet and beat the crap out of each other before actually talking" encounter about as coherently as you can. He shows a nice touch in this scene, which expresses and releases some of the audience frustration with the slippery villain (and is, without doubt, the funniest of the movie):

The audience laughter overwhelms the Hulk's one actual line in the film, which is the only moment when Whedon gets away from the fact that the whole "Hulk, Mindless Savage" perspective came from the aforementioned TV series. That trope gets old fast, which is why I appreciated the fact that Lee and Kirby originally designed the Hulk as more of a tragic figure. He can talk, if somewhat haltingly, and spends most of his time doing so asking why people keep shooting him for no other reason than he's big, green, and didn't do what the Pentagon told him... He was intended to be a modern spin on Jekyll/Hyde, except that he was misunderstood, as opposed to showing the darker side of humanity. My one real hope was that they would start steering the character back in that direction. This may or may not have been the first step in that process. Am I the only one who thought of a dog trying to shake the life from one of his lifeless toys in that clip?

Bitch, bitch, bitch... I know this all sounds like I'm trying to shred the film but I actually did like it. I'm just so pre-wired to most of this stuff that it's hard for me to look at it with anything but a very jaded (Radioactive Man?) eye. I've read more superhero comics than most people should be in the same room with. Bottom line: if you keep your expectations at the level of "superhero film", you will not be disappointed. I still think Iron Man is the best of the recent offerings by Marvel and the only one that rises above said level. I'm still astounded that The Avengers has been so well received by critics, but I can certainly understand being swept away by the (perpetual) energy. The fact that they've indicated that Thanos is the villain of choice for the sequel fills me with varying degrees of dread. Had this been the early 80s, I'd have been thrilled, but there's been a lot of crap piled on top of that character since then. So, we'll see. Of course, I do have to say that one of the best moments of the film is the shawarma bit after the credits,

 if only because it conveys that atmosphere of what it must feel like to have been thrown through a few skyscrapers for a couple hours. The impressive restraint is indicative of Whedon's potential as a director and may indicate an ability to demonstrate that further in the sequels. Here's hoping.

"The world is built by killers, so you'd better get used to looking at them."

So, this was what everyone had been waiting for: the first major battle scene of the show. I think they succeeded, for the most part. The constraints involved didn't seem to be money so much as time: there's only so much tactical detail you can convey in an episode that lasts an hour and which has to cover a lot of other storytelling ground. There were a lot of nice touches throughout (the overflowing puke barrel on Stannis' approach was one of the best) and the characters that shone through were the ones who actually had as much steel in their spines (Bronn, the Hound, Cersei, Sansa) as they were wearing, if not more.


The fact that the episode was written by Martin provided a bunch of little subtexts for anyone that has read the books. Was the confrontation between Bronn and Clegane something he'd been wanting to do in the books and took advantage of here? It didn't add a whole lot to the moment, as we were already aware of both of their attitudes and their disdain for their opposing employers. Of course, that whole scene gave us plenty of texture to begin with ("Don't feel sorry for him. He'll be halfway up your ass before the night's through."), including the obligatory nudity and, finally- FINALLY! -music for the Rains of Castamere! Now we just need music for the bear song and the world is complete.

Credit: http://ivyarchive.tumblr.com/

I'm not entirely sure I like the direction that Varys has taken in the last couple episodes ("I'm entirely sure you're entirely sure what I'm suggesting.") Trying to spare the realm death and destruction is one thing, but being the local Jeremiad is something else. Bringing up the Dark Powers/Old Powers at this stage is kind of an odd placement for that bit of info, especially since we haven't seen Melisandre since she ganked Renly.

 
Of all the off-battle scenes, though, the best was probably the one that took place in the throne room. Bronn and Tyrion's Marx Brothers routine was brilliant:

"Do you know how to use that?"
"Chopped wood once... No, I saw my brother chopping wood."
"I saw ya kill a man with a shield. You'll be unstoppable with an axe. Don't get killed."
"Nor you, my friend."
"Oh? Are we friends now?"
"Of course we are! Just because I pay you for your services doesn't diminish our friendship!"
"Enhances it, really."
"Oh! Enhances! Fancy word for a sellsword."
"Been spendin' time with fancy folks."

But some of the best moments were Sansa's. It took me a long time to warm up to Sansa as a character. In fact, I don't recall doing anything but sighing at her chapter headings until Feast for Crows. But Sophie Turner has been doing great work in the series and gave one of the best performances of this episode ("I'm sorry, Your Grace. You're right. I'm stupid. Of course you'll be in the vanguard.") I wish they had been able to take a moment to indicate to viewers that Hearteater is Ice reforged. I'm not sure how many would catch that or if there was something obvious to indicate it that I missed.

Speaking of people that were on fire (away from the battle...), once again Lena Headey was just excellent. The schoolgirl-level taunts of Sansa, the stories about sieges to elicit reaction; and the cold acknowledgment that, in a male-dominated world, the most precious resource to her are her children, especially the one currently sitting on the throne, were all moments for her to shine. I loved the repudiation of the old aphorism "There are no atheists in foxholes": "The gods have no mercy. That's why they're gods."; and the frank acknowledgment of the other weapon at her disposal: "If it were anyone else, I might have hoped for a private audience, but this is Stannis Baratheon. I'd have a better chance of seducing his horse." But the best moment was the exchange with Sansa over their place in the world:

"He was heir to Casterly Rock and I was sold like a horse to a stranger to be ridden whenever he desires."
"You were Robert's queen!"
"And you will be Joffrey's. Enjoy!"

These moments more than any other made it clear that it was Martin behind the screenplay, as the theme of women being powerless even while seemingly masters of all they survey has been a constant throughout the story and something almost as prominent as the sorry fate of the smallfolk caught up in the Game. A nice addendum was Shae: "Maybe she hates you less than she hates everyone else."

On to the battle... The wildfire explosion was great. I think it was probably a good idea to forget the chain, since they couldn't really show the battle on the Blackwater Rush, as opposed to the bay (although I hope they figure out what to do with Bronn's coat of arms next season...) Of course, the chain kind of demonstrated Tyrion's overall plan for the battle, rather than just taking advantage of the alchemists, which makes what happens later a little less traumatic (but only a little.) I kind of wondered about the combination of green fire and regular fire in the later moments of the catastrophe, though. Was that an implication that the wildfire (the liquid) had burned out and the ships were still alight or was it a technical issue (i.e. not having enough funds to keep everything green)?

Stephen Dillane's look of calm self-assurance on the advance and near-feral grin at a couple points were great representations of Stannis' conviction that both the battle and the throne would be his ("We're too far from the gates. Their archers... Hundreds will die." "Thousands.") Even though the men on the field were, in fact, dozens or a couple hundred as opposed to thousands, I think they ended up representing the magnitude of the battle sufficiently. The choice of flaming arrows was a good dramatic touch, since the scene was taking place at night and it's tough to see arrows in the dark (even if flaming arrows aren't the best choice in "real world" situations.) I was disappointed that Tyrion's hill tribesmen weren't mentioned or seen at all, since they provided a rather important key to the way the battle turned in the books (allowing the Lannister/Tyrell force to approach without warning because the Baratheon scouts had all been killed by the tribesmen.) Strangely, they decided to replace their existence with their famous cheer of "Halfman!" when Tyrion led the initially successful sortie.

Stannis on the battlements was another of those nice touches, demonstrating his willingness to come to grips (literally) with his crusade. However, I was really questioning the head-slicing scene. The blood display was fine, but did they really want to spend that much money on CGI for that? Wouldn't it have been better to enhance some other aspect of the battle if the money was there? Like, say, showing even more horses in Tywin's charge into the fight (which, admittedly, was still a nice moment)? Given the changed circumstances of the fight and the time constraints, it was probably a good idea to eliminate the whole "Garlan Tyrell in Renly's armor"-thing, though. If they're worried about people confusing Asha and Osha, I can't imagine how they might have been fretting about viewers actually thinking that Renly was back from the dead. We had a brief enough glimpse of Ser Loras to be aware that the Tyrells were involved.

And then we come, of course, to the Hound. As most of my tiny audience probably knows by now, the Hound is my favorite character of the story. His cynical pragmatism (embodied in the title quote of the post) and outright savagery ("Any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" - line of the night) provide more truth about the world of Westeros than almost any other. I had kind of hoped for a bit more anxiety on the part of Rory McCann, as the outright terror that the character displays in the books is stark. Certainly, anyone is going to weave back with a torch waved in their face and it's not irrational to tell someone: "Any of those flaming fucking arrows come near me, I'll strangle you with your own guts!" But to be reduced to gibbering fear that doesn't allow for calm moments where you tell the king to fuck off is more of what I remember from the scene in Clash of Kings. It's that stark contrast that makes the character, to some degree. However, the lone San/San scene in Sansa's room was well played by both actors.


So, the wrap-up next week. Sad trombone. At least we'll finally see the House of the Undying and figure out if they're going to return to canon in the Daenerys storyline for next season.

Directors: Recent memories

So, I thought I might look at a director who's been more relevant recently. There are certain people who stick with me out of a sense of nostalgia, in that they were the first to really open my eyes to a certain style or approach in filmmaking. I haven't become as attached to many in more recent years because, in many ways, the Hollywood approach has continued to further poison the well of American cinema (get off my lawn.) There are, of course, standouts as there always have been and Christopher Nolan is one of those.

From his insider-hailed debut, Following, to his groundbreaking wide-release hit, Memento, to the blockbuster Batman films, and through to his pet project, Inception, Nolan has demonstrated again and again that he's not only willing to take risks with his stories and his audience, but to do so with an excellent sense of style.

My first exposure to Nolan was via Memento, which I saw mostly for Guy Pearce, who was great in LA Confidential (and who possesses much the same flair as Nolan; while the film, Lockout, was a rather dreadful re-imagining of Carpenter's Escape from New York, this trailer has everything that you can ask from an actor in Pearce), as I had no idea whom the director was. The story was co-written by Nolan and his brother, Jonathan, from an idea by the latter. Jonathan would go on to co-write most of Nolan's projects and Christopher's wife, Emma Thomas, would also frequently co-produce them with him through their company. Memento is a story about a man whose head injuries render him unable to form new memories, so he's forced to rely on flashbacks to events that took place prior to his injury and a series of markers and notes that he leaves to himself every time he wakes up. Consequently, the story can't be told in a normal linear progression, but has to be relayed out of sequence and, largely, backwards. This in itself requires a great deal of trust between the director and his audience. The fact that Nolan was doing so with his first major release bespeaks someone who has great confidence in his own vision; an aspect that he has continued to reinforce throughout his career.

In the following scene, we're just getting introduced to the chaos that is Lenny's life, as he acts in ways that seem familiar but which have little foundation for him. He fails to understand much of what is going on, which places him in the same boat with the audience, but the method by which it's portrayed is just intriguing enough to keep most hanging on for the ride:

The shift from black-and-white to color, the lighting changes, the isometric viewpoint; all of these are part of Nolan's style of storytelling, so that you can often tell where you are in his films without having to listen to dialogue or have any groundwork laid by exposition. They're also redolent with a comic book-esque approach, which probably explains some of his appeal to me. The importance of memories and how they can be shaped and used is also a theme that Nolan explores in great detail in his other films and, again, is a topic of some considerable interest to me.

In 2005, Nolan launched what would become a trilogy of films with Batman Begins. Obviously, the character has become archetypal in its own right and has been the subject of various media for the past half-century. Rather than overload the character with his own stylistic interpretation a la Tim Burton, Nolan decided to return to the roots of the character and expand on them. In doing so, he borrowed heavily from Frank Miller's Batman: Year One and some of the classic storylines laid down in Steve Englehart's eight issue run on Detective Comics in the mid-70s which has long been lauded as "the definitive Batman" and was used in development for Burton's first film. Nolan's determination to explore the psychological motivations of a man who, with the world at his feet, would dress up as a bat and beat people senseless in order to combat his own personal demons is another example of his willingness to depart from the standard and focus on the mind of his characters. His representation of the Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy) as more psychiatrist than super-villain is an example of that same approach:

Nothing much happens in this scene other than people standing around looking at the ceiling. Just the same, the tension is thick and we never get tired of waiting for something to happen. Nolan's grasp of the material was stronger than any director of the Batman to date, as he was willing to use some relatively arcane details from the character's past (Ra's al Ghul was, until recent years, a relatively unknown villain even to Batman readers; certainly not in the same class as the Joker, Riddler, Catwoman, etc.) Also, he demonstrated his own knowledge of the character by having others refer to him as THE Batman, which makes him more force than human, which is the whole point.

What followed was the most well-received superhero film made to date (although The Avengers may have changed the equation): The Dark Knight. The interesting thing about it is that I don't think it's quite as strong a film as Batman Begins. Christian Bale's performance is a bit on the contrived side, but that's certainly outweighed by Heath Ledger's stunning turn as The Joker. The script is actually more interesting and less linear than the first film, but we're also handed far more and larger explosions and fireworks and gadgets. So, everything is kind of ramped up and it seems like that makes the movie lose a bit of the soul that it had with Begins. But, by the same token, The Dark Knight moves in ways that Begins simply couldn't and the tight pacing and delivery of Nolan's signature style is still plainly evident, as in the opening scene:

Everything works in this scene. The mysterious and ominous music; the rapid but seamless transitions; the exposition presented as shop talk amongst the thieves; and the final, "anti-ironic" (the face behind the mask is still the mask) appearance of The Joker. This is Nolan at his best: it's an action scene for an action film, but shown with so many intriguing hooks that the audience is left wanting more and laughing at the audacity of what is, at its root, a simple bank heist. The same kind of touch holds true in the first clip that began the post; the famous "pencil trick" scene. While, again, I think Batman Begins may have been the better overall film, I think Dark Knight had the better script and the more interesting (and elaborate) story, the credit for which, of course, goes to the director. While it's often an open question as to whether an actor's performance is of his/her own creation or is inspired by the director or both, I think some credit has to go to Nolan being able to extract a performance from Ledger that I thought he was largely incapable of making before I'd seen the film. It was one of the worst moments in recent film history when we discovered that the actor would not be able to reprise this role or continue with any other.

Making a complex story function for the general audience was a hallmark of the other film Nolan released in 2006: The Prestige. While I think the performances were average for most of the cast other than Michael Caine and Bale, the intimacy of the emotional struggles between the two competing magicians was portrayed well and fell short of melodrama most of the time, even if the nominal lead, Hugh Jackman, isn't a strong enough actor to convey all of the intensity that I think his role required. The great camera work of the following scene was emblematic:

As the film audience, we're behind the scenes for much of the story, so we stay intimate with the characters via the handheld camera as Jackman and Scarlett Johanssen prepare to sell the illusion. This is different from this scene, when we're left wondering how Bale's character pulls off his new trick and are, thus, left in the audience. Bale's properly emotionless performance leaves us distant as, for his character, it's all about the mechanics. OTOH, in the Jackman trick, the response is the thing, so we spend a few seconds below the stage while he tries to drink in the applause that should be his. Again, the contrast in lighting and music for the two scenes shows off Nolan's storytelling approach, in that both could be shown almost absent of dialogue and still convey the meaning that the director wants. (It's unfortunate, of course, that the latter scene misses the prestige...)

Finally, we come to Inception. Nolan had written a treatment for the concept in 2001, but felt he needed more experience in production before approaching a project his ambitious (this from the man who presented Memento as his second film...) It's interesting to find someone with that much restraint. There are numerous stories of films that have been sitting in a drawer for years on end because the person wanting to produce them didn't have the right conditions (typically a studio willing to take the project, such as Robert Duvall's The Apostle, which he wrote in the 80s and which finally hit the screen in 1997.) But there are few films that were held back because the producer, with solid credit and support to his name (and a writer and co-producer in the family), was conscious of his own potential flaws. It resonates with me the same way that the story about Orson Scott Card's Ender series does; in which Card had the concept for the third book, Xenocide, well before considering Ender's Game. On the advice of his agent, he decided that he wasn't mature enough as a writer to do the former and, thus, wrote the latter to huge critical appraisal and success.

Inception, of course, is almost solely based on the mind and how it functions. Oneirology and its use in fiction has been a favored topic of mine in similar bent to Nolan's approach. The fact that he chose to combine it with a tense story of corporate espionage markedly similar to William Gibson's New Rose Hotel (which uses the theft of people who have the "edge" gene) but takes it one step further into ideas made it an instant draw to me. Once again, Nolan takes a complex plot and makes it easily understandable for those that are willing to listen (the question of how many appreciated the film for its story rather than its stunning action sequences is up for debate.) Even in scenes that demand exposition, the overall feeling of tension and moodiness in the film is maintained by the anguish and intensity of the lead, Leonardo DiCaprio, as in this scene:

Capable performances by DiCaprio, Ellen Page, and Tom Hardy sell a scene that is a completely foreign concept to most audiences but which feels more natural after it's explained to them (just like a dream?) Inception also had the most frequent examples of a director's conceit that Nolan displays often in previous films: a love for wide-angle establishing shots (big halls, theaters, warehouses, Batcaves, etc.) They serve this film because of the magnitude of the idea that he was trying to convey. While there is some room to criticize Inception for the rapid pace and trend toward explosions even while dealing with a very dense and cerebral (heh) topic (in the same way that the Dark Knight could be criticized for not spending even more time with the fascinating Joker and, instead, spending millions on Batpods and rocket launchers), I think Nolan made the decision to keep the action fairly frenetic for fear of losing the audience that would find a lecture on the meaning of dreams soporific, to say the least. It reminds me of Rick Veitch's venture from innovative work on titles like Swamp Thing and his own Bratpack into meandering around the meaning of his own dreams with Rare Bit Fiends. Incorporating those ideas into other stories would be great. Trying to make a story out of random symbolism and personal anecdotes relevant only to close friends is about as interesting as it sounds. While Nolan could have gone more in a Philip K. Dick direction with the story, I think he made the right choice with a story less about ethical choices than about mysteries that we're all still trying to unravel.

Needless to say, I'm excited about seeing The Dark Knight Rises in a few weeks to see if Nolan continued in the direction of more slam-bang or instead brought the trilogy to a close with a more introspective story about the impact of the character's motivation on the world around him (something which has been handled with lesser and greater acumen by writers of the Batman since the 1930s.) Regardless, I have a hard time seeing how I'll be disappointed. Nex time, I think I'll go back into the past with another "fallen hero", as it were.