The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

In rounding off his trilogy of Batman films, Christopher Nolan meets all expectations, delivering a typically fast-paced narrative and strong pervading atmosphere with predictable sureness and skill. Contrary to the ravings of some critics, The Dark Knight Rises doesn’t take the franchise up another level nor does it push any envelopes or deliver anything you haven’t seen before. It is simply a stylish doom-laden conclusion to the Dark Knight story that, in keeping with the other films, is very well made.

As a whole, the great accomplishment of the trilogy is its commitment to a mature retelling of a comic book story without infantilising complex issues or pandering to an imagined demographic. Pick a selection of the top 20 most expensive films of the last few years and almost all will follow safe formulae, well-established guidelines designed to recoup their cost and make a little money by stretching their appeal so broad as to be anodyne. Storylines will be childish in their simplicity, gloomy moments will have their edge taken off with misjudged light relief and challenging ideas will be conspicuously absent.

Nolan has proved that filmmakers do not have to patronise their audience to make a great deal of money at the box office. He has a few interesting notions about the contemporary world and the fractured identities of both individuals and large urban collectives. He has a vision as to how stories regarding these ideas can be told and, most importantly of all, he doesn’t think we’re too dumb to understand them.

The Dark Knight Rises begins eight years on from the events of the previous film. Bruce Wayne has grown ever more reclusive in the intervening years since he decided to hang up his cape in the wake of Gotham’s scorn for his alter ego. The city itself is doing well, with organised crime all but eradicated under the new laws left behind by Harvey Dent. Bruce is stirred from apathy by Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway), a cat burglar who he catches stealing his mother’s pearls. She warns him of a coming storm, a consequence of the gap between the city’s rich and poor. Sure enough, the stock exchange is soon raided by new villain Bane (Tom Hardy): a member of the League of Shadows who has come to fulfil Ra’s al Ghul’s mission to destroy Gotham, thus restoring ecological balance to the world. If this sounds like too much back-story, it probably makes sense to watch the earlier films. There is plenty to enjoy without having done so but it obviously helps fill in the blurs.

Hathaway brings a welcome individualist to the part in her role as the Cat Woman character (she is never actually referred to as such but the costume gives it away). All we ever hear about in the previous films is Organised Crime, gangs and bosses and citywide corruption. It’s nice to finally see a criminal out on their own for what they can get. Fun crime, cheeky crime. It adds a nice antihero vibe missing from the other films.

Bane is a different nemesis than Batman is perhaps used to. With power based on physical presence and force as well as brains, he cuts a much heftier figure than either the Scarecrow or the Joker and his hand-to-hand combat provides a genuine threat to the caped crusader for the first time. It’s great and it works –with one big problem: the voice. Hardy developed a distinct Caribbean-flavoured intellectual accent for the role and it is effectively deep and threatening and quite otherworldly when it is audible – unfortunately that is only half the time. Whatever muffling and filters with which the sound department affected the voice, they obscure Bane’s words a little too much. It is a smart idea to make him sound separate and half-machine-like compared to the other characters but it’s just overcooked in post-production.

I don’t care much about big action, although I can accept that The Dark Knight series’ set pieces are as impressive and arresting as any blockbuster’s can be. What really holds me in place is the noir of Gotham City and the bleak, seemingly irresolvable corruption. Above all else, I love the nihilism at work, how there is no sign of divine luck, no easy swing from bad to good, not even a clear definition of the two poles. Instead, crime is rife because it pays. The city is a mess and it isn’t going to be fixed by one man’s crusade against evil. I love the mentality of the villains and the way their philosophies almost sound convincing in an ugly Nietzschean way.

One thing that seemed out of step with Nolan’s usual exploitation of the ambiguity of moral dilemmas is what seems a blatant conservative agenda in regards to the class war that erupts in Gotham. Led by Bane, the underclass of the city strips the wealthy of their assets and puts them on trial in a mock court. While this draws strongly from the French Revolution, the involvement of the stock exchange echoes the anti-capitalist protests of the last year. With Bruce Wayne among the wealthiest of the city tasked with fixing this unrest, the message seems to be that anybody protesting against economic inequality is a pesky little terrorist that needs neutralising. Bane is clearly using the unrest of the masses to his advantage, helping him carry out unmitigated destruction, but just why the citizens are so easily turned into brawling loons is a question largely shrugged off. Maybe if it were addressed, Gotham’s problems would be solved and sequels suddenly redundant – and maybe that explains it…

Overall, The Dark Knight Rises is a great spectacle and should be taken as the concluding chapter of a fantastic trilogy that has probably significantly redefined how comic books are adapted from now on. Here’s hoping that Chris Nolan now turns his attention to something perhaps a little cheaper and tighter, something on a par with his real masterpieces Memento and The Prestige.

The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

Comparing two films that both make use of the same source material can get in the way of judging each on its own merit. However, I think in the case of everyone’s favourite red and blue webslinger, a little look back at Spider-Man (2002) only helps make this new film’s merits clearer to see.

This is because the two adaptations are satisfyingly unique in their independent ways. Sam Raimi’s original feels much closer in tone to the comic book material whereas this new version moves away from fantasy, instead attempting to anchor itself more in the real world. With the 2002 film only ten years old, a complete re-telling of the same story requires justification and thankfully the new direction taken by The Amazing Spider-Man is just about distinct enough to make a solid case for its existence.

Andrew Garfield is fantastic in the leading role. His portrayal of Peter Parker helps to establish the film’s style right from the off and draws a firm line under his predecessor. Everything about Tobey Maguire’s Parker screamed “VICTIM!” – he was skinny, shaky-voiced, socially nowhere. Even the bus driver hated him. His transformation from utter loser to muscular masquerader was such an epic zero-to-hero dream that it lifted the character into the make-believe realm. Garfield’s Peter Parker however is a much more realistic geek – ok, he gets picked on, but he doesn’t pity himself and actually seems fairly comfortable with his photographer-nerd status. After the transformation, he is more amused by his new powers than burdened and never quite overcomes his awkwardness despite them – he still skateboards and he still studies, he just does these things on the roof now.

The female interest of 2002 Spider-Man was MJ, a one-dimensional damsel in distress who screamed a lot and looked pretty – and pretty ineffective when the bad guy showed up. She was the hero’s trophy and little more. In this film, the object of Peter’s affections is somewhat less objectified. Gwen Stacey is Peter’s brainy classmate and head intern at Oscorp. As well as screaming a lot less than MJ, she also plays quite a major part in the final battle. The presence of a more substantial and better-rounded female character is welcome in a film trying to move clear of the adolescent wish-fulfilment that characterised the old Spider-Man.

Half the battle of taking a comic book story and revising it in the modern fashion is achieved with a script grounded in the grit of modern lexicon. Cutting clichés and throwing in the odd reference to a current trend in technology goes a long way to reining a superhero back down to earth. The new Spider-Man definitely heads in the right direction. Uncle Ben’s famous “with great power comes great responsibility” line is dropped in favour of a more convincing speech peppered with the same sentiment but packaged in a less cheesy manner. Similarly, 2002 Peter’s long, embarrassingly slushy speech to MJ about the way she makes him feel bears no relation to the stuttering ums and erms of 2012 Peter’s attempt to ask Gwen out. It’s much sweeter this way and has a far better sounding ring of truth to it

The ‘Fantasy vs. Reality’ dichotomy between the two films is also manifest in their direction. In Spider-Man, Raimi’s camera is a character in itself; the dutch angles, ambitious tracking and montages of overlaid shots all conjure the fantastical sense that the camera can and so will go anywhere it chooses. On the other hand, The Amazing Spider-Man’s director, Marc Webb organises his film in a much more functional manner. The cameras are set up to capture the action as unobtrusively as possible, leaving the actors to tell the story. Although Webb’s directorial prints are generally invisible, one thing did catch the eye: use of shallow focus to move between objects/people in the foreground and background – an increasingly rare find in modern blockbusters – which works especially well in the final shot. Even the lighting of the two films is distinct. Raimi’s film is lit thoroughly, seemingly with all angles covered so as to leave as little shadow as possible, giving it a simplistic and stark look with bright primary colours highlighted. Conversely, The Amazing Spider-Man does not concern itself with making each shot look like a drawing. Its selective approach to photography lets shadow take care of itself, providing a more natural look.

Finally onto the music, which draws a conclusive line between the two films and demonstrates very clearly how they sit in relation to each other. The 2002 film was scored by Danny Elfman, the go-to composer for comic book adaptations of the last 20 years (see Hulk, Hellboy, Tim Burton’s Batman films etc). Elfman employs strong themes and character motifs in the style of Hollywood’s golden age. This is perfect for the bold good vs. evil fables that all the big superhero comics present. The music for Spider-Man is some of my favourite of his work, a score often overlooked in favour of the sweeping gothic melodrama of his collaborations with Burton.

Nevertheless, having someone like Elfman score the new Spider-Man would contradict and confuse the style that the film is going for. Instead, James Horner is brought in and provides a much less attention-grabbing accompaniment to the story. While there are clear repeated themes, Horner has approached this film with an ear to colour the visuals without intruding on the action. An unnoticed score is a step in the right direction if realism is the aim. What helps tie in even more strongly to the real world is the use of pop music dropped in during time-lapse montages – particularly when Peter is testing out his newfound powers while skateboarding. It contextualises the film in the present day and infers the kind of music that the on-screen characters might listen to.

Altogether, The Amazing Spider-Man does just enough to make a resurrection of a recently abandoned franchise seem reasonable. In no way is it as radical a revision as Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight films are to the Batman story although it would definitely benefit from a similarly stronger push away from its source material now that the hero has been introduced. The real test for Marvel and co. will be the inevitable follow up.