When I was a child, I was fascinated with Batman. Most male children in America go through that at one point or another. All superheros are fascinating to children, but Batman takes a special place in the hearts of many. Recently, I had the joy of attending The Dark Knight with my sister and a friend, and it reminded me of all of the reasons that I loved Batman as a child, and many of the reasons that I have both a love and hate relationship with the fictional character as an adult.
Children who are predisposed to a high level of intelligence are typically maladjusted in one way or another. It is very difficult for a person to raise, care for, or even educate a child who is strong of mind but still immature emotionally and socially. These children frequently retreat into fantasy to explore that which they find frustrating in life. Many children in this predicament find Batman more fascinating than other superheroes, because Batman existed (at least in some incarnations) in a world where superheroes had superpowers. Batman had none, Batman was simply a man who was very good at what he did, and used all the resources at his disposal to do these things well. The message that Batman seemed to present to pre-adolescent children was that, given the right resources, you can become anything you want to. You have the power in you to save the world, to fight villainy, and do really cool things with really cool toys.
As I've grown, my fascination with Batman has been less and less focused on the fact that he symbolizes hope and a human capability to overcome his own limitations to become a superhero. I've found myself progressively drawn more into the backstory, into the psychology of Bruce Wayne and his pathological obsession with vigilantism. Anyone who has ever been to college, or dated someone who was a psych major in college, knows very well that people who want to fix other people, or the problems of the world in general, have a large degree of problems with themselves that they do not know how to resolve. Batman is a perfect example of this case. Despite being one of the wealthiest men in the world, a brilliant man with great fortune, influence, and no need to ever lift a finger for anything for the rest of his life if he doesn't want to, Bruce Wayne has chosen to be a vigilante. He, rightfully, believes this to be a result of his own obsession with eliminating the type of crime that lead to his powerless witnessing of the death of his parents at the hands of common criminals.
His lesson was learned early. Wealth and power will not protect you from a madman with a gun. The police can not protect you from a madman with a gun. You can not protect your parents from dying in front of you, because the madman has a gun. Bruce Wayne, fundamentally, is a case of severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He is driven, almost entirely, by fear. His power actually comes from his fear. He fights evil so that he, and others like him, will no longer have to fear it. He wears a suit that makes him resemble his biggest irrational fear, becoming the essence of his own fear when he goes to fight crime.
Batman chooses to fight crime, primarily, in the hopelessly corrupted and violent Gotham City. He has deliberately chosen a futile battleground where, despite what he believes of himself, one man simply cannot make a difference. The low-level criminals he takes off the streets are replaced with others. The supervillains he removes are replaced with others. In an effort to kill him, death, destruction, and waste is piled on the city that he has sworn himself to protect. Batman's chosen method of fighting crime is not only counterproductive, but like his fear, his methods force him to embody the futility that he felt when he couldn't save his parents so many years ago. No matter what Bruce Wayne does, he is doomed to forever be living in that moment until he seeks theraputic help.
Aside from Wayne's psychological problems, there's also the matter of his misuse of resources. Sure, being the caped crusader by night and billionaire trust-fund playboy by day is a great way to both hide an alter ego and fund massive insane projects (batcopter, batwing, batmobile, batsuit...etc), but what about the massive power he could wield in a town that relies on two things for its economy, Wayne Industries and crime? It seems to me that, as Bruce Wayne, he could do a lot more to cleanse the city of crime and villainy than he ever could as Batman. The only real strength of Batman as a vigilante is that he can operate outside the law. He doesn't have to concern himself with warrants, collateral damage, the Geneva Conventions, or due process. Yet, since Batman's modus operandi is to not kill criminals, but rather bundle them and evidence of their crimes in care packages to hopelessly corrupt police, he even loses this edge.
Wayne could wield real political power. He could fund police forces and technology to be used on them. He could back helpful initiatives and put politicians and police in his pocket, instead of the criminals', but he does not. Instead, he puts on a cape and a mask and goes around punching people in the face late at night.
Batman is, as most Gotham City police and politicians accuse him of being, a dangerous vigilante. Nothing else. He is always just a hairsbredth away from becoming his nemesis, The Joker.
In that vein, the writing and characterization of Batman and The Joker in the most recent installment of the film franchise, The Dark Knight, is nothing short of genius. Everyone who knows Wayne disapproves of Batman, those who know he is Batman, and those who do not. The lone exception to this case is a police Lieutennant, Jim Gordon. It is not surprising that he approves, since he is the only man in Gotham's Police Department that seems to not be surrounded by corruption and ill will. As a result, Gordon probably feels like a bit of a vigilante himself.
The film expertly explores the fine line between good intentions and their terrible consequences. It explores the psychology of a man who is mad in the purest sense, a man who rejects all order in favor of chaos, a villain who finds crime just as boring as law. The Joker is far more like Batman than Batman will ever admit, and The Joker knows this. The Joker thrives on this.
Aside from the absolutely breathtaking imagery, fight choreography, and aformentioned characterization, I honestly found The Dark Knight lacking in several regards. It is not the best Batman movie I've ever seen, that is still reserved for Batman Begins. What the film lacked was cohesion. It was done in a comic book style that was amazing in its execution, but I don't feel that it translated well to a film narrative. The pace was too frentic, the action had almost no breaks, the longer scenes felt unnecessary, and all of the scenes that could have been longer were cut short as soon as they started to become interesting. It was a film where the scenes that set up the backdrop for the plot were filled with expository dialogue instead of subtle nuance.
Truthfully, I would have found myself disliking The Dark Knight if it weren't for how damnably perfect the portrayal of The Joker was. It was a film that completely failed to make you emotionally invested beyond the surges of adrenaline that the film forces out of you at regular intervals.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
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