Here's a quote from Manny Farber:"Continuation involves constant attempts to stretch out the moment--as in L'Amour Fou--expanding its parameters step by step. In the Rivette, it involves moving back from a romantic discussion between two neurotics to see the space they occupy, then to perceive the space as a stage, then their discussion as a rehearsal, and so on; Altman does it with more and more layers of voices on the soundtrack.Continuation is about entry. It's anti-conclusive, it stresses involvement, and it grows out of the termite notion. You keep moving forward and extending the time element as you go"
This is what Christopher Nolan does with the Dark Knight. The film almost has an epic length, and newer and newer details are constantly introduced, consistently changing the audience’s perception of the characters that they are watching. Basically, this approach is rebellious against the whole notion of adequate movement of time and space in film; particularly a superhero genre film such as this one. So what? And yet, so many of my favorite critics writing today disparage of this idea. (They guise this in their description of the film being anarchic. Is this classy subtle film, which merely suggests anarchy as a possible outcome for Gotham's future, really that negative in spirit? For God's sake, the film encourages helping one another out, even at the risk of your own life. These critics are merely priggish in regards to even the slightest mention of anarchy, almost as if the concept didn't even exist.) It makes sense that the filmmakers of the Dark Knight want to rebel against the common way to make a superhero film. Batman is the ultimate superhero rebel; he's the badass of DC comics. My argument with the critics who don't like the film, has to do with their finding the movie too long, and too realistic; as if realism was not allowed to be an aspect of the superhero genre. Gotham is a troubled contingent society, and this wouldn't be felt in any sophisticated way unless the film were long in length. It also allows the film to have something called tension; ah, I was missing that for awhile! (An unsophisticated way of depicting a city in danger would be showing characters in desperate need of help in only a few scant scenes). I loved the movie because it was shot in Chicago, instead of a "great" fake looking Gotham set, which is programmatic. I couldn't leave my seat, even though I had to go to the bathroom the whole time. The deft use of space in this film ends up making the Dark Knight a conception piece: An ever-enveloping extended work that's progress is interrupted by a menace.
I was terrified of Heath Ledger; it was as if Laurence Olivier were playing the part. Our generation's James Dean was a much greater actor than James Dean ever was. It's a very inventive performance, with the most perfect vocal interpretation of the Joker you will ever hear. Ledger gave the film an Underground B movie sensibility, which so fits a high budget extravaganza such as this. I felt as if he were some insane kid who one day dropped everything he was doing, and decided to have some irresponsible fun with Gotham City. (This movie is not for kids—maybe that’s why it was such a good film.) This kid’s nerves are fried; it’s actually kind of funny. At some moments this crazed person is amazed himself that he is getting away with this; bringing Gotham to its knees overnight and having Batman in his grasp. At one point in the film, the Joker enters terrain very similar to a John Waters picture (although much more aesthetically pleasing), or something directed by Samuel Fuller out of the 1950's--you know what I mean? It’s enthralling to watch and is also a first for a superhero movie. It also may be the last time we see anything like this again--this anarchic blissfulness in a cop out genre. The termite approach can only exist (in this time period) in a continuous movie.
Christopher Nolan: "Taking on a sequel is actually quite liberating. Normally, however you're arranging the material, you have to show certain movements in the narrative in the first third to get to a particular point. With a sequel you don't have to do any of that. You can just jump straight in." Nolan takes that tone for the whole film. That tone applies to even the other characters that we as an audience never had the pleasure to meet; characters who hadn't appeared in the first film. He keeps everyone a mystery, and that's intellectually stimulating--a first for a superhero film. Superhero characters are so psychologically interesting anyway--no one should rob any of them (and in the Dark Knight that means any of them)--of their riches. Nolan is trying to make a work of art here--and he's not going to let anything, including franchise normative film making conventions, get in his way.
This film felt as if it were directed by Nicolas Roeg, and I was amazed that it was so good. (It’s similarly edited and also retains that Roegish Gothic feel.) It's the only Batman story I have ever seen or read that made me realize that Batman is not merely a crime fighting detective--that's him on his flawed days. Batman, and this is why we love him so, is a symbol that will do whatever he can to make the city he guards a hopeful place; whatever the cost. And that he does indeed have limits. That’s the inherent tension in this movie; he’s both human and non-human, and the Joker realizes this weakness and tries to exploit it. It’s hilarious that Batman influenced the creation of this monster, and the Joker knows this as well. So does the flawed plangent Batman. That's termite art. It's ever enveloping--ever extending; unresolved. This terrifyingly philosophic movie (Seeing the space these two--Batman and the Joker--occupy is very interesting visually. Imagine one character looking like a punk Francis Bacon image trying to psychologically unhinge someone who looks and acts like a black anvil) gives hope to every filmgoer that there are reasons to see a big budget movie. This would not have happened unless the filmmakers were of a rebellious nature. They are rebelling against all the detritus of movies out there, and against the studios that are causing the mess, and at the same they are using the studios money. Who would poo poo that form of revenge? This film fills in the gaps of the first Tim Burton Batman, and does it feel so good.
Postscript:
For once, we actually have real sentiment and emotion at this award show. Usually, the Oscars is an award show replete with fake tears; tears that represent actors, in particular, congratulating themselves rather than their fellow peers. (In many instances for awards that they didn't deserve.) Here is the exception; the moment when everyone there and everywhere else felt emotional towards someone else. Wasn't that the point of Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker (and the point of that film)? Ledger's simply wanting to join his fellow peers in being nominated resulted in something much greater. His acting career represented the notion of prospering a dying industry, and tonight I finally realized he succeeded. The rest of the show was superfluous.
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