Wild Card
Ledger's Superb Joker steals violent, intense 'Dark Knight'
Can might really ever make right? At what point does a show of force, even in pursuit of a good or lofty goal, become as damaging, as contemptible, as the force exerted by the bad guys? How much of our individual humanity are we willing to sacrifice to gain results—even if the results are for the benefit of all humanity?
These are questions all of us must grapple with in this war-ravaged, often hopelessly divided post-postmodern world in which extremists of every stripe are willing to go to horrendous lengths to enforce their agenda on the rest of us. But it's an especially thorny issue for conflicted superhero Batman, dedicated to serving justice by whatever means necessary in the violent, apocalyptic modern urban society of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight.
Nolan got his feet wet in the saga with Batman Begins, an origin story in which the child Bruce Wayne sees his parents murdered by criminals, attempts to heal himself as a young man in a sojourn to the east to learn martial arts discipline, and returns to Gotham City to resume his role as gazillionaire head of Wayne Industries while fighting crime in a high-tech batsuit at night. This sequel is inspired by the look and noir temperament of Frank Miller's revolutionary 1986 graphic novel, The Dark Knight Returns, which reimagined DC Comics' "Caped Crusader" as a brooding vigilante in conflict with his own soul.
This film retains the essential conflict—between Batman and himself—while Nolan's original story (co-scripted with his brother, Jonathan Nolan), ponders the depths to which he's willing to plunge in pursuit of justice. The film again stars the cool, formidable Christian Bale in the title role, a shadowy, ambiguous figure praised by some, as a hero and deterrent to crime, but reviled by others as an amok vigilante whose high profile coaxes even crazier whack-jobs out of the woodwork to wreak public havoc in hopes of taking him on.
Case in point: The Joker (the irreplaceable Heath Ledger). A one-man crime wave in a grotesque painted clown face, he cuts a bloody swath through the criminal underworld, law enforcement, and innocent bystanders alike in a subversive ritual courtship of the one he views as his only worthy opponent: Batman. As Batman and his ally, Lt. Gordon (Gary Oldman) continue their lonely anti-crime crusade by night, Gotham's only other hope may be incorruptible new D. A. Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart).
In another twist on the divided self (or dual identity) motif, Bruce/Batman longs to effectively switch places with Dent. Declaring "Gotham needs a hero with a face," Bruce hopes to retire the batsuit, leave the crime-fighting to the new D. A., and woo back his former sweetie, Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal)—who is currently Dent's fiancée. But after a series of catastrophes, Dent morphs into the raging "Two-Face," bent on his own brand of grim vengeance.
Nolan's film lacks the neo-Gothic noir chic of Tim Burton's brilliant 1989 Batman (also influenced by the Miller graphic novel.) It's action scenes are logistically impressive, but so big and chaotic (especially when they involve motor vehicles, like a shootout in an underground garage or a chase through a freeway tunnel) that it's impossible to see what's going on. The movie is so noisy, loyal butler, Alfred (Michael Caine, at his most charming) even makes a joke about it; it's as if Nolan thought volume was the only way to hold the attention of the fanboys. Loud crashes and explosions are one thing, but the music soundtrack too often drowns out what the characters are saying—extremely irritating at the very end, when the poetic verbal coda is completely obliterated by the swelling music.
But none of this matters whenever Nolan plays his wild card: Ledger as The Joker. From his very first scene, in the middle of a violent bank robbery, gurgling to a victim, "Whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you stranger," to his last scene, hurtling off a skyscraper, laughing all the way, this movie belongs to Heath Ledger. Forget everything you thought you knew about silly super-villains in comical outfits. Ledger turns this longstanding comic book villain (last played by Jack Nicholson in 1989) into something else entirely.
This Joker is no mere bad guy; he's an "agent of chaos" for its own sake, with a different tragic story about his scarred face for every listener. He doesn't care about money, love, vengeance, power, life or death. His only desire is to prove that he and Batman are cut from the same twisted cloth, by goading Batman into breaking his (Batman's) only rule—never to kill an enemy out of sheer bloodrage.
Ledger is pure rampaging id, perversion personified. Every frame he is onscreen is breathtaking, a free-fall plunge into a turbulent psyche as compelling as it is repellent. It's also an insanely funny performance. "You complete me," he oozes to Batman, dripping irony, like a smitten swain. As Batman struggles to rein in his own rage and make sense of his nemesis' agenda, Ledger's Joker croons with incredulous delight, "Do I look like a guy with a plan?"
Their few scenes together are the best in the movie. And to his credit, Bale has presence enough not to get entirely swamped either by Ledger's galvanizing performance, or the size and complexity of Nolan's narrative. (The labyrinthine plot can almost be followed, if you pay close attention—unlike those vehicle chases). But Ledger's Joker is movie iconography of the most electrifying kind in the making. See it big. See it now.
THE DARK KNIGHT
*** (out of four)
With Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Morgan Freeman, and Michael Caine. Written and directed by Christopher Nolan. A Warner Bros. release. Rated PG-13. 152 minutes.



