Saturday, July 21, 2012

The Dark Knight Snoozes


I went to see "The Dark Knight Rises" as much out of principle as anything else. I didn't think Warner deserved to lose out just because a nutcase picked a theater showing their movie to perpetrate a mass murder, and I wasn't going to be cowed into missing out on it over a random act of insanity. Turns out, they do deserve to lose out, but only because they produced a blockbuster turd of a movie.
"Wake me when it's over, or someone starts shooting.
What a convoluted, ill-conceived, plodding, meandering, nonsensical pile of shit. Joseph Gordon-Leavitt & Anne Hathaway were the only bright spots in a laughably tragic waste of millions of dollars. And even at that, I think Jessica Biel would have outgunned Hathaway by a mile in the Catwoman role.

I would describe the plot, but I still don't know what the fuck it was. Thematically, I think they were going for some kind of statement about the Occupy movement and the so-called "1 percent." There also might have been something in there about complacency during peacetime and failing to appreciate wartime heroes. Honestly, I'm not terribly sure. Whatever it was, it got lost in a jumble of indecipherable dialogue, circuitous plot and outright silliness that was poorly paced, poorly edited, and far, far too long.
"I don't know WTF is going on."
It definitely didn't help that I could only understand every 10th or 15th word that Commissioner Gordon or Bane said. Seriously. Between Gary Oldman's crotchety old man mumbling and the muffled gobbledygook trying to escape Bane's ridiculous mask (which looks like a cross between a CPAP mask and some kind of bio-mechanoid alien asshole drawn by H.R. Giger), I couldn't understand half of what they said. It was like Dueling Speech Impediments.
"Ermahgerd, wrrs Batmrrn?
Memo to future supervillains: even if you're built like Atlas, you become somewhat less intimidating when your enemies have to go, "Huh? What?" every time you try to spout some bit of eeeeevil, supervillain-y dialogue.

"Uh hmmf uh fuffn bmm!"
"Huh? What did you say?"
"Uh hmmf uh fuffn bmm!"
"Sorry, still didn't catch that."
"I HAVE A FUSION BOMB!"
"Why the fuck didn't you just say so?"
"Okay, it's not very intimidating or supervillain-y, but just TRY to hit me with your worst Taco Bell farts."
And what was with Batman's/Christian Bale's costume? I've seen pics of Batman guys at Comicon that looked better. It's like it was a little too big for him or something. Bale is 6' even according to IMDb, but the suit makes him look about 5'5".
 
"Intimidating? Check. Chick magnet? Check."
My mom went further, saying it looked "all bunched up at the crotch." I'm gonna go ahead and take her word on that one, and try to excise the image of my mom scrutinizing Christian Bale's package from my mind.
"No worries, Chris, my Batman costume doesn't fit me, either."
By about halfway through this confused mess, I didn't give a shit about anything--I just wanted it to finally end. For a much better review of this movie (one that I should have heeded), see Kurt Loder's review at Reason.com.

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