The Dark Knight: Telling You What You Already Know

The Dark Knight is a good movie. You should see it.

That's pretty much all that's left to say about the latest installment in the revived Batman series. The riotous reviews have been flowing in from all corners. Professional critics love it. Pretentious amateur critics (hi!) love it. Comic book fanboys love it and proclaim it the best superhero movie of all time. On opening weekend it hauled in roughly the annual GDP of Belarus. Hell, we haven't even really seen the expected backlash yet; the movie's been out for a little more than a week and Slate hasn't published a contrarian column labeling it a scourge. So that's impressive.

First of all, let's establish what The Dark Knight isn't. It isn't the greatest movie ever, which is what the rankings on IMDB say. It isn't a once-in-a-lifetime experience you'll regret missing when you're in your deathbed. In that regard, the hype needs to be deflated just a little.

But the hype, the critical reaction, it's all irrelevant. The movie itself is all that matters. And The Dark Knight is legitimately outstanding.

The late Heath Ledger and his portrayal of The Joker has been the focus of many reviews. Again, the hype is slightly overinflated. Ledger's excellent and throws himself into the role so completely that the identity of the actor would be impossible to discern without any foreknowledge. Ledger's Joker is a cackling, clumsily made-up force of nature. He's an urban forest fire, an inferno with no real motivation. He has no origin story. He's simply a monster who has set his eyes on Gotham and Batman. So yes, Ledger's fantastic, but it's hard not to wonder if the delirious reviews are motivated in part by the actor's tragic death.

Ledger certainly stands out, in no small part because the nature of the role allows him to find a psychopathic glee that's amazing to watch. But he's not the only actor to turn in a great performance. Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman do their parts to add heft and credibility to the summer blockbuster, and to their credit they take the job seriously.

Christian Bale does an admirable job carrying a tough role. He was allowed to stretch his legs a little and explore the difficult Bruce Wayne/Batman dynamic in Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan's initial entry in the Batman reboot. Bruce doesn't play as large a role in The Dark Knight, and Bale spends most of his time in the suit and mask; it's rather hard to convey emotion with only your eyes and a digitally enhanced voice. (That digital enhancement, by the way, is a little over-the-top in the movie and can make the actor's lines inaudible, especially when spoken over the soaring score.) But Bale takes advantage of the "Bruce Wayne- playboy" scenes when he has them and continues to delve into the deep-seated conflict between the billionaire and the bat without falling into angst.

Maggie Gyllenhaal thankfully replaces Katie Holmes as assistant district attorney and superhero love interest Rachael Dawes. She doesn't distinguish herself, but she's a solid improvement over the one glaring fault in Begins.

But Aaron Eckhardt deserves some real plaudits for his performance as district attorney Harvey Dent. He deftly handles Dent's arc, the gradual evolution of the crime-fighting, hard-charging white knight into something far more complicated. Eckhardt plays the role with genuine skill, and in some ways it's a pity he gets over-shadowed by Ledger's turn as The Joker.

The movie is two and a half dark hours. The first half of that running time is surprisingly slow and more than a little disappointing. If you go in with extraordinary expectations, the early returns aren't promising. Don't worry- it gets better. A lot better. Because halfway through The Dark Knight takes a turn that is shocking, effective and, well, pretty damn dark. Nolan plays the moment with all the skill of a violin virtuoso.

Nolan also did well in overhauling his fight scenes, which were widely panned in Batman Begins. He uses fewer sharp cuts in murky, claustrophobic environments and as a result causes far fewer headaches for the viewer. It's now possible to discern what's happening when two characters are trying to kill each other.

I don't know if this is "the greatest superhero movie ever," but it's not an irrational position. It's certainly better than Iron Man or Spider-Man 2, both of which were given that label when they were released. Regardless, don't be turned off by the hype.

Hancock: Um, I Don't Know?

Ever leave a movie without knowing whether or not you liked it? I ask because I saw Hancock Saturday night and, well, for the life of me I can't tell you how I feel about that.

Will Smith does his usual Will Smith thing as the alcoholic, foul-mouthed title "hero." Smith isn't a particularly distinguished actor, but there's a real talent in his ability to maintain likability no matter the role he's playing or the lines he's spouting. Say what you will about the guy, but it takes skill to charm the audience while drinking, swearing at children and throwing said children several thousand feet into the air. Despite the boozing and the temper (Hancock blows up upon being called an asshole), Smith never threatens the audience.

Which is impressive on one level, but sort of drains the tension from the movie. See, Hancock is supposed to be a real bastard. He heroes drunk. His takeoffs and landings destroy property and injure people. His "heroics" cost the city of Los Angeles several million dollars in collateral damage. He ignores subpoenas. At the base level he might mean well, but when we first meet the guy, he's not sympathetic.

But Smith is just too damn charming, even in his cretin state, to make us lose sympathy with him. As a result there's never really any doubt that the Fresh Prince will mend his ways with the help of an idealistic PR man played by Jason Bateman. In the film's defense, there's really very little dramatic tension in most summer blockbusters. (Anyone who has seen The Dark Knight and offers any sort of spoiler will be banned.)

Still, Hancock doesn't really give you much chance to think through all that. Checking in at an anachronistically brief hour and 33 minutes, the movie flits effortlessly from scene to scene. We get one extended sequence of Hancock as a jerk hero. We get one extended sequence of Hancock heroing it up with the proper respect and dignity. We get one extended ending sequence. Sprinkle in some exposition and some jail time, and you've got Hancock.

There's a major, fairly nifty twist halfway through the film that's never quite adequately explored and should leave most viewers with a healthy case of fridge logic.

Oh, Charlize Theron is there. Remember when she won an Oscar? That was cool. You like looking at her, right? Well have at it, America!

So...yeah. That's Hancock: the movie that made no impression.

Wanted: 300 meets Office Space

I saw Wanted last night with my father and sister. For all the aspects of The Matrix that director Timur Bekmambetov obviously ripped off, that wasn't the film that came to mind while watching Wanted. No, its closest kin is really 300.

Aside from the fact that both are comic book movies, there aren't a lot of superficial similarities between the two. But they share the same basic foundation: they're graphically violent, completely ridiculous and unapologetically stupid. If the philosophy doesn't often create great art, there's at least something refreshing about its honesty.

Wanted doesn't violate the laws of physics, it gleefully smashes them into a thousand little bits, buries those pieces and dances on the grave. Watch Angelina Jolie curve bullets! Watch James McAvoy fire a bullet across Chicago with the aid of a telescope! Ignore your brain: it will betray you!

McAvoy plays Wesley Gibson, a mindless office drone whose girlfriend is cheating on him with his best friend. His name brings back zero hits on Google, which I suppose is the 21st century equivalent of no one showing up to Scrooge's funeral. Things get interesting when a mysterious woman named Fox, played by a surprisingly sunken-cheeked Jolie, shows up to haul him into a world of assassins and flexible gravity.

McAvoy does a solid job as the pathetic, perpetually apologizing Wesley, but doesn't really hold up when the character evolves into an action hero. As an assassin, McAvoy leaves a lot to be desired.

Morgan Freeman phones in the role of Sloane, head of an ancient guild of assassins known as The Fraternity, but he does so with the stoic professionalism of an old hand at this kind of thing. Jolie, for her part, doesn't hide her apathy nearly so well, but there's a fan-service scene in The Fraternity's miraculous bath house that'll make the 18-25-year-old male demographic quite happy.

The plot unfolds with relative predictability. Wesley initially struggles with the Fraternity's hardcore Jedi/Matrix/Spartan training, but eventually frees his mind and uses the force to et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Bullets fly and blood flows, both in such staggering quantities that we're quickly desensitized. Yes, yes, we get it, Jolie and McAvoy can spin bullets around pillars and through the heads of hapless mooks. Very impressive.

There's a mildly interesting twist toward the end of the movie, and Bekmambetov makes solid use of Chekhov's Gun. But generally speaking, Wanted just rolls merrily from one bloody action sequence to another. It's a collection of empty calories and trans-fats.

Such is life in the summer movie market. No one ever died because they ate a couple Oreos.