Smart directors tend to adopt a one-for-them, one-for-me ideology in their relationship with the studios; the dichotomy, however, usually doesn’t play out in a single film. Christopher Nolan’s sequel to 2005’s Batman Begins internalizes that schism between serious aims and summer-movie duties. The problem isn’t the admittedly jaw-dropping sturm und drang—this is Batman, not Bergman—but how the pummelling action rarely informs the psychological angst. The personality split between the operatic Dark Knight of the soul and the OMG set pieces is almost as pronounced as the maladies of our freak trio.

That would be the Caped Crusader (Bale), still wrestling with a DSM-IV’s worth of disorders; Harvey Dent (Eckhart), Gotham City’s do-gooder district attorney with a transformational face-lift coming his way; and the Joker (Ledger). Thankfully, an origin story isn’t offered for the grinning arch nemesis; he simply appears like the Ebola virus, armed with an insatiable appetite for destruction and John Wayne Gacy’s makeup manual. Next to Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard’s propulsive drone of a score, Ledger’s performance is the most dynamic element of the movie. What the late actor accomplishes with little more than a nurse uniform and a Groucho Marx waddle makes the various explosions, as well as Bale’s raspy, remote characterization, pale in comparison. If Nolan’s only goal were to add to another revisionist wrinkle to an iconic villain, Ledger’s brutal, batshit malevolence would qualify The Dark Knight as a success.

The stakes, however, are higher. To paraphrase a colleague, the director is going for the Man Who Shot Liberty Valance of men-in-tights films, and he comes remarkably close. Nolan is pondering big themes: post-9/11 concepts of justice, the fragility of social bonds, when it’s better to simply print the legend. All of which makes superfluous side trips like an IMAX-ed Mission: Impossible–style sequence that much more disappointing. Yes, it’s visually impressive, but any hack can do a halfway decent job with trailer-ready tangents. Not everyone can push the genre forward, and the fact that Nolan’s padded popcorn flick isn’t the streamlined masterpiece it could have been is a real buzzkill.

Director: Christopher Nolan

Time Out rating: 3/6

Source: Time Out New York Issue 668: July 17–23, 2008