I fully expected to write a review of The Dark Knight at some point, a review that weighed in on the superior acting merits of Maggie Gyllenhaal, Morgan Freeman, and especially Gary Oldman, but having just seen it with my wife for our date night, my ideas have taken a markedly different turn.
I remember when The Crow came out in 1994, its first posters carried the tagline, “Darker than the bat.” That was a badge of honor, you see. The highest compliment our popular lexicon can now bestow upon anything is that it is dark. When was the last time you saw something lauded in the media that wasn’t termed edgy?
The “bat” that The Crow was comparing itself to, of course, was Batman, and the newest installment of that series is the apotheosis of our society’s obsession with darkness. I knew that this movie would be about identity, and I wasn’t surprised to see a commentary on the nature of heroism, with its corollary of the demarcation of good and evil, develop; but I feel like I’ve been shocked out of a stupor by the “lessons” that The Dark Knight wishes to convey on those subjects.
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