As I'm going to be tied up (not literally for you freaky folks out there) later in the evening, I decided to get out and see The Dark Knight early on opening day. As I am in love with all things Batman, and as Christopher Nolan's view of that universe is both super dark and super intelligent, I'm going to get a g-pack's worth of fixes off of each and every installment, particularly this one.
As I'm not one to giveaway plot points, I'll just say that this movie, like the second parts of most good franchises, isn't as much about Batman itself as it is about the board that he's chosen to play on, one filled with complicated pieces and a new opponent who (like most arch-nemesis) proves to challenge the hero's inner-self more than the external threats (and there are plenty of external threats here). There's plenty of carnage, just enough action and an elaborate story crafted by Nolan and his brother Jonathan, who together are perhaps two of the best screenwriters of our generation.
As I sat there, amongst young boys and the slender, pasty fan girl one seat over, my thoughts were filled with what parts of the story I most identified with. It always seems that whenever those around me all begin to say the exact same thing that my choice comes to rest in something else, that the practical choice to retreat is meant to be my encouragement to press on, even if I am only armed with a butter knife when up against Patriot missiles.
I was going to slither out of this city under the cover of night. I wasn't even going to tell most folks that I was leaving. Mom even said she would redo the attic for me so I'd have a place to work. My fingertips were just above the keys on Facebook that would announce my change of locale. But the folks that matter told me a different story, one that said that while I could leave, it wasn't going to be soon.
Every artist, whether they admit to it or not, dreams of mass appeal success, of wearing the crown in their field, in checking their bank balance every few days and knowing that it'll never be the way it was back when they were scratching and surviving. Underneath it all, I like to do it big too. I took my fair shot at the prom queens and missed. I imagined pushing it to 80 on the West Side highway in the sleekest of automobiles on my home to a condo overlooking the river. What I got was an '88 CRX for two years and an apartment that's kind of like the supermodel wife who keeps eating but stops working out. If the crown is to be mine it's not now. But the crown is heavier than the light pockets, more thankless than pages I wrote that most of the world never knew existed. There are other plans for me first.
I ran into one of my readers on the train who reads this blog. She was like "I thought you were supposed to be gone." As I explained my situation I found myself shooting holes in my own arguments, remembering teachings I'd promised never to forget only to try and delete them off my hard drive every time times got tough. What was past is prologue, and despite my struggles, I always ended up where I was supposed to be.
Heath Ledger made his last performance his most memorable one to date. I completely forgot that this was the same kid from Ten Things I Hate About You and A Knight's Tale. Aaron Ekhart and Morgan Freeman shined as they always do. Christian Bale is magnificent as the tortured hero. It's all a game that I wish I had come with myself, played out with foresight, precision and a lot of intensity for a PG-13 flick.
An impregnable fortress? No. A movie you watch over and over? Definitely. I see myself as Batman as my grandfather once saw himself as The Lone Ranger, standing tall against evil most of the world never gets to see, beholden to rules written in invisible ink, rules only uncovered by the ink-stained hands of souls with words and images to share as they search to realize their dreams. They are my siblings in a different kind of Justice League. Out.
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