It's a broody, moody stew of urban chaos that catches and runs with a throwaway comment once made by actor Michael Caine (who reprises his role as Alfred, Batman's servant and domestic savant). As he put it, Superman is how America sees itself and Batman is how the rest of the world sees America.
If so, and it has that clang of truth, then the world sees the States as a place where:
a) gangsters and terrorists hold cities in a grip of fear;
b) mayors and district attorneys are overwhelmed by the rising crime wave;
c) heroes and villains wear masks, and
d) the public isn't told the truth.
A grim snapshot of America in the wake of 9/11?
Nolan asks the question in another way: Can the dark and stormy knight (Christian Bale's Batman) defend Gotham City from Osama Bin Gene Simmons (Heath Ledger's Joker)?
At halftime in this Superbowl between reluctant hero and arch-villain, the Joker has the edge, in both meanings of the word. His face a smear of Kabuki-white, his eyes circled in black to suggest bottomless sockets and his mouth a slash of bloody red, the Joker is unnervingly creepy.
Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates creepy. Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter creepy. Psychotic reptile creepy. Ledger bobs his head, bares discolored fangs and flicks his tongue to intimidate and snare his prey. Initially a muscleman for mobsters (led by Eric Roberts), the Joker by his chaos freestylings becomes the undisputed king of Gotham City's underworld.
Is it sad to see the late Ledger on screen? Surprisingly, no. While the prospect of his last complete performance gave me anticipatory melancholy, 30 seconds in I responded not to Ledger-as-Joker but to the Joker himself. Believe the buzz: This unsettling, mesmerizing performance is indeed Oscar-worthy.
