The Dark Knight is a 2008 superhero film and first sequel in the series about the mysterious Joker, who wreaks havoc and chaos on the people of Gotham, forcing the Dark Knight to accept one of the greatest psychological and physical tests of his ability to fight injustice.
The superhero movie has evolved greatly since it got its kickstart back in 1978 with Christopher Reeves as Superman. It began as a lighthearted comic book-inspired genre that few critics took too seriously, even as some titles were looking to change that. Superman II earned some praise for its darker tone (comparatively) and in 1989, Tim Burton took to altering expectations again with the first Batman, which also went dark in its first sequel. However, the rest of the 1990s pretty much cemented the idea that the superhero movie was nothing but cornball antics and ridiculous one-liners. It was kid’s stuff, doomed to be cartoons come to life. It literally had directors and actors apologizing for it years later.
READ MORE: That Curious Moment In Christopher Reeves‘ Superman II
Then in 2002, Sam Raimi came along and took a stab at shifting perceptions for good, releasing Spider-Man, and while it was met with mixed reviews, two years later, the sequel, Spider-Man 2, proved that the genre could be much more than just whacky villains and snarky comebacks. It was a meaty story with real personalities and actual consequences that had critics feeling that whoa, maybe there was hope here after all. I was one of them.
READ MORE: That Moment In Sam Raimi‘s Spider-Man 2
Enter Christopher Nolan, who in 2005 decided it was time to cement that idea, releasing Batman Begins, the first film in a planned trilogy, introducing the Caped Crusader (played by Christian Bale) as an authentic figure, whose world is grounded in gritty reality. This was a crime fighter who had a dark history, was vulnerable against his foes, and faced repercussions for his actions and that of his enemies. It was like nothing the genre had seen before. And then, when he released the sequel, The Dark Knight three years later, it tore the anchors off that perception and redefined it all again, delivering what is, now ten years on, still, the greatest, most accomplished superhero movie ever made. Period.
The story is classic good versus evil, the film split into what amounts to be two linear paths, that of Bruce Wayne/Batman – contending with his growth and need in a city awash in crime and corruption – and the Joker (Heath Ledger) – a madman with no moral compass who is spinning the city into chaos as his crime spree not only makes him rich, but forces Batman into a series of disturbing ethical quandaries.
READ MORE: That Moment In The Dark Knight When the Battle Takes To The Streets
Ledger, who died six months before the film’s release, won a posthumous Oscar for his work, something that many critics felt was earned well before the tragedy of his sudden and shocking death brought excessive (but deserving) media attention to the performance. His passing was troubling, naturally because his loss was deeply saddening, but there was this terrible ache long after, knowing that the actor never got to see and appreciate the tremendous acclaim his performance drew.
Either way, the film was a massive commercial and critical hit, Nolan once again delivering a challenging yet entertaining experience that stripped away further the conventions of the superhero movie while establishing that what makes Batman so popular has nothing to do with the plentiful gadgets but the man behind the mask. More so, Ledger’s Joker become instantly iconic, with debates about ‘greatest portrayal’ of all time, pitting him against the cherished darkly comedic turn of Jack Nicholson in the aforementioned Burton picture (and later with Jared Leto in 2016’s Suicide Squad), even if comparisons are inherently subjective and don’t really make much of a matter. Ledger’s Joker was a tortured soul, an truly menacing maniac, and a perfect counterpart to the equally troubled Bruce Wayne. Nolan, who wrote the screenplay with his brother Jonathan and David S. Goyer, really tapped into that, punctuating heavily the dynamic of this almost symbiotic relationship.
We can’t put aside Bale great work either, despite some who would later chip away at it mostly due to his vocal choice when wearing the cape and cowl – a deep gruff growl – something I always found spot on and inditicative of the growing monster within himself. Bale had created a Batman in the first film that clearly established the man’s motivations and the need for his alter ego, but more so, the battle within himself about what it means to take to the streets as a vigilant and for how long it was necessary.
In this sequel, he is burdened much more by what he has seen and is almost contemptuous about the effects he has had on society. Police still “officially” chase him, even though Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) still employs the signal on top of the headquarters to call in his help. He’s also inspired copycats, unprepared citizens who dress up like him and put themselves in great danger. He is committed to his role and self-appointed duty, but it has taken its toll both on his mind and his body (something that comes full circle in the third film, The Dark Knight Rises). I really like Bale’s growth in this film, his acting choices in demonstrating the weight and responsibility Wayne is feeling, wearing him down as the madness of this new threat forces him to even darker corners.
Ten years ago, watching The Dark Knight, it was awe-inspiring to sit in spectacle of Nolan’s incredible craftsmanship, his attention to the practical details in visualizing what is but a comic book come to life, redressing it as a serious drama, something many of the best writers and illustrators of the comic series always strived to do. If you haven’t read Alan Moore‘s 1988 brilliant Batman: The Killing Joke (adapted into its own film in 2016) or the Jim Starlin four-issue comic series Batman: A Death in the Family, then you’re really missing out on what can be done in this medium. Many of these graphic novels and comic books influenced Nolan and his team, and he deftly imbibed this story with much of the haunts and themes of these books.
For a full decade now, this film has been the benchmark in a genre that has, in no uncertain terms, exploded as DC Comics, and more successfully, Marvel continue to dedicate themselves to saturating the market with superheroes, plowing forward on the trailblazing path of Raimi and Nolan, though none have taken to the seriousness of Nolan’s Batman franchise, most adopting a more surreal comedic tone, especially as they’ve worn themselves into a formula where self parody and satire naturally arise, this given the most voice in the Deadpool films.
What’s really special about The Dark Knight, and the thing that has secured its legacy, is its personality, one that, even while its characters wear exaggerated costumes, we have come most easily able to identify with. Think of the success of the Star Wars film, a franchise that has grown to unimaginable size since its inception, but ever more popular with each new generation because it has a simple but elegant theme of dark and light, one that is clear and easily accessible. So too does The Dark Knight, a film that embraces good versus evil but takes it to dark places where we must face troubling questions of morality, devastating loss, and intense personal reflection. We follow Batman and Bruce Wayne down a hole of despair and fury and the Joker as he collides with his own demons, the two giving rise to the very personification of them both, Two-Face (Aaron Eckhart), the former district attorney Harvey Dent who by the actions of both hero and villain is literally divided into a man of absolutes: mercy or death. It’s a timeless tale.
The legacy of The Dark Knight is not only its incredible influence but also its astounding gateway effect on the genre. We live in a world full of superhero movies, and all of them thrive under the immense shadow of this film, one that continues to be studied and revered for its storytelling, visual effects, and dynamic performances. It was really the first in the genre that could be watched by people who didn’t care at all about comic books and superheroes, the characters much more part of a psychological crime thriller than men in tights flying about and fighting. Like a Greek tragedy, these were masks and costumes symbolic of personality, telling a rich story of conflict and its consequences. And more so, it was just plain great cinematic fun. Still is. Ten years ago, we were blown away by what a superhero movie really could be. Watch it again and remember just how true that still is.