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Imagine The Fire: Analyzing The Dark Knight Rises

The Dark Knight Rises is a big movie. I think that’s one thing we can all agree upon, whether we loved or hated the film, whether we were disappointed or uplifted. The ambition behind Christopher Nolan’s final Batman story is monumental, and from the nearly three-hour runtime to the mammoth IMAX presentation to the sheer scope of the story to the staggering wealth of character, sociopolitical, and philosophical themes on display, The Dark Knight Rises is the first true ‘epic’ Hollywood has produced in at least a decade, dating back to Peter Jackson’s Return of the King. Movies, for better or for worse (I tend to think the latter), just aren’t made like this any more.
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I must digress, for a moment, to praise the staggering emotional impact of Michael Caine’s work in this film. What he and Christopher Nolan have done with Alfred goes so far beyond any previous interpretation of the character, and of every attempt Nolan has made to bring Batman into ‘our’ world, I think Alfred remains the most palpable human touchstone. After seeing what Caine does with the part, it is impossible for me to look at prior versions of Alfred and understand how the man could live with allowing his surrogate son to act so dangerously. Caine makes Alfred’s pain – which has been simmering as deeply and for as long as Bruce’s – immediate, visceral, and heartfelt. He is not just the archetypical voice of reason, nor Nolan’s sounding board for thematic points; he fulfills both these functions, but excels at many more, all while remaining recognizably and profoundly human.

It makes sense that a character so deeply felt would be the one to introduce themes of spiritual healing to The Dark Knight Rises. Alfred isn’t just worried about what Bruce is doing to his body this time around; he’s worried that, in Bruce’s decision to resurrect the Batman, Bruce isn’t confronting the deeper issues at play. Gotham does not need a broken, incomplete hero to save them, and Bruce’s heart will never heal if he dives deeper and deeper into Batman’s dark world without a connection to humanity.

But Bruce will not listen; if he did, The Dark Knight Rises would be an extremely short film. He rejects the hard truths behind Alfred’s words, and Alfred leaves, the only path left open to him if he is to stop enabling Bruce.

Alfred’s departure creates a significant disorientation not just for Bruce, but for the audience. There is a certain engrained, comfortable structure to how Alfred appears throughout Nolan’s movies, and when he is gone, his absence is deeply felt. It’s like there’s a dark, lingering void at the heart of the story, one that is impossible to ignore. Alfred is Bruce’s and the audience’s greatest connection to humanity in this series, but we don’t quite recognize his importance until he is gone.

That is, of course, Alfred’s goal in leaving. If he can’t get Bruce to reexamine his life choices, maybe his absence can. With no one left to turn to, perhaps Bruce will finally look inward.

Continue reading ‘Part Two: More Than Just A Man’ on the next page…


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Author
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Jonathan R. Lack
With ten years of experience writing about movies and television, including an ongoing weekly column in The Denver Post's YourHub section, Jonathan R. Lack is a passionate voice in the field of film criticism. Writing is his favorite hobby, closely followed by watching movies and TV (which makes this his ideal gig), and is working on his first film-focused book.