MY MOVIE SHELF: The Shawshank Redemption

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 20 Days to go: 16

Movie #420:  The Shawshank Redemption

What is the measure of a man? What makes up someone’s humanity? Is a prisoner less of a man because he’s in prison? The Shawshank Redemption looks into the hearts and souls of men, and finds the things that make us human, that make our lives worthy, despite the mistakes we make or the tragedies that befall us. Even Red (Morgan Freeman), “the only guilty man in Shawshank,” is portrayed as a man, not a monster. He’s committed a murder in his past, but that doesn’t make him any less human than anyone else.

Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) is sent to Shawshank Prison in 1947 for a crime he didn’t commit, so the injustices he suffers seem all the more horrific because he didn’t “deserve” them. The question The Shawshank Redemption asks, though, is, does anyone? Would the atrocities committed against Andy by Bogs (Mark Rolston) or the warden (Bob Gunton) or Hadley (Clancy Brown) be any less awful if they were committed against Red, who we know was guilty? Is it any more deserving what happens to Tommy (Gil Bellows), since he’s a career criminal? Or does every man in prison still deserve to be treated like a human being, with decent food and access to books and the opportunity to better themselves? Doesn’t every man in prison deserve the right to do his time without the threat of rape or beatings or torture or death? These are people, after all, not monsters.

There are monsters living in Shawshank prison, of course, just as there are monsters everywhere. The walls of the prison are irrelevant, especially since most of the monsters that terrorize the place are the guards who get to go home every night. And the fact that Andy sees a form of justice awarded to each of his tormentors can feel a little too neat for a story this complex. It’s satisfying as hell, but the parts of the movie I love most are when Andy fights not for justice, but for his own humanity. The entire arc about the building of the library, about Andy’s stubborn perseverance to bring books and culture to the prison, is one of my favorites of the entire film, not just for the way he championed individuals like Tommy, but for the way he truly enriched everyone around him. The scene when he plays the opera record over the PA system is gorgeous and moving, and all time seems to stop as everyone across the grounds looks up at the speakers and stares. I can almost feel my breath catch as I watch it, soaking in the transporting beauty of the cinematic vision of the scene coalescing with the uplifting audio.

One of the other more thoughtful, poignant themes of the film is that of institutionalization, and how the mere act of being imprisoned for most of your life can take your humanity, your freedom, your life right out of you. Imagine spending forty years of your life in prison, as Red does. Imagine what that does to your soul, to say nothing of the culture shock of trying to rejoin a world that’s completely passed you by. Forty years ago, Elvis was still alive and there was no such thing as Star Wars. For the forty years Red was at Shawshank — or even the nineteen Andy spent there — the world went through drastic cultural shifts, to say nothing of the technological advancements. Entering a world like that with no preparation or opportunity for adjustment would be confusing at best, and likely terrifying. (Which accounts for so much recidivism — a return to crime that both Red and Brooks, played by James Whitmore, contemplate as an alternative to living in a place that no longer makes sense to them.) That’s why I think Andy’s push for holding on to old habits, like his rock collecting and Red’s harmonica, are so important. Those things keep you hopeful. Those things keep you going. Those things keep you alive. “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

The Shawshank Redemption is one of my very favorite movies, but I don’t think I ever watched it at all in the ’90s, the decade it was released. I came to it much later, I’m not sure how or when, but it’s become one of those films I could watch literally on a loop all day long. (I know this because AMC used to play it over and over, one showing after the next, for an entire day, and I could just leave the TV on that channel without ever getting bored.) It’s beautifully shot and directed, and absolutely wonderfully acted (and I never really liked Tim Robbins before this), but it’s always the story that sticks with me and pushes me forward. Make something of yourself, yes, but never lose sight of the things that make you human. We all need those.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 22 Days to go: 18

Movie #418:  Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

I used to own Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves on DVD, which would’ve sufficed, except one day my husband opened the case and the disc was gone. So I bought the replacement on blu-ray, online, where I can’t inspect the packaging, and wound up with some ridiculous extended version containing twelve previously unreleased minutes. For crying out loud. The reason these particular twelve minutes were unreleased is that they are superfluous and unnecessary and more often than not disrupt and corrupt the flow and story of the movie. Stop foisting them on the unsuspecting public.

My friend and I watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves an inordinate number of times back in high school. We talked about it constantly, too, months after the fact, when we were no doubt supposed to be paying attention in AP American History. We even developed all sorts of nonsensical conspiracy theories about it. Like how Azeem (Morgan Freeman) calls Robin Hood (Kevin Costner) “Christian,” while Robin Hood’s rival-slash-secret-brother Will Scarlett is played by CHRISTIAN Slater. Or how Azeem makes this big speech about being FREE MEN, when the actor is Morgan FREEMAN. Most of our theories centered around Azeem. None of them made any sense. However, we do both agree that the first time we saw the movie there was a scene AFTER Robin and Azeem catapulted themselves over the castle wall that Will tried to do the same stunt, only solo, and crashed into the wall. This made perfect sense to us, since Will not weighing as much by himself as Robin and Azeem weighed together would mean he wouldn’t get as much force and distance off the catapult. Only, that scene was never in any other version of the film — and for all the pointless extra twelve minutes on this disc, it’s not here either — and we never saw it again. But we’re CERTAIN we didn’t imagine it.

I don’t know that I can properly convey just how corny this movie is, especially since I still voluntarily own it, but it’s pretty ridiculous. Alan Rickman is gloriously overacting all over the place, even slobbering spit at times because he’s going all out as the Sheriff of Nottingham. And there’s even some crazy witch lady (Geraldine McEwan) declaring that Marion (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) is fertile and Nottingham should plant his seed to ensure a son with royal blood. There’s talk of cutting hearts out with spoons, and there’s Robin rubbing horse shit all over himself as a disguise, and there’s Friar Tuck (Michael McShane) being a belligerent but funny drunk, and there’s the world’s maybe second-ever c-section (my friend pointed out to me that Caesar was obviously born by the first), and there’s Kevin Costner’s bare white ass swimming by a waterfall. And that’s not even half of it. It’s kind of batshit crazy, but I still will watch it any time.

I really honestly used to think this movie was phenomenal, and that all the performances were great, the story was fantastic, the characters and the dialogue were sensational and clever, and the cinematography, especially, was award-worthy.  I even used to think the Sean Connery as Richard the Lionhearted was the best cameo of all time. And if that doesn’t prove just how bad teenagers are at discerning quality, then I don’t know what to tell you.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Million Dollar Baby

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 85 Days to go: 58

Movie #355:  Million Dollar Baby

Well, it’s the exception to the rule. If there’s one time I don’t mind Clint Eastwood’s squinty gruffness, it’s when it’s laced with real compassion and affection. In Million Dollar Baby, Eastwood plays Frankie Dunn — basically the same kind of old curmudgeonly character he’s been playing for the past quarter century — and while Frankie starts off just as gruff as irritable and belligerent as ever, it’s clear that he has a longstanding close friendship with the man in his gym who goes by Scrap (Morgan Freeman), and over the course of the film he develops a true fatherly love for the fighter Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank).

Maggie comes into Frankie’s gym too old and too inexperienced to fight, and Frankie wants nothing to do with her. He doesn’t want to train girls at all, because he’s sexist (though, because Eastwood directed it no doubt, the movie paints it as lovable old man sexism, as if that’s really a thing). She eventually wins him over, of course, and he trains her to become one of the best woman fighters in the world — so much so that she’s able to buy her mother (a horrible welfare queen, because of course we need to perpetuate that stereotype, right?) a house, free and clear with cash. She even gets a shot at the title and a million dollar match.

When tragedy strikes, however, that’s when the true test of his love for her comes to bear. It pushes the limits of his faith and his heart, and this is when Million Dollar Baby will rip your guts out.

I don’t really care for boxing, but I do like a good sports movie. This has all the hallmarks of a great sports movie — the training montages, the surprising victories, the grim determination, the unlikely strategies — but it also upends the idea of a traditional sports movie. Scrap narrates throughout the film (and, honestly, Morgan Freeman is sensational, even if I would’ve given his Best Supporting Actor Oscar to Clive Owen for Closer) that “everything in boxing is backwards,” and I think that’s how the movie works too. In the end, it isn’t about the victories, it’s about saying you had a good run and throwing in the towel when you’ve had enough. And even though it’s a Clint Eastwood film about boxing, everything’s backwards and I find myself really moved by it.

I actually haven’t watched Million Dollar Baby since it came out in theaters, because, while I thought it was great, I also thought it was very hard to watch. The last hour is brutal, and heartwrenching, and rough. It was one of those films that I could see the immense skill and precision that went into it — plus just that right amount of touch that gave it something special and made everything click — but it wasn’t a movie I necessarily enjoyed. It wasn’t really about enjoyment. I could respect that. I just didn’t want to watch it again. Somehow, though, it thwarted my expectations on that front too. Watching it tonight, I found it easier than the first time. I guess because I knew what was coming, I could better appreciate the relationship that they build up until that point. Like boxing, I guess, I leaned into the pain instead of pulling away from it, and it made it less painful? More touching? More beautiful?

I’m not sure how it works. Everything in boxing is backwards.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Unforgiven

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 91 Days to go: 61

Movie #349:  Unforgiven

Unforgiven won the 1992 Academy Award for Best Picture (among others) and I have been avoiding seeing it for all that time. Generally I like to see all the Best Picture nominees, but in this case I just happen to know that when it comes to Clint Eastwood, AMPAS and I simply do not see eye-to-eye.

The movie opens with some text, apropos of nothing, about a woman who married a no-good villain named William Munny (who we’ll find out later is played by Eastwood), but to the surprise of her mother, died of smallpox in 1878, instead of at the hands of her evil husband. A while later we meet up with old Munny on his pig farm. He’s raising his two children by himself, he misses his dear departed wife, and he’s not a great farmer. A kid shows up (Jaimz Woolvett), calling himself The Schofield Kid, after his preferred weapon. Despite Munny having forsaken his old ways, The Kid knows him by reputation through family, and offers him a partner opportunity to kill a couple of cowboys who cut up a prostitute in Big Whiskey, Wyoming. There’s a reward, see, being offered by the assaulted woman and her friends — led by Strawberry Alice (Frances Fisher) — of $1000 to anyone who kills the cowboys.

Before any of that happens, though, we see the assault on the woman and we see the refusal of Sheriff Little Bill (Gene Hackman) to mete out any real punishment on the cowboys. Instead of hanging them as the women insist, he intends to whip them, but winds up only “fining” them a few ponies, paid to the owner of the brothel instead of the victim. It is at this injustice that the women decide to come up with the promise of a reward. Little Bill finds out about their offer, though, and proceeds to tell people far and wide not to seek retribution on the cowboys. He publicly beats a notorious assassin named English Bob (Richard Harris) who has come to seek the bounty as a message to other criminals, and he wins the admiration of English Bob’s biographer (Saul Rubinek), who then decides to write about Little Bill’s exploits instead.

When the two narrative threads finally come together, Little Bill tries to make an example of Munny as well, but Munny gets away (along with the kid and Munny’s longtime friend and partner Ned Logan, played by Morgan Freeman). The trio track down one of the cowboys, but find that killing him isn’t as easy as they thought. Ned bows out and tries to head home, while Munny and the Kid seek out the second cowboy. However, Ned gets caught by Little Bill’s posse and winds up beaten and tortured for information before his body gives out and he dies. When Munny finds out about Ned’s fate, he has the Kid (who’s sworn off gunfighting after being sick over killing the cowboy) return the reward to Munny’s farm, while Munny goes to seek revenge on Little Bill. He does, and it’s all very macho and badass, and the biographer is probably going to write about Munny now, and that’s it.

Except there’s also an epilogue, also apropos of nothing, about how Munny’s mother-in-law came to see her daughter’s grave once after Munny and the kids moved to San Francisco, and she still couldn’t figure out why her angelic daughter would marry such a miscreant. The end.

The movie seems to be about unrealized expectations, about nothing really living up to its reputation — be it revenge or notoriety or even how badly injured the prostitute was in the first place — and honestly, that’s exactly the experience I had in watching it. Or it would’ve been, if I hadn’t gone into the thing knowing I find Clint Eastwood’s particular brand of squinty gruffness tiresome, at best. If you dig him (and the Academy obviously — OBVIOUSLY — does), and if you dig Westerns, then the movie probably satisfies. I don’t, so I’ll just have to go about my life content with that fact. Me and Clint Eastwood don’t mix. It’s just one of those things.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Driving Miss Daisy

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 93 Days to go: 62

Movie #347:  Driving Miss Daisy

I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen this movie since it came out in theaters, when I remember enjoying it (though for some absurd reason I was mortified that someone as old as Jessica Tandy would have my same first name). Watching it now, I can easily understand how Driving Miss Daisy became shorthand over the years for a certain kind of outdated and unfortunate racial dynamic, but that aspect of it — despite it sometimes coming off like it’s become a self-referential joke of some kind — doesn’t actually diminish of the enjoyment of it for me. It’s still a really sweet, funny film about friendship, about companionship, and about growing old with someone and depending on them, regardless of your differences.

Driving Miss Daisy starts out with our title character, Daisy Werthan (Tandy), backing her car off her driveway and over a ridge leading to the neighbor’s yard. As her son Boolie (Dan Aykroyd) informs her, it’s totaled the car and the insurance company refuses to cover her any longer. So despite her staunch objections and general stubbornness, Boolie hires Hoke (Morgan Freeman) to be her chauffeur.

Miss Daisy is very set in her ways, and a little bit racist (in the ways old people are often assumed to be racist, through a general acceptance of negative stereotypes without any sort of personal experience or understanding) though she claims to not be prejudiced at all. She’s mistrustful of Hoke and she resents the perceived imposition on her freedom and her privacy. Hoke, fortunately, takes it all in stride and the two sass each other back and forth for a while until finally a grudging respect and mutual appreciation evolves. Miss Daisy even witnesses for herself the discrimination Hoke faces and is able to eventually equate it to her sometimes lower status as Jewish. After twenty years or so together, Miss Daisy admits that Hoke is her best friend.

I love the Southern sensibilities of this film. While it isn’t the South I knew growing up, it does fully inhabit the South it’s set in. I can practically smell the sweet magnolias in the air, or feel the sweltering heat in the car that Miss Daisy refuses to run her air conditioner in. I can feel the peas Idella (Esther Rolle) is shelling as if they’re rolling through my own fingers instead of hers. I can smell the chicken frying in Miss Daisy’s cast iron skillet. Everything is just so fully realized, it’s like you’re peaking in on real live people in the middle of living their real lives. That sort of attention to detail can make all the difference, and it certainly makes a difference in Driving Miss Daisy.

In Driving Miss Daisy, simplicity is key. There are no shocking developments or dramatic turns. People simply learn to love and to count on one another through a lifetime of sharing their days. The same way real life works. That’s why it’s so good.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Deep Impact

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 296  Days to go: 283

Movie #81: Deep Impact

Back at the start of 1998 there was a lot of hubbub within insider entertainment news about two different “giant asteroid” movies being made (and set to release ) at the same time. Within two months of each other that summer, Deep Impact and Armageddon were released. Armageddon was by far the bigger movie — bigger stars, bigger budget, bigger hit, plus a theme song that railroaded just about everything in its path — but for me, Deep Impact has always been the better one.

Armageddon was always meant to be a flashy, wise-cracking dude movie with explosions, and that’s fine. Those are good, enjoyable popcorn flicks, and they don’t need a lot of substance to succeed. It’s a save-the-world movie, concerned only with those doing the saving. Deep Impact, on the other hand, is a movie about human frailty and heroism — it’s about the people on the ground faced with the hopes and fears of a global mission to divert an extinction-level event-sized asteroid, and the harsh realities that force them to face their own mortality and decide what’s important.

On the surface, one could probably pin Deep Impact‘s humanity on its director Mimi Leder (as opposed to Armageddon‘s testosterone-obsessed Michael Bay), a woman who throughout her career directing (largely) TV episodes has always shown interest in the personal stories associated with great drama. Even her other action thriller motion picture, The Peacemaker, had a villain with an emotional, personal purpose. What makes Deep Impact so exceptional, though, are the multiple stories it encompasses and the breadth of their emotions contained within.

Elijah Wood plays a young high school student named Leo Biederman who is thrust into the spotlight when the anomaly he spots during astronomy club turns out to be an asteroid larger than Mount Everest on a collision course with Earth. But he’s still just a kid, in love with his high school sweetheart Sarah (Leelee Sobieski), interested in sex and motorbikes, and close to his parents. In a quintessentially teenager way, he finds the notoriety kind of thrilling at first, and as the time to collision draws nearer, he fights to hold things together, and matures quite a bit, as he would have to.

Tea Leoni, meanwhile, is Jenny Lerner, an ambitious researcher at MSNBC who stumbles on the story of the asteroid when looking into the questionable resignation of a top government official. She bluffs her way through a confidential meeting with the President (Morgan Freeman) enough to find out the true story and get first question (a significant boost to her career) at the White House press briefing on the matter. Suddenly, she too is thrust into the spotlight, seen by the nation as the face of any news concerning the asteroid. It’s everything she’s wanted professionally, but personally she is suffering. Her father (Maximilian Schell) has left her mother (Vanessa Redgrave) and married a much younger woman — only two years older than Jenny herself. Any other time this state of affairs would be a tough hurdle, but faced with the possible end of all life on Earth, Jenny is at loose ends, unable to find any solid footing — particularly after the suicide of her mother. She shuns her father in anger, but gives up her ride to safety at the zero hour to a colleague she’s always admired (Laura Innes) who has a young daughter, and seeks out her father to reconcile with him. That’s where she needs to be, because her family is what’s most important to her.

The astronauts sent into space to destroy the asteroid are also featured, but as fully realized people with strengths and weaknesses instead of as wacky balls of machismo. These astronauts feature a woman, for one, played by Mary McCormack, who joins Blair Underwood, Ron Eldard, Jon Favreau, Aleksandr Baluev and Robert Duvall on a mission of arrogance, humility, loss, solidarity and ultimately sacrifice. Their mission, above all, is to save mankind if they can, regardless of the cost, and they fulfill it with heartbreaking and heroic resolve.

The movie also has small moments of lovely character work: Leo’s dad (Richard Schiff) giving him items to trade (and hence his blessing) when Leo decides to go back for Sarah. The President facing the nation with calm leadership, pragmatism, hope and eventually heartfelt compassion. The meticulous beauty regimen of Jenny’s mom and the devastating realization that she’s preparing to take her own life. The wrenching goodbyes between Sarah and her parents as they hand over her baby brother to care for and send her off with Leo to survive without them, then their touching embrace as they await their ends.

Deep Impact is great. It’s a movie filled with touching and thoughtful moments, of the wide array of feelings and fears that would be an absolute certainty in the face of such an impending event. It’s a movie that is concerned with the human condition, without sacrificing action and suspense. It explores the realistic, years-long process between discovery and destruction of such an asteroid, and how life continues to go on all that time, despite the looming possibility of the end of the world. It’s an emotional, touching, heartbreaking film. So I guess it’s no surprise that Deep Impact, unlike Armageddon, always leaves me in tears.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Dark Knight

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 297  Days to go: 283

Movie #80: The Dark Knight

Funny story:  Somehow I’ve lost Batman Begins. I know for a fact I used to have it, because my husband and I had this big discussion about whether it and The Dark Knight should be shelved in their respective alphabetical locations — separated from one another — or if they should be shelved together. (Obviously, the correct answer is alphabetically and apart. If they wanted them together they should’ve named them accordingly. I am not a crackpot.) Anyway, so I insisted they be separated, but I never realized until just recently that Batman Begins was missing because, until I’d come up to The Dark Knight, I’d completely forgotten it existed. No disrespect to Katie Holmes.

I also never got around to buying The Dark Knight Rises, despite my undying love for Anne Hathaway as Catwoman (I AM NOT A CRACKPOT), because … reasons, probably. (You might say this would’ve been easily ascertained upon my next post, but since blu-rays are in an entirely different section of my shelving for sizing conformity, that’s not necessarily the case. After all, I still own the first two Toy Story movies from the DVD set I bought ages ago, but Toy Story 3 I have on blu-ray. Sadly, I can’t just upgrade all my old DVDs to blu-ray and be done with it, though it is in my Top 5 list of things to do once I win the Powerball. But I digress.)

Fortunately, it matters not that I lack Batman Begins and The Dark Knight Rises, because The Dark Knight is indisputably the best movie of the three. Batman Begins has all kinds of setup and mythology work to do with zen master / criminal Liam Neeson, plus there’s the whole problem of silly Katie Holmes being completely out of her element. (No disrespect to Katie Holmes.) The Dark Knight Rises has Bane with an even goofier voice than Batman’s, plus Marion Cotillard’s distracting forehead mole. (She’s lovely, really, and great in the film, but it drives me nuts.) The Dark Knight, on the other hand, has Maggie Gyllenhaal taking over the character of Rachel Dawes from goofy Katie Holmes, flat-out refusing to be part of Bruce Wayne’s (Christian Bale) revolving door of women, instead choosing to give her heart to the upstanding Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), Harvey Dent being charismatic and clever until he becomes terrifyingly broken and angry and insane, and Heath Ledger as The Joker, blowing all our minds.

Gyllenhaal is a strong presence, and she holds her ground well against Bale’s multiple identities and Harvey’s charming arrogance. She also portrays Rachel as a powerful prosecutor and a woman with more courage and resolve than anyone else in the film. Eckhart, meanwhile, is solid in his role as Dent — a decisive man with both a purpose and a playful side — but it’s his transformation into Two-Face that is mesmerizing, and not just for the unbelievable effects work they did on him. Ledger, though, is a force of nature.

There have been plenty of thinkpieces about the seeming abandon with which Ledger inhabits his role, and I agree with all of them on his brilliant and riveting performance. It’s so far beyond what anyone expected he was capable of, I think, that it worsens the pain of his untimely death even more.

The Joker is a menacing madman, sure, but what I find most fascinating is his genius and calculating nature. The Joker doesn’t just go around wreaking havoc — there’s a method to his madness. This is possibly best evidenced (if most subtly so) by the way he always makes up a new story for how he got his scars, knowing that people will be curious but  also knowing it should be a sufficiently crazy story to ensure people of his insanity — as if he’s not actually crazy at all. He kills at will, but not randomly. He murders his disciples as he sees fit, to further his cause and to cut any and all ties to himself. He kills others as a means to an end, attempting to provoke or evade his enemies. He goes after Rachel and Harvey to corrupt the seemingly incorruptible — to make a point, to send a message, not just for kicks.  And he manipulates people to kill innocents to underline that same message, that people are inherently selfish and will always act in their own interests over those of the greater good. Indeed, the movie gets a fair amount of side-eye about its use of invasive surveillance for “the good of the people,” but the part I find most fascinating is the stand-off between the two ferries, in which neither group of hostages chooses to sacrifice the other in order to save themselves. In that one moment, writer-director brothers Jonathan and Christopher Nolan (the latter performing all the directing duties, but collaborating on the script) are saying The Joker is wrong, and that people do have it in them to be noble and to do what is right. Amid all the bleakness that can be found in these films, that’s an incredibly positive and powerful statement to me. Have faith in people, because most of them are worth it.

The Dark Knight is also pretty spectacular because of the supremely badass way the Batcycle evolved out of the busted up Batmobile and then managed to do all sorts of switching, changing maneuvers like a boss. It’s without a doubt my favorite gadget in a pretty fantastically gadget-heavy flick. There’s also the matter of Alfred (Michael Caine) and Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) being both supportive co-conspirators and sort of snidely disapproving fathers to Bruce’s schemes. They provide an amusing and centered perspective that counters the overwhelming self-seriousness of everyone else (no-joke policy or no, this movie actually has several remarks played for laughs). (Gary Oldman as Commissioner Gordon is also something of a co-conspirator, despite not knowing Batman’s true identity, but he’s a much more solemn and determined one.) And huge props are due to the set designers, who gave the Joker a semi-truck for a particularly exciting car chase scene. The truck’s trailer says “LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE,” and there’s a spray-painted S at the beginning, so it says “SLAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE.” That’s some straight-up genius work right there, and if more Oscar voters had noticed it, maybe it would’ve won that prize.

All in all, I’m pretty satisfied that if I had to own only one of these Nolan-helmed Batman flicks, it would be this one. The performances and story are at their strongest, the stakes are their highest, and Bruce still doesn’t get the girl, but not for the reason he thinks. (No disrespect to Katie Holmes.)