Reckoning with The Dark Knight Rises
How Batman Ruined America
Warning: This article may or may not contain spoilers. I’d tell you if it did, but frankly it’s just not worth my time. (Ed. note: Yes, yes it does. You can thank me for this warning with gifts of Pierre Hermé macaroons, preferably Les Incontournables de Londres as its Monday, I’m sleepy and indecisive. You should also be thanking me for getting out of bed.)
On Friday my plans for watching The Dark Knight Rises were hopelessly dashed. Dashed, when the hand-blown bulb on my home theatre projector burned out in the middle of my favorite snuff film. The thought of being behind the curve was terrifying, so naturally I couldn’t wait for Mario, our retained glass blower in Florence, to fly in and fashion another. This left only one option.
That is how the next day I found myself standing amongst the unwashed masses, choking on the smell of artificial butter and scraping sticky candy off the soles of my orphan-made loafers (they’re actually made of orphans). In spite of my surroundings, I was looking forward to seeing the film and watching a billionaire kick some ass for a change. Lately there’s just been too much bad press with people realizing how we actually got to be rich.
No sooner had the movie started, however, than my horrible ordeal began, and for nearly three hours I was subjected to a truly awful, depraved vision of society the likes of which I’ve never encountered before. The list of grievances is long, but I’ll try to outline a few here, at least to clear my head and know there are people out there who agree with me.
Bane: a Capital Fellow
I’ll start by saying that I liked this Bane fellow. I was incredibly impressed with his vision and power, but more than that what Bane manages to create in this film is the best possible future for our country. In fact, I think he might understand our country even better than we do today, because he gets the point of the entire constitution: that we should be able to do whatever we want. It’s why we came to this country in the first place, and what he creates is America at its absolute best and bloodiest—an inspiring vision that is inexplicably opposed by the “hero” of the film. Bruce Wayne ought to be ecstatic at what Bane has given him. This is, after all, what rich people have been seeking for decades! Unfettered capitalism! The ability to run a business without the pesky prying eye of government, or troublesome concerns about things like laws, or the environment, or lives.
Bane incorrectly calls this Gotham turning to “ashes”, but all I see is a capitalistic Eden, ripe for money making. But is that what happens? No. Not one of those lazy, poor “99%” puts it to any good use. Where is the entrepreneurship, or the looting? Why are the supplies just being handed out to the hungry? Where are the for-cash burn treatment centers? If the healthcare industry isn’t even trying to get filthy rich on the misfortune of others, can we even really call this America?
Sadly, the mistakes in The Dark Knight Rises don’t end there. I’m sure the visions are already awful, but here is a brief catalogue of just a few of the other atrocities that I’d like to bring to your attention.
We’re all very “pull yourself up by the bootstraps”-type people here at Donnybrook, but when we put people in prison we do intend for them to stay there, damn it. So this business about Bruce climbing out of the pit that Bane sends him to? Much like his absolute refusal to squander his wealth like he ought to, this is flat-out unacceptable.
Whining, not Dining
Do we see Bruce eat at all in this movie? Selina brings him some bogus meal involving cucumbers and carrot curls, but Bruce ought to be on a veritable IV drip of fine food. Couldn’t he at least pop down an Ortolan or two while he flies around in the Batmobile? What a disgusting waste of privilege.
Wayne has sex exactly once in this movie, and it’s with who ultimately turns out to be the villain. The rest of the time he spends moping over some woman who got blown up in a previous installment of the series. Seriously Bruce? We have a TV show about a cranky half-crippled doctor who got more tail than you. I’ll give you a hint what the “B” in Billionaire is supposed to stand for: “bitches”. Or “balls”. I haven’t figured it quite out yet, but I guarantee it has to do with you laying supermodels with incredible frequency.
In closing, I guess my final complaint about this whole experience is that my movie ticket just didn’t quite cost enough. Only $14 to get in to watch this tragedy, and the butter for my popcorn was free. Honestly, I don’t know what this country is coming to. It’s almost enough to make me throw up my Almas Caviar right in my butler’s jacket, and not just for fun this time. And when a man can’t even take pleasure in regurgitating liquid gold on lesser persons…what is there to even live for?