Third Time's a Charm?

The Dark Knight Rises will not be the best of the epic Batman series nor should it be.

This Friday, Christopher Nolan’s reinvention of the Batman series comes to an end with The Dark Knight Rises. After breaking the comic-book movie mold with Batman Begins the series had major critical and commercial success with The Dark Knight, resulting in an Oscar for the late Heath Ledger. Nolan has insisted that The Dark Knight Rises is the final installment of the series, and some are wondering if the finale can top its predecessor. But as with all trilogies, the third installment is never the best because we are saying good-bye to a series we love.

Released in 2005, Batman Begins followed to major trends of the time period—the overwhelming popularity of comic book movies that first started with the surprise success of X-Men (2000) and the inherent interest in superhero origins. Starting with the TV series Smallville (2001) and then further explored with the movie Spider-Man (2002) and to a lesser extent Daredevil (2003) and Hulk (2003), these origin stories tapped into the odd phenomenon that while most people generally knew about the characters and their back-story, none of us had seen their beginning unfold on screen.

Unlike Spider-Man, however, the Batman franchise was well established. It had gone from the fantastical, stylized version of Tim Burton to the horribly goofy Batman & Robin (1997) that really became the apex of the campy superhero movies of the 1990s. The only way to swipe the slate clean was to go all the way back to the beginning of Batman’s story. But Christopher Nolan decided to take it one step further by finally giving a dark significance to a comic book movie. He realized that Batman was the perfect vehicle for exploring what can best be described as a “real-life” superhero as its titular character has no actual superpowers and could ostensibly exist.

We were enveloped as Bruce Wayne slowly became Batman just like we were when Peter Parker became Spider-Man, but this time it was all oddly believable. Christopher Nolan made us think that a melancholy rich guy fighting crime in a bat suit is not that far-fetched of an idea. This concept of placing comic-book heroes in the real world both in theme and story-line has influenced several other movies including Casino Royale (2006), Iron Man (2008), and the upcoming Man of Steel (2013). The first installment, therefore, was a success because it was something entirely new and surprisingly real.

If Batman Begins won our interest because of its novelty, The Dark Knight (2008) hit our core because of its tragedy. Nolan recognized that comic books can touch on deep fears and scared the hell out of us with the Joker, terrifyingly acted by the late Heath Ledger. A self-described “agent of chaos,” the Joker didn’t want money or power like most comic book villains; he simply wanted to “watch the world burn.” Our real-life constant fear of terrorism was therefore played out by a madman in jagged make-up. Furthermore, by testing the morality of Batman’s secret identity and rigging two boats to explode each other, the Joker hit hard on tragic choices and made us question what we would do in each situation. It was not just a comic book movie; it was high drama with a couple silly costumes.

And now we finally arrive at the third and final chapter. While the movie is about to take the box office by storm this weekend with pre-sales already breaking records, there is palpably less buzz this time around. No doubt this is due in part to the fact that none of the actors has unexpectedly died creating a media firestorm, but I can’t help but feel like I’m not the only one who thinks that The Dark Knight simply can’t be beat. I am excited to see Batman face another demonic foe, but now that he’s lost Rachel what else is there for him to lose? Tom Hardy is a fantastic actor and will undoubtedly play the brute force of Bane perfectly, but can he really top the hateful charisma of the Joker? Can this third movie top the second?

To answer my questions I researched some of the most famous movie trilogies. Empire Magazine put together a nice list of 33 top ranked trilogies. The list is certainly not exhaustive of all trilogies, but enough to explore history. (While I’m not here to debate the ranking, in my opinion Lord of the Rings should not come before Star Wars even if only because LOTR had the benefit of being filmed all at once). One thing that I noticed was that not a single trilogy had the third installment as the generally accepted “best.” In my opinion, the only one that comes close is The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (1966). But even that is debatable because of the looseness of their coherence and the fact that Fistful of Dollars (1964) is pretty damn awesome.

Upon seeing this, I start to wonder not if the third can be the best but if it is supposed to be the best, and I’m starting to think that maybe it’s not. Take for example The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. The Two Towers (2002) is usually accepted as the better of the three films due to its introduction to Gollum, focus on character development, and a great battle for Helm’s Deep. The movie ends with a bang and leaves us thirsty for the finale. While the Return of the King (2003) has the epic battle of Minis Tirith and the final conquering of Lord Sauron, the last 30 minutes of the movie get bogged down with tying up the loose ends inevitably created by 10 hours of film.

Saying good-bye is never easy and always messy, so even if the third act of a trilogy is a wonderful film, it will be psychologically dragged down by our disappointment that it’s all over. The series has to come to an end. As an audience, we’re not supposed to leave the theater giddy from stimulation, we’re supposed to leave content with a deep understanding of the series as a whole. That doesn't make for the most exciting, or impactful, or “best” part of a trilogy, but it’s a necessary piece.

I’ll never forget seeing The Dark Knight in the theater for the first time. It was a packed house at the AMC Theater on Illinois. People were there early and the audience was abuzz with anticipation. After the previews, the screen went black and the sound went quiet. The blue Warner Brothers logo with the slowly exploding background came on the screen. I have never heard a movie theater so silent. No munching. No whispering. No nothing. It was if any movement would halt the projector. Just a hushed silence as we all prepared to see what we had long been waiting for.

When the movie was over, I swear I saw some people go right back to the ticket counter to try and buy tickets for the next showing. We were all hungry for more. More exhilarating action scenes. More ethical dilemmas. More Joker.

After I walk out of The Dark Knight Rises at about 6:00PM this Saturday, I don’t want to be hungry. I want to be full. I want to be content. I want to feel a sense of closure. Therefore, the role of the third film in a trilogy is not to top the previous two. It is there to end an epic tale. And if I’m a little sad that it’s all over, I’ll know Christopher Nolan did what he was supposed to do.

Sour Tomatoes

Rotten Tomatoes misses the point of film criticism 

For decades, the only way you could find out if you were going to like a movie was to read a review in the newspaper, ask your friends, or go see the damn thing yourself. But as you can say for just about anything besides wiping your ass, “everything changed with the internet.” Since then we’ve seen the advent of the encyclopedic resource of IMDb, which was originally started as an on-paper list in 1987 but has become the go-to reference for movie trivia and fan-based rankings. Mistaking financial performance for inherent quality, we’ve become obsessed with box-office results and use sites like BoxOfficeMojo to track whether a movie is “successful.” And with the power of anonymity and universal access to message boards, everyone truly can be a critic.

The worst of all these cine-sites is Rotten Tomatoes. At its heart, Rotten Tomatoes is a review aggregator, which by itself would provide a wonderful convenience to film goers looking for a single place to read about film. Where Rotten Tomatoes goes wrong is not in the way it aggregates movie reviews to a single site but in the way it boils every review down to a single vote.

The site has three user groups. Top Critics are those accredited critics who write for a newspaper. All Critics are users who have enough “Likes” for their postings on the site. And the Audience is simply anyone with an e-mail account and an opinion. The site takes the ratings of each member and then boils it down to a binary “positive” or “negative” review. If a movie has 60% or more positive reviews it is deemed “Certified Fresh.” Anything less than that and sure enough that movie is “Rotten” and is awarded a squishy, green tomato right next to its title.

To see how these three groups can vary in their final ranking, take for example this past weekend’s box office winner Ted. Top Critics gave the movie 64% positive reviews, All Critics gave 69%, and Audience members gave 86% positive reviews. As evidenced, the age-old discrepancy between film criticism and movie populism remains fully intact and could prompt another discussion centering on the real or perceived anti-intellectualism in the United States. My main concern here is simply the voting system.

Let’s first take a look at a simple mathematical example. Assume there are 100 people rating a movie, each on a 100 point scale. 80 audience members felt relatively indifferent to the movie and give it a rating of 49—they wouldn’t mind seeing it again on TBS but aren’t going to go out and rent it. Now, the other 20 audience members cried and cheered and begged for more, giving the movie 100 points. It was simply the best movie they’ve ever seen. As can be seen in the chart below, this situation would receive a “Rotten” 59.2% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. This is clearly an exercise in hyperbole, but the fact remains that this “yay or nay” system has the ability to subject passionate feelings to the oppressive indifference of the masses.

Rotten Tomatoes has created a “with me or against me” form of film criticism. You either like the movie or you didn’t. And if we disagree, we are in conflict. The nuance of discussing creative ventures has gone by the wayside and the Like/Dislike world of social media has stepped in and taken its place. In a connected example, the current vitriol in our political atmosphere is a result of our insistence on reducing incredibly complex issues to black and white decisions. There might be at least some need for that when we have to choose only one president, but it certainly has no place when discussing artwork.

Since watching “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert” with my mom as a little kid, I’ve always enjoyed hearing other people discuss film. Today, I rarely see a film without reading the reviews by Roger Ebert, A.O. Scott, Peter Travers, and Todd McCarthy. I prefer to read them after I see the movie to retain the magic of seeing something with uninformed eyes, but sometimes I can’t help myself and scratch the impatient itch of wanting to see the film by reading the review ahead of time. Like any writer, each has his own style and world view on what makes a film great. Ebert is by far the most emotional writer and judges films on a sliding scale of what the film intended to be. A.O. Scott makes his judgments on a more rigid scale, sometimes to the chagrin of populist fanboys. Todd McCarthy is always level headed and gives a fair assessment of how the film will be received.

I don’t read these critics because I want their final ranking. I’ve grown to enjoy their writing and trust their assessment even if I disagree with their point of view. Only taking their “star ratings” or even “positive/negative” vote would rob me of their intelligence and critical thinking. And it would take away that inherent knowledge that films really do mean something more than box office results. We really can find meaning in our lives through the stories that directors tell on celluloid.

And that is where the main argument for Rotten Tomatoes lies. Not everyone loves film. Not everyone enjoys reading about a movie they just saw. All they want to know is if they are going to enjoy themselves. Will this movie be worth the two hours of my busy life and $15 of my hard earned money? The easiest way to know this is by working the odds. “If 76% of the audience members loved this movie than hopefully I will too. I’m not a film critic, so who cares if only 15% of the Top Critics liked it.” (Those are real numbers from Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.)

With the plethora of movies coming out every week and the limited time people have, the practicability of Rotten Tomatoes is completely unavoidable, which makes me so incredibly sad. Because in the end Rotten Tomatoes steals away discovery and individualism. Imagine walking into a movie theater and having a chance to see the hypothetical movie I discussed earlier. You look on your Rotten Tomatoes app and see it has an aggregate rating of 59%. You decide to skip it and see the movie everyone else likes, the movie that everyone is rating 65/100. You walk out 65% pleased just like everyone else. You had a good time but forget the details of the movie in a week.

Now, what if you went in to the first movie? What if you were the 20% who loved it with 100% of your heart? What if it changed your life, answered your questions, or made you feel emotionally connected like never before?

If you base your decisions on Rotten Tomatoes, you’ll never know the answer to those questions, but you sure will get to blend in with everyone else.  

The choice is yours.