All early indicators point to Christopher Nolan's utter lack of interest in the next Batman film. It was clear in interviews following The Dark Knight that he was totally burnt out and not even remotely prepared to produce another script. But basement-dwelling, pimply, halitosis-afflicted patients across America brayed for more cowl and more cape, and producers listened. "Give us more of this dark, sad crap that everyone gets off on," they demanded of Nolan.
Don't get me wrong, The Dark Knight is great and all, but by the film's end, everyone is either dead or chronically depressed, including the audience. The show does NOT need to go on. But Nolan, being the cheeky Brit he is, has resolved to give us what we deserve with his impending The Dark Knight Rises...because you know, the night rises. Or maybe knights rise. Wait a second, what the hell does this title even mean?
Nolan will most certainly have the last laugh, as I argue that the next Batman will prove an intentionally bloated piece of crap without an ounce of artistic merit. When Tatum Channing signs on to play the obscenely large codpiece on the Bat-suit, we'll know that Nolan's endgame is complete. Until then, we have the following bits of evidence to go on.
Catwoman is back, and Anne Hathaway will star as both Selina Kyle and her costumed cat burglar alter-ego. The character of Catwoman alone is enough to put this movie on ice. The Halle Berry-starring film from a few years ago, named in the Book of Revelations as the absolute worst thing ever to happen EVER, is still fresh in the public's mind. Even Batman Returns faltered under a bursting bucket of weirdness surrounding Catwoman. With Tim Burton at the helm, Catwoman had to be more than just a cat-suited cat-burglar. She had to be a freakish bird-eating cat zombie brought back to life by being molested by an alley full of strays.
Nolan could have tried to banish such images from the public's imagination with casting that returned to Catwoman's effortlessly sultry origins; maybe someone along the lines of Zoe Saldana. Yet he cast Anne Hathaway, betraying his fundamental misunderstanding of and lack of interest in female casting. If he had his druthers, all women would be replaced with stoic men in chic suits that could give him babies. Don't get me wrong, Anne Hathaway is GorgeMcOrgeous, but the thought of her doing sexual things makes me just a little sick. Maybe it's the idea of her enormous Bambi eyes filling up with sadness.
Joseph Gordon-Levitt has signed on to Ernest Hemingway's The Dark Knight Also Rises for an undisclosed role (cough*Robin*cough). It was widely-reported that Levitt would be playing Alberto Falcone, son of also not-even-remotely Italian Tom Wilkinson's Carmine Falcone, grandson of Luigi Alfredo Penne ala Vodka, played by Helen Mirren. Fan boys breathed a collective sigh of relief knowing that the proceeding film would be 100% lime green Speedo free. But this rumor has been debunked, which is just as well because I think it's safe to say absolutely no one demanded Alberto Falcone be a part of the last Batman movie.
But who could the baby-faced "Third Rock" alum really be playing? Unfortunately, all signs point to Robin. You may say that Nolan has time and time again urged that he would rather put his upper torso up his own ass than pump a Robin-sized air bubble into the IV of the Batman series. Indeed, Robin has already killed a Batman franchise deader than...hmm, who related to the Batman films is famously dead? Can't think of anyone - oh well, next joke.
Sam Raimi also said that he would never put Venom in a Spider-Man movie. Sure enough, when studio execs had finished chewing on his soul and spat out every last ounce of artistic juice, the husk of a corporate whore that was left not only put Venom in the action figure commercial, I mean movie, but got Topher Grace, of all people, to play him. Comic book Venom looks like Henry Rollins on steroids after a gang of wise-cracking adolescents have kicked him in the balls and run away giggling. Topher Grace...does not. Thus, Nolan's a) introduction of a shitty character, and b) refusal to honor his own artistic ethos both point to his utter lack of interest in this film and perhaps even his resignation to failure.
Lastly, we have probably the film's broadest, sharpest double-edged sword. Tom Hardy is in the movie as a bad guy. Huzzah! Tom Hardy leaks magnetic villainous douchery out of every pore. If you look up charisma in the dictionary, you see Sean Connery, but there's a footnote to Tom Hardy. He's also significantly less anemic than are Cillian Murphy and the late, great Heath Ledger, so we could even get some good hand-to-hand between him and Christian "DON'T MOVE THOSE LIGHTS" Bale.
Then Nolan had to shit on his own casting by making him steroid-popping Bane, the lamest comic villain since everyone that Superman fights. There is no end to intriguing straight-up bad-asses in Batman's evil little black book. Yet Nolan cleft to the Bat-universe equivalent of Barry Bonds in a gimp mask. Any natural charisma Tom Hardy has will be drowned beneath his Studio 54 leather man get-up and obnoxiously large muscles. Bane already helped to ruin a Bat-movie anyway, though George Clooney and his chronically shaky head get a mega-assist on that one. Why should Nolan give Bane another shot at plowing over a Bat-film with a steel suck train? Because it's Nolan's big exit strategy. He wants to go back to growing his very large brain in seclusion in a moody castle on the moors.
I am not saying that I blame Nolan for sabotaging his cash cow. After all, he made two spectacular big-budget Bat-films in the space of three years and managed to keep Christian Bale from punching anyone while at it. But the lesson is clear - we as a public need to stop screwing up things we like by demanding sequels. I hate to re-open and salt old wounds, but Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and all three Star Wars prequels are on your head, America. In the future, I can only hope that we as a culture learn to say, "Well that was good, on to the next thing." But unfortunately, we like what we like...a little too much.
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