One would have thought them the perfect match: the fleapit, Kota Kinabalu, and The Dark Knight, the latest Batman movie.
Sadly, this was not to be. While the cinema (the director of the Batman flick would no doubt have called it a theatre, in line with the affectation that characterises his approach) was earthy and murky, the film was pretentious, long, predictable and boring.
The signs were there from the beginning that here was a film that took itself far too seriously: one by its glaring absence, the other by its screaming presence.
The continued airbrushing of Robin from the series not only means Don Quixote is missing his Sancho Panza, it also puts the comic burden on Michael Caine, playing Alfred, the butler-with-a-difference – the most obvious difference being that he's a septuagenarian combining Solomon's wisdom and Steve Jobs's techieness.
Although he's cut the Boy Wonder from the action – presumably, with a nod to the prudishness of an American audience frightened by the homoerotic suggestiveness that surrounds the beefcake and his side salad – the director ostentatiously attempts to show how true he is to the 1930s comic strip by having the characters refer to the caped crusader as "The Bat-man".
Referring to Bruce Wayne's alter ego after this wise (you get the effect?) is nerdy beyond the call of duty, precious beyond belief.
Other problems with the film include an obvious villain – the blond D.A. (when oh when can we have a decent black villain again? I'm sure his wife would nominate Morgan Freeman as a dirty two-timer) – and a director who takes the easy way out by trying to cover up the fundamental flaw of the film with a labyrinthine plot. It's the sure sign of a third-rate movie when convolutions are dragged in to fool the gullible into thinking they're missing something, when the only thing they're missing is the courage to say, "This is a load of bollocks. Bring back Robin and get over yourself!"
And what is the fundamental flaw? It is simply this: that the film pretends that The Bat-man is an ordinary bloke, subject to human weaknesses and the agony of moral choices, at the same time that it has him jumping off 90-storey buildings, gliding through the sky and generally performing miracles in defiance of the laws of nature.
You can't have it both ways: the fellow's either human or he's not.
Forget this rubbish and watchJason Bourne . At least if he jumps out of a building, he has the sense to make sure there's a river underneath. And he's not tortured by annoying thoughts of his own self-importance.
Sadly, this was not to be. While the cinema (the director of the Batman flick would no doubt have called it a theatre, in line with the affectation that characterises his approach) was earthy and murky, the film was pretentious, long, predictable and boring.
The signs were there from the beginning that here was a film that took itself far too seriously: one by its glaring absence, the other by its screaming presence.
The continued airbrushing of Robin from the series not only means Don Quixote is missing his Sancho Panza, it also puts the comic burden on Michael Caine, playing Alfred, the butler-with-a-difference – the most obvious difference being that he's a septuagenarian combining Solomon's wisdom and Steve Jobs's techieness.
Although he's cut the Boy Wonder from the action – presumably, with a nod to the prudishness of an American audience frightened by the homoerotic suggestiveness that surrounds the beefcake and his side salad – the director ostentatiously attempts to show how true he is to the 1930s comic strip by having the characters refer to the caped crusader as "The Bat-man".
Referring to Bruce Wayne's alter ego after this wise (you get the effect?) is nerdy beyond the call of duty, precious beyond belief.
Other problems with the film include an obvious villain – the blond D.A. (when oh when can we have a decent black villain again? I'm sure his wife would nominate Morgan Freeman as a dirty two-timer) – and a director who takes the easy way out by trying to cover up the fundamental flaw of the film with a labyrinthine plot. It's the sure sign of a third-rate movie when convolutions are dragged in to fool the gullible into thinking they're missing something, when the only thing they're missing is the courage to say, "This is a load of bollocks. Bring back Robin and get over yourself!"
And what is the fundamental flaw? It is simply this: that the film pretends that The Bat-man is an ordinary bloke, subject to human weaknesses and the agony of moral choices, at the same time that it has him jumping off 90-storey buildings, gliding through the sky and generally performing miracles in defiance of the laws of nature.
You can't have it both ways: the fellow's either human or he's not.
Forget this rubbish and watch
3 comments:
Michael Caine is no match for the peerless original butler Alan Napier.
Ordinary bloke, subject to human weaknesses.... I thought you were talking about Edison Chen for a moment. Did you catch his cameo?
Funny that a major Cantopop star and HK personality is merely an extra worth a few miliseconds of reel in Hollywood. A humbling experience, no doubt.
Must be racial discrimination, or perhaps stereotypical representation of the Oriental as the "irrational, weak, feminised 'Other'", as Said said. On the other hand, could just be lack of training, dedication, professionalism and talent?
Shame to say, I missed Ed, even though I was looking out for his small part. Both the wife and daughter spotted him, though, which shows who reads the "baatgwa" magazines in my family.
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