Bruce Wayne is compelling for his wealth, his well-bred disregard for anything that's not wearing 6-inch plus heels, and his minor gap of humanity - allowing his character to remain accessible despite having almost nothing in common with your typical comic book reader or movie goer.
Batman is compelling for his ever growing supply of unbelievable gadgets, his insane dedication to the unrealistic principle that you only bring your mind and your tech to a gun fight, and his total adaptation of the iconography of terror - shrinking close to the corner of a shadow only to return suddenly with explosive force.
Bane is compelling for his transition from a lucid, loyal foot-soldier to a disfigured 'army general,' his unprecedented ability to use heavy-handed fighting styles and smash Batman into submission, and his (Tom Hardy's) incredibly convincing application of authoritative body language - giving Bane an aura of unflinching, unquestionable leadership.
Selina Kyle is compelling for her dynamic personality shift when exposed to Bruce/Batman over time, her curiously fluid and seemingly well-trained physicality, and her injection of the thematic abjection and notes of poverty/financial disparity that were present (and important) in Batman Begins - looping Nolan's finale in a wide arc over The Dark Knight (which would have been impossible to top using the same tool set) and instead linking emotionally and tonally with the original film, forming a bond of spiritual succession that warrants watching all three in one sitting.
John Blake (Robin) is compelling for his level head in a city infected with a wildly unpredictable neurosis, his characteristic balance of Bruce Wayne's persona as the stilted orphan dumped into Gotham's sea of high-rises and deep alleys without an ounce of privilege to his name, and his utilization of this connection to finally piece together the largely unexplored idea that Gotham's most well-known son could also be its most notorious vigilante-turned-villain - setting up Blake as a world-class detective and an intuitive fit (emotionally and idealistically) to don the cape and cowl.
Gordon, as always, is compelling (mostly because of Gary Oldman) for his humanity as Commissioner, his struggle as to whether or not he should reveal the shocking truth about Harvey Dent and risk harming the eye-of-the-storm peacetime that's descended over Gotham, and his adoption of the vigilante ethos (his speech to Blake that when the structures in power fail your sense of justice, you have to branch outside the influence of those structures and sometimes appear to be a rogue) - instilling in Blake the thought-seed that eventually sprouts into Robin's ascension.
Talia al Ghul is not compelling.
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The Dark Knight Rises left me lost in my seat thinking, "I have to enjoy this movie. This is the last time I'll get to experience Bale as Batman with Nolan at the helm. The Dark Knight was amazing, so this must be too." Obsessed with that pattern of thought, I couldn't really absorb the movie as it happened, rather tracking back every 5 minutes to appreciate a certain scene or line of dialogue.
I didn't - as I assume with most other fans - have this problem with The Dark Knight because it was such an unexpected god damn spectacle. Coming off Batman Begins (which contained much less of the massive scale pieces as TDK and TDKR) only gave us a taste of the hero Batman would develop into and did what was necessary for the first film in the series - it set up the insecurities/character foundation of Bruce Wayne and made sense of his eccentric decision to dress up as a bat and stalk the night.
So when masked robbers burst into a bank on that widescreen, slowly pick each other off, and then we catch a glimpse of Ledger's addicting Joker, Nolan has already enticed us with his prestige and guaranteed undivided attention for the rest of the atypically lengthy sequel.
The Dark Knight pulled off this trick well because it didn't have a controversial zeitgeist preceding it. Batman Begins was a popular and refreshing film, but it didn't have the capacity to generate news stories like The Dark Knight. Probably the biggest "controversy" surrounding Batman Begins was that Katie Holmes was starting to get involved with Tom Cruise and Christian Bale was undergoing rapid weight transformations to adapt to his various movie roles - consequently, when you place these events alongside Heath Ledger's shocking death, they are rightly dwarfed in comparison.
Already, then, The Dark Knight Rises was at a disadvantage. Audiences pouring into theaters came with their favorite shots from The Dark Knight still buzzing in their brains, and watching The Dark Knight Rises felt like a test of concentration.
This viewing didn't disappoint me because of the quality of the film, but rather because of those preconceived ideas that I couldn't shake my first time watching.
I can already tell - after ~12 hours from when I saw TDKR - that it's a movie I want to revisit soon with a more prepared mindset. In fact, even though I claimed to be disappointed (more by myself than the movie), I couldn't stop jogging through the plot when I was supposed to be asleep that night, the soundtrack was still ringing in my ears with its interplay between thunderous and nostalgic compositions, and I was still getting chills if I thought about when Alfred - frustrated and troubled at failing to keep Bruce safe as he promised Thomas Wayne - gives Bruce an ultimatum that ends with the Batman persona preferred.
Thematically and narratively, The Dark Knight Rises couldn't have been made in a way that better aligned the trilogy. It's almost as if any flaws in the film were necessary either by way of our hyped expectations or by the fact that Nolan would have been unable to please everyone with a strict ending (which he chose to use instead of an Inception-like open ending). My friend Adam compared the trilogy to the original Star Wars films - A New Hope the underdog that put a spell on audiences, The Empire Strikes Back the anticipated sequel that reached new heights with little competition from the first film, and Return of The Jedi the necessarily flawed, yet amazing ending to a trilogy that would attach itself to our pop culture consciousness and has remained there since.
That both Christopher and Jonathan Nolan are immensely talented and innovative filmmakers has been apparent since Jonathan helped inspire Memento with his writing and since the pair teamed up on The Prestige, but I truly believe that in hindsight we will come to see their collaboration on the Batman trilogy as a watershed moment in our notions of what can be captured behind a hunk of recording equipment.
To sum up my thoughts, films like Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and The Dark Knight Rises have introduced a new paradigm in the short-lived and often corny genre of "Comic Book" movies. We can already notice the tint of this perspective in the teaser for Man of Steel - with its almost Malickian cinematography and its stark contrast to 2006's Superman Returns. This is the difference we can now expect from movies based on comics: the difference between Eric Bana's Hulk and Edward Norton's Hulk, the difference between The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Watchmen, the difference between Tobey Maguire's goofy swagger and Andrew Garfield's almost method-acted play on the Webbed Warrior - these are the differences we have been offered: between playful and grim, between Razzies and Oscars, between pulp fiction and realistic adaptation.
For better or for worse, Comic Book Movies have been forced to evolve. They have been lambasted to hell, parodied, mocked, and avoided - mostly all for valid reasons. But this evolution was not slow to form or ambling in its uprising. A breed of superhero movies died out for their failings and the new generation of comic book lovers - seeing this happen in real time - have decided to heed the call of responsibility, suit up in Kevlar rather than spandex, and forgo cheesy lines and cheap tricks for real-world reflection and philosophical conflicts.
DC and Marvel have taken varying approaches to this root shift, but both paths deepen the playing field for superheros on film. For DC this has meant work along the lines of the new Batman, with dark tones and sharp etchings of loss, fear, pain, and redemption; whereas Marvel has chosen the more theatrical (yet still complex) route of introducing likable characters, perfecting the art of role-casting (Garfield as Spiderman, RDJ as Iron Man, Mark Ruffalo as The Hulk, and Tom Hiddleston as Loki were all flashes of brilliance), and picking filmmakers (like Joss Whedon) whose style parallels this new found emphasis on balancing what's comical to what's human.
There is no longer room in the genre for half-measures. Simple, light, half-baked concepts can't match the new league of movies that have already earned acclaim. As Batman prepares to make the ultimate sacrifice for his city, Catwoman - desperate to save Bruce - says "You don't owe these people anymore. You've given them everything." Bruce knows this isn't true and brings his long-lasting process of catharsis and self-realization to a close, shutting the book on Bruce Wayne's injured psyche.
In much the same way, filmmakers approaching the genre need to put away the pain of past failures and move on. They haven't completely given us what we crave.
Not everything. Not yet.
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