My senses are still sizzling a mere hour and a half after viewing the latest Batman epic, The Dark Knight. Yes. I read many of the reviews praising Heath Ledger's role. Yes. I expected something phenomenal. Well...the scarred scaramouch did more than the fandango. Each time he graced the stage, Gotham's gracioso wreaked havoc on boundaries and borders that usually grant coherence to our conceptions of chaos, anarchy, madness...logic, rationality, structure. (And he did it with a masterful subtlety...in intonations, and in gestures.)Freudian labels, for example, have often been (mis)placed. Amateurish assessments have slapped the Joker into the tidy category of the Id...in opposition to the Batman, often caved into the tidy category of the Superego. The problem with this often facile reading of the comic book characters and their appearance in film is not with the Freudian terms, but rather with the categorizers who gloss over the porous complexion of these tensions. This film treated the viewer to a tantric tango, a visceral vacillation...where both characters flirted with lawlessness, and were seduced by order. The Joker and Batman choreograph an assault on the senses, an interplay of erosion...dismantling our faith in opposites, dissolving our adherence to dualities.
This cinematic reification of syncretism may scar you a bit, and simultaneously manage to put a smile on my face...as you laugh in fear, or scream in relief.
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