It was bound to happen. While "The Dark Knight" is currently getting 100% freshness rating on Rotten Tomatoes, the first bad review of "The Dark Knight" has surfaced. Film critic for New York Magazine David Edelstein calls it “a morbid affair”, claiming that “It could only be darker if Batman died. From what has been written, he is right -- The Dark Knight is not Adam West’s Batman, it’s not Tim Burton’s campy Bat and it’s not even Frank Miller’s vigilante. Edelstein comments that when Burton’s Batman came out critics complained that the film was too violent for kids. “Wait’ll they get a load of this,” he says. Like Kevin Smith said - this is "The Empire Strikes Back" of comic book movies.
Here's a sample:
Here's a sample:
Bat Out of Hell
They don’t make superhero franchises much darker than this.
By David Edelstein
Even if the death of Heath Ledger hadn’t already draped it in a funeral shroud, The Dark Knight would be a morbid affair: It could only be darker if Batman died. (He does die a little, on the inside.) The director, Christopher Nolan, has decided to get real with the thing. Forget Gotham City—or Anton Furst’s splendid Gothic Gotham of Tim Burton’s Batman, which summoned up the freaky superhero’s inner landscape of vaulted arches and gargoyles. We’re now in a modern, untransformed Manhattan, where the Joker’s opening bank heist unfolds in a tense, realistic style with multiple point-blank shootings. It’s a shock—and very effective—to see a comic-book villain come on like a Quentin Tarantino reservoir dog. But then the novelty wears off and the lack of imagination, visual and otherwise, turns into a drag. The Dark Knight is noisy, jumbled, and sadistic. Even its most wondrous vision—Batman’s plunges from skyscrapers, bat-wings snapping open as he glides through the night like a human kite—can’t keep the movie airborne. There’s an anvil attached to that cape.
They don’t make superhero franchises much darker than this.
By David Edelstein
Even if the death of Heath Ledger hadn’t already draped it in a funeral shroud, The Dark Knight would be a morbid affair: It could only be darker if Batman died. (He does die a little, on the inside.) The director, Christopher Nolan, has decided to get real with the thing. Forget Gotham City—or Anton Furst’s splendid Gothic Gotham of Tim Burton’s Batman, which summoned up the freaky superhero’s inner landscape of vaulted arches and gargoyles. We’re now in a modern, untransformed Manhattan, where the Joker’s opening bank heist unfolds in a tense, realistic style with multiple point-blank shootings. It’s a shock—and very effective—to see a comic-book villain come on like a Quentin Tarantino reservoir dog. But then the novelty wears off and the lack of imagination, visual and otherwise, turns into a drag. The Dark Knight is noisy, jumbled, and sadistic. Even its most wondrous vision—Batman’s plunges from skyscrapers, bat-wings snapping open as he glides through the night like a human kite—can’t keep the movie airborne. There’s an anvil attached to that cape.
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