• Email Link
• Facebook
• Twitter
• Digg

By Nathan Brockman

I've never forgotten what a 110-story building falling to earth nearby sounds like, the way it shakes you. Nor have I forgotten what came next: how a priest said the Beatitudes before a congregation that had just, essentially, been attacked by terrorists. It may sound fanciful, but this sentiment is true in my heart: the first strike in our country's war on terror was a spiritual one, an act of peace in Trinity Church, and the war will not truly be won without many more.

While most critics see the new Batman movie as political alle- gory, I see it through this lens: The Dark Knight is about the sustainability of the spirit in dark times. And make no mistake: this is a dark movie, and (say it with me now) these are dark times. The joke about the old Batman films was that they were depressing — cloaked in night and shadow. The darkness of those first films is pale in comparison. What deepens the opacity is realism — the nagging, bold, references to our current war on terrorism. The smoke and fire, the use of media as a terrorist's messenger, the absurd creativity of some forms of destruction (and surveillance) — we are seeing our- selves through a movie glass, darkly, and repeatedly.

In the movie, the center is not holding. Batman has become a scapegoat — in the public's eyes the very reason for the Joker's wicked reign. He is no longer a hero, or, in the movie's lexicon, no longer "the hero we need."

The Joker, on the other hand, is evil personified. Played by the late Heath Ledger with lip-licking sadism, we're not sure why he exists, or what motivates him, or why he is so hard to conquer. He simply is. The only goal in his anarchic violence seems to be turning Batman and other Gothamites into killers whose concern for revenge or selfishness outweighs concern for mercy or other human bonds. He murders many from afar and a few one on one. He wants us to cut Batman from his spiritual root — to sully Batman's sanctified "one rule" not to kill — perhaps this is because he knows this is where true power lies.

Beyond the violence, car-chases, and explosions, the theme of mercy turns up repeatedly and often astonishingly in this movie. Batman matches force with force, but only to a point; he is more frequently at revenge's edge, always falling back on that one rule. It is a harsher version of the golden rule, to be sure, but this is, after all, a comic book movie, not a New Testament movie. Batman is an agent and winged-angel of mercy. The temptation to kill or otherwise act outwardly in a spirit of revenge or vengeance is as much Batman's adversary as is the Joker. In one of the movie's most gripping scenes, the Joker says as much, while in custody. "You have nothing to threaten me with," he says. "Nothing to do with all your strength."

In Batman's reluctance to be callous, there is a redefinition of what strength and power truly are, and the hint of that sacred spiritual ideal of St. Paul, and of Jesus' mercy toward those you and I would rather see as "other." This is the spiritual foundation of the political allegory written into the movie. Prompted by the film, one imagines that unimagin- able "what-if " commingling the spiritual and political: What if the United States hadn't started two wars after being mercilessly attacked? What if we had unex- pectedly shown mercy and humility in our political decision- making? In a climactic scene, this is brought to life. Two ferry-boats full of people are on the water; each is given the power to destroy the other and live. As with Batman's individual struggle with the Joker over the Joker's life and Batman's soul, mercy wins.

This is very nearly a film about our collective mystical development — where we might go from our current stage of the dark night. Yes, the allegory on the big screen is political. But so many answers to the political questions have their deep, inward reflections. Batman becomes an ego-less hero, a new and ancient archetype that is perhaps the most accurate description of Christ's life and death that secular psychology, or movie-making, has.

In this light, is the Dark Knight truly dark? There is more mercy than revenge, more dawn than dusk. In the end, this is an action film — and in that a reminder that faithful is as faithful does. Our actions in dark times say who we are. We are people, for instance, who believe a reading of the Beatitudes is the appropriate spiritual response in the face of terror. We are sustained by prayer and acts of mercy, in the manner of the spiritual leaders of the past. They were peaceful. They prayed to God for humility and courage as they emerged from caves, tombs, and the occasional church.

Nathan Brockman is editor of Trinity News.