The Power of Three - Well, nearly...

Four episodes down, one to go, and finally we get to spend a bit more time with the Ponds. But lest we forget that this is a Chris Chibnall episode, and there's yet to be a truly great one. Okay I'm selling Power of Three a bit short there, because compared to Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, Three is an absolute masterpiece. In truth there's lots to like here, especially for long time fans of the show, but childish antics from the Doctor early on and an underdeveloped third act make Three another disjointed mess. 

For the second episode running, we start here with a somewhat pointless voice-over. Last week it was the little girl who had absolutely nothing to do with anything, this week it's the turn of Amy Pond, spelling out that what we already know or that what is happening on screen. Before the opening credits have even rolled, all intrigue surrounding the little black cubes has been eliminated, for as Amy so pointedly tells us, this is the year of the slow invasion. 

But of course, this is Doctor Who. We could guess that little black boxes appearing all over earth has something to do with an alien invasion. Cue: the Doctor. But this is the year of the slow invasion. The answers aren't coming thick and fast here, and while it presents a refreshing change of pace for the show, by the time the ball does get rolling there is little reason left to care. Three is an episode of two halves: one part Doctor Who, one part day time soap opera; and while both have their merits the two halves don't compliment each other, and both suffer from some questionable writing. 

First up, it's the return of Pond Life, Chibnall's five minute 'prequel' to the series, which, as usual, became less about the Ponds, more about the Doctor. And there's something about Chibnall's Doctor that makes me feel like I'm too old for this show now; for while it will undoubtedly get a raise out of the younger audience, a rapping, surf-boardng, fence-painting, Wii-playing, football bouncing Doctor makes me cringe. We get it. He doesn't do well with the mundane. He's a man out of his element. But somehow, not even Russell T Davies's attempts at making the Doctor relatable to the kids were this out of character. 

Thankfully the Doctor of old is back before too long, and in more way than one with the added presence of U.N.I.T and, in a welcome throwback to the classics, a Lethbridge-Stewart. But now we enter the disjointed second half, and one where the title - The Power of Three - should really come into it's own, but doesn't. As the Doctor points out, the three refers to himself, Amy and Rory, but here's where you realise that despite being set on their home turf, once again Amy and Rory just don't do anything. As the Doctor faces off against a projection of the episodes' big bad, Amy and Rory are given the challenging task of rescuing Rory's father, which they presumably perform admirably, off-screen. Earlier on in the episode it wasn't the Doctor, Amy and Rory who studied the cubes, it was the Doctor, Amy, Rory, Brian and U.N.I.T. Maybe if the number had further resonance in the episode; if, say, the cubes had counted down from three instead of seven, the title might have held more relevance, but as it stands these last four episodes haven't done much in convincing us that there is any more power within their trinity than any of the Doctor's previous companions. Presumably we're in for a major revelation next week that will forever change the status-quo, but by that time will it be too little, too late? 

'Avengers Assemble' - Blu-ray Review.

It's finally here. The long awaited dream from fanboys the world over. The film we've been waiting for since Robert Downey Jr first donned the scarlet and gold. The Avengers. On Blu-ray. 

What was the defining factor in Avengers' record breaking, billion dollar box office intake? Was it the drawing power of Downey Jr, Evans, Hemsworth and Johansson? Was it the idea of a superhero team up, something new for the comic book movie genre? Was it the heap of possitive reviews and glowing word-of-mouth or was it the match-made-in-Heaven idea of Downey Jr voicing Joss Whedon dialogue? (or was that one just me?) Honestly, it doesn't matter. The Marvel movie-verse was a unique experiment and one that's paid off; The Avengers - or, as it's been dubbed here in the UK, 'Avengers Assemble' - is the icing on an already succulent cake. 

On paper the Marvel-verse is a hard sell to the comic-ignorant public. Where DC have the cultural icons like Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman to their name, Marvel's movie characters here are largely second stringers, with rights to their power-houses like Spider-Man and the X-Men sold off to different companies. Before Downey Jr, you could be forgiven for believing Iron Man to simply be a poor-man's Batman; or Captain America to largely be a patriotic joke outside of the US. But Marvel saw something in their characters that most others couldn't, and without wavering, without succumbing to pressure to make every comic book film like Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, they've silenced the naysayers and given their characters voices of their own. With a series of fun, true-to-character films, accessible to a large and diverse audience, Iron Man is a now name on par with Batman; Captain America with Superman. A Norse God that becomes a superhero? A World War II 'super solider'? Sure, why not? What if they band together, fight aliens and work for the US government, operating off of a flying aircraft carrier? Perfectly feasible. 

Six films, five years. Was Avengers worth the wait? In a short answer, yes, it really was. Avengers is not just the ultimate comic book film, it's an exceptionally well crafted film in its own right, with a script that is at all times funny, exciting and even moving as well. It's no easy task, balancing four major characters, plus a handful of side-players, and making sure each is given their due, but Avengers does so with incredible ease. With Buffy, Angel and Firefly to his name, Joss Whedon has long since proven he's known how to handle an ensemble, but it's one thing balancing a large cast when you've got twenty-two episodes of a series to play with and quite another when you're limited to a two hour plus time frame of a movie. Even in Serenity, Whedon's under-appreciated film continuation of Firefly, characters are pushed to the back (or killed outright) without their chance to shine. Here, however, it's a different story. Of all the film's speaking roles, only do Cobie Smulders' Maria Hill and Stellan Skarsgard's Dr. Selvig feel remotely underdeveloped, but theirs are roles that, while vital, shouldn't feel intrusive or deter the focus from the top players. 

Like it's predecessors, Avengers is a visual treat and the Blu-ray only enhances this. The Hulk is more lifelike than ever before, Cap and Thor's powers are showcased beautifully and if you thought witnessing Iron Man suit up was impressive in previous outings, here we're treated to a flawless display of technical wizardry, as Stark's armour is removed, hands free, as he descends down some steps. There is controversy, however, surrounding this UK Blu-ray release, with Disney/Paramount having held back on some of the extra features available in other countries and even re-editing the film as well, digitally removing the blood-stained spear tip protruding from the body of the impaled Agent Coulson. With Disney publicly announcing that no 'special edition' of the film is on it's way, it's frustrating to witness their treatment of the third highest grossing film of all time on a sub-par home release, and we're left questioning whether their partnership with Marvel Studios is really for the better. 

What the future holds, however, remains to be seen, and spear tip or no spear tip, commentary or no commentary, The Avengers can still be enjoyed. It's here to stay, and as the Marvel cinematic universe continues to expand with Iron Man 3, Thor: The Dark World and Captain America: The Winter Solider our enjoyment of these characters, and these films, will continue for years to come. These films stand as proof that not every comic book adaptation needs to resemble Nolan's Bat trilogy, and that to craft a financially successful and critically acclaimed film you need only remain true to who the characters are in the comics, and to treat them with a little respect.  

A Town Called Mercy - More Westworld Than Western.

The seventh series of Doctor Who continues, and despite getting my wish of more stand alone episodes I'm now left feeling that an arc would have helped things greatly. Three episodes down and two to go until the Ponds' big farewell, but as was the case with Dinosaurs the two are sidelined here with little to do. Despite Moffat introducing a little drama into their relationship in his season opener, these last two episodes feel like they could have been picked from anywhere in the last two years without anything having changed. 

It was Moffat's intention that these five episodes feel like 'mini-movies', and while Asylum invoked feelings of Escape From New York and Dinosaurs struggled as to what it really wanted to be, we actually have an episode here that isn't a play on any particular movie but rather a genre as a whole. Sadly, however, the genre isn't utilised to great potential here, and while it could have invoked feelings of Clint Eastwood's more haunting, ambiguously fantastical films like Pale Rider or High Plains Drifter, it's left feeling like the bastard son of Westworld and Cowboys and Aliens instead. 

Initial disappointment aside, however, Mercy is not entirely unwatchable. Unlike the shows first foray into the genre in 1966 with The Gunfighters, Mercy is helped with a largely American cast and the same Spanish locations favoured by Sergio Leone in his famed Dollars trilogy, never missing an opportunity to utilise to great effect. Sadly it's the script that isn't up to scratch, for while it offers scenes of moral anguish for the Doctor, building upon his decision to kill Solomon last week and foreshadowing his reaction to Amy and Rory's impending departure, the rest of the characters are all useless. Farscape's Ben Browder is eliminated all too quickly, whilst the other town's folk are left standing awkwardly in the background, unsure of what to say or do until otherwise instructed. Karen Gillan makes use of her one big scene, confronting the Doctor in his descision to kill Kahler Jex, but it's a role expected from Amy and doesn't move her story forward. Arthur Darvill's Rory, on the other hand is reduced to the role of one-time decoy alongside Browder's Sheriff Isaac, where no meaningful dialogue is passed and the two merely hide behind a rock. 

The plot here is a lacklustre affair as well, though the episode should be praised for allowing the all too predictable revelations to come early on. Kahler Jex makes for an unengaging 'villain' whilst the Cyborg is more Terminator than Man-With-No-Name, an already limited performance lost beneath layers of questionable prosthetics and giant blaster cannons. 

In the end, the underlining problem with Mercy is that it forgets it's a Western. Deserts and stetsons will take you so far, but Westerns are built upon characters, and it's the characters that Mercy dismisses. I believe that Doctor Who is a show that could lend itself perfectly to the Western genre since, like the Eastwood greats, it's all about an unnamed hero. The Doctor is the Man With No Name, and cowboys, at their core, are alien themselves. They're travellers who come into a town and adapt to survive. The genre doesn't bend around them, they bend around the genre. There is no need for the stark contrast between cowboys and aliens that Mercy offers because there simply isn't one. Less is more with westerns, and that should have been the case here. 

Top 5 'New Who' single episodes.

With Asylum being as good as it was and Dinosaurs being such a disapointment, I figured it was time to reflect on the last six seasons of Doctor Who with my top five single episodes. A top five two-parters and top five classic stories will come at a later date, since they're all so differently paced I feel it unfair to group them all together.

So without further ado...

5. Dalek. Season 1, episode 6.

There's precious little to like in the first series of the revived show. Eccleston gives the show his all but out of thirteen episodes there are only three genuinely good ones, and two of those make up one story. The other one is, of course, Robert Shearman's Dalek; an episode to be praised on not only telling a decent story but on telling its audience exactly what this show is capable of. For it's true; what type of show Doctor Who was was still in question after the first few episodes, but Dalek was here to say that you don't need to pander to the younger audience with burping bins and farting Slitheen, that the show survived for over twenty years in keeping the fun, the drama and the scares on equal footing.

In many ways this is the first real episode of the revived Doctor Who, and what better way to give birth to the series than by bringing in the most iconic and the most feared of all the Doctor's adversaries. But there's a twist to Dalek, because however merciless and menacing this creature of Skaro first appears, by episode's end we're actually starting to feel for it, whilst the Doctor himself is now shown in a much darker light. As true to the classic characters as this episode is, it does an outstanding job of reinventing them at the same time, drawing upon the parallels between the two to present equal sides of the same coin. Here, both Doctor and Dalek are victims of the Time War, where both believe themselves to be the very last of their respective species, whose only goal now is to survive the only way they know how. Eccleston is top of his game here, and though we saw precious little of the Ninth Doctor this episode stands as a shining beacon as to who he was.

4. Vincent And The Doctor. Season 5, episode 10. 

There's an ongoing trend in Doctor Who in which the Doctor meets esteemed figures from Earth's past, but more often than not the episodes can never quite work out what they want to be, often favouring the monster of the week over the figure themselves and resulting in a disjointed mess. Dickens, Shakespeare and Agatha Christie all had their shot under Russell T Davies' tenure, but all that we remember about the episodes are witches, giant wasps and endless Harry Potter references. When Richard Curtis came on board to tell us a tale of Vincent van Gogh, however, he tried a different tactic: let the episode focus on the man, not the monster.

If there's one underlining strength behind Vincent it's that the episode is refreshing. It feels both natural and brand new at exactly the same time; for what Curtis, an esteemed writer but not of science-fiction, has delivered here is an outsiders perspective, and one that really helped distinguish the shows new direction under head writer Steven Moffat. Vincent isn't for everyone, but Doctor Who has thrived on being the show that can be absolutely anything, and for one week only here Curtis broke the rules and did things his way. On one level Vincent is just another monster of the week episode, but here the monster is so connected to van Gogh's madness that it becomes a part of the character. The whole episode is a heartbreaking portrait of an entirely different type of mad man than we're used to, and it's hard not to look back and think it's exactly what The Shakespeare Code or The Unicorn And The Wasp needed to be. Sure the Doctor breaks his own rules by taking Vincent to witness his legacy at the end, but through Murray Gold's rousing score and Tony Curran's sterling performance it's hard not to be taken in by it.

3. The Girl In The Fireplace. Season 2, episode 4. 

If there's something guaranteed to split the fanbase in two it's the subject of the Doctor and love. Is the Doctor completely asexual or is he, like anyone else, capable of falling in love? It's a fair question, since the closest a classic series Doctor came to romance was a confused kiss between the Eighth Doctor and one-time-companion Grace Holloway in the TV movie. If the revived series has taught us anything, however, it's that the Doctor can, indeed, fall in love, or is at least capable of romantic feelings. Yet the doomed relationship with Rose Tyler or impromptu marriage to River Song aside, the Doctor's most genuine - and most tragic - love story came early on in the Tenth Doctor's tenure, after a happenstance meeting with Madame de Pompadour.

The first story penned by Steven Moffat since his highlight of the first series, The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, Fireplace is a fine example of what makes Doctor Who so unique and endearing and truly stamped Moffat's name as one of the greatest writers in the shows long history. This is a boy meets girl story, but in true Who fashion this is boy meets girl through a time window to 18th century france on a 51st century spaceship, where girl is being haunted by clockwork killers. As weird as this all sounds, however, we never question what's happening for a second; A well-paced script mixed with fine performances from Tennant and Sophia Myles sell the relationship while the clockwork killers remain some of the scariest and most beautifully designed monsters the show has ever produced. If there's one flaw to Fireplace - aside from the one sequence involving a horse, a mirror and questionable CGI - it's that the episode focusses too much on the Doctor's love story and sidelines the two companions; one of whom is experiencing his very first trip in time and space and should maybe be given more to do. It's a small point to make, however, in an otherwise all-round solid episode and a highlight of the second series.

2. A Christmas Carol. 2010 christmas special.

Doctor Who was going from strength to strength under Moffat's reign in series five. Succeeding where Russell T Davies usually failed he rounded out an engaging first year with a spectacular season finale, with drama, comedy and as many twists and turns as one could possibly hope for. The ultimate test, however, was the christmas special, which we all looked forward to every year but more often than not came away sorely disappointed. Be it Titanic in space or giant Cybermen in Victorian London, Davies' specials were disjointed mess after disjointed mess; bigger for the sake of bigger, with their only link to christmas being repeated use of robot Santas and deadly spinning christmas trees. 

Moffat, thankfully did away with all that. Gone were the extravagant action sequences and cheap, christmas monsters; this was Dickens meets Star Trek by way of Jaws, in a suitably outlandish retelling of A Christmas Carol, Doctor Who style. This is a fine example of everything coming together when it needs to. Michael Gambon leads an all round stellar cast, the script, direction and production design are all on top form and Murray Gold is, as always, unbeatable. As quirky, beautiful and heartbreaking as one could hope for, this is the first - and going off last years unremarkable outing, only - christmas special to feel both christmassy and special. One to be enjoyed time and time again. 

1. Blink. Season 3, episode 10.

This one was a given, wasn't it? Constantly topping fans lists of the best New Who episodes or all time greats, Blink is proof that the show is loved for so much more than just a mad man with a box. For it's true, the Doctor himself is given remarkarbly little do to here, and though his few scenes are nothing if not memorable (this is where "wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff" was first uttered) they are just one small part of an episode that is so wonderfully simple in premise yet stuffed full of comedy, charm and,  yes, scares a plenty.

If there's one stand-out aspect to Blink it's the Weeping Angels; simple and inventive, they're proof that the scariest monsters aren't ones that might "exterminate" or "delete" but merely deprive us of our simple, human instincts: in this case, blinking. If you look at them, they're stone, but if you blink... And even here Moffat shows his unique brilliance, because if the Angels touch you you don't instantly die as one might expect, instead they zap you back in time and let you live to death instead.

But as wonderful as the Angels are, they're matched by an immensely strong script. As finely paced as you could possibly expect, it never drags and is never rushed; and in less than forty-five minutes Moffat crafts characters that are more developed and more relatable than any that have come before, including full time companions. The roguish charm of Billy Shipton or the loveable naivety of Larry Nightingale; the star, however, is Sally Sparrow, brought to life by a then-unknown Carey Mulligan she's a heroin that is so instantly likeable, engaging and real, not a caricature that is befitting of so many of the Doctor's female acquaintances. If there's one downside to the episode it's that we never got to see more of these characters, though Sally and Larry are something of a prototype to Amy and Rory, and the tease of the new companion in Asylum Of The Daleks has proven Moffat is not done with giving his women memorable personas.

So there we have it. That's my top five, at least for now. Other considerations would be The Eleventh Hour, which I absolutely adore but it's too easy to have all top five be Moffat episodes; Utopia, which stands out on its own but is let down by the episodes that follow and The Doctor's Wife, which, while good, I've never quite warmed to as much as others have. 

Dinosaurs on a Spaceship - One for the kids.

So the seventh series of Doctor Who continues, but after a Steven Moffat kicked things off with a strong season opener, Chris Chibnall lowers the bar quite considerably with an unremarkable second episode. 

From the title alone we know what type of episode Dinosaurs on a Spaceship will be. Though the show lends itself beautifully to darker, more adult themes, at heart it will always be a bit of fun; forty minutes of escapism for the whole family to enjoy. There's a fine line, however, between harmless fun and the outright childish, and sadly Chibnall's fourth contribution to the Who mythos strays far too often onto the side of childish, and with a lazily constructed script to match one wonders if Dinosaurs was only ever a title, never an idea. 

Technology wise the animals themselves actually look surprisingly good (for Who standards), but like a lot of things in the episode they're there without reason or explanation. Though we learn the Silurians were responsible for putting them on the ship in the first place we're left pondering the real reason as to why; similarly the Doctor has two new companions for the episode - Egyptian Queen Nefertiti and an African big-game hunter named Riddell - but why he brings them along or how he really knows them in the first place is questionable. The same again goes for the introduction of Brian Williams, Rory's father, and though the interaction between father and son remains a highlight of the episode we're left wondering what he really adds to the proceedings.

The episode, however, doesn't fall apart over lack of justification over characters, it's when Chibnall tries to justify himself. With a title like Dinosaurs on a Spaceship we expect a certain amount of madness going in, but halfway through the episode Chibnall fears that he's got to give the reason madness to be there, and as a result Nefertiti and Riddell are romantically paired up and Brian Williams is subject to an all too convenient plot device, where we learn the crashing ship can only be controlled by two people who share a gene.

To Dinosaurs' credit, it is not as instantly forgettable as Chibnall's previous episodes, 42 and The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood. Neither good nor particularly bad, those episodes just don't linger in the mind the way, say, Moffat's strongest or Russell T Davies's worst might. Dinosaurs, however, will be remembered for all the wrong reasons. Convenient plot devices (the missiles are attracted to what exactly?), underdeveloped characters and awkward humour (the Mitchell and Webb robots were nothing short of annoying); children will, undoubtedly, get a kick out of it, but there is little to enjoy for anyone else. 

Asylum of the Daleks - A Whovian's Review.

And so the seventh – or is that thirty-second – series of Doctor Who starts, albeit a little earlier than expected, and after a somewhat convoluted sixth series that raised more questions than it answered my anticipation is huge that this year (and next) returns the show to the quality I know it’s capable of. Over the next five weeks, as we get our first helping of the season, I’ll be reviewing each episode as they air.

 

There was a lot of pressure resting on Steven Moffat’s shoulders over this first episode. Last year’s brisk paced, arc-heavy run of episodes had turned a lot of people off; Moffat himself needed to redeem his own name after the frankly disastrous Christmas special; and with his announcement that the seventh series would commence with a return of the Daleks, easily the Doctors most famous foe, there came one very simple, but seemingly impossible, promise: to make them scary again.

Did he succeed? Did this episode stand-alone but still set up an exciting series? Was it worth the wait? Was it funny enough, exciting enough, quirky enough? Most importantly, were the Daleks returned to their former glory? The answer, quite truthfully, is a resounding yes.

There will forever be an ongoing debate as to what is the best Dalek story there has ever been. Most say Genesis, some will say Resurrection, Destiny or maybe even Remembrance. Those unfamiliar with the classic years will undoubtedly say Dalek. I want to offer up a difference perspective and say that the best Dalek story ever told is one that has never been shown; and, hopefully, one that never will be.

Let’s be honest here, Dalek stories are a tough one to get right. For every Genesis there’s a Revelation; for every Day of there’s a Chase. Since the re-launch in 2005 the Daleks have suffered more than ever: after a triumphant return in Dalek and a surprising one in Bad Wolf, the Daleks haven’t had a single worthwhile story to their name. They’re a gimmick in Doomsday and an embarrassment in Evolution; they’re wasted in Journey’s End and their return was laughed at in Victory, but ever since Rose the Daleks have laid claim to the greatest story in Who history; one that is rife with ideas; of drama, of intrigue, and, to the die-hard fans, solutions to continuity. The Time War – or, as the Whovian in me will attest, the Last Great Time War. A story that belongs to everyone and one that shouldn’t ever fall upon the head of any one specific writer to get ‘right’. Only the Doctor knows what really went on there and he’s not telling, so neither should we.

The Time War should form the basis of any good Dalek story because it’s something that will always be at the back of the Doctor’s mind. You don’t have to know the details to know it affected him greatly; and if it’s on the Doctor’s mind it needs to be on the writer’s mind and actor’s mind, for only they can make us truly believe the history between the Doctor and the Daleks. Thankfully, here, we believe, because here Moffat has crafted a story that is fresh and engaging, paying homage to the entire history of Doctor Who and teasingly setting up the future. Like Dalek, the Time War casts a looming shadow, and like Dalek we really catch a glimpse of the Doctors inner most feelings. Matt Smith is at the top of his game here, because not since Christopher Eccleston came face-to-eye stalk with his nightmare for the first time do we fully understand the Doctor’s up most fear and hatred of these creatures of Skaro.

But that’s not all that makes this episode a success. As grown up as Doctor Who has gotten since Moffat took over as show-runner, suddenly it all feels scarily realistic too. Daleks and spaceships and time travel aside, there’s a surprising subplot to this episode that details Amy and Rory’s somewhat loveless marriage, as we learn that after the events of last season Amy is unable to conceive and the idea of not being able to bare Rory a normal, less flirtatious, grown-up, may-or-may-not-be-married-to-the-Doctor, child has put a serious strain on the relationship. If the knowing departure of Amy and Rory didn’t affect you when the news broke then it certainly will now, and though this episode goes a long way to tantalize and tease the new companion – take a bow, Jenna-Louise – the Ponds will, most assuredly, not be forgotten about. These are their episodes as much as anyone else’s, and we’re heading towards an unforgettable finale.

The finest Dalek story since Dalek, maybe even of all time, this episode certainly isn’t one to be missed. Did Moffat succeed in making the Daleks scary again? Well, fear is subjective, but there were certainly a few moments that could send a shiver down the spine of the older viewers whilst sending the younger straight behind the sofa. It works on it’s own and it sets up a series arc; Asylum of the Daleks is everything that it needed to be. 

A reflection on Christopher Nolan and The Dark Knight Rises

To follow on from my review of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises I intended to re-watch all of his films and write a mini-review on each of them in turn, but as I was making notes it dawned on me how similar a lot of the reviews would be because when you strip away the outer layers of any one of them, they all share a very similar theme: identity. They’re films about the psychology of its central characters, and what is the psychology behind each of us if not our own, personal identity?

Here’s the thing: prior to the concluding chapter in his Batman trilogy, Christopher Nolan had not made a bad film, and while The Dark Knight Rises can’t be passed off as simply ‘bad’, it was a disappointment, and I can’t stop racking my brains as to why. I’m a Batman fan at heart; he is the reason I read comics and the reason I’ve tried writing comics, but I’ve tried to look at Rises as objectively as possible because aside from being a Batman fan, I’ve become a Christopher Nolan fan. Rises, to me, doesn’t work on either level, and though I can understand why it fails as a Batman film, I’ve been trying to work out why it fails as a Christopher Nolan film.

To find the answer let’s look back at what attracted Nolan to the idea of making a Batman film in the first place. Prior to Batman Begins in 2005, Nolan was known for two notable films: Memento and Insomnia. It’s not without good reason that many consider Memento to be the better film: it’s certainly the more striking, the more memorable of the two, but that is not to say that Insomnia is without it’s merits. Indeed, both share that very same theme that is common across all Nolan films: an arguably simple premise that delves into the psychology of its protagonist. On the surface Insomnia has the same premise as any episode of CSI, a cop on the trail of a killer, but where it becomes something more original is that the cop has gone several days without sleep, causing him to second guess his every move and not only lose his grip on the case but on reality itself. If you look at this it’s clear to see why Nolan would be attracted to a project like Batman; like Memento and Insomnia it’s a character driven piece with psychological overtones, and like Memento and Insomnia it would be an adaptation of previously released work. Memento is an adaptation of a short story from Nolan’s brother, Jonathan; Insomnia is an American remake of a Swedish film and Batman takes it’s inspirations from the comics, most notably Frank Miller’s Year One and Jeph Loeb’s The Long Halloween.

The psychology behind Bruce Wayne becomes the backbone of Batman Begins, and though it’s the driving force of the character it’s a topic that was only ever touched upon in any detail before in Joel Schumacher’s Batman Forever, ten years prior. This gave Nolan and co-writer David Goyer the chance to create something fresh and original in their interpretation of Batman; a very realistic, grown-up approach that was unheard of in any comic book film to date. Batman’s now a believable figure with believable ideals, but as psychologically interesting as Bruce Wayne’s mind is the film suffers when it tries to convey this to the audience. Cheap, somewhat laughable dialogue (‘Bats frighten me, it’s time my enemies shared my dread’) does nothing but remind us that all we’re watching is another fun, comic book blockbuster and we can leave our brains at the door.

It’s interesting to note that in the two projects he did in-between Batman films - The Prestige and Inception - Nolan fully embraced heavier angles of science-fiction and fantasy. His Batman films, however, remained routed in reality, with The Dark Knight dropping the comic book feel altogether in favor of a more stylized crime drama, Nolan citing Heat as a major influence. The result is a much more personal film that Begins; like Nolan’s best it’s a character piece at heart that never tries to be anything else. It’s a rare breed of blockbuster sequel that never goes bigger than it needs to, and never loses its way either. It stays remarkably true to the characters in the comics whilst at the same time delivers something fresh and original, with its real world sensibilities only ever aiding in it’s personal nature and never feeling like a hindrance. In short, it’s everything The Dark Knight Rises isn’t.

Before moving onto Rises, however, it’s worth talking about Inception. It was, if you’ll excuse the pun, Nolan’s dream project: the one he had an idea about for years but waited on until the technology was right.

Like Memento and The Prestige, Inception is a film that really requires its audience to think, but unlike the others the answers to all your questions aren’t right there in front of you just waiting to be uncovered. Ambiguity is the key to Inception, and what the audience takes out of it depends largely on what they wanted the film to be in the first place: it’s part psychological study of dreams and part action spectacle full of rotating corridors, morphed perspectives and mountain top espionage. Is the top still spinning at the end? Was it a dream or was it reality? Perhaps the more important question is does it matter? Psychology study or mindless action, on another level Inception is simply another character piece, and though the top might still be spinning at the end what’s important is Cobb has walked away from it. It topples or it doesn’t; either way his story is complete.

So what is the problem with The Dark Knight Rises? At first glance it’s all there: it’s a blockbuster, it’s character driven and like the best trilogy conclusions it references it’s past in order to move forward. It’s because of this, however, that Rises doesn’t quite work: its characters are underdeveloped and it’s hard to buy as a blockbuster due to its overtly realistic nature. With a plot that draws all of its suspense from a nuclear weapon guaranteed to explode, suddenly every action taken that doesn’t immediately add towards the finding of the weapon feels like a waste of time. It’s a film that suffers from what made the franchise so strong and engaging in the first place.

And a character driven story though it may be, Rises simply has too many characters than it knows what to do with. Here Alfred is given a couple of key scenes before being written out of the film entirely whilst Commissioner Gordon spends much of the first act in a hospital bed. As the film progresses we learn more about main antagonist Bane but precious little about newcomers Miranda Tate and John Blake, until the film comes to a head and major revelations are learnt about both characters that damages the more central ones. Bane is rendered obsolete when Tate is revealed to be Talia al Ghul and takes his story as her own whilst John Blake is, in fact, Nolan’s interpretation of Robin. This is very much a Robin without a Batman, however, since The Dark Knight Rises is more a case of Bruce Wayne Rises, and that’s something he does twice in the same film. Counter in the arc he went through in Batman Begins and you realize we’ve spent two thirds of this trilogy watching Bruce learn how to be Batman several times over. It’s distressing to see such little care taken over the development of key characters, especially in a Christopher Nolan film.

In many ways Nolan emulates Inception more than Begins or Dark Knight here, and Rises goes bigger for the sake of going bigger. It’s a blockbuster in the truest sense of the word, but substitute Batman for Jason Statham or Steven Seagal and the film remains largely the same. It builds on everything that comes before but carries so much that it starts to crumble under the pressure, and in a universe as rich in detail as this it’s surprising they couldn’t come up with anything better.