Before entering the movie theatre to see ‘The Dark Knight,’ I didn’t know that the name for what I have always longed to be is a superhero. Sure, my favorite movie growing up was Superman (I would watch the VHS over and over and over), and my grandiose proclivities are as obvious in my diction as they are in my actions. What’s more, I have long felt attracted to mythology, poetry, archetypes and science–the broad, over-arching themes that elevate life from the mundane to the theatrical. I need to feel things deeply or, it seems, I don’t feel them at all. This is, of course, a double-edged sword: my joys and sorrows are extremely poignant and crisp, yet I often feel like alien, isolated from the day-to-day world that unfolds around me.
Despite my obvious predilection for all the pieces that make up a superhero story–good triumphs over evil in a lonely battle–they have never quite captivated my attention, because no matter how hard I try to see the world as black and white, my heart feels things in a beautiful, technicolor gradation. So as I sat through The Dark Knight I was delighted to see a Batman that was unsure of himself, whose actions were not clearly good, and who inspired ambivalent feelings in the people he tried to save. I was mesmerized, not only by the dark, beautiful cinematography, but also by the morality play unfolding before me.