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Politics and the Movies 5: Snowden

 According to a recent issue of the New York Times Magazine, filmmaker Oliver Stone had said, after making a career of focusing on political message vehicles — think JFK, Nixon, Born on the 4th of July…heck, even Platoon and Wall Street, and perhaps most notably (or notoriously) the muckraking TV series-cum-book entitled The Unknown History of the United States —he had become loath to do anything more in that genre.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Edward Snowden in Oliver Stone’s Snowden

Well, then, surprise! Stone’s most recent venture, opening Friday night at the Paradiso, is entitled simply Snowden — after its subject, exiled programmer/cryptographer Edward Snowden, arguably the most famous whistle-blower of all time and certainly the one whose actions have had the most contemporary political impact.

This is the man — passportless as a result of his own government’s retribution and now holed up in Moscow, courtesy of that country’s America-baiting leader, Vladimir Putin — who released to the world a cyber-cornucopia of secret codes and programs demonstrating conclusively that America’s National Security Administration (NSA) had systematically abused this country’s laws and traditions by spying relentlessly on its citizens and those of various other nations, friendly and unfriendly.

It is easy to confuse the Snowden saga with that of such other whistle-blowers as Chelsea (ne Edward) Manning, the transgender soldier who made over to Wikileaks almost a million sensitive documents relating to military secrets and who languishes now at Leavenworth Prison, or with Mr. Wikileaks himself, the Australian programmer/journalist Julian Assange, currently suspected of two-way collaboration with the Republican Party and the Russian government in the outing of sensitive, embarrassing information involving the Democratic National Committee.

Snowden first turned up on film in the award-winning 2014 documentary Citizenfour, which focused on how he turned over his incriminating information to journalist Glenn Greenwald and filmmaker Laura Poitras. In Stone’s hands and as ably portrayed by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, something both more substantial and more ordinary. Snowden comes off as a youthful striver and over-achieving computer nerd with a full set of idiosyncratic and rather endearing personal quirks. He had what appears to have been a legitimate and somewhat conventional romantic life. After months during which various incarnations of the movie had been screened before a series of private international audiences, the final version got its debut in Paradiso and 80 other theaters, nationwide, on Wednesday night. It opens its regular run on Friday.

The audience at the Paradiso and those other early-bird venues Wednesday night got something extra after the screening — nearly an hour’s worth of live conversation between Stone, Gordon-Leavitt, Shailene Woodley (who plays Snowden’s ever-loyal but independent-minded girl friend), and, Snowden himself, on a remote from Moscow.

Given director Stone’s well-established political pedigree, it was a bit surprising to hear him assert, when asked, that he had no particular “takeaway” in mind for his movie, that he was a dramatist first of all and had discovered in his basic source materials — a non-fiction novel by Russian author Anatoly Kucherena and his own interviews with Snowden and his circle — the ingredients of a love story.

As disingenuous as that sounds, it is borne out somewhat by the movie Stone made, in which Snowden figures as no mere hacker but as a prized code-writer and developer for both the CIA and the NSA who, to trust the script, had become an agency man for patriotic reasons after 9/11. He created some of the very programs that, to his consternation, he would discover are being used for indiscriminate snooping.

We are repelled, along with Snowden, as we see his idealism and patriotic purpose mocked by the cynical use of cyber-technology, including his own programs, on the part of the government agencies he works for in a series of exotic international venues — Hong Kong, Geneva, Hawaii, Tokyo among them. Stone makes the most of these locales — almost in the travelogue sense of a Bond or Jason Bourne saga — and he manages to endow his bespectacled Everyman protagonist with some of that cachet as well.

An early scene involves a Turkish banker whom Snowden, armed by the CIA with a false name and a fabricated identity, has been urged to cultivate in Hong Kong — not for purposes of national security, as it turns out, but to hook into the financial assets of the banker, who is basically blackmailed after illegal snooping discovers that his son, who is moved thereby to attempt suicide, is an illegal resident and liable for deportation.

More disillusionment comes when Snowden views first-hand the carnage and collateral damage resulting from drone strikes that may or may not be targeting actual malefactors. But the ultimate epiphany is Snowden’s realization that the NSA has arrogated to itself the right to obtain access via cyber-snooping to the emails, telephone records, and innermost privacies of every citizen everywhere.

All of these professional dilemmas, meanwhile, are made to parallel Snowden’s personal drama with girl friend Lindsay Mills, a model and dancer whose political liberalism and emancipated personal credo (her provocative pictorials are getting hits a-plenty online), are juiced, in Woodley’s portrayal, with a soupcon of Girl Next Door. For Gordon-Levirtt’s Snowden, she manages to suggest both the Normalcy principle and Gatsby’s green light, both of which beckon him away from the tawdriness (and secrecy) of his professional life.

Regardless of how much poetic license might have gone into the effort, Stone has succeeded, at minimum, in rescuing his protagonist from the political-science abstraction of Edward Snowden Whistleblower and presenting him as Real Dude Ed Snowden, the possessor of both an accessible and likeable personality and an eloquence worthy of the issue he has come to represent.

Gordon-Levitt certainly succeeds in that respect, but the real coup de grace was delivered by Snowden himself, who, during the live chat of Wednesday night’s post-screening simulcast, was asked his reaction to seeing himself portrayed on film, private life and all. With evident sincerity, coupled with a sheep-eating grin and bona fide spontaneous blush, Snowden allowed as how he was a little bit embarrassed at being outed as “the world’s worst boy friend.”

That bit of self-deprecating charm was followed, moments later, by his serious answer to the question of why it is that, in this age of terrorism and international tension, it is important to safeguard a sense of privacy. For someone to suggest that governmental scrutiny is no problem for “those have nothing to hide,” is equivalent, said Snowden, to saying that free speech is unimportant only if “you have nothing to say.”

Face it: Oliver Stone is both a filmmaker and propagandist, and his movie is undeniably ex parte, but it is indisputable as well that both Ed Snowden and the eponymous film bearing his name have something to say.

And, even as arguments rage as to whether Snowden, still in danger of prosecution for espionage, deserves a pardon or, conversely, a prison, it is also indisputable that his actions have forced Congress belatedly to act, placing reasonable limitations on the NSA’s previously unbounded ability to invade the personal sphere of ordinary American citizens.

Politics and the Movies 5: Snowden

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The Year in Film 2015

It’s fashionable to complain about how bad Hollywood movies have become. But from the perspective of a critic who has to watch it all go down, it’s simply not the case. At any given time in 2015, there was at least one good film in theaters in Memphis—it just may not have been the most heavily promoted one. So here’s my list of awards for a crowded, eventful year.

Worst Picture: Pixels

I watched a lot of crap this year, like the incoherent Terminator Genysis, the sociopathic San Andreas, the vomitous fanwank Furious 7, and the misbegotten Secret in Their Eyes. But those movies were just bad. Pixels not only sucked, it was mean-spirited, toxic, and ugly. Adam Sandler, it’s been a good run, but it’s time to retire.

Actually, I take that back. It hasn’t been a good run.

Most Divisive: Inherent Vice

Technically a 2014 release, Paul Thomas Anderson’s adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s ode to the lost world of California hippiedom didn’t play in Memphis until January. Its long takes and dense dialogue spun a powerful spell. But it wasn’t for everyone. Many people responded with either a “WTF?” or a visceral hatred. Such strongly split opinions are usually a sign of artistic success; you either loved it or hated it, but you won’t forget it.

Best Performances: Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay, Room

Room is an inventive, harrowing, and beautiful work on every level, but the film’s most extraordinary element is the chemistry between Brie Larson and 9-year-old Jacob Tremblay, who play a mother and son held hostage by a sexual abuser. Larson’s been good in Short Term 12 and Trainwreck, but this is her real breakthrough performance. As for Tremblay, here’s hoping we’ve just gotten a taste of things to come.

Chewbacca

Best Performance By A Nonhuman: Chewbacca

Star Wars: The Force Awakens returned the Mother of All Franchises to cultural prominence after years in the prequel wilderness. Newcomers like Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver joined the returned cast of the Orig Trig Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher in turning in good performances. Lawrence Kasdan’s script gave Chewbacca a lot more to do, and Peter Mayhew rose to the occasion with a surprisingly expressive performance. Let the Wookiee win.

Best Memphis Movie: The Keepers

Joann Self Selvidge and Sara Kaye Larson’s film about the people who keep the Memphis Zoo running ran away with Indie Memphis this year, selling out multiple shows and winning Best Hometowner Feature. Four years in the making, it’s a rarity in 21st century film: a patient verité portrait whose only agenda is compassion and wonder.

Best Conversation Starter: But for the Grace

In 2001, Memphis welcomed Sudanese refugee Emmanuel A. Amido. This year, he rewarded our hospitality with But for the Grace. The thoughtful film is a frank examination of race relations in America seen through the lens of religion. The Indie Memphis Audience Award winner sparked an intense Q&A session after its premiere screening that followed the filmmaker out into the lobby. It’s a timely reminder of the power of film to illuminate social change.

Best Comedy: What We Do in the Shadows

What happens when a group of vampire roommates stop being polite and start getting real? Flight of the Conchords‘ Jemaine Clement and Eagle vs Shark‘s Taika Waititi codirected this deadpan masterpiece that applied the This Is Spinal Tap formula to the Twilight set. Their stellar cast’s enthusiasm and commitment to the gags made for the most biting comedy of the year.

Best Animation: Inside Out

The strongest Pixar film since Wall-E had heavy competition in the form of the Irish lullaby Song of the Sea, but ultimately, Inside Out was the year’s emotional favorite. It wasn’t just the combination of voice talent Amy Poehler, Bill Hader, Lewis Black, Mindy Kaling, and Phyllis Smith with the outstanding character design of Joy, Fear, Anger, Disgust, and Sadness that made director Pete Docter’s film crackle, it was the way the entire carefully crafted package came together to deliver a message of acceptance and understanding for kids and adults who are wrestling with their feelings in a hard and changing world.

It Follows

Best Horror: It Follows

The best horror films are the ones that do a lot with a little, and It Follows is a sterling example of the breed. Director David Robert Mitchell’s second feature is a model of economy that sets up its simple premise with a single opening shot that tracks a desperate young woman running from an invisible tormentor. But there’s no escaping from the past here, only delaying the inevitable by spreading the curse of sex and death.

Teenage Dreams: Dope and The Diary of a Teenage Girl

2015 saw a pair of excellent coming-of-age films. Dope, written and directed by Rick Famuyiwa, introduced actor Shameik Moore as Malcolm, a hapless nerd who learns to stand up for himself in the rough-and-tumble neighborhood of Inglewood, California. Somewhere between Risky Business and Do the Right Thing, it brought the teen comedy into the multicultural moment.

Similarly, Marielle Heller’s graphic novel adaptation The Diary of a Teenage Girl introduced British actress Bel Powley to American audiences, and took a completely different course than Dope. It’s a frank, sometimes painful exploration of teenage sexual awakening that cuts the harrowing plot with moments of magical realist reverie provided by a beautiful mix of animation and live action.

Immortal Music: Straight Outta Compton and Love & Mercy

The two best musical biopics of the year couldn’t have been more different. Straight Outta Compton was director F. Gary Gray’s straightforward story of N.W.A., depending on the performances of Jason Mitchell as Eazy-E, Corey Hawkins as Dr. Dre, and O’Shea Jackson Jr. playing his own father, Ice Cube, for its explosive impact. That it was a huge hit with audiences proved that this was the epic hip-hop movie the nation has been waiting for.

Director Bill Pohlad’s dreamlike Love & Mercy, on the other hand, used innovative structure and intricate sound design to tell the story of Brian Wilson’s rise to greatness and subsequent fall into insanity. In a better world, Paul Dano and John Cusack would share a Best Actor nomination for their tag-team portrayal of the Beach Boys resident genius.

Sicario

Best Cinematography: Sicario

From Benicio del Toro’s chilling stare to the twisty, timely screenplay, everything about director Denis Villeneuve’s drug-war epic crackles with life. But it’s Roger Deakins’ transcendent cinematography that cements its greatness. Deakins paints the bleak landscapes of the Southwest with subtle variations of color, and films an entire sequence in infrared with more beauty than most shooters can manage in visible light. If you want to see a master at the top of his game, look no further.

He’s Still Got It: Bridge of Spies

While marvelling about Bridge of Spies‘ performances, composition, and general artistic unity, I said “Why can’t all films be this well put together?”

To which the Flyer‘s Chris Davis replied, “Are you really asking why all directors can’t be as good as Steven Spielberg?”

Well, yeah, I am.

Hot Topic: Journalism

Journalism was the subject of four films this year, two good and two not so much. True Story saw Jonah Hill and James Franco get serious, but it was a dud. Truth told the story of Dan Rather and Mary Mapes’ fall from the top-of-the-TV-news tower, but its commitment to truth was questionable. The End of the Tour was a compelling portrait of the late author David Foster Wallace through the eyes of a scribe assigned to profile him. But the best of the bunch was Spotlight, the story of how the Boston Catholic pedophile priest scandal was uncovered, starring Michael Keaton and Mark Ruffalo. There’s a good chance you’ll be seeing Spotlight all over the Oscars this year.

Had To Be There: The Walk

Robert Zemeckis’ film starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Philippe Petit, the Frenchman who tightrope-walked between the twin towers of the World Trade Center, was a hot mess. But the extended sequence of the feat itself was among the best uses of 3-D I’ve ever seen. The film flopped, and its real power simply won’t translate to home video, no matter how big your screen is, but on the big screen at the Paradiso, it was a stunning experience.

MVP: Samuel L. Jackson

First, he came back from the grave as Nick Fury to anchor Joss Whedon’s underrated Avengers: Age of Ultron. Then he channeled Rufus Thomas to provide a one-man Greek chorus for Spike Lee’s wild musical polemic Chi-Raq. He rounds out the year with a powerhouse performance in Quentin Tarantino’s widescreen western The Hateful Eight. Is it too late for him to run for president?

Best Documentary: Best of Enemies

Memphis writer/director Robert Gordon teamed up with Twenty Feet From Stardom director Morgan Neville to create this intellectual epic. With masterful editing of copious archival footage, they make a compelling case that the 1968 televised debate between William F. Buckley and Gore Vidal laid out the political battleground for the next 40 years and changed television news forever. In a year full of good documentaries, none were more well-executed or important than this historic tour de force.

Best Picture: Mad Max: Fury Road

From the time the first trailers hit, it was obvious that 2015 would belong to one film. I’m not talking about The Force Awakens. I’m talking about Mad Max: Fury Road. Rarely has a single film rocked the body while engaging the mind like George Miller’s supreme symphony of crashing cars and heavy metal guitars. Charlize Theron’s performance as Imperator Furiosa will go down in history next to Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven and Sigourney Weaver in Alien as one of the greatest action turns of all time. The scene where she meets Max, played by Tom Hardy, may be the single best fight scene in cinema history. Miller worked on this film for 17 years, and it shows in every lovingly detailed frame. Destined to be studied for decades, Fury Road rides immortal, shiny, and chrome.

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The Night Before

Sometimes, you just need a big, dumb comedy.

Every year or so, Seth Rogen gets the mutated remains of the Freaks and Geeks crew together to make a big, dumb movie. Sometimes, as in the case of 2013’s This Is the End, these larks are among the most free and most fun comedies of the 21st century. Sometimes, as in the case of last year’s The Interview, they cause an international incident and bring a major Hollywood studio to its knees.

The Night Before is unlikely to be as effective at turning another page in our unfolding William Gibson-cyperpunk-dystopia of a reality as The Interview, but it’s actually a much better movie. Where The Interview was a reworking of the mostly forgotten Chevy Chase/Dan Akroyd vehicle Spies Like Us, The Night Before is a mashup of After Hours and It’s a Wonderful Life. The angel, in this case, is a supernatural weed dealer named Mr. Green played by General Zod himself, Michael Shannon, who appears to be trying to imitate Steven Wright. It’s one of those great bit parts that can make or break a movie like this, and, unlike Neighbors, Rogen’s massively overrated summer comedy that is inexplicably getting a sequel, The Night Before makes them count.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, and Anthony Mackie in The Night Before

Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Ethan, whose parents died 14 years ago just as the Christmas season was getting underway. His two best friends, Isaac (Rogen) and Chris (Anthony Mackie), took him out to party on Christmas Eve to keep him from feeling lonely, and a tradition was born. But these days, the boys don’t get out much any more. Isaac is a successful lawyer with a baby on the way, and Chris plays in the NFL, so this is going to be the last year of the traditional debauch. Ethan’s life never took off, and he’s working as an event server dressed as an elf. When he’s demoted to coat check, he gets the opportunity he’s been waiting years for. He swipes invitations to the Nutcracker Ball, a massive, secret party that is the hottest holiday ticket in New York. Meanwhile, Isaac’s wife, Betsy (Jillian Bell) gives him an early Christmas gift: a box of assorted drugs so he can put the tradition to bed in high style.

Naturally, the three friends’ trip to the party weaves an intertwining tapestry of social disasters. Rogen gets the best scene with a psychedelic paranoid crisis in a bar bathroom, but Gordon-Levitt gets plenty of mileage using his prodigious acting gifts to mug for the camera. Mackie comes off as a little stiff next to comedy vets like Lizzy Caplan, who plays Ethan’s love interest, and Mindy Kaling, the subject of an epic cell phone mix-up, but he’s an agreeable screen presence.

The Night Before is a 21st-century studio product, full of product placement, Save the Cat screenwriting beats, and Miley Cyrus cameos. Strangely enough, that studio is Sony, whose post-hacking survival I publicly doubted. Sony survived, even though many, including the studio’s chief executive, lost their jobs. But somehow, Rogen and James Franco, who has a cameo in The Night Before, are still making pleasantly stupid studio comedies. I hope somewhere, an angel got his wings for that one.

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Film Review: The Walk

2015 is a big year for Robert Zemeckis. It’s the 30th anniversary of his all-time classic Back to the Future. On October 21st, the film’s fans will gather for a marathon viewing of the entire trilogy on the very day Marty McFly and Doc Brown traveled to in Back to the Future Part II.

Yes, we’re as far in time from 1985 as Marty and Doc were from the Enchantment Under the Sea dance. The Zemeckis of 1985 couldn’t have known he was making an enduring masterpiece, but he would no doubt have been pleased to know that when 2015 rolled around, he would have a new movie he wrote, directed, and produced in theaters, and it would be a good one.

The story behind The Walk has been told onscreen before, in James Marsh’s 2008 documentary Man on Wire. In 1974, Philippe Petit, a French mime, street performer, and high-wire obsessive, read an article about the 110-story twin towers of the World Trade Center that were about to be completed in Manhattan. The Parisian became obsessed with the idea of performing a tightrope walk between the towers, which would not only be the highest tightrope walk in history, but, as they were the tallest buildings in the world, the highest tightrope walk possible. Neither the fact that the towers were on another continent, nor that the whole enterprise was both absurdly illegal and almost certainly suicidal, could deter Petit from his dream. Such was his confidence that he was the only person who wasn’t surprised when he pulled it off.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Philippe Petit

In Zemeckis’ version of the story, Joseph Gordon-Levitt has the unenviable task of playing Petit. I say “unenviable” because playing the larger-than-life Frenchman means being saddled with an out-a-rage-ous accent for The Walk‘s two-hour running time. Even worse, Zemeckis, like the documentary director Marsh, chose to allow Petit to narrate. In Marsh’s case, that means letting the interviewee tell his own story from the safety of the ground. But the fictionalized Petit narrates from a precarious perch atop the torch of the Statue of Liberty.

If this sounds eye-rollingly cheesy to you, you’re right. It is cheesy. And yet, Zemeckis somehow makes it work. If Petit was a fictional character, he would have to be toned down to be believable. But he’s real, and Gordon-Levitt plays him fairly straight. Post-Forrest Gump Zemeckis has often tumbled over into the too-precious abyss, but Petit’s natural outlandishness has the perverse effect of grounding the director.

The visuals, on the other hand, are far from grounded. Zemeckis has made a career of being perched on the cutting edge of film technology, from digitally compositing Forrest Gump into real historical footage to the early CGI animation of The Polar Express. In The Walk, he makes one of the few convincing arguments for 3-D I’ve seen. It’s usually just a ticket-price-inflating gimmick—does anyone really think the sweeping vistas of Lawrence of Arabia would be better in 3-D? But the story of the crazy guy who walked a tightrope 1,377 feet above Manhattan is absolutely the right subject matter for stereoscopic photography. Zemeckis has great fun manipulating the viewer’s depth perception, especially once Petit steps out onto the highest of wires. Combined with the flawless, photorealistic CGI, he makes The Walk a completely immersive experience. Since he’s the narrator, you know Petit is going to make it across unharmed, but it’s still a sphincter-clinching journey. If you’re prone to vertigo, you should sit this one out. But for the rest of us, The Walk is a movie best experienced from the edge of a theater seat.

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Sin City: A Dame To Kill For

The modern era of digital cinema that began 21 years ago with Steven Spielberg’s photorealistic dinosaurs in Jurassic Park came of age in 1999 with Star Wars:The Phantom Menace. At the time, George Lucas said he believed digital cinema would allow filmmakers to work in a more “painterly” fashion. No longer constrained by what they could make happen in front of a camera in a real space, directors could let their images run wild. Many subsequent big budget science fiction and fantasy films, such as Alphonso Cuarón’s Gravity, have had more in common with animation than with traditional narrative cinema. But animators have from the beginning been willing to push their form to its limits, while films that starred humans have almost always focused on looking believable, especially if the stories they told were fantastic.

Among the very few who are willing to test the visual extremes that digital cinema could achieve is Robert Rodriguez. The man who once sold his body to medical experiments to finance El Mariachi now commands a legion of digital artists, and he has no compunctions about deploying them aggressively. In Sin City, his 2005 collaboration with comics old master Frank Miller, he made one of the few comic book movies that actually looked like a comic book. He put Miller’s visually striking, hard-boiled world in motion, and catapulted Jessica Alba to the A-list in the process. Sin City had no interest in photorealism, and its striking black-and-white compositions are like nothing else before or since. The sequel, Sin City: A Dame To Kill For, often equals the original’s visual bravado, but ultimately falls short of its potential.

Reprising their roles from the original are Alba as Nancy, the stripper with a heart of gold; Mickey Rourke as Marv, the musclebound psycho with a heart of gold; Rosario Dawson as Gail, the warrior prostitute with a heart of gold, and Powers Boothe as Senator Roark, Sin City’s crime patriarch with a heart of lead. Newcomers this time include Eva Green as Ava, the titular dame to kill for; Jeremy Piven as a wisecracking detective; and Joseph Gordon Levitt as Johnny the supernaturally lucky gambler. A series of cameos include Bruce Willis as the ghost of Hartigan, the last good cop in Sin City who was killed off in the last installment; and Christopher Lloyd as an underworld doctor.

Like the original, Sin City: A Dame To Kill For is episodic. But the 2005 installment’s brutal short stories added up to a satisfying whole, while the sequel is an incoherent mess. Comics are the ultimate auteur’s medium, and having total control over every aspect of a world seems to drive creators insane in a special way. They retreat into the fantasy worlds they create and lose sight of what it means to be an ordinary human. That’s why the deep empathy of comics artists such as Scott Pilgrim’s Brian Lee O’Malley are so treasured. Even in today’s comics-obsessed cinema, Edgar Wright’s 2010 O’Malley adaptation, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, is one of the few films outside of the Sin City franchise to go outside the realm of the real, pointing a way forward for comic book moves.

But A Dame To Kill For‘s Miller-penned script points only backwards. The exaggerated noir tropes that were fun in 2005 are just grindingly grim now. All of the men are hard-drinking, scrappy fighters motivated by revenge. All of the women are burlesque dancers, whores, or femme fatales, which is to say, in Miller’s mind, all the same. Everyone swigs vodka straight from the bottle and rockets around in awesome vintage carts before getting thrown from windows by invincible foes until it becomes hard to care about who’s doing what to whom. Miller’s comic works, which include Batman: The Dark Night Returns and The 300, have been hugely influential on both comics and film, but A Dame To Kill For cements Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises as the last good grimdark comic movie, and no amount of hoochie dancing or beheadings can save it from a descent into tedium.