. . .is that it's pretty much literally true, and not a very telling dig against Norman--Evert won five Grand Slam singles titles on grass courts* (three at Wimbledon, two at the Australian Open), including a win against Navratilova in the Australian Open in 1982 when Martina had entered her prime years and Chris was not once she once was. She was legendary on clay, but most golfers would be proud to have five majors of any variety under their belts.

*--not to mention the ten times she was runner-up in Grand Slam singles finals played on grass.

The movie is a giant, lurching mess, and it's pretty obvious the Nolans let the project fall into the clutches of studio nitwits. When credits rolled at the end, they were led off by an absurdly long list of 10-12 producers & executive producers, and it's pretty obvious this was a movie made by executive clusterfork.

The intent seemed to be giving equal screen time to a giant cast of name actors and very expensive but pointless SFx, things like story and plausibility be damned. The result feels like two unfinished movies, or one unfinished movie smashed together with an unfinished short film about Two-Face. There are tons of poorly motivated scenes that should have been cut, so that other poorly motivated scenes could be given enough screen time to actually make sense.

What made Batman Begins so good was the combination of comic-book fantasy with lean, nervy psychological realism as Bruce Wayne's coming-of-age story is retold through the lens of a meditation on the meaning of fear. Every scene in the film does something to advance Wayne's lifelong attempt to come to grips with terror...including most of the fight and action sequences. Effing brilliant.

Dark Knight has hints of that approach, with a difference. Bruce Wayne is no longer a focal character at all. Instead, The Joker's psychodrama takes center stage, while off as a sideshow you have the madness of Two-Face. The entire story's wrapped around the idea of making choices, facing dilemmas. The Joker loves confronting people with the deep-seated contradictions in their own beliefs, and forcing them to choose the lesser of two evils -- Two-Face of course comes to believe somewhat contradictorily that chance is the only moral choice we get. His story gets short shrift, so the theme is never really developed. There's also some half-ass allegory about terrorism, mass hysteria, and security state politics which culminates in one of the most morally bankrupt "the people can't handle the truth" movie finales I can remember.

Still, interesting, compelling stuff. But unfortunately, the film is so larded with Macguffins and hard-to-believe storylines that lead nowhere (Every gang in Gotham turns over all their cash to some Hong Kong accountant? Really? How are they keeping themselves in wingtips in the meantime? Answer: doesn't matter, it's all just an excuse for Batman to head to Hong Kong for a largely pointless light show. And the mystery of how the Joker manages to find a neverending string of lackeys in clown masks despite the fact he a) has no money to pay them and b) kills them off to a man after each operation anyhow, would've been worth delving into.) that the central storylines get no more than 40 minutes of screen time. You don't even realize the movie has a "moral dilemma" theme until well over halfway through, and all of that early screen time is basically lost in a morass of "why the hell did that happen? Just because, now shut up & pass the popcorn."

Heath Ledger is marvelous, a superb actor playing a demented role and making it look like a hell of a lot of fun. To recreate a character so completely that people forget it was played by Jack Nicholson just 10 years ago is damned impressive. I hope his wife and daughter make a screaming fortune off the film. Otherwise, there's not much to see here, just a film that's about 90 minutes too long and utterly forgettable.

Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes. -JH