I lied, this review is filled to the asshole with spoilers.
Recently, I had the privilege of seeing the most anticipated movie of the year, http://tribune.com.pk/story/410972/short-film-haal-shows-the-militarys-might/ and afterwards I went to watch The Dark Knight Rises.
We find out in the beginning of the movie that Bruce Bale has bad knees. Really bad. Like, grandpa can’t walk to the toilet to pee on his own bad. So bad, the doctor takes one look at his x-ray and runs away from the room, forever. This doesn’t stop him from jumping out of the window to land on a floor below however, and he can do that, because he’s the fucking Batman.
There lies Commissioner Oldman, who is so seriously injured that he can hardly deliver his dialog. Which inspires Bruce Bale to whisper inaudibly too, so that nobody watching the movie can catch on to the plot. They don’t let Alfred in on the scheme however and he painfully explains, in his annoying cockney accent, what’s been going on and whose ass Batman has to kick to make the end credits roll. Meanwhile the token black guy has been building him a space ship as a retirement gift. Why? Because he’s the fucking Batman. What are you going to give him, a gold watch?
We also find out that Bruce Bale has pretty much given up on life after losing the woman that he loved, so he has sex with a philanthropist. Only this one doesn’t looks like Mother Teresa, she looks like Marion Cotillard, who then convinces him to hand over the thermonuclear device he’s stored under Gotham, so that people can have free energy, even though it’s much likelier that people will have free radiation burns. How does she convince everyone? Because she’s fucking Batman.
Then this huge burly fuck with an air freshener on his mouth goes world wrestling federation on Bruce Bale and breaks his back, which is shortly healed by a quick punch to the spine. This miracle Ayurvedic blow somewhere in an Indian prison pit also fixes the growling problem he was having with his larynx in the last two movies, his wobbly knees, and his recurring self-esteem issues. You know how? Well if you find out fucking let me know.
Then Bruce Bale tries to climb out of the pit, but since it’s rather steep, he ties himself with a rope tethered to a pulley near the exit, because even India hasn’t come up with a cure for splattered brains. But wait, why doesn’t he just lasso himself to the top instead of jumping from ledge to ledge like a retarded monkey? Well…because he’s the fucking Batman?
He then literally walks back to Gotham and asks the woman who betrayed him not thirty movie minutes ago, to bring him to the token black guy who has the keys to his garage. In exchange he offers her something that she says doesn’t exist, possibly alluding to the plot of this film. Why does she agree? Because he’s the fucking Batman.
Bane Hardy has turned Gotham into a madhouse, by freeing all the prisoners and delivering Commissioner Oldman’s speech, in which he admits to carrying unnecessary things in his coat pocket, like jockstraps, and self-incriminating evidence that exonerates Gotham’s criminals.
Then we see the old police commissioner and his cronies sentenced to death by exile. They’re forced to walk on treacherous ice that cracks and swallows people up. But suddenly Bruce Bale wearing a hundred pounds of equipment ambles over the aforementioned ice without a care in the world. Did the cops feel a bit stupid after that? Did the ice? Fuck no. Because he’s the fucking Batman.
That dweeb from 3rd Rock also tries to play hero by walking up to some army guys camped out on a Gotham bridge with clear orders to blow it up should anyone attempt to cross it. And the officers duly oblige, cutting out the only exit to the city. Does the dweeb succeed in attempting something utterly stupid and moronic? Of course not, he’s not the fucking Batman.
Meanwhile, Bruce Bale has been stabbed and is just about to be strangled to death when Bane dies from the shame of being in such a crap film. Why doesn’t somebody punch him back to life, you ask? Because that dude with the magic knuckles is sleeping in his own shit hundreds of miles away.
Bruce rushes off with his new girlfriend to catch what we can now assume is his ex, after the whole stabbing thing, bloody philanthropists. They go outside and see her jumping into the vehicle containing the bomb. Hathewoman takes the bike and Batman takes what looks like a flying lawn mower and they do the sensible thing by attacking the truck carrying the thermonuclear device with missiles.
After the truck falls down a conveniently placed gap in the middle of the road, we find out that Marion al Ghul has a few more lines in the script. She says them all slowly and carefully, impressing upon Batman the importance of enunciation, and then expertly transitions to death by shutting her eyes and letting her head drop slightly to one side. Why doesn’t she just expire half way into her monologue? Because she’s talking to the fucking Batman.
Finally, Bruce decides that there is only one way to save the city, and that is fly off with the bomb, out on the sea, where only fish and possibly Michael Phelps will die. We’re shown his face, set with heroism, and mild constipation, two seconds before this heroic deed; the bomb explodes when Gotham is safely out of its six mile radius. Did I say six mile radius? It’s important to remember the six mile radius.
Because after a quick funeral that’s been arranged for Bruce Bale, coincidentally on the same day the entire city watches Batman being blown to chunks, ending that bit of mystery for the denizens of Gotham, we find out that he’s alive, and well, and living it up in Florence.
How did he manage to escape a nuclear blast and, more importantly, the internal revenue service after all the crap he’s been pulling with his company’s money? You guessed it, because this movie fucking sucks.