Let’s be clear: The Dark Knight is in many ways a very good movie, but it’s no masterpiece, and it’s certainly not worth seeing five times in a weekend, or maybe even five times ever. It’s not Godfather II, or Aliens, or even Terminator 2. It isn’t a flawless movie — not by a long shot — and pretty much all of the complaints about its plot holes are reasonable and accurate. It’s only Shakespearean in the sense that the entirety of the last few centuries of popular drama have been influenced by the Bard. What it is, though, is a compelling, comparatively thoughtful summer movie with tremendous scope, real moral complexity, beautifully moody cinematography, a handful of breathtaking action scenes, and one genuinely brilliant and powerful performance from Heath Ledger. Do the film’s most slobbering boosters deserve ridicule? Probably. Does the film (or those who enjoyed it) deserve epic griping sessions from those who didn’t care for it and are peeved that it made enough money to buy functional Bat-suits for everyone on the production? I think not. It’s understandable that the film’s combination of critical and financial success might create the impression of overkill. But just as the exuberance of the film’s loudest supporters needs to be tempered, so does the grousing of the embittered minority who disliked it. It’s not solid gold encrusted with perfectly cut diamonds, but it ain’t peanut-ridden crap either.