The Dark Knight

"Heath Ledger peers into the abyss," trumpets the headline in the normally restrained Village Voice. By now, even chiroptophobics will have been exposed to some of the hoopla and hyperbole surrounding the latest Batman flick. The bandwagon marked Posthumous Oscar For Heath Ledger, meanwhile, continues to gain momentum, much to the chagrin of ethically minded observers and, indeed, some of Mr. Ledger's oldest chums. Director Terry Gilliam, who worked with the late star on several projects, has expressed his clear distaste for a rather lowdown and dirty promotional campaign which, from the outset, has traded on the young actor's death.

Loathe as we are to play along there is little doubt that Ledger's jumpy, sneering Joker makes this film. It would surely have cemented his place in pop culture if his untimely death hadn't done so first. We must take issue, however, with the notion of him "peering into the abyss." Though many corners of the internet are currently buzzing with conspiracies and half truths – he was so far in character, it killed him, etc – Mr. Ledger's wonderful performance is every bit as rooted in showmanship as Jack Nicholson's Joker was. True, there's an air of unpredictability and psychopathy that was entirely absent from the 1989 model. But only the most myopic student of intrigue could fail to spot that Mr. Ledger is having a ball.

Other over-excited reviewers have been keen to stress that Christopher Nolan has finally lifted the superhero from the realm of disposable entertainment and into high art and dark psychology. Again, they're missing the point. It's true that The Dark Knight is plenty violent. Grenades are placed in mouths, bombs are sewn into stomachs and Aaron Eckhart ends up in a right state. (Clever editing ensures the action cuts away before anyone's intestines are splattered.)

But since the late '80s Batman has been defined by pop existentialism. There's no real despair here, just a brooding, handsome facsimile.

Of course, none of these things are intended as criticism. There is no doubt that Christopher Nolan has delivered the best superhero film of this or any other season. The director's original blueprint for Batman Begins has been tweaked to perfection. Katie Holmes, the weakest link in that film for example, has been traded in for the infinitely livelier Maggie Gyllenhall. A big fat score by Hans Zimmer and Thomas Newton Howard goes all the way up to eleven.

Most notably, the fantasy of Tim Burton's films has been completely eradicated by sleek modern interiors and a sleeker realism. Gotham has never looked less Gothamite. Batman (Bale, excellent as ever) and the Joker seem to be battling for our very souls but, really, they're simply setting things up for supercharged action. The spirit of Tron pulses through the car chase scenes. There's at least one swoop from a tall building that will leave you with your heart in your mouth.

Moral crisis? What moral crisis? This is vroom, vroom, bang, bang and all the better for it.