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The new Batman movie series, helmed by Christopher Nolan, deviates most strongly from previous incarnations of the Caped Crusader in how seriously it takes its subject matter. Every adaptation from the Adam West TV show to the popular animated TV show of the 90’s to Tim Burton and Joel Schumacher’s feature-length films have had some element of camp attached, as if the material could only be taken with a wink.

But the new direction of adaptations in Hollywood ditches this irony in favor of something altogether more serious and studied (see also: the rebooted James Bond franchise.)

The change is welcome. It’s as if we now have permission to use the tools of popular culture to delve into deeper issues, something The Dark Knight does with a deftness and surety rarely seen in even the most vaunted Oscar-baiting films of the fall and winter.

The Dark Knight takes place a year after Batman Begins, with organized crime on the ropes thanks to the joint effort of the new District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) and Jim Gordon’s (Gary Oldman) Major Crimes Unit, which still relies on the vigilante techniques of Batman (Christian Bale).

Dent and Gordon epitomize two means to the same end, and despite harboring disagreements over methodology they’re well on their way to bringing an end to institutionalized corruption in Gotham City, a fictional New York described by longtime Batman writer and editor Denny O’Neil as “Manhattan below Fourteenth Street at eleven minutes past midnight on the coldest night in November.”

Enter the Joker, a frightening black hole of madness played by the late Heath Ledger. At first, the Joker pretends he’s working for the mob to rid them of the Batman problem forever, but soon his real agenda becomes clear. The Joker is an anarchist and a murderer with a firm belief that what we call “civilization” is a convenient lie quickly tossed aside as soon as personal safety is threatened. He is often labeled a “terrorist” in the movie, though the people of Gotham may not realize how right they are.

The Joker, like Dent and Batman, represent a shift in the psychological landscape of the city’s underworld. A mobster may be ruthless and brutal, but he’s in it for the money and has his limits. To some degree, organized crime depends on status quo: No one’s buying if everyone’s too scared to step outside.

But the movie’s three leads are motivated not by money but by ideas. And ideologues, as we have all come to know, are more dangerous, more unpredictable, and more unstoppable than their pragmatic counterparts. They are titanic egos whose every gesture dramatically alters the psyche of Gotham.

What makes The Dark Knight’s exploration of these heady themes so successful is the mature way Mr. Nolan (and co-writer Jonathan Nolan, his brother) handle the material. While Iron Man may be the Platonic ideal of the superhero action movie, The Dark Knight uses its violence and action—often quite intense, perhaps because it seems more plausible—as natural extensions of the behavior and actions of its characters.

The Dark Knight ignores the familiar beats of an action or superhero movie and proceeds organically, so much so that the audience feels involved in a long, tense episode in the life of a major (if fictional) city. The performances do not feel like performances; these people simply are.

The movie is grim, as Batman Begins was. But unlike the previous movie, The Dark Knight has a persistent message of hope, often surrounded but never quite smothered by the oppressive weight of the Joker’s nihilism.

Like the best crime fiction, The Dark Knight asks us what we’re really made of when the chips are down. Its answers may surprise you.

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