Oh, thank God, someone said it better than I could. I know, I’ve been trying to articulate the emotions ever since the bloody movie came out.
Excerpty from Poisonivory’s totally awesome post which you should click over and read all of right this very minute:
The sole reason that I have seen for spotlighting Jim’s relationship with his son that I actually believe is the same one I came up with the moment I saw the son’s expressionless little face after his father “died”: the filmmakers did not believe that a relationship between a father and a daughter would be as compelling as that between a father and a son. I don’t know if that’s because Nolan has the same hard-on for father/son issues that Spielberg does or what, but that is the only reasoning that makes sense and appears valid to me. And hey, I can stand here screaming at the top of my lungs that that is bullshit as long as I want, but you don’t have to believe me. All you have to do is look at the strong, moving, compelling relationship between Barbara and Jim since 1966. It has been demonstrated over and over again that their relationship makes for good storytelling in a field dominated by male creators and consumers, so I am baffled by Nolan’s apparent disbelief in its narrative power.
As the daughter of a father, I just need add my scream ever-loving BULLSHIT at the top of my lungs to this one.
Yes, I’m 28 freakin’ years old.
Yes, in my hour of pain and need even at this age, if I could, if I had my choice, I would straight-up run to my dad and crawl in his lap.
Yes, I understand I am very, very lucky that both my parents are awesome and that not everyone has awesome parents and a lot of women have serious issues with their fathers who were abusive and/or violent and/or jackasses.
But I am very, very lucky. So I can recognize a good narrative in the father/daughter dynamic in the comic and animated portrayals of Barbara/Batgirl/Oracle and Jim Gordon.
Crap. Now I’ve gone and made myself maudlin and homesick. I need more coffee and to call my dad.