Joker

I guess I can't say I'm right all the time anymore. Back in April, I wrote that few would like Joker, the newest DC film that takes a radical step away in tone and style from other DC films. In the strictest sense, I was wrong: During its roller-coaster ride that has seen it win the top prize at the Venice Film Festival but also be the subject of multiple controversies, Joker has maintained a nearly seventy-percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, with an audience score of ninety percent. Clearly, many like the film, with some hailing it a masterpiece. That being said, the fundamental problems I predicted would be present are indeed there, namely that it provides too much of a good thing (in this case, an iconic figure in American pop culture) while at the same time sympathizing with a mass murderer in an era where that could have dangerous repercussions. As if that wasn't enough, this Joker is suffering from mental health issues, likely further convincing some people that violence of this sort is usually caused by people with mental health problems.

With all that stacked against it, Joker does (as predicted) feature a stellar performance from its lead. Joaquin Phoenix is the Joker here, filling large shoes of those before him, among them Caesar Romero, Jack Nicholson, Mark Hamill, and Heath Ledger. Is his the best or one of the best? More on that later. At any rate, most of the time we do not see him as Batman's arch nemesis. Instead, we see him in the form of Arthur Fleck, a struggling clown-for-hire who is off in many ways, chief among them his poxy attempts at stand-up comedy (which is one of the few things the film adapts from previous comic book material). He lives with his ailing mother, played by Frances Conroy, whom he devotedly cares for. This is 1981, the era before a dozen late-night hosts, and so they almost religiously watch the late-night comedy of Murray Franklin, played by Robert De Niro. Arthur literally dreams of being on Murray's show.

A plot such as this does not lend itself to much alien fighting or saving the world in implausible fashion. A lot of the word of mouth about Joker has been that it's not really a comic book movie. Batman is not in this film (though there are several too-cute-to-spoil Batman Easter Eggs sprinkled throughout), and instead of being an action-packed CGI fest like Man of Steel or Suicide Squad, Joker channels notable influences from gritty Martin Scorsese-directed films from the 1970s and 1980s; Gotham feels like the New York City of Taxi Driver, and it's only when we get a few verbal reminders that it's Gotham that we remember we're viewing a comic book film. Other elements from the Batman universe here include Arkham Hospital and the character of Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, played here in one of the film's best performances by Thomas Cullen. He's still a billionaire in this film, but also an insufferable plutocrat, smugly describing those struggling to get by in Gotham as clowns. Joker is surprisingly interested in classism and literal class warfare, and depending on your perspective, you will likely come away with different conclusions.

This is all fine, but it comes at a cost. A little bit of the Joker goes a long way (see all the other portrayals of him, particularly Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight). But having him in literally every scene is borderline taxing. Defenders of Joker might note that for most of the film, he's not the Joker, but Arthur Fleck. But it doesn't matter, for Fleck isn't all that interesting. Call my taste stale if you must, but I was so much more invested in watching Phoenix as the Joker than I was watching him as Arthur. It's hard to compare Phoenix to the other Jokers because to me he basically wasn't the Joker. When he is, it seems like it's over in a flash. One can tell the amount of thought and tribulations that went into his performance of Arthur; as the Joker, some of his choices are more perplexing. There was so much more potential there, and yet it seems like they ran out of time. But it's still the most interesting part of the movie; I think they were the only scenes when I wasn't looking at my watch.

The movie itself really wants to shout that it has little to do with comic books, but its best parts embrace it. Director Todd Phillips put it this way: "We're gonna take $55 million from Warner Bros. and do whatever the hell we want." Who could blame him for taking that attitude? This movie craves Oscar attention, and truth be told, Phoenix and cinematographer Lawrence Sher likely will (and should) be nominated during the awards season. But comic book movies rarely are rewarded with trophies, especially when articles gush about Leonardo DiCaprio being a global movie star without appearing in a superhero movie and iconic directors decry comic book movies as "not cinema". Joker wants to be "cinema", not "not cinema". You therefore have to put up with a lot of exigent Arthur stuff just to get to the Joker (even though the Joker is the reason why most audience members are actually going to see the movie), and then, like me, you might like those latter moments while still being befuddled by them.

Perhaps I was disappointed in Joker because I thought the film (especially the first half) engages in far too much bully porn. Arthur is attacked by a group of cruel kids who beat him mercilessly; not long after, practically the same thing happens to him by a trio of Wall Street jerks. The other for-hire clowns find him creepy. At one point, he's even hit by a car. Another reason why I believe this movie is not so great is that, as I predicted in April, the sympathy granted to such a maliciously evil character is unpalatable. There's a fine line between producing a portrait of a bullied, lonely man and producing a portrait that comes across as sympathizing with a mass murderer. The concern, written about ad nauseam by now, is that there are some young white men out there who feel like this story really speaks to them, and that is an alarming thing. We've all been reminded that the Aurora, Colorado shooter was dressed as the Joker and murdered audience members watching The Dark Knight Rises. (Joker has not been screened in Aurora.) And so, as is often the case with policy towards violence in the United States, we've all just been holding our breaths and keeping our fingers crossed.

Besides Taxi Driver, Joker is heavily inspired by The King of Comedy, the dark comedy directed by Scorsese from 1982 starring Robert De Niro as a terribly unfunny comedian-wannabe who kidnaps a late-night host played by Jerry Lewis. Having De Niro here as Murray Franklin, a Johnny Carson-esque late-night host similar to Lewis' character, adds extra weight. Arthur idolizes Murray, up until Arthur's stand-up makes him a comedic punching bag on Murray's show. It's rather surreal watching Arthur awkwardly on the Murray show, given that one of the most notable moments in Phoenix's career is the famous prank (if that's the right word) interview he did with David Letterman in 2010, which is still one of the most incredible interviews you can see.

One bright spot in this morbid film is Phoenix, who's fantastic. It's a showy performance, to be sure. He cries, he screams, he dances (and boy, can he dance). But the metamorphosis he went through for Joker is almost unparalleled. Even without the severe weight decrease and that unforgettable laugh, the minute details of his performance will stay with you, whether you know it or not, like the way his mouth shifts ever so slightly when he asks "what?", with just a hint of a slightly emphasized occlusive. Should he win an Oscar for his performance (an award long overdue), it would be only the second time two actors have won for playing the same character, with the other two being De Niro and Marlon Brando, who both played Vito Corleone in The Godfather films. I hope he wins, even if he's in an unremarkable movie that really wants you to believe is something more profound than it actually is.