Joker (2019)

 

Director: Todd Phillips

Stars: Joaquin Phoenix, Robert De Niro, Frances Conroy

Short Review, no spoilers

In commandeering an origins story of the DC comics supervillain to critique both the treatment of the mentally ill and the ever-widening gap between rich and poor in western society, Joker sticks out like a defiantly awkward thumb amongst the currently over-saturated but seemingly ever popular superhero movie market. However, enjoying its own unprecedented success, Joker is a powerful, important film, controversial to some, vital to others. Joaquin Phoenix delivers a sensational performance as Arthur Fleck, a socially awkward, isolated man with a condition which causes him to erupt in to uncontrollable bouts of laughter. As dumb and crass as the Hangover movies are, director Todd Phillips utilises the somehow simultaneously slick but dirgy cinematography from the latter, and puts his ability to be knowingly provocative to better use. Robert De Niro is also excellent, playing a passive-aggressive TV anchor with too much fake tan and Botox in a casting that, while more obviously references the influences of Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and King of Comedy on the film, also brings to mind De Niro’s role in Casino when the once big time Vegas man turns cheesy TV show host.

Full Review (spoilers)

Like Kick-Ass, Joker removes the superhuman qualities from superhero movies, instead approaching the genre on a very grounded, ‘this could happen’ level. The choice to focus on a supervillain rather than hero is interesting here, presenting a criminal that is societally created rather than inherently evil, a villain that is arguably more human and relatable for his flaws and more dramatically dynamic for his bad behaviour. In Tim Burton’s brilliant adaptation, the arch rivals of Batman and the Joker were in fact comparatively weird. Here Bruce Wayne is still but a boy, leaving all of the complexity to his nemesis. The titular character is a poor man (economically and in terms of mental health) in contrast to Bruce Wayne’s familial background of wealth and power, and their destined rivalry, normally attributed to revenge for the murder of Wayne’s parents, is literally incidental to the wider socio-economic issues that produce them and polarise them as individuals. As such, Joker is brilliantly prescient – despite Arthur Fleck’s declaration that he ‘doesn’t believe in anything,’ and is not political, the film rams home that the personal is political when we see that Arthur’s deterioration is inexorably linked to societal indifference and mistreatment of the mentally ill.

Joker may have proved less popular with some comic book fans and Batman purists because it is in fact an indie movie in style and a powerfully, unapologetically downbeat and raw examination of living with mental illness in contemporary society, including damning condemnation of cuts to services, and the ongoing stigmatisation and isolation experienced by mentally ill individuals. It has been divisive on this issue too, pushing the well-used panic button of apparently appearing to justify and incite violence. What is undoubtedly provocative is that Arthur is seen to become physically more graceful and self-assured following the retaliatory killing of the Wall street-type bullies on the subway, along with his increasing embrace of his condition and the role of the Joker identity. Before, his uncontrollable fits of humourless laughter are met with awkwardness and disdain, addressed by Arthur himself in one of many quotable lines: ‘The worst part about having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.’ The scene in which Arthur dances in slow motion to a Gary Glitter song is enjoyably subversive, alluding to the current censorship of art in which separation between art and artist is increasingly troubled territory. It is also part of a deliberate but not mindlessly risqué approach that is behind the treatment of a subject so at odds with the current model of sanitising and ‘celebritising’ mental illness. Avoiding disability stereotypes of pitiful victim or remarkable genius, and instead taking the embittered villain and inviting us to empathise with him has proved a prospect uncomfortable for some. Nevertheless, we are expected to understand that the use of the Glitter song and the portrayal of a man driven to violence does not in and of itself condone criminality. As such, the responses by some reflect the kind of moralising at the expense of missing the point that is prevalent in today’s world and precisely what the film is driving at.

There is also great poignancy. In the context of an otherwise miserable life, Arthur’s escapes in to fantasy are sad and understandable. His foray in to stand-up comedy is a perfect example of how mental illness can directly stop you from doing what you want to do most, and the fact that it is his imagined girlfriend watching and applauding that spurs him on is tragic. The link between comedy and tragedy as it pertains to mental illness is deftly explored, Arthur himself perceiving his own life switching from one of tragedy to one of comedy, something that resonates with those that understand the sometimes simultaneously devastating and ridiculous ways in which one’s mind can direct one’s actions. Even as Arthur comes across as cool and nonchalant in front of the cops that are closing in on him, he turns and walks in to a door, a moment that captures perfectly the irony of a relentlessly demeaned individual striving to obtain some scrap of dignity.

We also see Arthur as mocked reality star when his filmed stand-up routine is held up by his TV idol as Murray Franklin’s proof of yet another talentless wannabe. What was once the realm of surrealism, as seen in Requiem for a Dream when Ellen Burstyn’s lonely old lady becomes obsessed with an increasingly deluded connection with her favourite TV show, is now something that actually happens in the public humiliation of ordinary, sometimes even disabled people on social media and television. Is the sufferer crazy or society or both?

The film is also streaked with an anti-austerity critique. When asked by reporters to comment on the murders committed by Arthur, mayoral candidate and billionaire Thomas Wayne makes a misguided comment about ‘clowns’ being envious of the rich, betraying acknowledgement of a deeply divided society and the underlying anxiety of those whose interests it is in to keep it that way. Riots that follow are inspired by the statement, and Arthur unwittingly becomes a symbol of social unrest.

With all the superficial, patronising, celebrity-endorsed lip service that does more harm than good and ignores the experiences of most people with mental illness, particularly those who are poor or suffer with ‘unfashionable’ conditions, Joker is a refreshingly hard-hitting, sensitively wrought and boldly critical depiction of living with mental illness in contemporary society. During the course of the film, Arthur discovers that his mother was a patient at Arkham Asylum, and her story has the familiar ring of Frances Farmer-type incarcerations, in which the confinements of young, ‘problematic’ women in the past could have easily been politically motivated as much as for the purposes of ‘treatment’. Fast forward to the present day and, although individuals like Arthur may not be institutionalised, they are victims of the new method of ‘care in the community,’ which in fact means that they are left to slip through the cracks in to isolated and unsupported existences.

In several reviews, Arthur is described as a narcissist, regarding a complex character with the same dismissal displayed by the character’s therapist in the movie. For many, it’s easier to push such problematic individuals to one side than to tackle the potential issues they face both within and around themselves. We hear the same mindless mantra to ‘talk’ about mental illness over and over again, as if this will automatically remove the stigma and magically make us all well again. Worse still, this command to talk is delivered by members of the royal family, and is accompanied by images of highly-paid footballers, pop stars, models or whoever else is happy to jump aboard the bandwagon and raise their profile. It seems nobody really wants to hear what people like Arthur have to say, both in and outside the film. This is why I believe Joker is in fact a significant entry in to the discussion surrounding mental illness and how it relates to wider social factors.