"Joker"

"Are you aware that we live in a society?"

I seem to recall finding the news that DC and Warner Bros. were making a standalone Joker film unconnected to their wider "Extended Universe" (unofficial title, apparently) project utterly laughable – so now there were two Jokers; one the useless Jared Leto version, presumably now abandoned, and a more "realistic" version to be played by Joaquin Phoenix. But it was worth putting aside preconceptions, because not every superhero film has to be part of a cinematic project; indeed the success of this film at the box office has shown that Warner Bros. was wise to do so, extricating the concept from a mess for which Aquaman and Shazam! were only mildly able to continue Wonder Woman's ability to rise above.

"Hey clown! Why do you live in a society so much?"

In saying all this I have to admit that while I enjoyed Phoenix in Her, the only film I can recall ever seeing him in due to my extremely patchy and sporadic knowledge of cinema, I didn't have much interest in a Joker origin story. I've always been fond of that dismissal provided by the Clown himself in his own pseudo-origin, the Killing Joke comic book, that his past was "multiple choice", a concept exploited effectively, of course, by the characterisation of the Heath Ledger incarnation in The Dark Knight. And I've also always had my own conception of the character that's never been fulfilled, even in the die-hard "definitive" animated version voiced by Mark Hamill. I've always thought that the Joker should find everything funny, even when it's at his own expense. But that's a dream which shall continue to be only so.

"And this wiseacre claims that we live in a society!"

There's not much to say about Joker that hasn't been said already, to be honest. People seem to either think that it's brilliantly unique and refreshing for a very old and tired Batman character, or that it's just a derivative pastiche of Scorsese films of days gone by, something the filmmakers were quite openly inspired by. I must admit, having watched Taxi Driver not so long ago it was hard not to see Joker as pure simulation in that mold, and thus I tend more to fall into the second camp of opinion. It felt to me like a psychological thriller for people who probably don't watch many psychological thrillers and haven't experienced some better, older examples of the genre, but that's fine, really. If it could have the same impact on someone who probably wouldn't watch that kind of film as Taxi Driver had on me, there's no real harm. I have little knowledge of the alleged political controversies surrounding the film, and no interest in them; I daresay they are the usual manufactured internet media clicking-points.

"Remember, remember, we live in a society."

But with the media in mind I might as well at least discuss the film in a broader context and in regards to where I thought it succeeded. My favourite part of the film, much to the surprise of my theatregoing companion, was the moment in the film in which the Joker's alter ego, Arthur Fleck, is watching De Niro's character's talk show and fantasises about being invited onto the stage as an audience member to talk about his life and experiences, to fulfill his perceived destiny to make people happy. This part in particular struck me as a unique moment which seemed somewhat rare in this kind of film, something I've only ever seen in contemporary media represented in the indie computer game Actual Sunlight, which features a recurring element of the player character, a severely depressed office drone, fantasising about being interviewed so that he will have an audience for his, as he sees it, uniquely interesting opinions and worldview.

 

(Update: Oh wait, this aspect was ripped off from another Scorcese film, The King of Comedy. Which I've now seen and was also a million times better than Joker. So no points scored there.)

 

"Bruce Wayne, you don't even know
the society you live in."

I think imagining oneself being interviewed and having a captive, sympathetic audience to which one may disseminate one's (supposedly) unique personality is a common daydream, and I was struck by the effectiveness of this moment early in the film. It characterises the Joker as a man who fundamentally craves attention, who sees himself as "special" and who only needs the everyday people to recognise his quirky uniqueness to feel complete. Indeed, I was so struck by the perceptiveness of this moment that I was disappointed that I felt like nothing in the film after that quite lived up to it for me, and I dearly wished that when Joker finally appeared on the talk show for real that he had been able to adopt the confidence and sympathy of his fantasy only to reveal that, as a result of his own mental health issues, society's negligence and a willingness to succumb to his negative impulses, a desire to inflict violence and cause chaos had emerged through his achievement of his dream, fantasy or delusion.

"We all live in a society."

But it was not to be. I know I'm too immersed in the Batman lore from years of watching films and cartoon shows, playing Batman video games and reading comic books, but I never quite saw the Joker in Arthur Fleck; his ranting fury on the talk show didn't say "Joker" to me, his insistence on not being political soured by his focus on how society ignored him. This was not the elemental agent of chaos depicted in The Dark Knight or in the many incarnations voiced by Hamill. However, I'm obliged to recognise that my own heavy preconceptions coloured my impression.

"Travis Bickle lived in a society too,
and look what happened to him."

What I do think is interesting in regards to all of this, however, putting aside how "Jokery" I thought Phoenix's "Joker" was, is how this film sits as part of a recent trend of films dealing with the relationship between mental health issues and contemporary media. Both 2014's Welcome to Me and 2017's Ingrid Goes West (which incidentally features a secondary character who is obsessed with Batman) explored how modern culture's media- and social media-driven fixation with the pursuit of fulfilment through public attention can react explosively with poorly-treated mental health issues, and as a further exploration of that theme Joker is at least functional as another remark in the conversation. Whether it, or indeed any of these films, gives a reasonable answer, is another matter; then again, perhaps there is no wholly reasonable answer. I'm certainly inclined to listen to arguments which hold both views: that the film advocates a more social approach to mental health care, and that it unfairly implies that people with mental health issues are violent criminals just waiting to emerge. Phoenix's performance, if not the direction or story in particular, at least invite discussion of the film as part of that recent thematic trend in filmmaking.

"Can you introduce me as...
someone who lives in a society?"

Joker is an adequate film with some interesting moments and, as many have said, a strong core performance. I merely thought that it hit its peak, for me at least, much too early. My chief recommendation, as I made to some friends today, is that if you've never seen Joker but you've also never seen Taxi Driver, watch Taxi Driver first (also watch The King of Comedy). And watch Welcome to Me and Ingrid Goes West too; they're both worth your time, maybe more than another chin-in-hands frowning over DC's eighty-year-old clown.