Despite being set in a superhero
universe focused on one of the most iconic supervillains of all time, Joker
departs extensively from its genre’s usual constructs. It overtakes The Dark Knight Trilogy as the
most grounded film set in the Batman universe.
There’s no magic, special abilities, herculean feats of strength,
advanced technology, over-the-top schemes, or anything unrealistic that has
become engrained within the superhero genre.
Joker has little need for suspension of disbelief and is so set
in reality that I, at times, forgot I was even watching a Batman film—earnestly
thinking Gotham City was New York City—only to be reminded when the Wayne
family or Arkham were brought up.
Joker, instead, follows in
the footsteps of Martin Scorsese’s 1976 masterpiece Taxi Driver—sharing
many elements with the film (as well as Scorsese’s 1982 film The King of
Comedy) such as being set around a similar time period, a similar setting
and character archetypes, and a mentally ill protagonist suffering from
delusions and bouts of anger. The film
even features its own “You talkin’ to me?” sequence, complete with the
protagonist talking to imagined people while wielding a gun. Yet Joker distinguishes itself in
enough areas to not come off as a Taxi Driver rip-off and instead be its
own original piece that still pays homage to it and other past Scorsese films.
Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker takes on its
own original style unlike any other version seen before in film (or possibly all fiction for that matter). Given the
name Arthur Fleck, Phoenix’s version lives in the poverty section of Gotham
City with his mother Penny (Frances Conroy).
Arthur speaks in a calm, meek manner and is noticeably skin and bones—with
Phoenix having lost fifty-two pounds in preparation for the role. The combination gives the character a rather
harmless appearance—someone who can be and is pushed around, abused, and thrown
under the bus by others.
The film opens with Arthur getting
his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers while on the job as a human billboard. Arthur’s boss is unsympathetic to his beating
and even accuses him of stealing the advertisement sign. Yet beneath Arthur’s harmless exterior is a
powder keg waiting to explode as pent up rage gradually shortens the fuse. When his boss yells and throws backhanded
insults at him, Arthur simply smiles and stands politely while receiving the
verbal abuse. Yet the yelling soon
becomes drowned out by a loud ringing soundtrack as the screen zooms in onto
Arthur’s smiling face—hinting the audience in that he is anything but placid,
violently releasing his anger outside on a garbage bin.
Every day Arthur has to climb a
tall staircase back to his mother's house, where he takes care of her. Penny is obsessed with her former employer
Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen), the billionaire owner of Wayne Enterprises and
current mayoral candidate. She claims
Wayne to be a good man that will eventually help them out in their poverty-stricken
situation, constantly sending him letters that are never responded to. Arthur suffers from a neurological condition
that causes him to uncontrollably laugh at times, yet there’s very little in
life he actually finds funny. He finds
himself disconnected from what other people view as comedy, often faking laughter
simply to fit in with society. At a
comedy club, Arthur observes the other audience members, waiting for them to
laugh at a joke so he can join in—only he always misses being in unison by
about a beat, awkwardly laughing during the silence. When one of his coworkers cracks a joke, Arthur
loudly laughs alongside the group only to humorously stop immediately once he's
out of earshot of the others.
One of the few things that brings
joy to Arthur’s bleak life is watching a talk show hosted by comedian Murray
Franklin (played by the clear cut intentionally picked Robert DeNiro). Arthur fantasizes about going on the show,
being called out by Murray and praised for all he does with helping his
mother—with Murray claiming he wished he had a son like Arthur. Murray inspires Arthur to try his own hand at
stand-up comedy, yet he fails miserably with his act, being unable to get a
joke out through his bouts of laughter. The
act ends up on Murray’s show where the star mocks it and calls Arthur a
“joker”. Even Arthur’s own mother
backhand insults his dream; “I mean...don't you have to be funny to be a
comedian?”
Arthur's breaking point comes when riding
a train in his work clown outfit as three Wayne Enterprise businessmen
mercilessly start beating him due to his uncontrollable laughter. Arthur kills all three with a pistol given by
a coworker, the acts rejuvenating life into Arthur as he calms from the event
and begins dancing blissfully. The news
reports on the situation, with many citizens hailing the mysterious clown as a symbol of fighting the system, yet Thomas
Wayne calls the act appalling and cowardly.
With the film seeking to make Joker more sympathetic, it, in turn,
showcases Batman’s father in a more corrupt, or at least less sympathetic
light.
MAJOR SPOILERS BEGIN While far from his most
villainous portrayal (that goes to a certain Batman video game), the film
portrays Thomas Wayne as a sternly lawful, billionaire businessman who seems to
only see the surface level of situations.
He believes that all lower-class should work hard to help themselves out
of poverty—disregarding the unfair bias of society as well as mental/physical
handicaps—and calls the gunned down employees good men despite evidence to
the contrary. Fascinatingly, the film
toys with the idea of Arthur being Thomas’ illegitimate son—the latter learning
from Penny about a love affair while she was working for him. Arthur confronts Thomas who denies the
affair, leading Arthur to Arkham State Hospital where he finds documented
evidence that he was adopted by Penny who suffers from her own mental illnesses—allowing
her ex-boyfriend to abused herself and Arthur while he was very young.
Yet uncertainty is Joker’s
foundation, being told through the eyes of an unreliable narrator. A prime example being the-mother-next-door
Sophie (Zazie Beetz) who has a completely shoehorned, poorly written romance
with Arthur…or so it would initially seem.
As it turns out, the majority of their scenes together were merely
Arthur’s delusions (another similarity to Taxi Driver), having grown obsessed
with someone he barely knows. The
spelled-out situation (a little too spelled out if you ask me; I would have
preferred if the Sophie delusions were more subtle for the viewers to figure
out on their own) calls into questions all other scenes in the film; how much
is real and how much is merely in Arthur’s mind? Even outside Arthur’s mind, Joker is
full of clever ambiguity—perfect for a character whose ideal backstory is
multiple choice. The paperwork states
Arthur was adopted, yet the paperwork could have easily been forged by Thomas
Wayne to cover up his affair. If indeed
adopted, then Arthur’s birth parents are completely unknown, as is his possible
birth name if the name Arthur was given after adoption.
It’s all left enough in the air to conclude one way or the other.
Regardless of the truth, the reveal
finally breaks Arthur, giving him one really bad day. He ends up breaking into Sophie’s apartment,
terrifying the mother at the intrusion.
It’s left ambiguous what he does, if he does anything, to the mother and
daughter—the safest approach to the situation, allowing audience’s minds to
think whatever while avoiding turning Arthur into an unsympathetic
character. Penny, however, does not
receive such courtesy—Arthur suffocating her with a pillow, claiming he once
viewed his life as a tragedy, but now sees it as a comedy. And indeed, for how dark the remaining scenes
get, Arthur’s new outlook on life gives the film an often lighthearted, comical
nature. Arthur brutally gorges one of
his ex-coworkers with a pair of scissors, killing him in a gruesome fashion. Yet Arthur acts completely nonchalant to the murder, much to the horrified
disbelief of another ex-worker—who Arthur let’s go unharmed after some
“playful” teasing.
Joker’s use of grounded dark comedy
is reminiscent of Heath Ledger’s performance in The Dark Knight (albeit the
sympathetic approach makes Phoenix’s take far less terrifying), a compliment I
do not give out lightly. The two films
also share a design choice of having the Joker’s makeup not be a permanent
disfigurement. Joker’s colorfully tacky
choice of outfit, however, feels more in line with something Cesar Romero’s
Joker would wear, a compliment I do not give out lightly.
Due to his recorded comedy act’s
popularity, Arthur ends up getting invited onto the Murray show. Arthur accepts, only asking that he be
introduced as Joker, the name Murray called him previously. At first, Arthur seems set on killing himself
on stage as his magnum opus coup de grace joke, yet spontaneously changes his
mind—revealing himself as the clown killer.
Joker gives all sorts of nihilistic reasonings as to why did so, but
Murray calls him out on his bull****—noting how he’s just giving excuses for
his violent acts:
Murray: Let me get this
straight, you think that killing those guys is funny?
Joker: I do. And I'm tired
of pretending it's not. Comedy is subjective, Murray. Isn't that what they say?
All of you, the system that knows so much, you decide what's right or wrong the
same way that you decide what's funny... or not…I killed those guys because
they were awful. Everybody's awful these days. It's enough to make anyone
crazy…If it was me dying on the side-walk, you'd walk right over me. I pass you
every day and you don't notice me! but these guys, what, because Thomas Wayne
went and cried about them on TV?...You think men like Thomas Wayne ever think
what it's like to be someone like me? To be somebody but themselves?
Murray: You finished? I
mean, there is so much self-pity, Arthur. You sound like you're making excuses
for killing those young men. Not everybody, and I'll tell you this, not
everyone is awful.
I love their conversation as it
portrays two sides of an overarching problem.
Joker’s points on society’s conformity, scorning of the outcasts, and
class bias are notable issues—yet the man himself isn’t out to “fix” these
issues, but rather use them to satisfy his own self-desires. Murray rightfully calls said hypocrisy out,
yet he, nonetheless, neglects any compassion or empathy for Arthur—viewing him
initially as a source of entertainment and then as a villain over the mentally
ill man Joker is. While a very slim
chance, if Murray had at any point shown goodwill towards Arthur’s stand-up act
and/or guest appearance perhaps "Joker" wouldn’t have come to be. If the majority of film characters had shown
any sort of kindness and compassion to this struggling individual, maybe, just
maybe, things wouldn’t have gotten so dark.
Yet most of them don’t show
kindness or compassion to Arthur, including Murray, who Joker precedes to shoot
in the head, causing mass chaos and anarchy to erupt in the streets. Joker fully embraces the madness and is cheered
on by the clown-masked mob as Gotham City burns. As Joker hits his highest point in life, does
Bruce Wayne hit his lowest as one of the rioters kills his parents after they quickly try to leave a theater show.
It’s a refreshing twist having Joker be the one to create Batman, over the
typical reverse, yet also avoids being ham-fisted by making it happen indirectly
from the clown’s actions. In the end,
it’s Joker’s coming out party that creates either his own worst nightmare or his
true soulmate (depending on the lore’s take). MAJOR SPOILER END
Joker succeeds in crafting a
well-made psychological thriller and cautionary tale about what can happen when
you neglect those in need of help. Phoenix
leaves his mark as the Clown Prince of Crime—playing a Joker that both
shakes up the usual formula in an innovative manner while still encapsulating
what makes the character so captivating to begin with. Joker arguably best pays homage to
Martin Scorsese’s past films by not being a piece within a larger cinematic
universe, but rather seeking to simply tell a standalone story (one that just so
happens to be set within a superhero universe).
And while Joker may not reach Taxi Driver’s masterpiece
levels of innovation and craftsmanship, it remains a potent step forward for
superhero cinema and DC films.
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