Joker (2019)


Long before it had even premiered in Venice, Joker had set the internet on fire. Clickbait, headlines, controversy. We've not seen a film provoke such a reaction like it and we probably won't for a long time to come. Everybody has an opinion on it, and they range from best film of the year to worst film of the decade. Although I'd firmly decided on my side of the fence roughly an hour into Todd Phillips divisive feature, it took me a little longer to rationalise exactly why this film had rubbed me up the way it had. And now, some three weeks later, I land on this.

Joker is a dangerously inflammatory and carelessly provocative piece of media whose shallow script and misjudged direction are both absent the intelligence, maturity and depth to really sharpen its knife, meaning it misses a worthwhile target. Bogged down further by misinformed and troubling depictions of mental illness and the way it is treated by society (both fruitful areas to explore in the right hands), when a film fails to practise the message it preaches, what good is there for general audiences attempting to discern something meaningful from a dangerous, contradictory pile of nonsense?

Smack bang in the middle of London Film Festival during a busy evening screening in Camden proved to be a lethal lens to view this film through; a rowdy crowd viewing the film as an anti-superhero flick opposed to a character drama, the concerning level of laughter and flippancy from the almost-sold-out showing illuminated the film's tonal issues most tellingly, very early on into a painful 122 minute runtime.

Audience interpretation and reaction raises an important and long-discussed question as to whether directors (and artists in general) should have to mould their art depending on its intended audiences, and it's something that will split us down the middle. Personally speaking, censorship is a mostly negative thing that can dilute a film's creativity, identity and vision - but there also needs to be a level of accountability and culpability that any filmmaking team (particularly one crafting a film for mainstream audiences that centres perhaps the most iconic antagonist in literature) must assume. Joker's team doesn’t, mainly because they don't have the resources or skills to do so.

An incident on the promotional circuit proves a recklessness beyond any doubt. The film's Joker, Joaquin Phoenix, stormed out of an interview for an hour when the interviewer questioned the risk of the violence depicted in the film inspiring a similarly-extreme real world reaction or event; when he returned, he gave an unsatisfying half-answer and admission that it is not an issue he had previously considered. And I don't believe that Phoenix is alone in his ignorance of the risk; in trying to be edgy, the filmmaking team have failed to realise that their actions could have had very real consequences. They don't understand the film they have made and what it could represent in the wrong hands - and that's negligently thoughtless.

Such carelessness is reflected further in two of the most identifiable aspects of filmmaking - the writing and the directing. You're likely here because you've seen the film, so I feel it safe to wade into spoiler territory.  This "we live in a society!" film parades Arthur (pre-Joker) around as the face of what can happen if you're not supported in society, when you're bullied or victimised by society and when mental health isn't taken seriously by society; it then treats a dwarf as the punchline. After Arthur kills the first victim already known to him, Gary (played by Leigh Gill) is left cowering in a flat with his friend's body blocking the exit; Arthur says he can leave, but Gary can't reach the latch on the door to let himself out, leading to an awkward shuffle. The scene is played for laughs and has produced a Facebook meme filled with hundreds of comments about the "hilarious" nature of the scene; you can sit here and blame that on the audience, but the filmmakers served that comedic beat up after failing to recognise that they are playing to the exact behaviour the film seeks to criticise.

The way I see it, Todd Phillips should not have been trusted with such weighty content, and has bitten off far more than he can chew. With a career in comedy he never escapes here, his inclination is to lean into laughter is a great disservice to a film with such hard-hitting potential. He spends two-thirds of the runtime trying to illicit our sympathy towards Arthur, but is then hesitant when the time comes to fully turn against him as and when he becomes the Joker; it's such a fine tightrope to walk but Phillips (and co-writer Scott Silver) is so clumsy, and wavering in his message, that a balance is never found. Audiences spend so much time laughing with and (backtracking to my point that the film is unable to practise what the film preaches) at him that they never take him seriously as the villainous mastermind he becomes -- that's arguably the point, but the audience must feel the shift in their perception of him and that moment never registers.

But not only is it irresponsible filmmaking, but it's thoroughly dull too. Its continual, derivative referencing of "classic" films - features like Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, amongst others, all of which will endure long after the world has hopefully forgotten about Joker - is an exploitative attempt to disguise the film as something with far more credibility than it actually possesses, again speaking of the film's hollowness. One gust of wind and this film would fall flat over, with the team behind the film not having the knowledge or the knowhow to get it back on its feet again. The shoehorned franchise teases and references do not help matters either, as while it was promoted as a “standalone” picture, it cannot resist a nod to its series’ own future and feels all the more manufactured because of it.

Joaquin Phoenix's portrayal of the titular antagonist looks braced to win him an armful of nominations as we wade into the forthcoming award season, and appears to be the one aspect of Joker acclaimed by almost everyone. I mostly blame the script, but I question whether we fully crawl under Arthur's skin enough for Phoenix's performance to ever truly land; instead, it falls into a repetitive cycle that grows as tiresome for the audience to watch as it is for the character to endure. It's a flashy and garish and theatrical performance and everything the Academy have been awarding in the leading actor category lately -- meaning he'll probably swoop the accolade over someone far more deserving in February.

While those that hear "Joker is a dangerous film" will likely roll their eyes, I do think it's worth traversing both sides and viewpoints this uniquely provoking film offers. I'm barely convinced I've made any sense here but publishing this means I get to finally put this film to bed in my mind. To end, I'll re-alliterate the one point I keep coming back to: when a film can't even practise the message it preaches, what good is there for general audiences attempting to discern something meaningful from a dangerous, contradictory pile of nonsense?