On Cinema: Joker (2019) [Anjana]

[Nov. 2019] Despite being a hardcore film enthusiast and an aspiring film director, it took me a solid month and a half to haul myself to the theater and watch Joker. I have a horrible habit of waiting for “the right time” to go see a movie, be it in theaters or even just at home, and as a result I’ve missed out on watching quite a few movies — and frankly, I’m too lazy to go back and watch them later on, so I normally just sit and complain, “I haven’t seen it yet, but I heard it’s so good! Did you enjoy it?”

SO! I got a pair of free tickets to Joker and finally decided to give it a go. I have very poor tolerance for horror or gore or really anything disturbing (yes, I have watched Tarantino movies, and no, I was not a huge fan). I was actually relatively surprised by how affected I was after watching Joker, in more ways than one. Warning: Spoilers ahead. I’m the world’s biggest hater of spoilers, so please do not continue reading if you haven’t seen the film yet!

My initial thoughts throughout the movie were that I was slowly being burned with layer upon layer of disturbing images and thoughts. I initially felt a great sense of pity towards Arthur Fleck. He was poor, beaten down, and living in a run-down part of Gotham City (although based on the Batman movies, the entire city is essentially decrepit). This pity was accompanied by a sense of wariness — The Dark Knight is one of my all-time favorite movies, and I grew up with the character of Batman, so I knew I probably should not pity one of the greatest cinematic villains of all time. This dissonance stayed with me throughout a good chunk of the film, and to be honest, never really faded away. I learned about Arthur’s mental illness and found out he was actually unable to control his violent bouts of laughter. I felt incredibly uncomfortable when he first met the woman in the elevator — as a female myself going to school in a relatively unsafe city, I felt a great wariness on her behalf. My pity for Arthur’s character continued as he learned that the city had cut funding for the social services, and he was left without access to the medication he so desperately needed.

Nevertheless, I was curious to see what Arthur would do next — I was mentally attempting to match the picture of what I already knew Heath Ledger’s Joker was like and how this new Joker was slowly evolving into the title character. The character took a sudden turn and began the slow downward spiral when he used the firearm provided to him by his colleague to murder the three businessmen in the deserted subway car. The theme of “clowns” had somewhat artificially arisen so far — that was Arthur’s job, Thomas Wayne called those who were jealous of the rich “clowns,” and the news reports stated that a man in a clown mask was responsible for the death of the three businessmen. A widespread clown movement then began, and Arthur was indirectly responsible for it. There are a lot of parallels to be drawn here to modern society: not only does the issue of firearm distribution crop up, but so does the superior capitalistic attitude of many wealthy, upper-class citizens who believe that the less fortunate should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps, as well as the government cutting spending to areas that really need it, such as social services, and of course how citizens are personally affected by those cuts. The flow of the story did a remarkable job of smoothly portraying the direct impact of the government’s decisions on its people.

At this point, the story took a surprising twist as we learned that Penny Fleck, Arthur’s mother, hid the fact that Thomas Wayne was actually his father for so many years. I was a little taken aback at this point, and quite frankly a little scared that Arthur would now do something to harm his mother as revenge, which to me is actually a sign that the character was well-developed by this point in the story. Arthur performs his jokes in front of an audience in a stand-up comedy club, bringing that female neighbor (Sophie) along with him to watch. The lingering sense of pity I had towards the character re-emerged at this point as he began laughing uncontrollably to the point where he had a difficult time starting his bit. Once he arrived at Wayne Manor, that sense of pity started to be slowly pushed to the back of my mind, as he attacked the esteemed butler Alfred in front of young Bruce in an attempt to speak to Thomas Wayne about his recent discovery. Then, my pity for Arthur once again made its way back to the forefront as he saw his mother being hospitalized following a stroke.

Now comes the part where I was at the edge of my seat. Arthur visits Arkham State Hospital to learn more about his mother, as Alfred had told him that his mother was actually crazy. This seems like a good time to mention that the film’s portrayal of mental illness was rather well-handled. There is a stigmatization of mental illness in both today’s modern society and especially back in the 80s, when this film was set. As Arthur wrote in his joke book, people expected those affected by a mental illness to behave as a “normal” person would, and were harshly criticized for being so different. In this film, we were able to see this harsh treatment through Arthur’s own eyes, and it was quite startling. The world is generally not kind to those with mental illnesses, and the fact that this was reinforced repeatedly throughout the film is largely why I was so torn between knowing I should hate the character and pitying him.

Penny Fleck is revealed to have adopted Arthur and to have been suffering from narcissistic personality disorder and hallucinations (which makes sense shortly after when we find out in a shocking twist that Arthur had actually hallucinated his entire relationship with Sophie), and all because her abusive boyfriend caused him severe physical damage when he was a child. This further reinforces the audience’s empathy for the character — the reason he is so disturbed in the present day is because of his rough childhood. Arthur’s shock and confusion after learning about his past culminates in the murder of his own mother in her hospital bed, yet another reason for the audience to feel profoundly disturbed while also reluctantly pitiful.

The climax of the film finally arrives when Arthur arrives on the set of his favorite talk show host Murray Franklin’s show as a guest, as Murray had recently mocked Arthur’s uncontrollable laughter during his stand-up comedy show. I had a gut feeling something was about to happen here, as Arthur was finally wearing his classic red suit, green hair, and full clown makeup, and had asked to be introduced as “Joker” rather than “Arthur Fleck.” The show goes more and more downhill, as Arthur (or rather, Joker) tells morbid jokes, to the disdain of both Murray and the audience. Joker’s rage builds up as he finally verbalizes his dislike of people and the dark thoughts he had been writing about in his joke book for so long. The scene culminates in the horrific murder of Murray on live television, after which Joker grabs the camera (in a very Dark Knight-esque manner) and speaks directly to the public.

After being arrested and then being pulled out of the subsequently crashed police car by rioters, Joker becomes the face of the entire clown movement (and simultaneously, in a dark alleyway, a supporter of the movement kills Thomas and Martha Wayne in front of young Bruce, finally tying their two stories together). He is later taken to a mental hospital and is speaking to a psychiatrist, but then exits the room with bloody footprints (subtly implying that he has committed yet another murder), and ironically walks off in the direction of the sunshine streaming through the windows.

Overall, this film was profoundly disturbing, but I found it intriguing that I had experienced such a strong mental dissonance for the first time: I both hated and pitied the character, which was a very unique experience for me as an audience member. The film contained many bizarre moments that actually contributed towards the cumulative impact of the film; for instance, after Arthur killed Randall, his dwarf ex-coworker Gary was in a state of severe shock and attempted to leave, but had to strangely ask Arthur to help him unlock the chain lock at the top of the door, unable to reach it himself. Another bizarre moment was when Arthur simply emptied out the contents of his fridge at home and sits inside it, closing the door behind him. I did appreciate the subtle nods towards The Dark Knight; for instance, when he looks out the window of the subway car (while still an unpainted man) and then again at night out the window of the police car (this time after having completed his terrifying transformation into Joker). Additionally, each time he danced and ended with a flourish, sticking his arms wide out, it was almost as if another part of his transformation had concluded (for instance, he did the dance right after killing the three businessmen, his first act of violence).

In terms of the thoroughness of the character, Joaquin Phoenix had an incredible hold of the complexity of the character. His slow devolution from Arthur Fleck into Joker was smoothly and believably done, and truly every time he looked into the camera, I shuddered a bit, feeling that I was staring into the eyes of the Joker himself. His actual life story (being rescued by famed director Werner Herzog from a terrible car crash, and almost lighting a cigarette amid leaking fuel as a coping mechanism amidst his state of shock) actually made the film leap out into real life even more. I know a lot of people have been saying his performance was the acting feat of the century, and I initially discounted this, not believing anyone could pull off the character of the Joker as well as Heath Ledger did, but both actors tackled an incredibly difficult character and both brought out their own unique aspects of his personality. Joaquin Phoenix’s performance evoked very strong emotions in me, and the incredibly well-developed storyline greatly contributed to delivering an overall effective film. Every action the Joker took was targeted — it was like trying to find meaning within the sheer chaos that unfolded throughout the course of the film. Despite being beaten down by society, Arthur’s one goal was to try to make people happy, and even tried to make little Bruce Wayne smile with magic tricks. Every single person Arthur targeted had wronged him in some way; each person had had room for redemption and had once held the chance to treat him respectfully, but all failed, and added together resulted in his snapping and deliverance of his horrific wrath. The way this aspect of the story was crafted definitely did justice to and believably leads up to Christopher Nolan’s portrayal of the Joker as a violent but disturbingly organized force of chaos.

I left this movie so deeply affected that I felt the need to write about it here. The mental dissonance I experienced was very strong, but so was my appreciation of how well-crafted the storyline was and how powerfully the actors embodied their characters. The score, masterfully crafted by (female!) Hildur Guðnadóttir, evoked both the chaos and the pity that the audience felt for Arthur/Joker — it resounded deeply within me and pulled out all the best elements of the story. I also greatly admired the cinematography in the film — the best cinematographers are able to create visually stunning and aesthetically pleasing images while still contributing to the mood and tone of the film, and together director Todd Phillips, cinematographer Lawrence Sher, and the production design team indeed did all that while nonverbally communicating vital aspects of the story. I would not be surprised if this film took home a few Academy Awards of its own.

[February 2020 edit: it did!]