Your Feature Spoiler Free Zone
Trigger Warnings: Mental Illness, Homicide, Violence, Potential Sexism
Spoiler Free Zone: Fin
Disclaimer: I am not an expert on the variety of mental illness traits and stigmas explored below. This is simply my own interpretation based on common, street knowledge and experiences.
Todd Philips’s Joker (2019) was practically iconic before the trailer was even released, as the world anxiously awaited the arrival of legendary Joaquin Phoenix’s take on the infamous character. It goes without saying that the Joker is a high stakes role, one that actors have both completely butchered or gone down in history for. I’m sure I don’t need to tell readers that Phoenix has been of the latter.
The film’s overall story could be somewhat stronger, with a confusingly slow first, even second, act. It’s a movie that doesn’t make much sense until the end – which means, more than ever, the film’s perception will come down to viewer preferences. Show don’t tell is important, but did this movie really achieve that? I feel this movie showed us very little, until the end, when they told us everything. It also seemed to try to make up for overly subtle writing by having a score that is often overbearing. However, it is fair to say that Joker is a superb analysis of the human psyche that cleverly shines a light on how stigma can cut so deep that it hurts everyone involved. And, of course, Phoenix’s performance carries the weight of this subtle film, serving as a treat to analyze every last tiny movement he makes.
Billy Loomis of Scream (1996) and Todd Phillips seem to have a mutual understanding: “movies don’t create psychos.” And I must say, I do agree. This film, despite controversies, is not about justifying violence. Instead, this is a film about how stigma and lack of education on mental illness can allow violent outbreaks to happen in very specific cases. Because I believe that Arthur was far more aware of his illness and his actions than any of us were ever supposed to realize until it was far too late and the tension was ready to explode all over the Murray Franklin show.
Now, we all know from the film’s trailers, plot, and oh, I don’t know, several decades of Joker comics and films, that this character is going to become violent. But what do we see before this development? A man trying to make his way as a clown. A man genuinely, throughout his daily life, trying to bring joy to children because it makes him happy. He even does it when he’s not working by doing things like making innocent, funny faces at a bored child riding the bus. But what is he met with? An overprotective mother who gets mad at him for simply bringing a little extra, harmless fun to her child’s day.
This technique of showing a character’s humanity is not uncommon. Most film enthusiasts have heard of Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat, in which a hero must do something redeemable that will win our hearts for the rest of the movie, no matter what mishaps they may get into. Arthur’s kindness to children is his one piece of humanity that continues throughout the film, even if his approach is unorthodox or uncomfortable, as seen outside the Wayne residence with young Bruce. This is a very similar approach that was proven to work with audiences of Netflix’s You (2018 -), as Joe Goldberg constantly tries to rescue youthful figures in his life despite his violent, stalking, psychotic nature, causing the audience to grow conflicted over his good nature deeply contrasting his homicidal habits.
Now, back to the importance of the bus – it doesn’t just establish his ways with children, it also properly introduces us to Arthur’s Pseudobulbar Affect; his laughing condition. Already, this is significant in Arthur’s experiences feeling isolated, embarrassed, and misunderstood for two reasons: it’s an invisible illness and it is a very uncommonly known illness.
Whether or not he is able to explain it, people are left thinking he is a weirdo or a freak. Which already says a lot about this society because, disorder or no disorder, that shouldn’t be okay.
So, we’ve got his one shred of humanity, but, as the film goes on, it can be hard to grasp Arthur’s character, or rather, the inner workings of his mind and awareness. It was hard to tell how often he was aware of how others perceived him or if he knew he was acting strange. This is what makes the movie quite odd, because this could be a really good thing or a really bad thing. Joker struck me as a film that could be genius or a complete disappointment because its style really pertains to the viewer’s subjective preferences. I know, that’s sort of a copout on this review, but I’ve spent months thinking about this film and have yet to make a decision on whether I’m right to think it was a weak story, or if it was actually just trying to build tension until the end. It certainly didn’t feel like that’s what it was trying to do until it had already happened.
I found it a little frustrating that throughout the film, it was so difficult to understand what Arthur was experiencing or thinking. This is very much unlike the brilliance of shows like You, in which we can see the inner workings of Joe’s mind, as well as his frightening ability to appear oh so charming.
That said, I did enjoy having Arthur’s arc finally get paid off at the end of the film when you truly understand his understanding.
Throughout the film, such as during his first attempt at standup, his clips playing on The Murray Franklin show, and his invitation to the show, his reactions seem very internal and hard to read. He seems far too calm in all instances, which makes for almost an eerie effect as tension builds in the audience, who can’t seem to stop trying to figure him out. But it’s also frustrating, since some of the tension comes from a secondhand embarrassment as we wonder if he is being naïve. All that is really let on during his character development, is a slow understanding that all isn’t always as it seems, especially when he visibly has a literal “pinch yourself” moment when Franklin’s booker calls him, as if to make sure it’s actually happening. This awareness in Arthur is important to track as we see him sink into a life of violence, death, and destruction; something he does quite comfortably, I might add. We can gather a fair bit from his actions, but can’t quite grasp his thought process.
It doesn’t take long for Arthur to find his comfort in killing; only a few minutes as a matter of fact, dancing in that subway bathroom. It’s as if he’s found his grace, his elegance, his purpose. Never has a lonely waltz been so unsettling. This was a man on the verge of breakdown, or in his own eyes, breakthrough, for a long time now.
As the film moves forward, it’s understood that Arthur finds comfort in killing for both power and revenge. This becomes clear in his possibly violently confrontations with both his mother and Sophie.
Sophie was perhaps the biggest shock. Despite director comments, I believe Sophie died. The final cut is the final cut, and there’s no denying that theatrical releases left it open for interpretation. For me, personally, the scream and, even more so, the blue and red lights flashing in the background made it clear as day: he murdered Sophie and possibly, though I strongly doubt it, her child.
Now, even if Sophie wasn’t in the relationship with Arthur that he so believed or wanted, she had still always been kind to him. So, based on previous events, there shouldn’t be any – in his mind – logical reason for him to kill her. But it’s never that simple, is it?
No, this is when good ol' sexism gets involved. There are plenty of myths surrounding the stereotypical, white male serial killer, but there’s no denying the power-hungry sexism that is so often at play in such homicides. It’s uncanny in both reality and film how often men kill women simply because they can’t have them. We already know that Arthur appears to feel not only powerful and confident, but just plain right when he murders. He is feeling all kinds of low after the realizations about both his mother and Sophie, so what might our recently violent main character do to crush those unpleasant feelings? Gain power in taking the life of someone who can’t bring him joy the way he thought. He trades sexual pleasure for murderous satisfaction instead. Yikes.
And if he doesn’t kill her, and the lights were simply intended to play with what’s real and what isn’t, that still shows a certain desire Arthur possesses to hurt her. His delusions are that of grandeur, of fantasy. So, whether he acts on it or not, he wants it. Which not only shows his desires, as above, but also his control. Because if Arthur can control his desires, then this is much less a matter of illness than what has been presented to us. Maybe his illness and stigmas have led to these joys in violence, but they are not forcing or convincing him to do anything, nor can they justify what he is doing.
After this, we know for a fact Arthur does kill someone he cares about: his mother. So maybe he chose to stop himself from hurting someone he knew was ultimately innocent, but his mother is not such a person. This is no longer self-defense, like in the subway, this is plain old revenge on the one person he cares about most; the one person that could hurt him more than anyone in the world. And this is the moment Arthur truly accepts his identity as a killer; as Joker.
Moving forward from here, it makes things pretty easy and convenient to shoot Randall in his apartment, right in front of Gary. He doesn’t care that Gary sees, because he’s ready to show the whole world the new power he has. But he also recognizes Gary’s fear. In a knowing, amused way, as if Gary is cute for feeling as frightened as Arthur used to feel. As if Arthur now knows something Gary doesn’t; about the world, about power, about freedom.
So off to the show he goes with this profound confidence unlike anything he’s felt before. He’s ready to put on his mask in front of the whole world, which, as we’ve seen time and time again in all kinds of storytelling, means he is actually ready to take off his mask.
And now comes the grand finale in which the audience can finally unravel this mystery of just who this quiet, violent Arthur Fleck is; this joker. Arthur walks in to the studio and it’s like his personality has completely flipped. He has accepted his role as the entertainer but no one is amused. Yet you can see the satisfaction. The anger seeping through that gives him power. He is so used to people not liking him that he almost thrives off it now. Until the old frustrations start to build as he is subjected to questioning. He’s been bullied, yes, but never actually asked why he is responding the way he is – outside of social services, that is.
This scene is what makes the entire movie worthwhile. Whether that is a good thing or not, is up to you. Because the audience has spent so much time trying to figure this character out, and suddenly, he’s here. The tension builds because we finally realize who he is, what he knows, and what he is capable of. And just as we feel we are finally understanding this lonesome, bullied, tired man, we are also beginning to understand just where this scene is going. He isn’t happy to be achieving his fifteen minutes – something he used to fantasize about, nor is he happy to be meeting his hero. No, just as we are realizing this man understands exactly what is going on both around him and internally – psychologically – we begin to understand that he is ready to take this accidental revolution full swing and murder one of the many faces parading around the chaos like an innocent. And next thing we know, Murray Franklin is dead on live television and Arthur Fleck has truly, infamously become the legendary villain for all to see; really, truly, see.
Next, we see Arthur rejoice in this massive movement he never even intended to begin. And what comes next? The marvelous, glorious, self-righteous, quickly iconic dancing. Only this time, everyone is finally watching; appreciating, worshipping. Arthur can finally be free in a world that loves him, that sees his power, that seeks to overthrow those who tantalized, beat, oversaw, and underestimated him throughout his entire, lonely life.
We’ve become so accustomed to internalized psychological warfare being obvious to everyone but the protagonist, that we had no idea what to do with this character that we are coming to realize is more aware of his psyche and his actions than we had ever been told to expect. He knows what he is doing and he knows why he is doing it. That makes it all the more frightening for everyone involved, as we can no longer just brush off these acts due to mental illness. Stigma may be the reason that characters like Arthur Fleck turn on the world that beat them down, but stigma is also the reason they continue to get away with it. We don’t expect them to know any better, but oh, do they ever know better.
I suppose what truly conflicts me about this film’s writing is, why? Why turn it into some sort of psychological mystery film? Time and time again we have seen how letting the audience in on secrets is an effective tool to keep people interested, even when they’re trying to solve mysteries. Typically, we know exactly what is going on with the character, but we want to find out whatever it is they want to find out. Even knowing a little more than them builds a nice tension, hence, “look behind you!!!”
So why do we not understand what is happening in Arthur’s mind? I didn’t go in to this film expecting to spend the entire feature wondering, why are you like this? Why are you doing this? Who are you? How much control do you have?
So, if you’re someone who feels the payoff at the end – mixed with splendid cinematography and outstanding performances – is enough to make you rave about this film, great. That's fair, and I’m happy for you. But I’m not sure I’m ready to vote best picture for a film that seems to be an accidentally confusing ride along. A character who can only be understood based on a few brief moments and one closing scene. There is much to love about this movie, but the writing might not
be one for me.
Joker Photos from IMDb
Joker Cinematography by Lawrence Sher
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