Joker (2019)
Written and directed by Todd Phillips
There is something surreal about sitting in an empty cinema during the day, but I really like it if it’s the right film. Today I did just that, to see Joker, right at the end of its cinema run – and I’m really glad I did.
From the outset, I have to admit I’m no fan of Todd Phillips’ work as either a writer or director. I found the Hangover movies (what I’ve seen of them) puerile and the less said about Starsky & Hutch (2004) the better. But I am a big fan of Joaquin Phoenix, particularly Walk the Line (2005) and more recently The Sisters Brothers (2018). You Were Never Really Here (2017) still sits atop my movie list of shame!
There’s been a tremendous amount of discussion globally about Joker and it’s warranted. As an origin story it’s very good mainstream filmmaking and undoubtedly the best thing I’ve seen recently with an official DC affiliation. The diegetic or narrative space is beautifully realised, the never ending piles of garbage in Gotham City and the squalor of the apartment building Arthur Fleck lives in with his mother are beautifully crafted. Combined with the shot framing, lighting (production designer Mark Friedberg) and cinematography by Lawrence Sher, there is some excellent editing from Jeff Groth, building an all too real world for the story to play out.
There are a few clear framing nods to Nolan’s The Dark Knight (2008) and some of The King of Comedy (1982) references/homage were a bit too fawning for my taste. (Just for the record, The King of Comedy remains my favourite Scorcese film ever.) But this is clearly Joaquin Phoenix’s film and with awards season looming, I predict he’ll clean up. It is a truly stunning performance!
Overlaid with a stunning soundtrack from the always wonderful Hildur Guðnadóttir and a script that cuts and bites through the banality of everyday life in Gotham, Phoenix makes what would otherwise be a very creepy, mentally unstable man into a very sympathetic character. Yes, it is very male narrative and at times, extremely violent. And I can see why this would make some people uncomfortable, particularly those who still insist that our cultural products – movies, music, video games – can incite us to violence, rather than looking at the society that underpins that cultural production.
As I emerged into the sunlight of a mild Australian December afternoon, I was full of sadness for Arthur, lost in his own mind. I’ve known people like him, those souls who don’t fit, discarded by a society and system that fails them utterly. The sad thing is, as services in Australia and elsewhere are cut back and worse, disappear altogether, there will be more like Arthur – hopefully not as outlandish and ultra-violent – but still falling between the cracks.
Debra Manskey 