Joker
Pupule rating: 4.0* (out of 4)
Regal Dole Cannery
The first 60 minutes or so of “Joker”, the pacing and fundamental vulnerability of a boy locked in a grown man’s body are splashed all over the big screen. The bullied man, beaten down by teenage troublemakers in an alley. Later beaten down by Wall Street troublemakers in a subway. He is a victim. He becomes a different creature when he finally answers an eye for a eye, and then some. It is a grotesque evolution that is both spiral and levitation for Arthur.
On paper, it’s another movie plot. On screen, it is the wonders of what Phoenix is always potentially capable of. It’s not hard to assume that the veteran actor relished this role and then some. Mental illness, medications, murder.
It’s only fitting that Robert De Niro plays a cameo-ish role, and that Phoenix went to great lengths, losing what I’d guess is 30 to 50 pounds — the way De Niro shaped his body for roles like Jake LaMotta in “Raging Bull”. The ultimate method actor at the table — or TV talk show desk — with another, and Phoenix holds his ground. (Interestingly enough, the love interest of Arthur, Phoenix’s character, is African-American, which is coincidentally one of the things De Niro is known to do — date and marry African-American women.)
He does more than that. He is in supreme conduct of every nuance that Arthur endures, from his anxious laughing disorder, to the tightrope existence he lives with his mother, who he lovingly feeds, bathes and keeps company with in a battered, run-down New York City neighborhood.
Speaking of neighborhoods, there are many moments in the first hour when Arthur’s longing for understanding brought to mind the ultimate king of neighborhoods, Mister Rogers. There’s no question that Phoenix gravitated to this script because of the infinite flexibility and risks he was allowed to dive into.
I’m not going to recommend this to most people, especially folks who have no idea about DC Comics and the Joker, the extreme darkness that writers have presented in his origin over the years. @fatlark confirmed that there really isn’t a true origin tale about Joker, which made this a blank canvas, and the writers and director didn’t hold back one drop.
There are moments in the latter half of the film when I knew it would be much too far over the line for many viewers — the ones who have no knowledge of the character — but Phoenix is so diabolically crafty that even when he kills, we keep cheering for him. I suppose this is also an exercise in mob mentality, the potential danger of a city on fire, of class warfare taken very close to an extreme. But it is about the most personal aspect of his life. Was his mother a liar? Or was she simply delusional? Was she set up and framed by the wealthy Thomas Wayne, who denies any involvement with her former employee, Arthur’s mother?
The questions don’t quite end, even if the story does, and it leads conveniently into the world of the Joker and his future nemesis, Bruce Wayne, who is just a boy in this version.
One of the most surprising elements is Phoenix's dancing. It is part-tai chi, part-slow motion waltz. It is entrancing, whether it is Arthur escaping his own demons, or celebrating victory. The sad thing is, he has no sense of humanity in the end, and the dancing is more of a taunting, haunting echo to his insatiable need for blind revenge. This is where, I believe, a good number of critics said, Enough, while many in the audience simply had no remorse for Arthur's victims. 93 on Rotten? What about his mother? That's where I drew the line, even if I wanted him to escape the detectives hounding him.
In the end, I doubt anyone but the comic book readers will appreciate this presentation for what it is. For the performance of Phoenix alone, it is plenty enough for me.
(*my rating has changed since the night I saw this film. I didn't expect that, but there it is. There are so few films that provoke more thinking and rewinding, both about the message, the art and the Easter eggs. Amazing.)
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