REVIEW: Joker

Courtesy of Warner Bros.

One of the most compelling elements of the Joker, in both the comics and his cinematic incarnations, is how his origin and the seeds of his longstanding vendetta against Batman mostly remain a mystery. Not so with Tim Burton’s 1989 adaptation, which tied the villain’s creation to Bruce Wayne in a profound way, but it mostly worked thanks to the acting prowess of Jack Nicholson and Michael Keaton.

The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan’s 2008 masterpiece, contains arguably the most renowned interpretation of the character largely because the Joker’s origin remains shrouded in mystery. He tells multiple versions of his creation myth and it’s left up to the audience to decide which – if any – is the real version. Heath Ledger was so phenomenal that he earned a posthumous Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

The character also remains mostly unknown in Suicide Squad, but that’s probably for the best. Jared Leto’s take is so completely wrongheaded – baffled fans quickly dubbed him “Hot Topic Joker” – that it can’t be erased from pop culture fast enough.

That’s one of the reasons I’m glad Joker, the newest interpretation from The Hangover trilogy director Todd Phillips (who co-wrote the screenplay with Scott Silver) exists. While the film is a mixed bag overall, Joaquin Phoenix gives us a version of the character so disturbing, yet so inherently watchable, that he deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Ledger. I know that’s a bold statement, but I’m guessing awards season will back me up. I’ll be shocked if he’s not among this year’s Best Actor nominees.

Joker is a standalone story (in other words, totally unconnected to other recent DC cinematic catastrophes) that centers on the troubled, yet well-meaning Arthur Fleck (Phoenix). A man with a history of mental health issues, he spends most days taking care of his ailing mother (Frances Conroy) and aspiring – mostly in vain – to be a comedian.

The Flecks have fallen through Gotham City’s decaying safety net, painted as lazy freeloaders by political elites like mayoral candidate Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen). Arthur’s one ray of hope is Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro), a late-night talk show host he idolizes. But when Franklin mocks Arthur’s recent performance at a comedy club’s open mic night, his fragile grip on sanity shatters completely and a demented icon is born.

When Phoenix is onscreen (which is practically every moment), Joker crackles with a dangerous, unpredictable energy. Plenty of the film’s aspects merit criticism – and I’ll have plenty to say about that below – but it’s never boring. The actor’s total comment to his performance doesn’t allow that to happen. In fact (for me, at least), it distracted from the movie’s many flaws until I left the theater and the toxic spell was broken.

That’s when my English teacher brain kicked in and I realized Joker reminded me of essays that I sometimes get from students. They’re technically well-written: everything’s spelled correctly, the formatting is right, the minimum length requirement is met, the sentences are structured clearly so the reader doesn’t get confused, and there are plenty of quotes from the text they’re writing about. There’s just one problem – the paper doesn’t really say anything. There’s no “so what?” that justifies why the audience should care.

That’s how Phillips’ take on the Joker feels. Performances are strong across the board – not only Phoenix, but also De Niro, Conroy, Cullen and even poor Zazie Beetz, who is squandered despite her best efforts to add depth to a nothing character. Lawrence Sher’s cinematography is stellar, somehow managing to make the gritty, late-1970s New York City aesthetic of Gotham look beautiful.

Mark Friedberg’s production design is also terrific, making this fictional world feel lived in, past its expiration date and teeming with danger around every corner. Phillips and Silver even manage to incorporate some intriguing ideas about fame, income inequality, mental illness, cynical politicians and violence in the media.

But all these admirable qualities are servicing a story that’s the psychological equivalent of an overeager teenage film student elbowing you in the ribs for two hours while yelling, “Isn’t Taxi Driver awesome?! Isn’t The King of Comedy awesome?! Robert De Niro was amazing in those movies and he’s in this one too! Real subtle, right?! I bet not everyone picks up on that like I do!”

It’s kind of endearing at first, but it gets irritating after a while. Look, I get it – the film industry is tough right now. Making an original, mid-budget film about a guy slowly losing his mind is an impossible sell. That’s why you have to Trojan horse it inside of a comic book movie. But it disrespects both unique storytelling and an iconic villain when you undercut everything that makes the character great just to put a more “realistic” spin on him.

That’s especially true when Phillips not-so-delicately implies that going off your meds gives you superpowers. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding the release of Joker, including hyperventilating news reports about the possibility of the movie provoking acts of copycat violence. I think that’s sensationalistic nonsense (a similar panic happened with Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing in 1989), but I think the messages it sends about mental illness are much more troubling.

Qualms aside, I suppose Joker getting made is worth it if it leads curious young moviegoers back to some of Martin Scorsese’s greatest hits. I just checked while I was writing this review and you can find Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy on Blu-ray for $10 each. Not too shabby.

Joker is rated R for strong bloody violence, disturbing behavior, language and brief sexual images.

Grade: B-