Joker is a dangerous and subversive film. I just want to say that outright and get it out of the way. I understand that the use of such rhetoric has meaning and may be seen by some as gross, but it was among the first things that came to mind when I started to think about it properly. The film definitely comes with a warning for those folks who are more sensitive to such subject matter. I am the last person to get hysterical, and in no way do I want to contribute to this shitstorm of hullaballoo going around about the film being a potential 'trigger' (incidentally, a lot of the responses backlashing to those responses have less than coherent or cohesive in their rebuttal), but walking out of the Odeon at Victoria Square, I had such a cerebral reaction to the piece that I actually decided to ascend the stairs and went up to The Dome for a spell so I could gather my thoughts together. Now, while I may use such words as 'dangerous' and 'subversive' in my opening sentence, I do believe the film to be a masterpiece. It is a cautionary tale on the media, politics and society of our times, and will probably end up being the most significant film of 2019. No work this year is going to inspire as much debate and discussion with audiences. While opinion may be divided on the film's overall quality, I feel that for a mainstream film to bring out this level of engagement and participation it deserves to be applauded. It's a truly bold and provocative work, but the thing that was most striking for me and really took away was it's depiction and portrayal of mental illness.
Yesterday was World Mental Health Day, something which, I won't lie, completely passed under my radar until I found that my Facebook and various social media feeds were clogged up with resplendent posts on the matter ("It's okay not to be okay."). That being said, from my own standpoint it's an unusual but somewhat fitting coincidence I went to see the picture yesterday. I think part of the reason that it got me so much is because there was an air of familiarity to it. I recognised the things this character was doing and where his head was at. The big difference between, say, Heath Ledger's Joker and Joaquin Phoenix's Joker is that, while Ledger played a ghost, an existential agent of chaos, Phoenix's Joker is a man. Not the man, but a man. As in any man. As in everyman. Arthur Fleck could be Joe Bloggs or Johnny Smith, any lost soul walking down the street towards you, wrapped up in the tortures and troubles of their inner demons, trying to make sense of it all, figure out what's going on and where they belong in a world which is, to their perception, inherently crazy. Not to be all beh beh about it, because I didn't forget about it, but I more or less switched off that I was watching a, quote, 'Batman movie,' endquote. I was simply watching a man suffering from severe depression descend into madness.
As I said, part of what I guess frightened me so much and really got under my skin about Joker is that familiarity and recognition. There were times watching the film I couldn't help thinking "I've been there."
I've been that guy who has been frustrated with my job and work colleagues.
I've been that guy who plays out fantastical scenarios of love and death in my head, be they when I'm asleep or in a daydream, so vivid they could almost be real.
I've been that guy who scribbles and scrawls compulsively in a journal.
I've been that guy who dances half-naked at home wielding weapons.
I've been that guy who has shrunk in weight, had a radical physical alteration.
I've been that guy who has had to listen to other people tell me to "put on a happy face."
I've been that guy sways about the place, caught up in the delirious joy of my own little world.
I've been that guy who has woke up screaming or sobbing in the middle of the night.
I've been that guy who has been seized with involuntary, nervous reactions when it is uncalled for at certain moments.
I've been that guy who has been unable to express what he is feeling, living in dread of the consequences of giving breath to my thoughts through action.
I've been that guy who gets into stupid situations but, like a moth, is drawn to the flame, unable to turn away.
I've been that guy who wants to be an artist.
Josh Brolin said something rather telling about his thoughts on the film: "To appreciate Joker I believe you have to have gone through something traumatic in your lifetime (and I believe most of us have) or understand somewhere in your psyche what true compassion is."
I too have danced with the devil in the pale moonlight.
When writing my book, Cat's Miaow, while I wrote a work of fiction from the perspective of a character, Jack, in so doing I ended up going through a prolonged period of self-exploration.
"When you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks back at you."
The pool shimmering in the moonlight at the bottom of the well is the sea of -
Jack was something I invented years ago as a coping strategy for me to deal with things that were particularly troubling to me as a teenager. I liked to imagine it manifested itself as an alter ego, and it was one of my ways, mechanisms of putting all my negative thoughts and feelings into one place and locking them away. When I wrote the book, though, Pandora's Box was opened.
In letting Jack breath and getting into the headspace required to explore the territory I wished to walk for the sake of art, I let myself enter the bleakest parts of my psyche, shone a light on my darker moments. It's not something I yap on about too much, and how apropos I talk about things like this in the form of an article (art as another diversionary tactic of my psychological makeup, dressing things up in fantasy), but I've had my hard times. Alan Moore once said that "an artist or writer is the closest thing in the contemporary world to a shaman," in relation to his belief of art as magic. In the case of Cat's Miaow, I took the curse, my inner demons, and I cast a long, arduous spell on the black and wicked thing. It took two years of my life, during which I was, on occasion, consumed, worrying I was no longer able to distinguish between Callum and Jack, my true identity, and I still have some of the lingering aftereffects, but ultimately it was worth it. Call it suffering for your art and all that boohick, but it was like an exorcism. I came out the other end feeling fresh, more vigorous and alive than ever before. On top of that, I've now done something which I feel to be of relative merit. If nothing else, it was worth it for that alone.
But enough about me!
And so, of all the many things to take away from it, that was what struck me the most. Joaquin Phoenix deserves all the accolades in the world for his extraordinarily empathetic lead performance, which, despite being something which pushes against two very different polarities, manages to be incredibly well-balanced. Arthur Fleck does things which are morally questionable and has an all-encompassing world view of self-isolationism, and yet he remains throughout pitiable and sympathetic. Furthermore, I forgive Todd Phillips for The Hangover films. He and the rest of the crew that he has assembled deserve a pat on the back for their efforts in contributing to the overall piece. It is a testament and a delight to me personally that people were willing to take a chance on this one. Even without the Joker character itself, it's a hard sell. It's a hard, hard sell. But oftentimes, it's the harder ones that makes the buying all the more worth it. It invites in and is more than welcome in conversation alongside the likes of Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, or Death Wish and First Blood, two movies also from the period in which the film is set that also see their protagonists react to injustice with violence. Also, aside from perhaps Ben Esmail's Mr. Robot or Vince Gilligan's Breaking Bad, proof once again that TV is all the rage and where a lot of the more daring and audacious things are being done right now, I can't remember the last time I saw a film released which is such a prescient reflection of it's times.
It's like instead of the APPLAUSE sign that you see on the set of the Murray Franklin show, telling us to bleat out and follow along, the other end of the coin has been revealed, the sign has been turned flipside, and it says,
THIS IS NOW
So, for all of you folks wondering what the hell I've been yapping on about, I won't tell you too much because frankly there's no need. However, I am expressing positive thoughts on the film as a whole, and I am sharing my solidarity in relation to World Mental Health Day. It goes without saying that mental health awareness is very important (It is okay to not be okay), and this is also where I feel Joker comes in as a significant work. It is a tough film and incredibly intense, but that it touched me in that way, while it may be a purely individual reaction, is indicative there is something worth talking about. Certainly, I can speak for myself about the power of art, engaging with it and your own personal artistic expression, whatever that may be in your life, and the healing effect it can have on you. While I think all this hokum about copycats and it potentially inspiring violence is another constructed moral panic, I definitively believe in the so-called 'artist's responsibility,' and here Joker succeeds.
It's not easy. To paraphrase Bette Davis, it's a long, hard ride in a bumpy night, but ultimately it's a cathartic experience, well worth it when you come out the other end, "on a sunny day where the skies are clear."
