JOKER (2019) FILM REVIEW

***

15, 117 Mins

Psychological drama is cast aside for comic-book cliches.

When any film dares evoke the spirit of 'Taxi Driver' (1976), I straddle between cackles of maniacal excitement and screams of fright-flooded fear. Martin Scorsese's masterpiece remains the greatest film of the past 100 years, but even its most ardent admirer would be a fool to claim its school shooter-like psyche involving a tortured loner's twisted shot at fame is something to idolise.

This is precisely what 'Joker' (2019) aspires towards, however, being a 'Taxi Driver'-inflected origins story of Batman's No.1 nemesis reviled by reviews calling it "nasty", "mean-spirited" and "irresponsible" over not entirely unjustified scares that its content could inspire copycat violence from some sick individual living on society's fringes.

We open brutally and bloodily as a street clown is beaten to the pulp and left to rot on the sidewalks by young thugs; the film grappling with the bizarre stereotype that - behind the smiles - clowns are amongst the saddest people in the world.

That's certainly the case for Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) who spends his dreary days entertaining stuck-up audiences utterly unamused by the sight of a man in funny make-up. Back in his dreary apartment, though, he's a small, scrawny loner living with an abusive mother and plagued by a neurological condition that causes him to laugh uncontrollably in innappropriate situations.

Embittered and infuriated by society's refusal to recognise the talents of its quitest citizens, Arthur becomes increasingly infatuated with comic chat show host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) with grand ambitions of becoming as hillarious and successful as his great idol. That is until his great idol mocks him on live TV; pushing Arthur into psychosis and inspiring himself and others around him to commit horrific, homicidal acts.

​Unlike the late Heath Ledger's carnivalesque, clowning criminal who just simply wanted to "watch the world burn", this Joker's morals and motives are less clear-cut. With only the infamous "you talkin' to me?" mirror monologue missing, the spectre of Travis Bickle looms ominously over Arthur Fleck whose greasy black hair, crumpled army jacket and skeletal physique makes Christian Bale's raw bones from 'The Machinist' (2004) look positively wholesome.

​Similar to De Niro's iconic, insomniac, porn-addicted creep of 70s cinema, Arthur is less a monster than a man close to being shoved over the edge. The awkward outsider of a high school crowd whose coy, quiet demeanor makes him the easy target for bullying from the bigger, brawnier males of the aggressively macho market only to flip when pushed a step too far.

The genius of Joaquin Phoenix's chameleon performance is its evocation of sympathy from a character quite so startlingly nihilistic. You'll have tears streaming watching Arthur spluttering to stop himself from chortling in the face of tragedy as you will too when he is scolded by an over-protective mother on a bus for innocently pulling faces at her child.

It's not just as a character study of a misunderstood soul that 'Joker' shares DNA with the Scorsese classic. While  'The Dark Knight's irredescent skylines owed as much to Michael Mann's 'Heat' (1995) as anything from the pages of cult comics, Director Todd Phillips's grotsville realisation of Gotham City drips with grainy pallets of beiges and browns that paint an "unclean" urban populous that does nothing, but entrap even the most "sane" soul. You're always on the edge of your seat in anticipation that "real rain will come and wash all the scum off the street".

Add to this a symphonic score that growls with brassy basses and schizoid strings and rarely has human self-destruction been depicted quite so chillingly. As Arthur slowly loses his mind, we viewers often feels as though we are too. A testament to Director Phillips for his ability to create a shiversome sensation of being plummeted face-first into a pit of psychological horrors and be permanently lodged there.
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Less successful is 'Joker's not-so-subtle debt to the bizarre 'The King of Comedy' (1983) which opens up intriguing possibilities when it comes to the strange phenomenon of Celebrity Worship Syndrome brought to the forefront by the presence of Robert De Niro himself as a Rupert Pupkin-esque comedian.

It's unfortunate then that this film doesn't seem to know what to do with Arthur's deranged fanboy obsession; building momentum before squandering it all on a vengeful declaration of his murderous motivation that feels far too on-the-nose for its own good.

Ironically the film loses any credibility as a "serious" motion picture the moment Arthur puts on that clown costume - the point at which 'Joker' goes from subversive psych drama to just plain bad joke as it unveils a cartoonish supervillain that asks for one too many leap of faith from viewers as he dances superflously to the grinding guitars of Gary Glitter's 'Rock n' Roll: Part 2'.

There's plot holes here wide enough to fill the Grand Canyon. Specifically centring around Arthur's killing sprees that go undetected by authorities for far too long. It all builds to a preposterous finale clogged to the brim with comic-book cliches and ludicrous imagery as 'V for Vendetta'-style, mask-wearing mobs shred Gotham to smoke and shrapnel before circling in pretentiously symbollic worship of our titular supervillain.

Had the film been content with allowing our Joker to carry out his homicidal agenda himself, I might have had an easier time with the film's "why so serious?"-ness. Yet - with the central character spending the vast majority of the film as little more than a "nutjob" cast out by society - it seems a massive ask on audiences for us to believe that such a little man could inspire such a mass uprising without simply being left to rot on the sidewalks like any other sick whacko would be.

Still it will be a crime against "filmanity" if Phoenix doesn't walk home with the Best Actor OSCAR and there's enough cerebral depth here in its earliest scenes to outshine the rank silliness of the third act. Just don't expect the next 'Taxi Driver'...
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