Impractical “Joker”?
A recurring criticism that’s been levelled against the new film “Joker” is the perceived emptiness of its ideals. The film seems to engage, or attempts to engage, with politics, mental health and our obsession with fame and power. But for many its engagement is more superficial than anything. So hollow is its engagement that – for many – the film comes across as empty posturing, leaving us with the spectre of a dancing Joaquin Phoenix, gyrating in distress. But what if that unwillingness to interrogate is not a narrative limitation but part of the film’s aesthetic intention? What if the perception of “Joker” and its emptiness as lazy avoidance of engaging with its themes is actually part of the film’s own aesthetic and narrative identity? What if the hollowness that “Joker” evokes is exactly in keeping with how this tale of bloodshed and chaos is meant to land? “Joker” is billed as a psychological thriller but is perhaps best described as a kind of schematic character study of its protagonist. Arthur Fleck is a party clown who lives in dismal Gotham City in 1981. Arthur has a neurological disorder that comes with a handy explanatory card – ‘Forgive my laughter, I have a condition’. He lives an isolated life with his mother and they share a rapport that seems companionable on the surface but is clearly tense. His life is marked by absence more than presence – little human connection, few emotional or creative outlets, and little to strive for. In an early scene, he imagines himself making an appearance on latenight talk-show host Murray Franklin’s show. It’s the happiest we’ll see him for much of the film. Even his moments of vague happiness are all projections.
Director Todd Phillips, who has co-written the script with Scott Silver, intimates this from the first scene where we watch Arthur before a mirror hooking his finger in the corner of his mouth, feigning a smile and then a grimace. As if trying them on for size. Even his emotions come from a space of affectation than true earnestness.
We later see Arthur, in clown-costuming, aimlessly twirling a sign for a store that’s going out of business – “Everything