The Joke's on Me?

(Warning: The following contains uncomfortable information and spoilers for Joker. Read at your own risk.)

I was debating whether or not to see this movie. Initially, I was intrigued by a grittier reimagining of a beloved DC character, even at the expense of some dubious feedback. Then the reviews poured in, were increasingly mixed and turned me off. Then I heard a full synopsis via The Big Picture, and my curiosity was piqued. But I wasn’t sure if it was worth getting a ticket, until my grandfather called me up the day before Sukkot and asked to see it that afternoon. Between the confusion and constant questions, I was fully-convinced I’d walked out of one of the most-perplexing experiences ever once it was done.

That was several days ago. I’ve since had conversations with family, heard it referenced by my Rabbi in his sermon and mulled over my thoughts more. I knew I wanted to write about it, but what to say: do I discuss how it misunderstands the philosophy of Anarchy? Do I mention the “we live in a society” rhetoric it keeps banging the viewer over the head with? Perhaps the ableism with its stance on dwarfism? Maybe how it lazily critiques the 1%, all-the-while clumsily retconning Batman’s origins? These are all valid, but what strikes closest to home is its stance on mental illness.

When I was 7 years-old, I was sexually assaulted by an older boy who was supposed to discuss my ADHD diagnosis. I didn’t think much of the games he asked me to play, so I buried the event for nearly 20 years. Unfortunately, because of how the mind copes, my assault manifested itself as a bad addiction that spiralled out-of-control in university. From 2009 to 2017, I remained in a state of semi-denial, finally attending an addiction support group following a seminar at a local synagogue.

I mention this because while the support group proved unsuccessful, my history with addiction, anxiety and medication should’ve made me sympathize with Arthur Fleck. But I don’t. Because while Arthur is a mentally-unwell individual with a history of abuse, his transformation into a comic book villain is fetishized without much to say. It’s a futile exercise in sympathizing with a bad role model, and it doesn’t work. It, in some ways, actively angers me.

Take Arthur’s condition: he has a neurological disorder that makes him laugh uncontrollably. The film links it with the childhood abuse he received from his mother’s partners, but the film never expands on this causation. Wouldn’t it have made for an interesting angle to delve more into? The movie doesn’t quite agree, instead using it to justify the suffocation of his mother.

Arthur’s condition’s also never properly explored beyond its surface level. When he’s amusing that child on the bus, to the mother’s annoyance, it’s mentioned that his laugh is uncontrollable, but that’s never elaborated on. Arthur’s condition keeps resurfacing, but instead of using that to discuss how mental illness is a serious issue, it’s instead factored into his, rather repetitive, spiral to Joker-levels. Arthur never gets help, and while that’s “the point”, I also think it hampers potential subtext.

Additionally, I was mixed on Arthur’s kill count. Some of his victims, like the drunk businessmen and Murray, I understood, while others, like his co-worker and the psychiatrist in the final scene, confused me. And even when his murders were “justified”, the movie went out of its way to make their deaths unpleasant. I never once felt like they weren’t played up for any other reason than shock-value.

Arthur also became increasingly difficult to sympathize with. I get that we’re supposed to be “rooting” for an anti-hero whose life’s falling apart. I also get that we’re supposed to sympathize for someone who’s unwell. I’ve seen Taxi Driver and Memento, so I know that both can be done well. But Joker fails because, in my mind, I can’t get behind his choices. And that saddens me.

The point of no return was when Arthur tells his co-workers that he’s off his meds, and that he feels better without them. As someone who’s been down that road, that’s the wrong decision to fetishize. Going off my meds might’ve seemed like a good idea back in 2010, but it quickly spiralled my emotions out-of-control. I became verbally aggressive, I constantly got into arguments with friends and family, and I lacked good judgement. I might’ve had an uptick in my appetite, but that’s one gain for a dozen losses. It wasn’t worth it, and I’m disappointed that that’s positioned as “character growth”.

The weirdest part about Arthur’s transformation is that he becomes a symbol for the anti-1% movement. I have no love for the ultra-wealthy, but “eat the rich” was never meant to be conflated with “support complete chaos”. It’s true that the 1% hoards wealth, but the answer isn’t murder. There’s a reason why wealth taxes and jails exist, after all!

You know what doesn’t help? How unpleasant the experience is. Joker runs a little over 2-hours, but the only part I smiled at was a clip from Modern Times. Ignoring how a crowd of wealthy people laughing at it didn’t get the chuckles it was looking for, I was happy because it was Charlie Chaplin. It’s sad when I’d much rather watch that than Joker.

That’s my problem: there are semblances of good ideas, but the film doesn’t know what to do with them. The theme of anti-1% fervour could’ve gone somewhere interesting, but it didn’t. The other theme of mental illness goes places it shouldn’t. Even the whole “we live in a society” speech that Arthur gives on Murray’s show before murdering him feels more condescending than appropriate. Joker, essentially, is a movie off of its meds. And while you could argue “that’s the point”, it never feels sincere.

If there’s one saving grace, aside from the camerawork, it’s the performance of Joaquin Phoenix. True to what even the detractors have claimed, he’s mesmerizing. He really gives it his all. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination, as he’s earned it. I’m merely disappointed the material was elevated by his acting, as he deserved better.

As for the rest of it? I’m not biting. The performances are all solid, including Robert De Niro, but nothing about Joker is elevated to greatness like Phoenix. It’s a mediocre movie trying to be a great one, and it fails. If you want a better examination of anti-heroes or mental illness, there are plenty of options to choose from. And while it’s “good” that superhero properties are taking risks, I prefer conventional stories if the results keep producing films like Joker. The superhero sub-genre deserves better.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to detox…