The supervillain story from Todd Phillips’ Joker is being released amid so much debate and worry about the possibility of imitation violence that the discussion has largely eclipsed the movie’s content. Initial concerns regarding Joker presumed the film wouldn’t be necessary and would have little influence. The questions being asked right now give it much too much weight, as if its very existence could spark full-blown anarchy.
Joker is a purposefully bloody movie, both emotionally and visually, for most of its duration. Arthur begins with almost nothing and gradually loses everything in ways that are meant to offend sympathetic viewers. The style of the movie is sickeningly grungy, underlit, and David Fincher-esque thanks to Phillips and cinematographer Lawrence Sher (who also directed all three of Phillips’ Hangover movies). This is especially true in Arthur’s filthy abode. Everything in the narrative is oppressive, pushing the audience toward Arthur’s point of view as the main victim of all the persecution. This includes the gritty darkness, the oppressive sound design, and the ominous, booming score. Much as Phoenix’s portrayal is captivating as he slides from flimsy optimism into increasingly obscene and self-assured acts of destruction, it’s hypnotic how horrible Arthur’s existence is.
Then he manages to escape it all by learning to care less about how or whether other people perceive him, whether he injures, terrifies, or even murders them, and whether his manifesto for the last act makes any sense at all. The crucial aspect of Arthur’s tale—and the reason for so much of the anxiety around the Joker—is that he unexpectedly receives the admiration and attention he has been wanting when he embraces his most destructive and nihilistic desires. Although it may not fully inspire him, this is designed as a message for the audience members who are closest to Arthur and who feel the most hated and unseen: many people share your opinion that the world is unfair and terrible, and if you took action to change it, they would support your performance.
Similar to Falling Down and Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, which Phillips freely imitates and alludes to, Joker implies that the leading man’s mental breakdown is a logical and even expected response to a similarly insane society. It’s possible that viewers who aren’t already disposed to view humanity as a roiling cesspool won’t identify with that level of pessimism. Joker, however, is a purposeful and well-tuned provocation and promise: you aren’t alone, the people you hate really are awful, and it would be okay to act against them in any way you want. This is especially true for viewers who feel as mistreated and overlooked as Arthur Fleck or even for those who harbor smaller, more reasonable resentments about society.
Phillips has made it clear that he does not consider Joker to be merely a comic book movie, which is something small and easily dismissed. Although his movie is grimmer and more terrifying than anything in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it offers up a fantasy just as obviously as any wish-fulfillment power trip for superheroes: the fantasy of being a hero to some people, of rising from a position of weakness to one of strength, and of being both feared and adored at the same time. By essentially setting the story in an alternate universe where Arthur has no other option but to use violence and no other means of escape than madness, Phillips conveys that message in a self-congratulatory manner. Because he has come to see that everything in the world is a joke and meaningless, he is portrayed as a sort of grim truth-teller.
Because Joker is such a selfish and solipsistic fantasy, many critics and early viewers have reacted to it with disgust. Phillips is fostering the worst and most destructive tendencies in his audience by dismissing the world as unfair at best and downright evil at worst. At one point, Arthur confesses sadly, “I just don’t want to feel so horrible any longer.” He is a sympathetic, tragic, and relatable type of villain; he serves as the audience’s representative of the oppressed rather than being an Everyman. Afterwards, he demonstrates how to cease to be harmless. Joker isn’t necessarily a call to arms or a license for actual violence because of this. Yet, it does serve as a terrible invitation — not just a plea for sympathy with the devil, but a full-fledged defense of the wicked.
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Writer:
Risalat Rahman Hridoy
Intern, Content Writing Department
YSSE