Radically different from contemporary comic-book cinema structurally

Rating: 10/10 (22 October 2019)

Radically different from contemporary comic-book cinema structurally, tonally and morally, Joker has more in common with Taxi Driver and The King Of Comedy than it does with Avengers Assemble or The Dark Knight. On multiple levels, it's the most challenging, subversive and nihilistic comic-book movie ever made. Needless to say, pint-sized Bat-fans should steer clear. We're first introduced to Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) applying make-up in preparation for his day job as a clown-for-hire, his face contorted into a horrific half-smile, half-cry grimace - the result of a neurological condition that causes involuntary, pathological laughter. Arthur's therapist is providing little relief, and that's before the practice is shuttered. Living in a shabby apartment block with his infirm mum, and getting nowhere as a stand-up comedian, Arthur is habitually treated with contempt or outright hostility. But his life only truly starts to spiral after a violent encounter on a subway car kickstarts a terrifying transformation.
Mirroring Arthur's descent is Gotham's own decay. It's 1981. Rubbish is piling up, 'super rats' are having their fill and Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen) is running for mayor. Far from the altruistic entrepreneur of Bat-dads past, Cullen's Wayne is a loathsome one-per-center who unapologetically declares Gotham's citizens 'clowns' on TV. At a time when the obscene economic divide between rich and poor grows greater by the second, Joker has its finger on the political and social pulse in daring ways. Simply put, Gotham is a powder keg and the Joker is perfectly placed to light the fuse. It should come as little surprise that Phoenix is staggeringly good here. That he's found a fresh take on a character as well worn as the Joker is one thing - that it feels just as definitive as Jack Nicholson and Heath Ledger's indelible interpretations is another altogether. Physically and psychologically, it's a horrifyingly funny performance. Losing 52lb for the part, Phoenix twists his skeletal frame into unsettling configurations, while he runs in a broadly comic way that looks like he has oversized shoes stuck to his soles at all times. Rather than the gleefully sadistic criminal mastermind of the comics - this is an origin story, after all - Arthur's defining characteristic is that he's ill. Phoenix engenders such powerful empathy for Fleck that some of the horrifying setbacks he faces, including a mental-health care system that profoundly fails him, are genuinely upsetting. By the film's charged, devilishly brilliant final act, you feel Fleck's rage at the injustice of a bankrupt world so overwhelmingly that, while his actions can't be justified, they can be clearly understood.
That Joker was directed and co-written by Todd Phillips - best known for the Hangover trilogy - makes this all the more remarkable. Unexpectedly, Phillips and the Ace of Knaves have turned out to be the perfect marriage of filmmaker and material; practically every choice is on the money. The early '80s aesthetic is so convincing it almost feels like a film made by a Scorsese contemporary. And the precision deployment of numerous rug-pulling revelations only works because Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver are storytellers willing to kill DC's golden geese. If there's a shortcoming, it's that Joker exists squarely in Scorsese's shadow, but it gets away with brazen thievery by openly acknowledging this. In a knowing inversion of his role in The King Of Comedy, Robert De Niro plays a beloved late-night host on whose talk show Arthur dreams of appearing. Several supporting roles are also a little thin - Zazie Beetz as a neighbour who takes a shine to Arthur being the clearest example. But this is the Joker show from first final act, you feel Fleck's rage at the injustice of a bankrupt world so overwhelmingly that, while his actions can't be justified, they can be clearly understood. LONE STRANGER That Joker was directed and co-written by Todd Phillips - best known for the Hangover trilogy - makes this all the more remarkable. Unexpectedly, Phillips and the Ace of Knaves have turned out to be the perfect marriage of filmmaker and material; practically to last frame, and Phoenix brings the house down. Sure, he's not performing magic tricks with pencils, or bringing Gotham to its knees with laughing gas, but this Joker is every bit as valid and fascinating as the ones before him, and works better for not being chained to a larger universe. If the result of the DCEU's failure to hit on a successful, consistent tone in its films is radical standalones of this quality, it may be the once-struggling studio's smartest move.