Prophet of Doom

Rating: 7/10 (30 May 2011)

Well, whats left to say? The only reason we are still talking about it is for you know who. Lets face it, Heath Ledger MAKES this film, whenever he isn't on screen it loses a lot of its rape-the-cat, drill-nails-through-your-forehead intensity that Hans Zimmer sees fit to emphasize with a razors-on-string section score. When I first saw it with that steadily rising buzz saw of a musical cue sounding in the beginning I thought I'd stumbled into the latest serial killer pic, not Batman part 6. PG-13 be damned, this should've been rated R. Think about it- we went from Adam West's 60's pop art psychedelic camp fest to Tim Burton/Joel Schumacher's black rubber gay S&M fetish to Silence of the Lambs meets the caped crusader, post 9/11.What a huge distance in just a few decades. Our pop culture seems to be becoming quasi-sociopathic to match our increasingly dire State of the Union & I cannot conceive of a society that found the 60's Batman show satisfying on anything but the most ironically detached level; what would they have made of the cynical 2008 audience that needs its actors to work themselves into nervous breakdowns portraying comic book characters? That laughs at pencil-through-the-eyeball gags & cheers on urban terrorism for dummies? And we certainly don't do traditional acting anymore either. Nothing less than a performer killing himself to pass our bullsh*t-ometers. Lemme tell you, its beyond disconcerting watching the publics' increasingly parasitic relationship with celebrities; It reminds of Kurt Cobain in fact, another rising star who revelled in death & damnation to the delight of hungry, hungry fans.
Jack Nicholoson's ('I warned him!') Joker has nothing on this incarnation- that was campy scenery chewing, Jack being Jack- this is a rag man in the gutter preaching brimstone & hellfire by way of Nietzsche,a perverse evocation for the terrorism age, confirming every one of our worst fears about the slippery facade of civilization. Every evil clown you've ever seen in the movies rolled into one lone, loving Satanic prophet of doom. Slinking, twitchy, greasy, with a rat's nest of thinning green hair and running make-up: there is something so insanely punk-rock nihilistic about a slap hazard clown face melting underneath the heat & the whole film feels seedier every time our freak clown takes centre stage (Was there EVER a time clowns were truly a symbol of innocence instead of this twisted, molester-under-the-bed inversion they are now? Pennywise,Captain Spaulding, Gacy, Slipknot, hard-core clown porn.....). Yet he's the most joyful, attractive, child-like person in the film, everyone else is weighed down by the weight of a collapsing world,they can't help but look small next to him.The defining shot of the movie finds Joker hanging out a car window shaking his head like a dog & breathing in the air,clearly happy to be alive.Words can't describe it.
Ledger tapped into something real here, underneath the glitz and flash our own burning Gotham. How exhilarating and depressing to hear your own worst doubts played out in mime face like a sick joke,to have the joy & sorrow to know you're not the only one thinking very dark thoughts about the future. So yes, we should honour Heath for showing us what we don't want to look at except through the fun house mirror of Hollyweird, where anything goes. You *should* admire a movie & its actors for having the guts to go to these places, to show us the writing on the wall so brazenly, but thats the thing with Hollyweird- if they get anything right at all its usually the most obvious side of the equation. Where's our anti-joker, our ray of real light when the dawn is darkest? Because it sure as hell isn't Batman.