Joker: Dark and Distressing

by Ted Giese

It’s the early 1980s. A garbage strike fills the city with ‘super’ rats. A general economic downturn breeds civil unrest. This is where we meet Arthur Fleck. Joker chronicles his personal psychological disintegration as he simultaneously achieves notoriety and infamy from a world that otherwise would hardly notice him. Living with his codependent mother, working as a clown for hire, and struggling to become a stand-up comedian, the life of naïve and fragile Fleck spirals out of control as painful truths about his past surface and he endures a barrage of public indignities and failures.

After Fleck loses his social worker and prescription assistance due to government program cutbacks, a fellow rent-a-clown, Randall, lends him a handgun which eventually results in Fleck’s unemployment. As he goes off his many medications Fleck becomes increasingly violent and delusional. With everything and almost everyone set against him, Fleck breaks down piece by piece until the little boy his mother said was meant “to bring laughter and joy to the world” instead brings homicide and social unrest. Any optimism the character had in the first act of the film evaporates as he turns more and more in on himself and against the world around him.

Writer/director Todd Phillips’ film about the miserable and pitiable Arthur Fleck’s transformation into a homicidal public menace is an origin story of the Joker, the perennial villain and archnemesis of Gotham City’s caped crusader Batman. But this is not a conventional comic book action film. This Joker is a psychological drama opting for a high degree of realism, sharing more in common with films like Brad Anderson’s The Machinist or Christopher Nolan’s Memento than it does with any of the recent DC or Marvel films.

The character, who first appeared in the debut issue of Batman in 1940, has gone though many variations over the years ranging from the quirky offbeat Cesar Romero iteration in the “Zap! Pow!” screw-ball comedic television series (1966-1968) to the disturbingly more sinister vision of the psychotic clown found in Alan Moore’s 1988 one-shot graphic novel Batman: The Killing Joke (recently made into an animated film by Sam Liu in 2016 where the Joker was voiced by Mark Hamill). This dark Joker gave rise to subsequent increasingly off-kilter portrayals like Jack Nicholson’s volatile criminal version in Tim Burton’s 1989 Batman (1989) and Heath Ledger’s Oscar-winning performance of a nihilistic Joker in Christopher Nolan’s 2008 The Dark Knight. The attempt to go darker and darker with the character doesn’t always work, as evidenced by the lukewarm response to Jared Leto’s cruel grill-wearing street-gang-tattooed Joker in Suicide Squad. However, in each case the Joker—for nearly 80 years—has clearly been a character dealing from the bottom of the deck.

It might seem strange that Phillips, known for R-rated comedies like Old School and The Hangover trilogy, would serve as director of a film like Joker. But much of comedy is based on keen careful observation of human nature and the oddities, tragedies, and miseries of life and society—the very observations necessary for a film like Joker which includes a fair amount of social commentary in the midst of its detailed character study.

Phillips portrays Fleck as a man mostly living in the moment. At a couple of key points when he does reflect on life, he says, “I thought my life was a tragedy but then I learned it was a comedy.” Even as this idea dawns on Fleck, he continually struggles to understand what comedy truly is, even taking detailed notes about what makes people laugh as he hones his stand-up routine. Fleck’s difficulty grasping social cues is complicated by a condition known as pseudo-bulbar affect (PBA) characterised by episodes of sudden uncontrollable inappropriate laughing or crying, often aggravated by stressful situations. In awkward public moments Fleck has a laminated card he hands out that says “Forgive my laughter, I have a brain injury.”

Phillips is not simply bending Fleck’s character under the repeated stressful and sometimes abusive situations, instead he is breaking Fleck bit by bit, over and over again. St. Paul writes about hardships in the Christian life, saying “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3–4). In the end, the put-upon and embittered Joker developed by Phillips is one without hope, filled with rage and a growing sense of entitlement. This transformation is gradual but striking and there is nothing funny about it.

In the end, the put-upon and embittered Joker developed by Phillips is one without hope, filled with rage and a growing sense of entitlement.

What first appears to be Phillips’ fresh and original approach to the character of the Joker will be recognized by film buffs as an homage to two early works of filmmaker Martin Scorsese: The King of Comedy (1982) and Taxi Driver (1976). In King of Comedy, Robert De Niro plays an un-heroic schmuck Rupert Pupkin— a self aggrandizing delusional man living with his mother in New York City struggling to be a stand up comedian who becomes embroiled in a plot to kidnap a talk show host in a desperate bid for public attention even if it’s only for a day. As Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, De Niro is an obsessive marginalized man falling through the cracks of society as he descends into paranoia and violence.

In Joker, De Niro flips his King of Comedy role to play a late night TV talk show, exploiting Fleck’s social awkwardness for laughs. While appearing on live television the last thing Franklin hears is Fleck’s condemnation, “What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? You get what you [expletive] deserve!” For Fleck this indictment is leveled not just at the personally disappointing Franklin, who he had imagined to be a kind of father figure, but also against the studio audience, those watching at home, the whole city of Gotham, philanthropist and industrialist Thomas Wayne—father of the young Bruce Wayne, who will one day be Batman—and perhaps the whole world.

Take the previously mentioned Scorsese films, add elements from the equally challenging Michael Douglas 1993 film Falling Down, blend them with the Fleck/Joker character and the bones holding together Phillips’ Joker present themselves as part of a larger and longer conversation about the nature of folk anti-heroes in film. In the eyes of some people, the Joker character has shifted from simple villain to complex folk anti-hero becoming enshrined alongside Taxi Driver’s Travis Bickle, or the Guy Fawkes mask-wearing V in James McTeigue’s 2005 V for Vendetta.

Concerns that Phillips’ rendition of the Joker may incite or encourage troubled individuals who feel disenfranchised by society towards similar acts of violence depicted in the film are not entirely unwarranted. In 2012 during a screening of The Dark Knight Rises in Aurora, Colorado just such a tragic event occurred resulting in 12 deaths and the injury of some 70 filmgoers. Even if the 2012 Aurora shooter was not directly influenced by the character of the Joker, the shooter was certainly an individual suffering from mental illness. Phillips’ Joker also considers the same “nature vs. nurture “questions that surface when paranoid individuals embrace rage and violence against others. As a result some venues exercised caution and added security at early screening of Joker.

It might also be good to remember that similar concerns about potential acts of violence emerged recently during the 2019 limited theatrical release of the Chuck Konzelman/Cary Solomon film Unplanned, the true story of Abby Johnson, a Planned Parenthood abortion clinic director who had a change of heart and became a pro-life advocate. Will anti-social people with anarchist obsessions or individuals with an involuntary-celibate (“incel”) paranoid personality find a personal hero in Joaquin Phoenix’s rendition of the Joker? That remains to be seen. Regardless of whether these fears materialize, individuals struggling with these dark temptations likely don’t require a Hollywood film to convince them to act on their dark thoughts; sin can arise out of a person without external influences (Matthew 15:18-19). That said there will be people whose mental state will not be helped by watching this film.

Christians are free to see this movie just as they are free to see any of the other films mentioned in this review, but let’s be clear: this review is not a recommendation to see Joker nor is it an endorsement of the film. In many ways this is a cynical film revelling in its macabre conclusion. Yet as mentioned before, Joker is now part of a larger conversation and some Christians will simply want to know what the film is about to remain part of the conversation when talking to friends, neighbours, and family. The hope is that a review like this will provide some insight into the film’s nature and content for those who have watched the film as well those who are just curious about it.

Christian viewers must be careful when considering the character of Arthur Fleck. Phillips plays on the audience’s innate desire to see underdog and downtrodden characters succeed, especially when Fleck is striving to be a stand-up comedian. And when Fleck is being abused and begins losing his way, viewers will empathetically want him to receive the help he desperately needs; no one wants to see someone fall through the cracks of the social safety net. These feelings, combined with Joaquin Phoenix’s nuanced and masterful performance as Fleck, may colour the viewer’s perception of the character as sympathetic. By the end of the film, however, it is clear Fleck is not a character warranting such an assessment. Joker , subtly at first then not so subtly in the end,  plays the “sympathy for the devil” card—and that card is the real joker dealt from the deck by Phillips.

Joker , subtly at first then not so subtly in the end,  plays the “sympathy for the devil” card—and that card is the real joker dealt from the deck by Phillips.

Joker is structured in a criss-cross pattern as the put-upon Arthur Fleck achieves the fame he desires; the very fame he seeks comes at the expense of his mental state. He begins as a fragile but stable nobody and ends as an infamous public menace. The film concludes amidst complete social chaos with a riotous clown-masked crowd of protestors nudged along and entangled in the story of this sad character terrorizing the streets of Gotham City. Read through a biblical lens, Joker becomes a cautionary tale about the dangers of seeking after the vanities of fame and the dangers inherent in embracing bitterness and anger. There are dozens of scriptural passages that speak to a contrasting Christian approach to the various pitfalls in which Fleck finds himself. One comes from St. Paul when he writes, “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:31–32). Fleck displays an inability to forgive his equally troubled mother Penny, or the insolent Thomas Wayne, or his vindictive co-worker Randall. Christian viewers will find no encouragement in the character of the Joker. And why would they? If anything, the Joker can be read as a call to be more caring for the needs of the truly marginalized and vulnerable.

It’s good to remember that Philips utilizes juxtaposition as a technique to make his audience feel uneasy. The majority of viewers have an expectation of where the story is going because they are aware of other versions of the Joker origin story. Red herrings like Fleck’s note in his joke book “I just hope my death makes more cents than my life,” make viewers worry that Fleck will harm himself and the emphasis on smiling when there is nothing to smile about creates its own tension. Because of his brain injury, it’s implied that Fleck only mimics many of the expressions of emotions he sees in others making him a rather calculating character at times, even rehearsing simple conversations. Even the soundtrack, with the song “Smile,” increases the viewer’s sense of dread. “Smile though your heart is achin’,” the song says. “Smile, even though it’s breakin’, When there are are clouds in the sky You’ll get by… If you smile Through your fear and sorrow Smile, And maybe tomorrow You’ll see the sun come shinin’ through, For you.” Viewers anticipate that the sun won’t actually come shining through for Fleck.

The film is brilliant in its writing and executing, and has mesmerizing performances which may garner award nominations. Even so, Joker is a grim and unpleasant film. There is no joy in watching a man being beaten down until he becomes the Joker. Nor should there be.

———————

Rev. Ted Giese is lead pastor of Mount Olive Lutheran Church, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada; a contributor to The Canadian Lutheran, Reporter; and movie reviewer for the “Issues, Etc.” radio program. Follow Pastor Giese on Twitter @RevTedGiese.

Print this article