TIFF 2019 review: JOKER is an unsettling, violent revenge fantasy

Joker isn’t in theatres for another month, but the film is already one of the most divisive of the year. Apart from the throngs of online fanboys who seem to jump to the immediate defence of any DC franchise film (especially ones they haven’t actually seen, like the whole “Snyder Cut” Batman V. Superman fiasco), critics have either been praising the film as a bold take on Batman’s greatest foe, or decrying it as a violent, and even dangerously sympathetic look at incel culture. Either way, Joker is unlike any other comic book film we’ve ever seen.

Director Todd Phillips (The Hangover trilogy) has essentially remade Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver with this film. Located in the fictional city of Gotham (always a stand-in for NYC in the comics), Phillips matches the grimy 70’s feel of New York City so closely with Scorsese’s anti-hero classic that you can practically hear Bernard Herrmann’s bombastic Taxi Driver score over nearly any of Joker’s shots.

Joaquin Phoenix plays Arthur Fleck, a troubled man making ends meet by performing as a clown on street corners and private events. He lives with his ill mother in a destitute area of Gotham, and tries to offset his various mental health issues by remaining heavily medicated. He’s infatuated with his neighbour Sophie Dumond (Zazie Beetz), and spends most of his free time scribbling violent thoughts into his notebook, which he claims is material for the stand-up career he hopes to pursue, in part to be a guest on the Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) talk show. After being assaulted by a gang of teenagers, Arthur is given a gun by a fellow clown co-worker in order to defend himself, which eventually leads him down a violent path of revenge.

Phoenix is remarkably unsettling as Arthur. He’s possessed with what he describes as a medical condition that provoke uncontrollable bursts of laughter, even in situations that don’t call for it, and Phoenix’s manic, high-pitched laugh is a thing of wonder. Phoenix reportedly lost close to 50 pounds for this role, and he looks like the walking dead here. Often shirtless, his ribs look like they’re ready to pop up through the skin, and he maintains a lithe, ballerina-like gait throughout, which is especially disturbing during the character’s more violent outbreaks.

The real issue with Joker is how the audience is supposed to respond to Fleck’s descent into madness and violence. While the Joker has always been a villain in the Batman mythos, it’s hard not to think of him as the protagonist here. After all, he doesn’t initially seek out violence; he’s simply a disturbed and delusional man trying to exist in an extremely violent city. He wants to be a comedian but he’s so removed from reality that when he visits a comedy club he can’t even tell when he should be laughing. Fleck is a lonely man desperately trying to integrate into society, but he doesn’t have the emotional tools to make that leap possible. When he eventually reacts violently during a confrontation, he finally begins to come alive. As his violent attacks increase, we see him growing into himself; he carries himself differently, acts more confidently, and is awakened to the world in a way he’s never been before.

Of course, sympathizing with (and potentially lionizing) a mass murderer in this current culture of mass shootings is a controversial choice. We’ve seen killers in film become pop culture heroes over the years (not to mention our fixation on true crime), but there is something much darker and more upsetting about Fleck’s descent into madness and violence. Fleck is basically an incel, the sort of withdrawn, socially awkward young man that seeks fame and infamy through extreme violence against others. Yet Phillips still tries to make him a sympathetic character, imbuing him with a depressing family backstory that seeks to explain away his violent tendencies. Even worse, without getting into spoiler territory, Fleck is awarded and appreciated for his crimes, spawning legions of clown mask wearing citizens to storm the streets of Gotham in solidarity for Fleck’s crimes against the rich, making him a sort of homicidal Robin Hood.

In many ways, Joker feels like the sort of violent revenge fantasy someone like Fleck would daydream about; a way to get even with the establishment that they feel (rightly or wrongly) is holding them down. Yet the film doesn’t really have anything to say about Fleck’s predicament; it doesn’t really treat his transformation into Joker as a tragedy. If anything, he’s a hero to the underclass, a dangerous notion when we see what happens when unstable men get their hands on weapons of destruction.

Phoenix’s portrayal of Fleck is incredibly affecting, which actually makes the film feel even more upsetting. It’s hard to judge if Phillips is too sympathetic to Fleck’s plight, or if we’re just being drawn in by Phoenix’s unnatural body work and uncomfortable phrasing. As great as Heath Ledger’s performance of The Joker was in The Dark Knight Returns, Phoenix’s version is operating on such a different wavelength that it hardly feels like the two characters even exist in the same universe. Whatever your thoughts on the film, it’s impossible to deny Phoenix’s revelatory work here, a conversation that’s sure to be in the air come Oscar season.

Taking the violence of Taxi Driver alongside the delusional drive for fame from another Scorsese film, 1983’s King of Comedy (also starring Robert De Niro), Phillips has clearly set up a template of the disillusioned loner for Phoenix to follow. Still, no film is made in a vacuum. Joker is clearly aware of the current culture of fear and violence in the US, and is indirectly addressing that by focusing on the disturbed mindset that leads someone to acts of hideous violence. But it’s almost impossible not to picture some of those same men cheering Joker on here – at times, the movie feels like an extremely well put together love letter to the Arthur Flecks of the world, re-affirming their fractured way of looking at the world. Joker is often exhilarating, but the darkness hanging over this movie is extremely hard to shake; you’ll find yourself looking over your shoulder when you leave the theatre, wondering where the next ticking time-bomb is lurking.

Joker is in theatres on October 4.