Without even releasing, Joker has already become the film of the year. It has garnered more Internet discussion, news media coverage, and hyperbolic praise and criticism from people who haven't even seen it yet than any other movie this year... and Avengers: Endgame came out this year.
If Black Panther was the movie of 2018, Joker is the movie of 2019. That's not to say that either one is even close to the best of movie of its respective year, nor are they both on equal footing in terms of cultural significance. But like Black Panther, Joker seems to be the talk of the town this time around.
And it's understandable why. Verbally acclaimed but materially under-awarded actor Joaquin Phoenix, who stars in the titular role, has been building up his public reputation for years now, until finally, in the last few of years, gaining widespread public recognition as one of the best working actors, and a particularly chameleonic one at that. So when Warner Brothers/DC announced a Joker movie with Phoenix tied to it in 2017, conditions were primed for the hype-train, if not also tangible success as a result.
Director Todd Phillips, who is known for studio comedies like The Hangover trilogy and Due Date, has done a hard about-face this time around, attempting to sink his teeth into the more tragic and disturbing elements of the iconic DC supervillain, rather than the goofy, vaudevillian charms present in some cartoon versions or, say, Cesar Romero's rendition in the 60's TV show.
This version of the character, realized in the relatively bare-bones screenplay by Phillips and Scott Silver, begins his story as Arthur Fleck, a mentally disturbed and impoverished human billboard. He waves signs on sidewalks dressed up as a clown, attempting to bring fun and lighthearted energy to passersby, but seems to upset and annoy more people than he amuses. In the opening minutes, his sign is stolen and he's beaten up in an alleyway, and shortly thereafter, he's blamed for it by his boss and made fun of by his fellow clowns.
Needless to say, Arthur's life is miserable. Each day, he goes home to a delusional mother in failing health, and he makes stops by his psychiatrist's office and rambles while she demands that he write in his journal and then doesn't read it. Meanwhile on TV, Gotham City's rich ignore and dismiss the poor and the working-class as the city grows ever more socially divided. As far as Arthur can tell, nobody cares about him, and he can't figure out why. What follows is the unraveling of an unstable human being, and an evolution into the nihilistic, homicidal maniac we all apparently love.
The presentation is appropriately grimy and dizzying in its portrayal of mental instability and poverty. Sickly flourescent greens mix with the glaring oranges of streetlights and filthy blue-grays of damp concrete. It's an affecting color palette, even if the cinematography and editing can only occasionally keep pace to maintain the facade of mastered filmmaking craft. Some editing decisions feel misplaced, whether it be a moment cut too short or the order of face shots in a conversation missing the opportunity for greater impact; at times, it feels just shy of a final edit. The camera work occasionally shines with brilliant images of the horror unfolding, but mostly just gets the job done, though I'm guessing, thanks to the committed color story and heavy tone, that most of the Internet will tell you it deserves an Oscar.
Joker mostly works in its attempt at telling a sympathetic story without condoning its character's behavior—though, at a certain point, I could have stood for less emphasis on his mental and physical ailments as an excuse.
The film's greatest strength, by miles and miles, is Phoenix. The film is so wholly anchored by his painful, committed performance that I'm honestly not sure it even works that well without him. That's not to say that someone else couldn't have played the Joker, but this version of the film almost feels style and catered to his acting choices. And that's completely fine, but I generally prefer when a film can consistently impress me in ways beyond its lead performance. As stated before, the script is good enough, but rarely great or impressive. I think perhaps if Phillips had brought on someone with more interest in subtext, we could have ended up with a more profound film. It works plenty well as is, but there isn't as much going on under the surface as I'm sure most people will think after having seen it. The depth of the film is the depth of Phoenix's performance, and that's about that on that.
In all, Joker is a satisfyingly perverse character study, but with only a couple moments throughout that feel like a perfect melding of all elements of cinematic storytelling, rather than just leaning on the star to carry the weight. It's clear that Joker wants to be more than that, however, and while it does have some clear social commentary about mental illness, class struggle, and general callousness in the way we treat one another, it isn't particularly profound in what it says on the matters, and the most annoying part is that it almost feels like it thinks it is.
It's movies like Joker that almost make me hate writing reviews, or more so giving quantitative scores. I thoroughly enjoyed Joker. Phoenix is wicked fun, and the overall product is a slowly-building fever dream of desperation with moments of resonant greatness. That being said, it really all hinges on its star, and doesn't offer nearly as much as it purports to beyond that. Many might argue that "it's a comic book movie so that fact that it has interesting commentary at all makes it groundbreaking," which I vehemently disagree with. Half the Marvel Studios films have well-executed commentary, and plenty to enjoy beyond that. I'd say Joker is more likable and entertaining than it is great, and I can already feel the heat of Reddit's coals on my feet as I say that.
This will be one of those cases where I'm sure I'll find myself largely speaking negatively of the film in conversation, not because it isn't good (it definitely is), but because it will inevitably be exalted by the mobs as a critical cinematic moment in the zeitgeist (it definitely is not).