Joker (second-pass)
Cert: 15 / 122 mins / Dir. Todd Phillips / Trailer
Well then, it turns out a second-pass of Todd Phillips' Joker didn't bring me a great deal more insight than the first, although that's not to say it was any less enjoyable. Not being a DC-kid, any Easter-eggs which slipped under the radar last time continued to do so, with my focus landing more on Joaquin Phoenix's magnetic performance in the central role.
The overall film itself is great but make no mistake, Phoenix is far and away the best thing in it. The bottom line is that Joker would be nowhere near as intricate-yet-powerful with any other contemporary actor in the role. At this point we'd expect little else from Phoenix, but because so much of this is Arthur Fleck discovering then shaping the character he wants to present to the world, we get to see more of Phoenix-the-actor; channeling some of his own off-screen craft and homework (well, as much as he wants us to see, of course). While I probably don't think it's the 'best' performance he's given, I believe this will be the one which sticks in people's minds, not least due to the mainstream appeal of the movie.
MOCKED After the subway murders and Arthur's first standup gig (to which, other than the outrage of being mocked by Murray Franklin, it's difficult to read his own reaction), our protagonist suddenly looks his best in the whole movie. He's standing up straight, he has confidence. And while Arthur hasn't quite found his purpose in life, he suddenly knows where to look. That soon begins to unravel of course, but at least it's doing so at a rate of Fleck's causing (although still not his actual control). In many another movie this uplift would be spelled out in small words, here it's just one facet of everything that's going on. The psychopath's life is still falling apart, he just cares less about that.
And there are a myriad of smaller moments, buried under the shrieking descent into panic. When Arthur is told he's fired and headbutts the phone booth, the splintering glass doesn't cut his head because of the clown's bald-cap he's wearing. This is the subconscious moment when Arthur realises he can protect himself from harm, be insulated from his own intuitive violence, by wearing an outfit that others will see as a disguise (because although it conceals the public-identity of Arthur Fleck, it is in actuality the closest he gets to becoming his true self).
NINJA'D What I enjoyed most about this is that it's a single snapshot of an already fragmented canon. It's not the origin story of The Joker, it's an origin story of this Joker. There's a beginning, a middle and an end which is also a beginning. And that's beautiful. Which is a polite way of saying that we don't need a sequel. Which a polite way of saying that I don't want a sequel. But DC and Warner Bros are there to make money (obviously), and we play the cards we're dealt. But nothing which comes later can spoil this particular iteration of the Joker. Not least because Phillips has already tried that with the Glitter Band.
Just as Logan is the highlight of 20th Century Fox's X-Men franchise because it's not a superhero movie, so Joker is to DC/Warner's pantheon. Maybe take the hint and bow out before we get a DC-equivalent of Dark Phoenix?
Level 2: Robert De Niro is in this, and he was in Little Fockers with Laura 'Holdo' Dern.
(That's right Bob, I'm not going to let you forget all the shite comedies you've done over the last decade)
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Joker (spoilers in the footnotes)
Cert: 15 / 122 mins / Dir. Todd Phillips / Trailer
It's not supposed to be an easy-ride. Just keep that in mind as you sit down to watch the story of a middle-aged man, single but living with his elderly mother in a run down apartment block as he ekes out an existence as a jobbing clown in a city which has forgotten how to laugh. As he's taken for granted, mocked, ignored and assaulted on a daily basis. As he has neither the social nor the practical skills to pursue his dream of being a standup comedian, evoking only laughs of pity rather than knowing camaraderie. As it's not one thing which tips him over the edge, like the timings of a fast food outlet breakfast menu, but a succession of bad decisions and worse reactions that corner him and seem to offer only one logical way out. As that involves becoming one of the most notorious villains of comic culture, by which bloodsoaked point he's long past trying to make other people happy. It's not supposed to be an easy ride.
DOWNFALL Which is just as well, really. Todd Phillips' highly anticipated Joker movie is very good but is also bloody hard work, for both the right and wrong reasons. Charting the downfall of Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix), it's a snapshot of crisis which plays as well to today's time as its 1981 setting. And don't let that year fool you, the sets, wardrobe, makeup and titles have a delicious 1970s vibe, as does Lawrence Sher's cinematography. His desaturated eye flits from the confines of Fleck's claustrophobic apartment to voyeuristic tracking shots across the street as he makes his way through Gotham's urban jungle. This is a city which doesn't know the decade has ticked over.
There are references to wider DC lore (to the point where even a Marvel-kid like me picked them up), but the movie is largely self-contained. Comparisons are inevitable of course, and tonally Phoenix is perhaps the closest to the Nolan/Ledger Joker, with the sense of deranged threat every bit as palpable when the character is pinned down. Of course that earlier performance was by definition more mysterious, his backstory shifting every time he spoke to someone new. There's no such ambiguity here. Phillips wants to (and does) explain every excruciating beat of Arthur Fleck's fall between the cracks. And while Joaquin's hypnotic performance adds intrigue to the characterisation, there's still no real Mystery™.
BABY But it's the performances that matter here, rather than adherence to any previous timeline. Phoenix leads brilliantly as usual, although we'd expect nothing less at this point. And while there are strong supporting turns from Robert De Niro as talk show host Murray Franklin, Zazie Beets as Arthur's neighbour Sophie and Frances Conroy as his mother Penny, everyone else is firmly in second-place here*1. At a hair over two hours, the film is tight but never rushed. And with a full stage to himself, Phoenix manages what Leto couldn't and redefines the character properly. This new iteration carries all the critical DNA of the Joker, while still being its own thing.
The story is underscored by a fantastically mournful score from Hildur Guðnadóttir and a darkly wry jukebox soundtrack*2. The film is definitely over-egged in places but Phillips paints his scenes perfectly, and it's an overdue lesson to others in the DC-verse insisting that visual and thematic darkness are automatically the same thing. Although the director is by no means unaware of his successes here, and spends the last ten minutes of the movie cruising past a swathe of natural end-points, desperate to wring every last drop out of his subject with patience-testing curtain calls (confirmation: there's no bonus content during or after the credits).
YOKO ONO This wants to be the Logan of DC, and in many ways it succeeds. But while there are certainly plenty of things working in Joker's favour, I don't think it'll become the classic it's being lauded as in some quarters. When the hype has died down, we'll be left with a damned solid love letter to 70s noir cinema, viewed through the socio-political lens of 2019. Phillips has assembled this well, but it's too reliant on the movies it homages to be truly groundbreaking.
Joker often feels like it's Phillips making a statement rather than telling a story. And it's a statement which will be taken out of context by some*3. And it really shouldn't be, but not everyone can read in subtext and there are some genies you just can't put back in the bottle...
Given the movie's provocative nature and mixed critical reaction, that's probably not unlikely.
Not that I heard.
Level 2: Joaquin Phoenix is in this, and he was in The Sisters Brothers with Riz 'Bodhi Rook' Ahmed.
*1Interesting casting point: A young Bruce Wayne is shown here in a couple of scenes, played by Dante Pereira-Olson. Dante also starred in You Were Never Really Here where he was the childhood iteration of Joaquin Phoenix's character, Joe. So while this movie toys with the long-recurring theme that Batman and the Joker are two sides of the same coin, that's done with performers who have previously played the same person in the same film, again with a generational divide between innocence and clinical psychoticism. It's a small point which is unlikely to be picked up in the cinema, but adds to the architecture of the film. Lovely stuff. [ BACK ]
*2 At one point there's been a production meeting in which someone has asked "So can we use Gary Glitter on the soundtrack?", and it appears that someone else has replied "Yes. Yes, that is entirely in keeping with the vision of this piece. Do that." Er, okay mate. [ BACK ]
*3 Although at least it's a statement which stands up to some scrutiny, unlike some of the utter bollocks Phillips has come out with on the movie's promotional-trail. Ho-hum. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Joy Cert: 12A / 124 mins / Dir. David O'Russell / Trailer
Is is that time again already? David O. Russell tiptoes past Christmas and slides another Lawrence/Cooper/De Niro signed card under the door before awards-season kicks in. This time it's a semi-fictionalised biography of Joy Mangano, the inventor of the self-wringing mop. I know you were waiting for that sentence to end with a slightly acerbic aside, but how could I do that? It's a genius idea, and rightly made her a shed-load of cash. And it's that tumultuous chain of events which form the basis for Russell's film.
Business-end first, all the performances here are uniformly fantastic*1, and Jennifer Lawrence in particular continues to be a force to be reckoned with. The range she gets to display in the title role is magnificent considering she doesn't over-egg any of it. Also scoring significant points is Édgar Ramírez as her ex-husband, Tony, my only complaint being that his character felt a little under-used considering the supporting part he plays in the story.
But this isn't just a performance-piece, and that's where it comes undone a little. My main beef is that Joy just has way too much going on. The infrequent humour is dry and understated, the metaphor is slightly heavy-handed, the story is melodramatic and the narration is patronisingly fourth-wall-breaking. None of these would be a deal-breaker, except that the resulting film just doesn't hang together. As much good as Joy has to its credit (and there's a lot), it can't seem to settle into a focused story. Joy's mother's first-act fixation with daytime soap operas and the later strand of the film concerning the QHC home-shopping channel already lend the film a slightly superficial air, but by the time you layer the flashbacks and dream-sequences on top, the fantasy elements begin to outpace the fact in the story. And in itself, it's not a bad story. Just a bit 'afternoon TV-movie'. It also apparently takes place in the early 1990s (although no captioning will tell you this), even though the film looks more late 70s, early 80s. No matter, that's small-fry by narrative comparison.
But if the film has a deeper message, it appears to be concerning the methods by which Joy finally achieves her goals. Whether it's stepping out in front of the cameras on a home-shopping channel to shred your dignity and hawk your wares in a vapid and condescending environment, or travelling to the other side of the country to face-off, manipulate and counter-bully the badly behaving subordinates in your supply-chain: Ingenuity and determination will not be enough for you to succeed in this world. If you want to be a winner, you will first have to lower yourself to the level of those you know you're better than, and then you'll have to become one of them.Yay commerce.
Ultimately, for all my moaning, I know that David O. Russell is a great film-maker. Any aspects of this movie which weren't to my liking are only so because of my own preferences and niggles, and have been put in place with great care and purpose. After spending two hours in Joy's company, I'm still not entirely sure who the film's for - but I know it's not really for the guy who keeps writing 2,000 word analyses of the same Star Wars flick...
In terms of A-list populated, true-story dramatisations about cleaning products, Joy probably loiters somewhere just outside of my top five, I'm afraid.
Nice try David O. Russell, I'll see you in a couple of years...
Oh, y'know, whatever.
Rental. Unless you either star in the film or are thinking of inventing a new type of mop, there's not really going to be a reason to re-watch this too often.
Lawrence is great, Ramirez is great.
It probably does, but I think it could have achieved far more.
Probably not.
There isn't.
Joy stars Jennifer Lawrence, of course, who is due to appear in X-Men: Apocalpyse alongside Rose 'Dormé' Byrne and Oscar 'Dameron' Isaac.
*1 Yes, even Robert De Niro's performance as The Robert De Niro Character™. Sure, he's not breaking any moulds here, but I'll save my ire for next month's Dirty Grandpa. I suppose we'll see how many interviews Bob will strop out of in the meanwhile, eh?
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Well, another previously unseen classic, another pleasant surprise. Actually, pleasant may not be the right word, but it’s true that I enjoyed The King Of Comedy very much, so it’s close enough. Martin Scorsese’s character-driven film is a rumination on celebrity, fandom and paranoid delusion; a satire so starkly abrupt that there are barely any wry grins, let alone laughs (comedy films are meant to be funny of course, but films about comedy rarely are. Which is how it should be*1).
Robert De Niro’s portrayal of Rupert Pupkin, super-fan of TV talk-show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis) and self-professed stand-up comedian, is slightly more delicate than the film makes allowances for. His character-work is nothing short of magnificent, whether it’s in Rupert’s daily life with his distantly hollering mother, his fantasy world where he’s Jerry’s colleague and confidante, or the squirm-inducing car crash between the two where Rupert and fellow obsessive Masha (Sandra Bernhard) kidnap Jerry so that Pupkin can ransom his hackneyed comedy routine onto national television.
What’s most intriguing (thanks to screenwriter Paul Zimmerman, even more than the acting or direction) is that Pupkin can’t even keep control of his delusions, and it’s not long before the wheels are falling off his idyllic vision of contentment, too. Far from being a Mitty-esque hero, Rupert Pupkin can’t succeed within his own psyche, so it’s quite a horrifying turn of events when he does in the real-world; and that success says more about the society which somehow allows it to happen.
My only real grumble about the film is that Rupert's ongoing fantasy-strand doesn’t seem to be utilised enough. Although the alternative-narrative progresses as the film does, Scorsese dips in and out of it rather than running it as a fully parallel reality (which is basically how I envisioned it going). It would have been nice if the audience arrive at a point where they’re no longer sure what’s really happening and what isn’t yet are still wrapped up in all of the events on-screen, much like Pupkin himself. As it goes, the final act of the film (as bizarre as it is) concentrates on the ‘real world’ consequences of Pupkin’s actions, and is far neater for it.
Timeless for all the wrong (although right) reasons, The King Of Comedy probably says more about the fame of 2015 than it does of 1982…
Well no, I'm still not entirely sold on De Niro (see here).
I certainly am.
I would, but not for casual viewing.
There ain't.
Robert De Niro starred in Jackie Brown of course, opposite Sam 'Windu' Jackson.
*1 Because comedy (especially stand-up) requires more restraint, timing and precision than any other type of acting; you can’t blag it and hope that it works on some level, because if it fails to make the audience laugh then it fails in its primary purpose, and if the audience can see you trying, you’ve already got it wrong. This is touched on very briefly by The King Of Comedy then not mentioned again. It’s not until the climax of the film that we see Pupkin in full comedic-flow, and I can’t tell if his stand-up is deliberately as clichéd and dull as it is (to me). While it’s accepted that stand-up is an art-form created in America, I believe it’s evolved past the particular brand seen in the film, yet that’s still a brand that’s very much used today, especially with mainstream comics. You can only hear a joke for the first time once, and while repetition certainly has its place in comedy, standing in front of a curtain (or, God forbid, a faux-brick wall in a black-box theatre) cracking mother-in-law jokes isn’t self-aware enough to embrace the technique.
Short version: I can’t work out if Pupkin’s actual stand-up is a bit crap because a) It was filmed over 30 years ago, b) It was meant to be a bit crap over 30 years ago, or c) I just don’t find that broad, drum-roll/cymbal, one-liner stuff funny any more.
But you didn’t come here for a lecture on comedy. Especially from someone who’s not a comedian.
But you got one anyway.
Look, what I’m saying is, if you got to the end of The King Of Comedy and watched Pupkin’s show-routine and thought ”Oh that’s better, some jokes! This bit’s great!”, then you’ve watched the film wrong.
Me mordere.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
The obvious benefit to Robert De Niro's recent professional huff-taking, of course, is that audience awareness of this film's borderline graveyard-slot release will he higher, and more buzz equals more bums on seats; fact. However, the downside is that the same audience will be far more critical as a result, expecting the venerated actor to have been defending the honour of some magnificent cinematic achievement, a modern parable and homily for our distracted 21st century mindset…
Y'know, instead of the blandly offensive mom-com*1 that Bobby sleepwalks through using the same clockwork demeanour that's seen him cash the cheques from threeMeet The Parents movies and voice an animated shark.
[ …Say what you like about Radio Times journalist Emma Brockes and her veiled intimation that The Intern is perhaps not De Niro's most challenging role, but she's got a great fall-back career in carpentry lined up, having hit the nail right on the fucking head without even trying… ]
On the surface, Nancy Meyers' gentle comedy has all the hallmarks of a classic chick-flick, and there's nothing at all wrong with that. Anne Hathaway does a more-than-respectable job of bringing us Jules, the 30-something, hugely successful founder of an online fashion-house*2, and despite my grumbling, De Niro does pretty much exactly what he's paid to do as the loveable widower seeking a fresh challenge in the world to stave off the boredom and atrophy of retirement. A supporting cast of ironically-bespectacled hipsters and comedically-aged fogeys provide the comic/melodramatic backdrop in equal turn, and for a short time, the film pootles along quite happily in first-gear.
Then after a while, it dawns on you that this isn't really aimed at the girls-night-in crowd, after all (it's certainly not aimed at the girls-night-out one, either). The central conceits of the film seem to be:
a) old people are hilarious because they need glasses and have no idea how the internet works,
b) young people are ghastly because they can't stop looking at their phones,
c) lots of crying with no real character development.
d) just know your fucking place, everyone.
And then, you really lose all grip (as does writer/director Meyers) on who this film is actually for. As a comedy which purports to be about bridging the generation gap, it's insulting to all ages, and as a thesis on the modern businesswoman, its politics are astounding…
Nominally attempting to juggle a home-life with working all hours in the office, Jules is surrounded by staff who either think she's a foul-tempered ogre (she isn't) or that she can't cope with running the business any more (she can), and a sub-plot trundles away in the background where she interviews a series of potential CEOs to take over the company management. Meanwhile, the screenplay punishes Jules further for daring to succeed by having her whiny, stay-at-home-husband conducting an ongoing affair with the stay-at-home-mother of their young daughter's schoolfriend, ostensibly as a subconscious reaction to having given up his own career while Jules flourished in hers.
All of this would be fine if Jules was allowed to put her foot down take control of either situation; it's how characters are built, after all. But the choice hanging around Jules' neck like a narrative albatross isn't a progressive one, it's just about Jules choosing which part of her life to let go of, ie:
a)focus on being the boss at work and abandon your marriage like a selfish bitch..., or
b)let The Man take over the business and go back to fetching your husband's slippers as you should be doing anyway, you selfish bitch, can't you see how unhappy you're making everybody..?
In the end she decides to run her own company and try to rekindle her marriage. This doesn't require any real change or development, it's what she was doing anyway. Jules' inaction has made the decision for her; she hasn't chosen both, she's actually chosen neither. For the second hour of this movie, Anne Hathaway gets to cry on Robert De Niro's shoulder, proving that all she really needed was a non-threatening father-figure to pat her on the head. The facade of professional and domestic fulfilment is barely concealing the film's underlying message:
"Just keep working your arse off and making a shit-ton of money surrounded by underpaid, vapid cretins and unpaid interns, because while it's brought you nothing but unhappiness so far, being able to buy a $400 juicer on a whim or doing Tai Chi in the park is the same as having a home-life…"
And at no point in the film, - at no fucking point - when De Niro's Ben has proved himself to be a fully capable office PA; when he steps in as Jules' driver after spotting her regular chauffeur drinking on the job; when he inexplicably (ie it's not explained) breaks into her mother's house with three colleagues to steal a laptop - committing an actual felony in order to save his boss the embarrassment of having to explain a mis-sent and rude e-mail; when he supports his boss through tears, tantrums and vomiting in a bin outside the pub; when he finally has a heart-to-heart in which they discuss her husband's infidelity in a way that only best friends can… at no fucking point is it even suggested that The Intern might start getting a paid-job out of all of this…
"Thanks for your time and for helping me get my life back on-track, fucker; now good luck paying the bills while I earn thousands of dollars a week cycling around the office for no fucking reason…"
And the sad part is that De Niro's absolute coasting throughout all of this (and his subsequent press-trail snarkiness) will take the rap for Nancy Meyer's lacklustre, morally bankrupt writing.
Doe-eyed, narcissistic capitalism masquerading as feminism, like a Ben Stiller movie tangled up with a Special K commercial. The Intern says it can make you feel good, but you'll be hungry again by the time you get back to your car.
Soul-food for the spiritually bulimic.
And yet, somehow, I can't outright hate it.
I just hate many of the things about it...
No, it isn't.
Just wait until it's on telly one Sunday night.
Well, I think I've touched that subject already ^^^
Make me unaccountably angry considering I didn't actually hate the film?
I think it probably does…
With the best will in the world, YES.
There isn't.
The Intern features a segment of Singin' In The Rain starring Debbie Reynolds, who is of course Carrie 'Leia' Fisher's mum. A real-life Queen Amidala, if you will.
*1 There's nothing wrong with moms watching films, of course, or indeed films for moms to watch. But this is one of those DVDs which will only be bought as an uninspired last-minute present for the matriarchal-elder in a family, probably with some chocolates. Ironically, the film is also artificially sweet but offers slightly less long-term sustenance…
*2 The open-plan office is full of perky, dynamic youngsters, 'movie-type' computer displays, design software which doesn't exist (the Apple logos do, of course), and an over-riding air of "well, I imagine this is exactly what it would be like, rather than a dark room full of misanthropic coders muttering curses at the visual-merchandisers who drop scraps of paper on the desk expecting an instant result on the website as if there's a magic fucking button on the keyboard which translates this scrawl…" I just get the impression that Nancy Meyers has bought some clothes online and spoken to a customer-service rep at some point, and feels this qualifies her to write a film about an e-commerce fashion house. Which y'know, is a bit like thinking you can write The Fast And The Furious after sitting in Kwik-Fit's waiting room for half an hour…
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
