Why Joker (2019) Gives Me Hope for the Future of Popular Cinema
by Lauren Grace O’Bern
After the underwhelming financial and critical success of Zack Snyder’s Justice League in 2017, the folks at Warner Brothers were put under pressure to win back audiences and critics alike with a fresh superhero flick not only commercially bankable, but with critical appeal also. They wanted something that would not only make healthy profit, but that would regain audience faith in unique and exciting storytelling, a trust that their most recent efforts had chipped merrily away at (see Batman vs Superman) ever since Christopher Nolan bid the DC Universe farewell back in 2012 with The Dark Knight Rises, the final instalment in his acclaimed Batman trilogy. The year-long fight of director Todd Phillips to convince Warner Bros. to go ahead with his Joker origin story has been well-documented in articles and interviews since the film’s release, and it offers up the muscle for an interesting debate. Is Joker a studio movie? Factually, yes. Does it feel like a studio movie? Unquestionably, no. Why is that? And how did the director of The Hangover trilogy make it happen? With Joker, the Hollywood studio took a major gamble, and it seems to have paid off.
Part One: Say Nothing to Business
It felt from the moment Joaquin Phoenix was cast in the title role, that Joker had the makings of something special. On social channels, people went nuts. Critics backed up the casting with nods to his best work, tell-tale signs and hopes of what was to come. As Hollywood’s favourite loveable rogue, this was a new venture for Phoenix, an actor previously immune to the lure of big studio productions as a frequent collaborator with auteur filmmakers like Paul Thomas Anderson, James Gray and Gus Van Sant, and as a loyal son to the indie feature. Though his most recent endeavours have been low-budget, namely Lynne Ramsay’s You Were Never Really Here (2017) and Van Sant’s Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (2018), Phoenix did get to taste the riches of blockbuster filmmaking early on in his career with Ridley Scott’s Gladiator ,released in 2000. As the tortured Emperor Maximus, the actor gave the type of nuanced and brooding performance rarely seen in large-scale epics of this nature, and so was born in our collective conscious the belief that Joaquin Phoenix certainly knows how to play villains and play them with depth. Depth that would surely be demanded by this next turn as the famed Clown Prince of Crime. Despite those of us with a comprehensive understanding of Phoenix’s career perhaps knowing with even greater conviction than those who only saw Gladiator way back when, it was no real mystery to anyone that he would make a great Joker. Even with Heath Ledger’s revered performance in The Dark Knight to contend with (comic book fans loving to pit actors against one another when they take on the same role), the feeling was that if anyone was to try and tackle the Joker again, Joaquin would get the blessing. To all the world, he just felt right.
Joker’s casting may have gotten plenty hearts soaring, but less can be said of the feeling towards Todd Phillips at the helm. This was after all, the man who brought us out-and-out comedies such as Old School, Due Date and The Hangover. While there’s nothing wrong with those movies (Due Date is up there as a firm favourite for me), there were doubts cast as to whether this was really the director to bring our long-awaited Joker origin movie to the screen, to tell the dark and dangerous tale of one man’s descent into madness. Before he delved into Joker, Phillips had made an approach into somewhat darker filmmaking territory with the crime-drama War Dogs (2016), starring Miles Teller and Jonah Hill as petty gun dealers way out of their depth after winning a $300 million dollar contract from the Pentagon to arm the allies in Afghanistan. For those who skipped out on War Dogs, the announcement that Phillips would direct Joker after co-writing the script with Scott Silver was a worrying proposition. For those who had seen the film, however, there was something rather exciting about the prospect of seeing Todd Phillips dirty his hands even further. That’s because War Dogs had just enough ticking menace underscoring the jokes to leave us both oddly surprised and curious for more.
Yet even without War Dogs in his roster, there had been a darkly comedic tone present in Phillips’ earlier work that made it a bold but not totally rash choice, and he’d certainly had the commercial success enough to at least prick the ears of the folks at Warner Bros and DC Films when he pitched Joker to them in late 2016. Phillips has been very transparent about the difficulty of convincing the major studio to take a gamble on the film, given its unrelentingly dark nature. In a classic case of the tail wagging the dog, an unnamed exec shot back at Phillips with the concern that his idea was too dark for a company who “sell Joker pyjamas at Target”. The director stuck to his guns in spite of this, adamant of the fact that this felt like the kind of Joker origin story the world wanted to see. In the end, his passion was enough to win them over. After getting the go-ahead from the studio, Phillips and Silver wrote the screenplay throughout 2017, always with Phoenix in mind for the titular role.
Phillips has stated in numerous interviews that his initial inspiration for the film stemmed from a desire to make a character study movie that would boast a big enough production value to appeal to a broad scope of audiences and justify a wide release. The problem was that interesting character studies produced in the film industry today almost always come from the low-budget, independent sphere and while a lot of these films achieved moderate success, they did not have the financial backing to provide the reach that Phillips wanted. The major studios had practically monopolised the multiplexes with their endless production line of big-budget, action-driven flicks filled with superheroes that audiences just lapped up. So, he had an interesting idea. What if you were to make a character study about one of those guys instead?
While the $62.5 million budget Phillips was given for Joker feels pretty moderate in comparison to the staggering $300+ million budgets of other comic book movies like Avengers: Endgame and Warner Bros.’ own Justice League, with it the film managed to break the elusive billion-dollar mark on worldwide gross, a milestone the almost 4x more expensive Justice League missed by an embarrassing $350 million. It seems you do not always need an eye-wateringly big budget to guarantee impressive returns. By cloaking his indie-hearted wolf of a character-study in studio-superhero sheep’s clothing, Todd Phillips and his team managed to prove that story and character will always win out, for there’s only so much VFX extravagance an audience can take without the necessary richness of narrative it lives to compliment. That is what it seems to be, or rather, what it should be. A compliment used to enhance the story world. For if it were truly the other way around, we’d all be asking where the 10-page-long battle scene in dazzling super-slow motion was to be found in Joker. Instead, most were left exhausted not by any heavy toll of action driven by the film (because there wasn’t any), but by the performances and the tone, the score and the cinematography, by the story and what came of it. With Joker, the aching melancholy of 70s and 80s character-driven films like Taxi Driver, The King of Comedy, Death Wish, Serpico, Network and Dog Day Afternoon reached an expansive and modern audience. Though these classics were indeed studio films back when they were made, they probably wouldn’t be today. And even if they were, one imagines they would be far less plucky and provocative so as to check certain boxes and circumvent others on the quest for profit, profit, profit.
So, how did Joker achieve such roaring success, despite the risk? It appears to be a combination of things, that’s including but not limited to quite a healthy dose of well-earned luck. First off, it felt that after the disappointing turn of Jared Leto’s silver-toothed Joker in David Ayer’s Suicide Squad (2016), we had geared ourselves up for an exciting new interpretation of the villain that simply did not live up to expectation. An undeniably talented actor and madcap eccentric, casting Leto as the Joker felt right and full of promise, but through some combination of poor direction, mediocre script, and little screen-time to gestate an already risky portrayal (see: leather jackets, gold chains), many felt robbed of a satisfying new twist on the Jester of Genocide’s on-screen story. The world was still itching for another Joker, an itch only amplified by the failures of Suicide Squad to deliver on all its promise. Then came Joaquin Phoenix, followed later by Robert De Niro and chosen specifically by a director who seemed to know what we wanted even when we perhaps didn’t ourselves. Then there was a script that, while not spellbinding in itself, certainly gave Phillips the tools to commit a boldly original character study under the guise of an supervillain origin story, all the while catering faithfully to the DC legacy with a fresh and inventive perspective that would rejuvenate a tired but hopeful fanbase and launch a new offshoot of the comic book movie genre.
Prior to its theatrical release in early October, the film premiered at La Biennale di Venezia in Venice, Italy to much acclaim and won the 2019 Golden Lion for Best Film. This brought on a lot of heat from the global press who, despite mostly offering praise for the film prior its win, then began a rather bizarre smear campaign against Joker, claiming that the film was dangerous and would surely incite violence and copy-cat incidents upon its release. Many of the “journalists” even boasted that they hadn’t seen the film and “didn’t need” to see it in order to make such assumptions about its message and impact. This left both Phillips and Phoenix disgruntled in numerous subsequent press interviews, feeling that they should not have to respond to these solely speculative accusations that painted their film in a light they most certainly hadn’t intended when making it. It’s also worth mentioning the abundantly clear disparity between the press and public responses brought to light once the film had reached regular audiences, an inconsistency which gave weight to the questions surrounding agenda-driven journalism not just within entertainment, but across the board.
The publicity and anticipation cultivated during both the development and promotional stages of Joker proved widespread enough to generate very healthy turnouts over its opening weekends both domestic and international, but that’s hardly a surprise. Whatever worries it may pique in regard to our moral psychology, cinemagoers just love villains. Especially ones as historically mischievous and charismatic as the Joker. This may suggest that while a lot of excitement was generated around seeing Phoenix in the role, during those early days of release, people were probably going to turn up whatever. Where things get really interesting is in the reaction of those first viewers to both A) spread the word and encourage others to see the film organically and B) to see the film a second, third, fourth time themselves. From the get-go, Joker was a movie that people all across the world just could not get enough of.
Part Two: Say Everything to Art
Beyond the well-documented history of the character, his popularity with audiences, the strong casting choices and (ironically) the fiercely subjective press coverage, all of which undoubtedly contributed to a strong financial start, where Joker truly succeeds is in what really matters; the filmmaking, the craft, the art itself. No matter the bankability of Joker as a brand, Warner Bros. and DC Films still felt they had taken a risk in allowing Todd Phillips to make the film. After all, it was to be made his way, not theirs. It soon became clear after the first wave of viewers, that Phillips and his team had achieved something very special with Joker. What came first, of course, was the reception of Joaquin Phoenix’s performance, brimming with overwhelming positivity and in some cases, downright veneration for what the actor had managed to execute. In Arthur Fleck, a down-and-out clown-for-hire in Gotham City with an uncontrollable affliction that makes him laugh at often inappropriate moments (the Pseudobulbar Affect), Phoenix found the richness and intricacy of character required for him to commit fully to the role. Famously one to pick and choose projects carefully, based on his emotional connection to the script and character and in no way for financial gain, it seems Phoenix was given enough thought-provoking material to work with in Phillips and Silver’s screenplay that he was inspired to go off and conduct intensive research on Fleck’s afflictions, his medications and the impact they may have on his psyche at different stages throughout the film. What came of this intense research, a close, trust-filled relationship with his director and real belief in importance of the story they wanted to tell, was a formidable performance that would stay in the mind of audiences long after the credits had rolled. And what’s really beautiful about it is that, while his performance filled many with fear and wonder in equal measure, nobody familiar with Joaquin’s work can say they were truly surprised. As I think we all know by now, this is just what he does.
When researching certain anti-depressant medications that Fleck was said to be taking, Phoenix learned of the intense weight fluctuations noted as one of the most common side effects experienced. It was after this that he and Phillips decided he would drop the weight. The actor lost a staggering 52 pounds for the role, surviving on an apple, lettuce and a few green beans a day to get down to the scrawny, malnourished frame we see in the film. While it is certainly a feat worthy of the highest praise, it is expectedly the aspect of his performance that received most attention in the media. However, without his tireless work on other crucial yet overlooked elements like posture, voice, mannerisms and movement, the weight loss alone would have felt more like a cheap ploy than the deeply harrowing visual characterisation that it is. After all, great acting relies upon a synthesis of the many different ideas and impulses that an actor may have both in the moment and stretched across the entire production shoot. It is this battle between instinct and insight, this balance of freedom and consistence that stems from a naturally occurring tussle between choice driven by research and choice driven by urge that moves a performance from good to great, and it certainly seems like this was the case for Joaquin Phoenix in Joker.
Given the stories from both Phoenix and Phillips re: the extensive work they did on figuring out the character of Arthur Fleck (and later Joker) in pre-production, coupled with further anecdotes from the pair on their openness to still work on the character during the shoot, often spending nights after wrap talking for hours on the phone about new possibilities and directions for Phoenix to take Arthur, the fermentation in performance one sees on the screen in Joker is nothing short of a miracle (or just really great judgement in the editing room). Admittedly, Phoenix has stated recently that after the initial few weeks of shooting, he came to some epiphanic realisations about the character which left him feeling that what he had been pursuing until that point had been drastically wrong. Consoling in Phillips, which is where the trust between actor and director proves crucial to the success of any production, Phoenix re-configured his approach and filming continued. Very little of the footage shot within those first few weeks actually made the final cut. What can we discern from this? Perhaps comfort in the knowledge that even actors the calibre of Joaquin Phoenix, after months of preparation, can apparently sometimes get it wrong. More so though, it tells of the importance of the blend between instinct and insight in shaping character, whilst also existing as proof that the true understanding of character comes in the playing, when all the physical elements of the story world are there at an actor’s disposal to feed off in a fascinating act of osmosis.
The tumbling denouement of lowly Arthur Fleck into the villainous Joker is shepherded so masterfully by Phoenix that every scene seems to build on a sharp pang, a niggling angst, both within Arthur and within us, as we witness his descent into madness. Though I hesitate to discuss many details of the story itself, wanting rather to explore the how’s and why’s behind its impact, the turning point for the character is undoubtedly the scene in which he kills three Wall Street men on the subway after they taunt him over his condition. This was the sparking of the match, his first taste of real retribution for the years of ignorance and abuse he had been subjected to by the city, its inhabitants and later we learn, by his own mother. From this point on, Arthur is set forth on a journey that, however twisted and warped, will take him from bullied unknown to notorious supervillain. It is the build towards this moment, the set-up in everything from measured performance to aching score and murky visual tone, and the expert turning of the dial felt thereafter, that seizes hold of our attention from the off, a grip unwavering and always tightening throughout until we see a handcuffed Arthur prance off towards the light in that dazzling final image.
Though its success owes a great deal to the efforts of Phoenix, there is much to be said for every other creative element making up Joker’s appeal as a fine piece of cinema. Not as comic book fodder, but as cinema. The whole movie just works. A strong supporting cast that includes Zazie Beetz, Frances Conroy, and the titan Robert De Niro complimented Phoenix well whilst excelling in their own right. But one of the most endearing parts of the film not discussed thus far, was the importance of its look. A combination of commanding work from cinematographer Lawrence Sher and production designer Mark Friedberg, not to mention the attention to details driven by the costumes and props of the make-up and art departments, elevated the film to a whole other plain. Phillips had spoken about the importance of creating a Gotham City that seemed big and imposing upon Arthur to further emphasise his social insignificance and worked with a VFX team to ensure the empty patches of sky in any wide cityscape shots were packed with more buildings. It certainly worked. In Joker, Gotham seems to exude the all the dirt and grime both innate to the city we came to know in the comics and to New York City in the early 80s, when the film is set. In this way, the production and set design work to ground Arthur’s cynicism in tangible, visible truth and compliment the inner frustrations of both Arthur and Gotham’s disenfranchised and impoverished population towards those higher in the societal ranks who watch them suffer and do nothing to change it.
The grittiness inherent to Joker’s sets, from Arthur and Penny’s apartment to Ha-Ha’s Talent Booking and Pogo’s Comedy Club, certainly would have lent itself well to shooting on film. However, as stated by DP Lawrence Sher, while initially Phillips had intended to shoot on film, to emulate the look and feel of those 70s and 80s New York classics, a combination of budget restraints and the unpredictability of Phoenix as an actor (Sher often having to light entire sets so that the actor could move anywhere he liked in the moment) made shooting on digital the smarter choice in the end. Joker was shot on a combination of the Arri Alexa 65, LF and Mini cameras using Arri 65, 65 S and DNA prime lenses with veteran operator Geoff Haley behind the camera and Phillips’ resident cinematographer, Lawrence Sher, leading the team. It must be said that the Joker camera team do a remarkable job of echoing the dreary, sombre feel of Scorsese films like Taxi Driver and King of Comedy and Sidney Lumet films like Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico, despite shooting digitally. Joker emits a sort of melancholia rarely found on the screens of multiplexes today, with their bright and colourful dopamine trips made to entertain and excite but never to ask any real, probing questions about our behaviour towards one another in day-to-day life. What do we notice? That there is a consistent pattern in the approach to this film from each and every angle that makes for very little conflict of interest, a seemingly obvious ingredient to success that often gets overlooked in the modern age of studio filmmaking.
It simply would not be right to discuss the appeal of Joker without mentioning Icelandic composer Hildur Guðnadóttir’s haunting original score, an achievement for which she recently collected the Golden Globe, the first woman to do so in 19 years. The score’s aching strings and chasmic rises command a stunning melancholia that accentuates the deep sorrow permeating the film, and the measure with which she augments tone as the film progresses echoes perfectly the looming and inevitable transformation of Arthur into Joker. Todd Phillips having the vision to ask Guðnadóttir to start her composition prior to filming based off the script (film composers usually work in post-production with footage to work from), meant that one day during the shoot when something just didn’t feel right with the scene, he was able to play Phoenix an early piece of Hildur’s score as inspiration for something different to what was written on the page. This is how the unforgettable bathroom dance came to life, birthed as a moment of organic response to the brooding music from which Phoenix was compelled to move his body in new ways across the tiny space, whilst Phillips and cam op. Haley watched, and a crew hundreds-strong waited patiently outside the door.
In the director’s chair, Todd Phillips was the super-glue that held all of this together. Feeling his vision from the off, he was able to see Joker through all the volatile marketing and finance discussions with the studios, convince a wary Joaquin Phoenix that this was not just another comic book movie, communicate so effectively with his creative team that the contributions of each department complimented one another so expertly, that a shared vision of exactly what sort of film they were trying to make was formed almost immediately, and finally trialled for months with editor Jeff Groth to carve out a film that would impassion audiences, peers, and wannabe filmmakers to always have a vision and stick to it. It cannot be said for certain when exactly Phillips felt that Joker had the makings of something special. One could guess that his initial passion and perseverance to get the project made was pretty telling of his faith in the material, though for most filmmakers the “magic” moments always seem to happen on set when a concept is brought to palpable life. It may even have been during the edit, when Phillips and Groth were tasked with crafting a consistent performance out of the many variations in take Phoenix had gifted them and realised they had a Golden Globe and probably Oscar-winning performance at their disposal. What we do know for certain is that Joker was a hit, as it was for many audience members a particular type of film done in a way they had never quite seen before, with a narrative ambiguity that planted tantalising seeds of doubt in the collective conscious.
Based on the contents of this discussion, what I feel impelled to conclude as the overriding factor to Joker’s continuing success is its staggering multiplicity in appeal. In evoking the look and tone of an independent film with the exposure and budget of a studio-led comic book movie, Joker introduced the impact and innovation of conscientious filmmaking to the widest sphere of viewership as possible. Those whose champion superhero flicks above all else enjoyed Joker in some part because it stayed faithful to its DC origins, those who favour smaller, artistic-driven content enjoyed Joker because it breathed the fresh air of renovation into a stagnating genre, and for those who love both (me included), it did everything. Like all films, Joker has its critics. Yet the overwhelming consensus is that yes, the world does want to see more movies like this. And for aspiring writer-directors like myself, it has been a while since a film gave me such confidence in modern audiences to believe that amongst all the noise of visual effects and adapted content in contemporary filmmaking, the care and attention given to telling unique and exciting stories will always win out.
Lauren Grace O’Bern is a writer and director from the United Kingdom.
