Critics have acclaimed Joaquin Phoenix’s latest film as a knowing evocation of our times. Perhaps. But it is also unbearably self-satisfiedArthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) is on seven different types of medication. He has a rare condition that causes him to cackle uncontrollably and carries a card that reads “Forgive my laughter”. Fleck dreams of being a successful standup comedian but earns minimum wage as a pathetic party clown named Carnival. He is sad, single and living in a cruddy apartment with his ageing mother Penny (Frances Conroy). No wonder, then, that since its premiere at the Venice international film festival in August, Phoenix’s anarchic, ultraviolent Joker has been understood as a kind of stand-in for basement-dwelling incels-turned-mass shooters, and the film itself a timely evocation of a tense, Trumpian cultural moment.
The film grasps for ways to cheekily telegraph its relevance. Fleck’s mother is hinted to be the victim of a #MeToo-esque scandal involving Bruce Wayne’s father; a TV clip of a
shooting goes “viral”. A scene that sees Joker woozily pirouetting down a flight of steps in a three-piece suit is played for maximum swag – and set to the sounds of Rock and Roll Part 2, the 1972 track from convicted paedophile Gary Glitter.