Does ‘Joker’ have too much baggage to be a good film?

Because we’re living in a nightmare world fueled by social media, Todd Phillips’s Joker was one of the most controversial movies of the year, mostly for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the movie itself. There were the initial endless debates about whether Joaquin Phoenix could ever match Heath Ledger’s iconic performance as the Clown Prince of Crime in The Dark Knight. Those conversations were soon followed by internet concerns about making a psychotic serial killer the “hero” of a film that was (incorrectly) assumed to be marketed to pre-teen boys—despite the film leaning hard into its R-rating. Then we had people screaming about incels and society and misogyny and what constitutes “cinema” and somehow, a film that probably would have come and gone from the pop culture zeitgeist became a lighting rod for endless threaded tweets and blog posts. Was it even a good movie? Irrelevant! Just show a picture of Phoenix in his clown makeup and give your hot take. But I don’t really want to do that here, so instead, let’s talk about the filmmaking and performances—you know, a movie review.

The DC film universe feels scattered and confused right now. We have Marvel-esque big action blockbusters like Wonder Woman and Aquaman, we have dour, desaturated, bloated messes like Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and we have studio-meddled Frankenstein monsters like Suicide Squad and Justice League. In that landscape, it was definitely a good idea to do a Joker project as a standalone. We don’t need to evoke Jared Leto’s embarrassing turn as the character, nor do we need to try to setup or payoff elements of a shared universe. All Joker really has to do is give is a good character-driven story with a good actor as its lead.

Thankfully, it accomplishes that, for the most part. Phoenix is very impressive as a quiet, shy, somewhat pathetic man dealing with mental health problems and a society—you’ll hear that word a lot—that doesn’t really give a shit about kindness. Arthur Fleck doesn’t start out as a bad guy, but there’s definitely a sense that something has been bubbling beneath the surface of his timid demeanor for years. That tension is fueled in part by his mother Penny, the always-amazing Frances Conroy, who feels even more out of touch with reality than her son, something evident in her helpless, gentle demeanor and delusions of grandeur about a life she may or may not have lived. It’s clear right away that this cruel world is going to eat these two people alive and it’s kind of surprising that they’ve made it this far.

Perhaps the only real reason they have survived is that Arthur sees how awful things are and has a childlike dream of being a standup comedian in the hopes of bringing joy. See guys, he starts out wanting to be a good guy, but #society. He has a crappy job where he dresses up like a clown and spins a sign or entertains kids at a hospital, but it’s clear that this is a dude who is hanging on by a thread.

He’s obsessed with late night host Murray Franklin (Robert DeNiro) who he views as an almost godlike father figure and the answer to all his problems. Arthur just knows Murray would love him and want to help him out if only they knew each other, an interesting look at parasocial relationships in an era before the internet made them more commonplace. By total chance, a pre-internet viral video of Arthur bombing a standup set makes its way to Murray’s show and Arthur is asked to come on and talk about his “career” in comedy. It’s a little bit Andy Kauffman, a whole lot King of Comedy and some Taxi Driver special sauce on top.

Of course, as all this is going on, Arthur is slowly descending into madness and we start to see that he’s an unreliable narrator, one of the films great strengths. His every interaction can be called into question as we wonder how he’s perceiving reality, particularly in his scenes with Zazie Beetz. Phoenix really excels here, slowly, subtly shifting Arthur from a weak, timid man to someone with enormous potential for violence. The payoff feels worthy of the satisfying buildup when we see Arthur truly become the Joker.

But, this being a post-2008 comic book movie, we can’t just enjoy a good actor giving a good performance, we have to bring in the comic book elements. Sadly, the film loses momentum in the scenes tying our Joker with Batman and the Wayne family. I get that you have to have the context of the Caped Crusader if you’re telling a Joker origin story, especially in an era where everybody’s trying to make a cinematic universe, but it feels really unnecessary here. I kept wishing they would have let this film breathe on its own instead of trying to fit everything into a more formulaic villain origin story. Joker could be a hundred times better if it didn’t have to spend any time on Batman at all. And I swear, if I have to see Batman’s parents get killed one more time, I’m going to lose it. Martha Wayne’s pearls immediately elicit such an eye roll from me that the mere sight of them takes me out of whatever story the filmmakers are attempting to tell.

So should you see Joker? Sure. Phoenix’s performance makes it a good film, even when it feels predictable or cliche. Should you go online and tweet about Joker? If you want, not that there’s really much more to be added to the frenzy at this point. Did the release of this film bring down society and cause violent riots in the streets? Not that I’m aware of. If you can separate your viewing experience from the cloud of bullshit surrounding this film and just watch it as a movie, you’ll probably dig it. And I’m certainly not ruling out that the “controversy” surrounding this film was just a marketing effort in the first place. It’s just too bad that the online conversation about this movie overshadowed everything else about it because it’s a pretty decent film, if only it were allowed to stand on its own.