Arthur Fleck was a good man. Or at least he was one at some point. He genuinely believed in his life's mission of bringing joy and laughter to the world. Thing is though, he was born into a broken world. And since he wasn't gonna be the one to fix it, he would have tried his best to make people's lives just a little bit better... But the world wasn't interested. Nobody cared. And more than the hatred, more than the pain and mockery, that is the true punishment – the indifference. But still, Arthur tried what he little could. If the world hated him, then maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe they were right to abuse him, he had to have done something to them, otherwise they simply wouldn't have treated him that way. Isn't that what Alyosha says when Ilyusha throws rocks at him and bites his finger until it draws blood? Isn't assuming one's own faults the christian way? And even if the abuse was carried out for no reason I suppose one still ought to forgive his abusers and assume that something in their lives has regrettably led them to sin. So you'd have patience and charity because their life is simply not going well. But what if your life is infinitely worse than anyone else's?
It's in the heart of Arthur's suffering that we find the theological comparisons, which then lead to morality. Christ had to endure a wicked torment, a torture nobody else should ever have to go through, a torture that, in many ways, it just can't get any worse than that, or at least that is how the Gospel is theologically understood. But what if it does get way worse? How do you live in the world when everything that could possibly go wrong in a person's life has gone wrong with you? If you are impossibly stoic you choose to be happy anyway. But when you look in the mirror, can you smile? Because Arthur sure can't.
So then, even if he's miserable, Arthur sets out for another day. He performs his job with a surprisingly big smile on his face considering how sad he really is, but then he gets beat up just because, he has a brief session with his therapist but she is in way over her head and all she can offer are vain platitudes, he charms a child during the bus ride home but is swiftly scolded by the child's mother, he wastes money he doesn't have on medicine that doesn't work, and lastly, he climbs those hideous steps towards his own kind of Calvary that occurs every single night.
His only source of comfort is this little ritual of watching his favorite talk show with his mother. And as he watches, he loses himself imagining Murray Franklin, the host, as a father figure. He daydreams of being part of the studio audience, being singled out after a benevolent heckle and then, after being asked to share his story, he would be commended on his dedication to his mother, with Murray saving him from the scorn the fickle crowd would have otherwise given him. Gotham is the mob, I say as I am now reminded of another Joaquin Phoenix movie... So in this fantasy, Arthur earns the crowd's appreciation and he is then rewarded with a fatherly embrace. And that's all he really wants, just a simple act of kindness, even the most basic form of human decency would do. But even that is denied to him, and like all fantasies, this one has to end.
In the next scene we get another instance of Arthur's kind nature. Randall, his co-worker, slightly commiserates with him about the previous beating, and upon hearing Arthur say he should have let his aggressors go instead of chasing them, Randall rebukes him... That's because Randall understands the world, he understands that being weak in Gotham simply isn't an option. Arthur will be eaten alive if he keeps on turning the other cheek, and at the end of an even worse day, that is precisely the lesson he learns.
During the infamous train scene, Arthur is saddened upon seeing a woman being harassed. He smiles at her almost as if he's asking for forgiveness on behalf of the harassers, and when his uncontrollable laughter kicks in, the three men turn their attention on him instead. And somewhat ironically, though they repeatedly mock him as they apparently mock everyone else they deem to be beneath them, it's Arthur's laughter that spites them. His neurologically-induced laughter, his actual illness, it comes to them as mockery. The world hurts him and then chastises him for being scarred... And even if Arthur tries to explain and show them that sad, laminated card, they still beat him. But this time Arthur won't take it, this time he won't be weak. Then again, he's not exactly strong, it's just that he doesn't care anymore, and that's true chaotic strength. So he kills one of the men in what can be said to be self-defense but then he kills the second one, more of a witness than a perpetrator, and then mercilessly hunts down the third in a truly cathartic moment. Arthur then hides away in some public bathroom and when he is afforded some time to breathe he just feels... different. In fact, he feels alive. Perhaps for the first time in his life he was able to fight off a cold injustice. The world imposed its will on him as it always does, but for once, Arthur's will prevailed. So he performs, he dances in what seems like something of a ritual, almost a signature on a canvas. Nobody is there to see it though, so he just opens his arms wide at the mirror... And his face is covered in clown makeup, something which will later be described as a clown mask. But not only is that not a mask, it's also not mere paint – that is Arthur's true face.
I heard this song on the radio the other day, and the guy was singing that his name was Carnival. Which is crazy, because that's my clown name at work. And until a little while ago, it was like nobody ever saw me. Even I didn't know if I really existed. […] But I do. And people are starting to notice.
Life was almost good after that. If an unpleasant or downright traumatic event can greatly lower one's self-esteem and confidence, then I suppose a pleasant event can have the adverse effect. And Arthur's depression runs so deep that if a triple homicide is what it takes for him to have an effect on the world then so be it. But Gotham won't let him stay happy for long.
He reads one of his mom's letters and discovers who his absentee father really is – it's none other than the very wealthy Thomas Wayne. So Arthur sets out to confront him, and when he does arrive at his mansion, he instead meets his young son, Bruce. Yet again, Arthur performs, revealing that, all things considered, he's a man of many talents. He doesn't exactly make Bruce laugh but Arthur seems confident in his little performance, perhaps because the young have not yet been corrupted by Gotham, so they are a little bit more forgiving. But that's when Alfred, the boy's caretaker, steps in to stop the brief interaction and he returns the magic wand to Arthur... The man is so damn miserable he can't even offer gifts, the world simply keeps refusing him... Then when Arthur goes back home, he is instead taken along to the hospital, for he discovers that his mother has suffered a stroke. After some time of waiting at her bedside, he steps out for a cigarette, and after being briefly interrogated by two detectives, he tries to go back into the hospital but just smashes against the door. Yes, the door isn't meant to be opened from that side but this scene functions as a metaphor, a very blunt metaphor. Because the world refuses to see Arthur, it doesn't even notice that Arthur is standing right there.
Or maybe it does, maybe the world is aware of Arthur's existence... As he sits in his mother's hospital room, Murray's show comes on, and much to his shock, Arthur is featured in the opening monologue. A clip of his own stand-up act is played and after hearing the punchline, Arthur laughs out loud, seemingly so happy and so proud of himself. He's getting his first big break, it could be the beginning of something great in his life, and that something is coming from his own hero no less.
But Murray isn't laughing with him, he's laughing at him... A moment Arthur could only have dreamed of is finally happening without him even having to wish for it. The world finally gave Arthur something good, but good things never last, in fact, they only show up as a trick... Murray cracks a couple of jokes about Arthur's laughter and carelessly moves on, not even remembering any of it afterwards. And isn't that much more painful? To be denied good things after being presented with them, after being mocked and teased with them? A day in Arthur's life is enough to make Tantalus cry.
Having been rejected by his fantasy father, Arthur then sets out to find his real one. He learns there is a protest going on outside a movie theater, a protest against Thomas Wayne as a response to his comments against the resentment of the poor after the train murders. And by the way, the movie being screened is the great Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times, a film about a tramp and a gamin who live life one day at a time, finding work wherever they can, briefly enjoying a sneaky life of luxury and showbusiness only for it all to come to an abrupt end. The film has an optimistic message though, in that the tramp does lift himself and his gamin lover out of sadness as he urges her to... smile. But Joker, in its own pervasive way, flips the meaning of the film and ironically presents us with a vision of the very wealthy laughing at the struggles of the poor. And quite brilliantly, it also twists the command to smile by relativizing what one can find funny...
Arthur manages to sneak inside the movie theater, completely undetected. I suppose the man being so invisible has its uses. It rather reminds me of the scene in Gus Van Sant's Elephant in which, after the two killers enter the library with a very obvious intent, none of the other students react until gunshots are heard. It seems the downtrodden cannot be taken seriously except with violence... In this film, once again, the world keeps teasing Arthur. Whenever something good is given for free, something ten times worse is forced on him to cover the cost. He manages to confront Thomas Wayne who, for a man who is being stalked, reacts with a surprisingly calm demeanor. But he's not quite prepared for Arthur's reaction who, upon hearing the predictable news that Wayne isn't his father, starts to laugh uncontrollably. And as if the man's misery wasn't enough, the world seems to hate the fact that he laughs... So Wayne punches him. Arthur's string of rejections continue, first by his fantasy father and now by his would-be real father.
Why are you saying this? I don't need you to tell me lies. I know it seems strange. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I don't know why everyone is so rude. I don't know why you are. I don't want anything from you. Maybe a little bit of warmth, maybe a hug, dad! How about just a little bit of f*cking decency? What is it with you people?!
So if Wayne isn't the father, who is? Arthur decides to find that out by visiting Arkham State Hospital. The clerical worker there treats Arthur with surprising kindness, and though he isn't equipped to help or to offer any valuable advice, he at least shows some concern, even if it may stem from a sense of fear that only someone strange can instill. But by now we should know what to expect. The man's kindness ought not to have been there, it would have been better if the clerical worker had simply refused Arthur for no reason other than feeling like it. So instead he finds the documents detailing Penny Fleck's case, Arthur steals them and runs away even if no one chases him... Keep those pages, the world says, choke on them... The world Arthur inhabits never gives anything away for free, it's all for its own amusement.
Arthur goes through the documents and discovers that his mother isn't really his mother. Arthur was adopted. And not only that, but the system that knows so much handed him over to a mentally ill woman whose grasp on reality led her to allow her adoptive son to suffer physical and sexual abuse at the hands of her various boyfriends... By now Arthur has no more leads or even hopes to find his real parents. They simply abandoned him, and in a way, they don't even exist. Arthur was born from Gotham itself, he's the embodiment of all that's wrong with the city, he takes every single one of its sins on his own flesh.
“I never heard him cry. He's always been such a happy little boy.”
So to recap – Arthur was abandoned by his real parents who never really cared for him, his adoptive mother was mentally ill and manipulated him, he was physically and sexually abused as a child, his uncontrollable laughter is a neurological condition resulting from said abuse, he never managed to establish a single meaningful connection, he never had any real friends, he never had any romantic partners and most likely was never even the target of any kind of romantic attention at all, he never received any kind of basic decency from his fellow citizens that wasn't shown out of pity, he couldn't hold a job, he was beaten for no reason other than his aggressors finding it funny, he could never receive any meaningful mental health support though he tried, his searches for a father figure ended in mockery, rejection and physical assault... And through all that pain, all he wanted was to make people laugh. But therein lies the true test. Turning the other cheek is the easy part, the hard part is continuing to turn the other cheek when your aggressor just keeps on striking you. At this point, Arthur has forgiven seventy times seven offenses plus one.
He walks home in the rain because why not? Might as well at this point. When he arrives at his apartment building he instead goes into the home of his would-be romantic interest who, of course, only knows him in passing. All the previous scenes between them were figments of his imagination, and with the exception of one passionate kiss, all those scenes were about basic decency, emotional support and about making her laugh. There was almost an innocence to his fantasies... As Arthur enters the home, he admires the daughter's drawings pinned against the wall almost as if to say goodbye to that life, he just knows that kind of home will never be his. So he tells the woman that he had a bad day, an almost funny understatement, and gesticulates his own suicide, a callback to him previously doing it to her as a joke. Then, in what is a brilliant moment of acting, he stays up all night... laughing. His life is so bad it's like one big joke.
And in the next morning he decides to kill Penny because why not as well. Instead of remorse, all he does is embrace the comedy in his life. His neurological condition is thus accepted as part of who he truly is. If the world treated him so badly then that must mean that being a bad person must be his true mission. Then, almost fully mutated from Arthur into Joker, he sets out for the Murray interview.
His departure from home strongly parallels his first arrival. He came home at the end of a bad day and had to climb all those steps in darkness, the act of climbing being generally seen as a metaphor for going through hardship so as to earn some reward at the end. But Arthur, having earned nothing, realizes that the best for his life is instead to go down the steps, to assume his place as the lowest of the low in society, and to simply have fun while he's at it. He's walking out with the intent to commit suicide and yet, it seems like the best day of his life. But when he's seen by the detectives he runs, he just has to, he wants to die but on his own terms. So he runs to the train, the place where an embryonic Joker had its first heartbeat, only this time he's not alone. This time his future followers surround and embrace him. He takes a mask from some random guy, gets pushed and the man he bumps into unknowingly comes to his defense. The whole thing is an impulsive misunderstanding which sparks full chaos. And it's in that chaos that the detectives are caught, overwhelmed and beaten. In the beginning, Arthur was beaten just like that and nobody cared, nobody did a thing. Now that his would-be aggressors get beaten it's as if Gotham itself, or at least Gotham's dark underbelly, is raising Joker as its king. And he can't even pretend that watching the detectives feel what he felt isn't funny.
As Arthur then waits in the studio's dressing room he hears the news of the detectives and laughs yet again. But when Murray walks in, Arthur acts somewhat normal, at least as normal as he can, but right after being left alone again, he holds the gun to his neck. The man is ready to die. The archetypal inversion of Christ's sacrifice is almost fulfilled.
But unlike Christ, whose faith trembled when the crucifixion drew near, Arthur fully embraces it, he almost welcomes it. Indeed, nothingness would be better than his life, and if hell exists it can't be any worse. But now, apart from the studio set, things aren't as he thought they'd be. Murray makes fun of him, the guests and the audience laugh at his expense, they all know him to be a freak and when he confesses his crime they refuse to take their christian share of the blame. They are before a man who asked for every opportunity and kept being shut down, and now that he's had enough, they judge him to be beyond saving. They wash their hands of him, they know him to be a bad man and yet they can't see he's a man of their own making. They feel so superior because they can't realize that their sin happened every... single... day.
Then the crucifixion is entirely flipped. Arthur doesn't ask to be forgiven nor does he plead for forgiveness unto other sinners, of which Gotham is full. He doesn't ask for Murray's kindness which comes in the form of some more vain platitudes. Murray is telling a man who went through hell that a cigarette burn don't hurt that bad... So Arthur decides he's had enough but he changes his mind. He will not die on the cross, verily, he will fully reject it. He draws his gun and the punchline to his joke is the brutal death of his spiritual father.
Well... The show booker did say she wanted Arthur to perform some of his act...
With his transformation now complete, the Joker just enjoys himself until being arrested. In the meantime, riots break out all over the city, and as he is being taken into prison, he just finds them so damn beautiful... And once again, like with the detectives on the train, the city seems to come to his aid. Rioters crash into the police car, and recognizing their savior on the back seat, presumably by sheer chance, they take his body and raise him from the dead. The Joker then reapplies his makeup with his own blood, forever shedding the Arthur face. So he turns to his followers, performs for them, and Gotham, or at least that dark part of it, finally embraces him. Chaos needed a king and it wouldn't have accepted anyone else. Like he said before, he doesn't care about anything, he just loves the violence. Maybe he could have killed himself and maybe, just maybe, people would have been interested in his life. Someone would have learned about it, be moved to tears by all his suffering and with each page of those tragic records, the suicide would have become more understandable and most of all, preventable. And there would be compassion... He could have been a martyr, he could have been the wake-up call that Gotham needed, but he thought differently, he thought Gotham needed a kick in the teeth.
And then comes the death of his earthly father, but at this stage the killer's identity is pointless. The Joker took control of the city, therefore, the killer is the city itself. One may say the Joker is only one man but he's more than that. He becomes more than a man similarly to how Arthur was less than a man. He was invisible, he was no different than the trash which filled the city. Yet now he is the city. It's almost reminiscent of how in Berserk, Griffith could only become king after enduring a year of hideous torture, after having his physical body completely abused and destroyed for the surreal whims of the world.
Every one of Gotham's sins has been inflicted upon the Joker. Only instead of dying with them, he chooses to live, and his new mission in life is to return each sin with ten times the violence. Christ's role of absolute forgiveness is inverted into the Joker's role of pure vengeance. And mind you, it's not justice. He doesn't care about finding the people who hurt him. Even if it were possible to raise them from the dead or to turn back time I don't think he would. As far as he's concerned he just wants to have a good time.
So what now? Now it's fairly simple because now there is no plan. He has realized his life will never make more sense than his death, the only way to make his death meaningful is by making each day until then filled with as much fun as he possibly can. It's pure hedonism, though a nihilistic version of it. This is a man who will stop at nothing to inflict upon the world as much pain as he felt all his life. Yes, you may eventually stop him but when you do he'll just find the whole thing funny. You can't even punish him any more than the world already punished him. When such men exist it becomes difficult to think that any meaning exists in the world, and when such a man was once your neighbor you start to wonder what share of the blame you had in creating him. Or if you don't, if you feel completely blameless, then you haven't understood a thing.
Comments
Post a Comment