Crime, Artistic Expression, and Bernhard Goetz in Joker

Joker is a big budget Hollywood film that had so many expectations from people across the political spectrum that it was bound to disappoint. The discourse had become so contentious that people raced to condemn it before even seeing it, and it has become a wise career move to join the dominant political narrative of the critics and educated classes so that people trip over each other to make the boldest most stark declarations to display their bonafides – this is what most movie criticism is reduced to as evidenced my the increasing divide between professional critics and the general audience.

But, like Joker’s trick gun shooting a “bang” flag, the movie is a big sleight of hand. What I expected to see was Joker induced mayhem and a common man’s decent into madness. What I didn’t expect to see was priggish indictment of unfunded social services and the rich. Mind you, I agree that social service funding is important and the extreme wealth disparity is cruel and unjust. But I found myself thinking about these things while watching a comic book movie about a villain dressed as a clown who antagonizes a man dressed as a bat. Granted, good art has a deeper message but this one was so clearly shoehorned in order to placate critics that it changes the character of the film. Essentially the filmmakers made a film for the critics compromising whatever vision they had. What does come through is an agitprop work of rebellion that should have appealed to the critics who expected a film about a socially isolated young white man driven to homicidal insanity by unfavorable life circumstances.

The film takes place in a New York City inspired Gotham of 1981. This was a period of urban blight and crime. Why it takes place in this period is anyone’s guess, but the most obvious answer is to pay homage to Scorsese's Taxi Driver and his later film: The King of Comedy; both star De Niro who plays a talk show host in Joker. Lawrence Sher’s excellent cinematography show the copious graffiti and grime of the city without it looking too muddy or dark. Joaquin Phoenix’s does a great job but has played these kinds of characters before so it blunts the experience of seeing him gyrate madly in full costume on some outdoor stairs in the city.

The crime of New York city in the late 1970s and early 80s is legendary-which is hard to believe since some of the formerly crime ridden neighborhoods are now home to multi-million dollar properties. Films like Walter Hill’s The Warriors (1979) Daniel Petrie’s Fort Apache the Bronx (1981), and John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) dramatized the increased fear of urban crime and lawless cities in the aftermath of white flight and disinvestment. Crime was so rampant that many feared public places like Central Park or using public transit; especially the graffiti covered subway where muggings were common. The Joker clearly takes inspiration from the notorious New York city case of Bernhard Goetz who, in 1984, shot 3 young African American men on the train. Goetz, a slight white man, had been mugged before and decided to carry a pistol for self defense. He claimed the men tried to rob him so he shot them. He was dubbed the “subway vigilante” and praised by some as a hero who stood up to roaming groups of lawless youth or a terrible racist who needlessly shot 3 black kids by others – the case galvanized the city and beyond. Goetz was eventually acquitted and New York city changed dramatically since those years of urban decay and street crime.

In the movie, Joker shoots 3 young men just like Goetz on a grimy subway car, but in the film they are the opposite of Goetz’s victims. Not poor black kids, but wealthy white wall street yuppies who harass a woman and provoke Joker. I got the feeling that the filmmakers wanted to make up for the depiction of youth of color who assault him on the street in the opening of the film while he’s working as a street clown holding advertisements. In any case, there is obvious concern with the race and class of these characters which is understandable but it also forces the viewer to consider how these choices affect the narrative. What were wealthy wall street types doing on a filthy train at night?

The 1980s was a time of urban and racial strife. The kind of racial anxiety stoked by Ronald Reagan’s campaign and use of racially objectionable imagery of a “welfare queen” who bilked the government out of thousands of dollars. Reagan used her as a symbol of the misuse of tax dollars and a justification for rolling back social welfare programs. This was the time of trickle down economics and Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, so when the film uses Joker’s killing as a catalyst for anachronistic anti-rich demonstrations it’s clear that it’s the current political climate that shaped that plot point. The 1980s were not a hotbed of radical activism, so the movement against the wealthy of Gotham just doesn't make sense and gives the Joker a righteous political justification for his behavior and origin despite the fact that he is essentially a homicidal nihilist. The fact that the character remarks that he doesn’t care about the politics shows the filmmakers obligation to fealty to his essential character. But it’s not enough because Joker is an agent of chaos and the challenge was to make a film about a character who is a vicious sociopath – a daunting task in any time but impossible in an age of heightened cultural angst.

Joker’s origin has always been a mystery and that mystery is part of the character’s allure, so any attempt to tell it is fraught. Alan Moore’s and Brian Bolland’s comic the Killing Joke is still the best attempt to date and the film didn’t try to use it. Joker’s failure as a comedian was the only thing they translated to the screen. The comic is more tragic and relatable; an everyman forced into desperate situation by circumstances and looses his mind. The film shows Joker as someone struggling with mental illness already. His life is problematic but his problems are too particular. They needed to be more universal, but that might have been another cautious choice by the filmmakers to avoid any kind of universality that could be a criticism as something that could inspire someone in real life. His social awkwardness and lack of success with his apparent love interest are not sources of angst so much as they are pathetic. In this case, it’s hard to be sympathetic to the character which could provoke or inspire the viewer. Instead we’re made into passive and uninvested viewers. I think they didn’t want to rile anyone up considering the worry.

Timothy Williams’s Brightburn should have been the film to worry about as a rallying cry for bullied and awkward young white men. The film slipped under the radar but tells the story of a young boy who feels mistreated and victimized. The young boy happens to have superpowers and uses them to extract revenge on his parents and perceived enemies. The film crystallizes the all too common sense of alienation, rejection, and loss of entitlement that so many young men face in the United States today. It is also a subversive power fantasy that the viewer can vicariously experience; especially if that viewer can relate to the main character-Joker is not nearly as as “dangerous” or provocative.

Historically, artists have always pushed boundaries and challenged convention. They rejected enforced conformity and shunned coercion and the dictates of society or authority to impose restraints on their expression. The Joker filmmakers allowed the zeitgeist to dictate the course or certain aspects of the film – they compromised in order to either avoid conflict or controversy or appease people who were going to hate the movie either way – art making held hostage by outside interference usually results in a mediocrity. One need only to look at Stanley Kubrick’s last film Eyes Wide Shut (1999) for an example of studio interference which compromised the artistic vision of the filmmaker.

The Joker has become a major Hollywood success, so there are likely to be many similar films to follow. But sadly, the film has little artistic or narrative merit. The filmmakers managed to make a Joker film that gives us the form of Joker, but none of his essence- which apparently is good enough for mass appeal. The controversy petered out in the aftermath of the film’s release; if anything the critics who feared it should have cheered, but of course the content of the film was never the point in the age of symbolic demonstrations of morality and cathartic political performance meant for public preening and reputation enhancement more that actually changing anything. The fear that this would be a nihilistic film inspiring young white lonely men to violence was totally unfounded – in fact it is a film about the privations of austerity and lack of social funding for disadvantaged people that happened to have a comic book villain in it.

Crime, Appropriation, and Moral Ambiguity in High Sierra (1941)

Towards the end of High Sierra (1941) the protagonist (Humphrey Bogart) runs up into the mountains of eastern California to evade police pursuit. The ending of this classic heist movie parallels a much more recent heist movie: Hell or High Water (2016). Both climax with a police sharp shooter ending a stand off between cops and a robber holed up in the mountains. It’s clear the filmmakers of Hell or High Water were inspired by High Sierra which is also an early example of film noir.

One of the great joys of watching older films is discovering where many modern filmmakers got their ideas. Or (less cynically) seeing later filmmakers recognize the lineage of a given genre and consciously pay homage. But in the age of remakes and “reboots” it’s hard to not be cynical about contemporary motivations. Indeed, Hollywood films recycle past ideas and use cliche as a matter of course. Quentin Tarantino’s entire oeuvre is a puree of bits of other films and genres served up as something new and original. Sometimes newer movies use just a scene, and sometimes they use the whole idea. For example: James Cameron’s The Terminator (1984) was born from Michael Crichton’s Westworld (1973) (which inspired the HBO series). Besides appropriating from other films, movie makers have used books, articles, comics, mythology, or real life. In an American culture that historically idealized bank robbers and outlaws, filmmakers had no difficulty finding subjects for stories like High Sierra. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow’s crime spree in the 1930s was the source for Joseph H. Lewis's Gun Crazy (1950) and Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967). The film and lives of the couple served as a wellspring for subsequent films. Examples include: Terence Malick’s Badlands (1973), David Lynch’s Wild at Heart (1990), Tony Scott’s True Romance (1993), Dominic Sena’s Kalifornia (1993), and Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers (1994). The 90s was a high tide for crime couple films apparently.

The obsession with crime in Hollywood is a reflection of the novelty of crime in the American experience. At once glamorized and crusaded against, crime in the bastion of private enterprise has always captivated public attention. The kinds of crimes depicted, bank robbery, bootlegging (or drug dealing e.g. Scarface (1983)), are an avenue to get rich by any means, usually pursued by the lower classes which adds another layer of popular appeal. That kind of unadulterated capitalism is an implicitly appealing fantasy to American citizens and immigrants alike. Hollywood and the press understood this and used real life as fodder for their respective enterprises. Since the 20^th century Americans have debated whether the romanticization of crime and criminals inspires more crime and criminals. That debate will never be settled. High Sierra’s Roy Earl (Bogart) is clearly derived from John Dillinger who was shot dead on a Chicago street just seven years before the film (the same year Bonnie and Clyde were killed). Bogart sports a similar haircut and has the same sly smirk we see in Dillinger's mugshots; this must have excited the audience when the memory of Dillinger was still fresh.

Dillinger’s popularity revealed a moral dilemma for the United States in the 1930s and later years. How could a ruthless criminal be so admired by ordinary Americans? The depression era allowed for this contradiction. The extreme wealth disparity in the U.S. and the ruthlessness of American capitalism made ordinary people suspicious of authorities and any appeals to the virtues of state power in a time of soup lines and lost farms. Disillusion developed in the American economic system and the hope for upward mobility. Legality and morality were no longer the same thing in the eyes of many victims of the economy. Criminals like Dillinger appealed to the fantasy of so many to claim that promised American prosperity at any cost. Bogart’s Roy Earl embodies much of the allure of the era, and the allure is extended to Bogart himself. An unlikely star, Bogart rose to become an icon of classic Hollywood. Bogart’s ordinary looks betray a natural charisma that makes his character sympathetic even though he’s a criminal.

Based on W.R. Burnett’s novel, High Sierra is directed by Raoul Walsh and co-written by the legendary John Houston. On its face, the film is a run of the mill crime story, but it’s the way it deals with right and wrong that make it worth more attention. Roy Earl’s release from jail is arranged by a crime boss for the purpose of leading a heist. Earl is hardened by a life of crime and time in jail but he still has some humanity. On his way westward towards his assignment, he encounters the destitute family of Pa Goodhue (played endearingly by the fatherly English actor Henry Travers) who are also on their way west in their jalopy in search of work. Pa’s granddaughter, the young and beautiful Velma (Joan Leslie), catches Earl’s eye. Here we have an explicit reference to the economic hardship and disenchantment of the depression and its connection to crime. We later discover that Velma is hobbled by a clubbed foot that could have been easily corrected but for lack of money. Earl decides to pay for the procedure and hopes to marry the young Velma who is the symbol of goodness and purity, but after Velma’s successful operation she rejects Earl’s proposal.

Roy Earl’s tragedy is his desire to redeem himself, to “crash out” as he calls it – to free himself from the stream of circumstances that have dictated his life so far. Crime was never a choice for him, or even a moral decision. In the amoral world of “haves” and “have nots” entertaining philosophical questions like this are not part of life’s equation. But at the same time Earl is continuously forced to make decisions based on morality. When he arrives to take over the operation of the planned heist from two lower level criminals he encounters Marie Garson (played by Ida Lupino) an abused girlfriend of one of the crew. His initial instinct to remove her from the gang’s plans is thwarted by her direct appeal to him. Her desire is to not go back to LA and the dance-hall girl life she desperately wants to leave behind. Earl’s pity displays his human sympathy and opens the door for Marie to fall for Earl, a man who could offer her a path towards happiness and protection. Earl wanted more than Marie who represents the life he too wants to leave behind, but he takes her on as a love interest warning her that nothing substantive could come of it. His relationship with Marie, much like his life of crime, comes about because of circumstance as opposed to choice. When he chose Velma he was rejected so the only avenue left was Marie. Despite his efforts, Earl’s life is dictated to him and he rolls with the punches hoping things will eventually work out for him. Many Americans at the time (and today) would recognize this lack of agency and the imposed compromises that are made in life.

Marie, in all her naivete, doesn’t realize the commanding and daring Earl can’t possibly offer any kind of normalcy. Earl confronts her abuser after she's assaulted and his alpha status in the group is unquestioned. But his use of violence is never gratuitous, never sadistic, always borne out of necessity. He fires his gun only after being fired upon, he uses force only when his freedom is jeopardized. The pity he takes on Marie is mirrored in the pity he takes on an ownerless dog named Pard who is said to be an omen of bad luck according to Algernon (Willie Best) the local handyman. Earl even allows Pard to tag along for the heist which doesn’t go well. Even though the robbery is successful Earl shoots a cop and his two accomplices are killed. While hiding out with Marie the newspapers blare the headline that the search is on for “Mad Dog Roy Earl.” It’s easy to sympathize with Earl, we know he’s not a “Mad Dog,” we saw him have sympathy for Velma, Marie, and even for Pard. Throughout the film when Earl could have made safe, selfish decisions, he made sympathetic ones. It’s that sympathy that dooms him and is the tragic heart of the film. If he was a cold blooded “Mad Dog,” he could have been more successful.

The muddy morality of the film gives the movie depth that forces the viewer to consider larger questions. Most crime films of the era depicted criminality as a social ill, with criminals paying for their choices. High Sierra is more ambiguous, maybe even cynical because the lesson one could derive is that it doesn’t pay to be a good person. That might be a reflection of the pessimism of the depression in which good people were not rewarded and bad people never paid a price. This outlook seems to be a constant theme in American politics and history (see the recent great recession and lack of criminal culpability). The starkness of the message is betrayed by Bogart who’s acting and presence embody the seemingly contradictory American impulse to be independent but also have ties to other people. He is quite capable of being ruthless and efficient but he also wants love, from Velma then Marie, and then also from Pard. One interpretation of Earl is that his weakness is his humanity.

Marie arrives with Pard at the stand off at the end of the film. Earl’s recognition of Pard’s barking draws him out of his safe hiding spot and gives the sharp shooter a clear shot.

16 Years After Weapons of Mass Destruction

Here is a random one-page comic I made after reading some of Matt Taibbi's writing

enjoy !

Spider-Man: Far From Home Review

Spider-Man: Far from Home is the second Marvel film starring British actor Tom Holland and takes place after the events of Avengers: Endgame. Its still hard to believe the success of the Marvel films, especially after so many failed attempts at movies of marvel characters from before producer Kevin Feige helped put together this new cinematic universe starting with 2008’s Iron Man. The 1980s (and much of the 90s) was a time of quiet desperation for comic book fans wanting to see their favorite characters on the big screen. We had our first taste of what was to come with Tim Burton’s Batman in 1989. My 11 year old self would never believe that, years later, the cinemas would be inundated with comic book inspired movies. I would have been happy to see any comic book adaptation without complaint since they were so sparse. I remember standing in line to see Warren Beatty’s Dick Tracy. That’s not something I would do today. But back then, any comic book movie was a drop of water to a parched fan. My critical assessments of those few comic book movies were lenient since the gratitude for the simple existence of a comic book movie colored (or blunted) my honest appraisals. The Punisher (1989) with Dolph Lundgren might be an exception. One benefit of having so many comics films is that I don’t have to pull my punches. Also, I (like many others) am suffering from comic book movie fatigue. 11 year old me would shake his head in disgust at the previous sentence.

Peter Parker's defining feature is his struggle to find himself as a teenager in high school. His daily trials and ordinary troubles are what make the character so relatable. In Far from Home, Peter and his classmates are on a trip in Europe. Their first stop is Venice when a water monster just happens to attack the city that Spider-Man is visiting. At first it seems like this is just a coincidence (which would be silly) but later we discover it was deliberate ploy by Mysterio (played well by Jake Gyllanhall). Even though its explained later, I still found myself distracted by the seeming coincidence. Of all the cities in the world why would the water monster happen to choose the one Peter Parker is visiting? It’s needless contrivances like this that really annoy me about some of these films.

The main plot of Far from Home is what you would expect: bad guys, action, lots of CGI, and mega fight scenes. The trajectory of the story is obvious, especially if you know Mysterio from the comics. I was never a fan of the “hidden” villain device in films. I hated it in Batman Begins, Batman Rises, Iron Man 3, and so on. There are strong moments when Mysterio creates illusions to trick Peter (and the audience) at points in the film. And there are references to Orwell and notions of the malleability of truth – there is one scene when a character sarcastically says “the news never lies.” So there is an effort to be topical which could have been explored more with Mysterio but that opportunity is missed. There could have been some Inception type scenes where we go down a rabbit hole and explore the difference between reality and fantasy, truth and lies, etc. This could have been especially potent given the thematic concern of the Spider-Man films: dual identities, keeping secrets from loved ones, split loyalties (Peter’s selfish focus on his own life vs. selfless duty to others).

The high school/teenager subplot is much more engaging. In many ways Far from Home is a throw back to the films the 11 year old me would immediately recognize. I would have never guessed how much influence John Hughes would have over our cinematic language. Far from Home begins as a high school drama/comedy with nerdy Peter Parker pining over MJ who of course doesn’t return his crush. His painfully awkward pursuit is a trope that still works after all these years. His failed attempt to sit next to her on the plane is endearing. The tension with his romantic rival, Brad Davis, (played by Remy Hii) works because Brad is so much better looking that Peter. The comic relief is supplied by Peter’s friend, the rotund and nerdy Ned, (Jacob Batalon) who is older and looses some of the boyish charm he had in the first film. His very unbelievable relationship with the young and cutesy Betty (Angourie Rice) is meant to add comic relief but is cringey and adds nothing to the film.

Most of the comedic moments are kind of off-putting or forced. For example Ned is shot in the neck by Nick Fury (Samuel Jackson) with a tranquilizer when Fury miraculously appears in Peter’s Venice hotel bedroom so he could recruit him to fight the other monsters (there are always more). Peter was “ghosting” Fury by avoiding his phone calls. This was one of a few references to modern lingo, use of cell phones, and social media, which is supposed to make the movie hip? It was just too ubiquitous for me. Also, the weird relationship between Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau) and Aunt May (charmingly played by Marissa Tomei). Are they dating or not? Their flirtations are supposed to make Peter feel weird so its supposed to be funny. It’s just weird. No one cares about middle aged people dating. Not even middle aged people.

So the film relies on tropes and cliches, which I don’t mind. I don’t expect the writers to re-invent the wheel. Of course there are the clueless teachers, the cool kid, the outcasts (Peter and his friend) but, this is a modern movie, so it is very diverse and the archetypes are blunted (no one can be too mean, or cruel, or popular, or sexy, or dumb). MJ (Zendaya) is cool and witty but also smug and priggish. The modern trend of making teenagers capable and sophisticated in films is really something that needs to go away. Peter’s bully, Flash, does “bully” Peter it not as emotionally compelling as in the comics or other iterations of the characters. This Flash is played by Tony Revolori who comes off more as a spoiled snot as opposed to a dreamy jock – which is what Flash is supposed to be. I know that is a hackneyed trope but it works and its absence makes the hostility between Flash and Peter less potent.

I don’t know why the filmmakers decided to set the film in Europe. It seems arbitrary especially since New York city is central to the Spider-Man mythos. Also, Peter’s class went on a field trip to D.C. in the first movie so there is some redundancy here. That parts that work best are Peter finding his way towards embracing the new role bestowed upon him by Tony Stark (Iron Man from the other films). Peter’s struggle to reconcile his personal life with his duties as a hero have always been the most attractive aspect of the character. Especially because it helps the view into the fantasy. How would I handle this situation? Would I do good with this power? Would I be selfless? Spider-Man’s job is thankless in the comics and that part of his arc is missing in the film, but it looks like they are going to rectify that in the next film, since we are teased with that possibility in the post credits scene.

My 11 year old self would have reveled in this movie, and I know many 11 year olds will. These films are made for today’s 11 year olds while still anchored in the stories created over 50 years ago. I don’t envy filmmakers who have to reconcile those things to make a modern film. However, just because it’s a comic book movie doesn't mean I’ll be more forgiving. I’ve done that already, besides all I have to do is wait for the next one.

Review of Jordan Peele’s “Us”

The opening 30 minutes of Us is well photographed, and the scenes are full of foreboding and suspense as one might expect. Jordan Peele is very good at composing shots and moving the camera ominously. The entire production feels well executed. I also enjoyed the 1987 setting in the initial setup of the story. This spate of 1980s nostalgia is very bankable these days-Stranger Things, The Goldbergs, and Ready Player One are recent examples. 

The underlining political message of the film is essentially about what privilege and class does to people in American society - spoiler alert - it’s bad! Popular culture can be an effective vehicle for promoting or expressing political ideas. The political messages in recent Hollywood productions are more obvious these days. I never subscribed to the idea that there can be non-political art. The question for me is execution. Big Hollywood films are supposed to be entertaining. That’s what most people expect when they pay to see a major American movie. The entertainment value of a film lowers when the message is primary. One’s agreement with the preceding sentence has entirely to do with whether a film’s message comports with the given viewer’s beliefs, and that is why politics in entertainment is contentious. It’s because that’s what politics is. I think what rankles people is when the politics are shoehorned into the narrative, or when the internal logic of the story is affected because of that shoehorning (at least that’s what rankles me). 

The entire premise of Us depends on our suspension of disbelief, and the politics are the driving reason.  In order for the argument that nurture wins out over nature in social development, every person must have a doppelgänger created by some unexplained organization. Every person in the US has a double? Over 300 million people? Living where? The film opens with a caption saying: “There are thousands of miles of tunnels beneath the United States ... Abandoned subway systems, unused service routes, and deserted mine shafts ... Many have no known purpose at all." That’s the only explanation for how millions of people lived unnoticed by society since 1987 until Red (the main antagonist and double of Adelaide - the hero) leads the glorious rebellion from underground. That’s over 30 years- it’s silly. 

I know this sounds churlish to many, especially because Peele is being hailed as a genius and this film is a “masterpiece,” but so much of the story or action is contrived that I have to obliterate my disbelief - not just suspend it.  many convenient plot points are clearly there just to move the story in the direction that Peele wants it to go. When the Wilson family (the good guys) first encounters their evil “tethers” in their driveway at night, the father’s (Abraham) timid response to these strange trespassers is just weird. I remember thinking “swing the fucking bat.” Most fathers or husbands (I would hope) would take more forceful action to protect the safety of their family, but Abraham hides behind the locked front door as the tethers pound it down. He is eventually wounded and given a limp in order to help us believe this 6’5” man can’t pose more of an obstacle to the bad guys - it’s silly.

Another mainstay of the horror movie genre appears: lack of police response. Even the lowliest B movies have to explain why the police aren’t responding. Adelaide calls 911, but the cops never show up, thus allowing the second act to unfold.  The tethers get into the house and now have the Wilsons at their disposal in front of the fireplace. So why didn’t they just kill them right off the bat? Because that would not allow Red to move the story forward with her expository soliloquy in her weird scary voice.  Adelaide was literally chained to the table - the father was helplessly on the floor after being beaten. There are many more contrivances throughout the film. For example, each family has their own elaborate individual scenarios with their double.  An unconscious Abraham is taken by his double onto the lake in a boat only for Abraham to regain consciousness and have a dramatic fight in the water - why not just knife him while he was out? The Wilson family becomes quickly adept and comfortable at killing, even though they are supposed to be sheltered middle class Americans who likely have no experience with violence. 

I think most reviewers are ignoring the flaws of the film because it has such a potent and popular political message. They are committing the same sin as Peele i.e. allowing their personal or popular politics to lead in their aesthetic and critical judgments.  I also think many in the entertainment industry want Jordan Peele to be the second coming of Hitchcock that they are going to simply will it into being. This has a erie parallel in many big media outlets’ coverage of most things lately (see the Russia collusion fiasco).  In many ways, Us is a product of our time. We see want we want to see.