When this was announced my initial feelings were pretty cynical. After all there are certain things that really shouldn't be done, and an origin story for Batman's arch-nemesis is one of them. With Sony recently scrambling to put together a solo Venom story without Spider-Man, it seemed at the time as though they were racing with Warner Bros to see who could miss the point hardest. After all, these sorts of characters are usually dark reflections of their opponents and work best as foils. It also felt as though these studios were under the impression that dark and edgy meant profitable and they needed their own Logan or another Deadpool. Fortunately however in this case my concerns were not warranted, and the result is an engaging if predictable Elseworlds style tale.
This isn't the first time that the eponymous Clown Prince of Crime has been given a dubious background of course, and the influences of Alan Moore's classic story The Killing Joke are found in almost every big screen iteration. But like those earlier portrayals this stands alone and does something new with the material both in terms of the narrative and the central performance. Thankfully this is all told through a rather unreliable perspective with just enough ambiguity to keep the character's true history veiled. They specifically borrow the idea that he's a failed comedian and there are several links to his past and future history with the Wayne family, but this is more of a character piece than a comic book blockbuster.
Joaquin Phoenix plays Arthur, a long suffering clown performer who dons the green hair and white paint to perform at children's hospital wards and outside of struggling store fronts. Each with different but equally troubling results. At home he looks after his delusional mother Penny (Frances Conroy) and at work he's an outcast even among the other clowns. Through this skewed perspective we witness the economic crisis of Gotham City in what seems to be 1981 as problems with vermin on the streets (both literal and figurative) begin to get out of hand. Like most characters in this situation Arthur dreams of becoming a success in his work his love life, but there's more wrong with him than just his lack of people skills.
This certainly isn't a subtle film and while there's no vat of green chemicals waiting for him at the end of this version of events, under the surface things are already starting to dissolve his sanity. Beaten down by both hooligans and poor medical care options in the city Arthur also has a problem in that he never feels happy, but he also can't stop laughing in the most inappropriate situations because of an unspecified condition. This sort of paradox is the most interesting element, as he shambles (even without the clown shoes) through a familiar world in which people are expected to smile in the worst of times. He's twisted inside and out, someone who wants to make people laugh but doesn't understand humour. Someone who doesn't enjoy much of anything... until his violent inner nature rears its head.
It's not a particularly gruesome film although there are a couple of sudden shock sequences that are probably about as bloody as any recent horror film. Most of the time however this is a fairly atmospheric and tension filled story, which is pretty appropriate for the subject matter. There are sparks of humanity under the surface whether it's from Arthur's mother or his neighbour, single-mother Sophie, (Zazie Beetz) but it's always slightly awkward and unconvincing. For the most part it's drenched in a sickly sepia toned layer of grime that lends the whole thing a moody visual style. The result is a nicotine stained period piece both thanks to Arthur's chain smoking character and Lawrence Sher's cinematography.
Much has been said of the connective threads that make all of this some sort of comic book relative of King of Comedy or Taxi Driver. But beyond a few familiar story beats and visual nods (and casting choices) it's never really in that league. Which isn't to say that the parts that work here aren't successful on their own terms of course. But while Travis and Rupert loved themselves in ways that were pretty disturbing, here Arthur is a pitiful wretch that is being funnelled towards a very particular self-actualisation. If anything the movie falters during the last few minutes of the third act which lead to a pretty unimaginative confrontation with talk show host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). And the less said of a distracting 'twist' on often repeated franchise imagery the better.
Still, despite these caveats it all generally works as an eerie character drama. Even if the character is a broken, cackling lunatic who finds that the only things that make him feel good are horrifying. Points to the star who makes this feel like a stand alone effort distinct from both his green-haired predecessors and his own turn as a loner living at home with his mother in You Were Never Really Here. With a more gnarly visual sense and a more over-wrought score this could have been a more trite 'scary clown' story to appease fans of PG-13 rated jump scares. But if anything this is a slow burn descend into madness, as exemplified by a standout sequence involving a pair of scissors. It doesn't involve laughing gas or poisoned bathroom products, but they do what feels appropriate for this iteration.
As with the previous DC adaptation this year, Shazam!, this all comes together (for the most part) because it has a goal in mind and sticks to it. It's not dependant on cross-overs and shared universe schemes. Although while these two are tonally disparate they both suffer from a need to shoe-horn in extraneous nods to the larger comic book world; a small dent in their effectiveness in both cases. Here at least the likes of Thomas Wayne and faithful butler Alfred are seen in a fresh light through the eyes of someone outside of the usually sympathetic circles. This isn't a film with much tact, but it's compelling and well paced where it needs to be, it's visually interesting in the right places, and it's got just the right amount of pathos and nastiness.
4/5
