(Note: Sorry for the lack of a post this past Sunday. I got a little busy and ran out of time.)
Books: Dan Simmons Month
For no particular reason at all, I've decided to spend the rest of October highlighting the work of Dan Simmons. Up first? Hyperion, his 1990 Hugo Award winner. The other day, I described this novel to a co-worker as "The Canterbury Tales... IN SPACE," but that only gives you a very basic sense of its structure. In reality, this is an odd, kitchen-sink kind of book that somehow manages to be a space opera, a cyberpunk tale, a mystery, and a literary reflection all at once. My favorite of the six stories told is probably Sol Weintraub's because it seriously grapples with the problem of suffering, but interesting ideas are included throughout. Fair warning, though: since this is the first of a series, you may find the ending a bit unsatisfying, as Simmons leaves the central mystery that drives the pilgrimage unsolved.
Now Playing
Joker. Let's cut through the pervasive mental retardation, shall we?
(Possible spoilers below the cut.)
First of all, this movie isn't unusually violent. There are plenty of films that are more savage; consider, for instance, 300 -- or Quentin Tarantino's entire oeuvre. And if you somehow walked away from Joker thinking its violence is in any way "glorified," you evidently got confused and walked into the wrong theater. Arthur is locked up in Arkham at the end, okay? He doesn't triumphantly ride off into the sunset, and the only people who celebrate him are themselves villainous thugs.
Secondly, Arthur is not an "anti-hero." Please, God, stop with the idiocy. An anti-hero is a character who lives by a clearly defined code that happens to lie perpendicular to commonly-recognized morality. Frank Castle is a good example of the anti-hero type. Good-ol' Frank thinks shooting pedophiles in the face is an excellent way to cure boredom. He's brutal as hell, which violates the law-and-order expectations of our dignity-based culture -- but he also targets criminals who, we all secretly agree, just need killin'. Arthur, on the other hand, has no code; he's a chaos agent driven by vengeance. Only the equally insane believe his targets deserve what they get (even if they are dicks).
Let me emphasize this because it's important: Having comprehensible reasons doesn't automatically make you an anti-hero. Everyone has reasons. What distinguishes the anti-hero is systematization -- and a certain admirable quality that is recognizable to the normal person. Now think hard: what's admirable about Arthur? Do you actually, deep in your heart of hearts, want to be that guy? No, I'll wager. Arthur is a figure to be pitied, not idolized. Far from being attractive, he's skinny, creepy, and pathetic -- and he continues to be portrayed in this manner for the entirety of the film. If you left Joker thinking, "Arthur Fleck is awesome," you either saw the wrong movie or are yourself profoundly disturbed.
Third, reasons are not justifications. Good Christ, when did we as a society lose the ability to tell the difference? Showing that Arthur is a brain-damaged, marginalized victim of severe abuse explains everything he does, but it doesn't completely excuse those choices. You know who's also a victim of child abuse? My mother. But Mom isn't out there shooting or stabbing people in cold blood. She forgave her own mother; she didn't smother her with a pillow. She's currently in an extremely loving and stable marriage. She successfully raised two kids. She pursued art instead of murder. In short, she's functional. Why? Because she has - and has always had - agency. The vast majority of human beings do -- even in extremely difficult circumstances. True: it can be argued that Arthur's agency is diminished by the nature of his illness. But it isn't absent. The fact that he repeatedly contemplates killing himself demonstrates that he has at least some ability to weigh options.
On the other hand, I think we can simultaneously acknowledge that certain societal configurations are less likely to create Jokers than others. And on this score, I think Joker says much that is worth serious reflection. I found it extraordinarily striking, for one, that in two separate scenes, we see Arthur longing to be hospitalized. Could it be that deinstitutionalization is a mistake? Is it possible that there are some people for whom the structure of an asylum setting is necessary? And yes: our elites are often casually cruel to certain "acceptable" targets. And yes: our society should be kinder to everyone who lives on the edges regardless of superficial category. All thoughtful people can easily absorb these nuances without agreeing that Arthur is right.
Bottom line at the end: Joker is an outstanding, provocative movie. The critics out there who are reeeee-ing about "incels" have been rendered deeply, deeply stupid by ideology and can be summarily dismissed. If Arthur were black or gay, you would be completely fine with this story, you racist hypocrites, so please sit your asses down and let the intelligent, compassionate adults do the talking.
No comments:
Post a Comment