JOKER and The Quest for Recognition – Wisecrack Quick Take

What's up Wisecrack? Michael here and today we are talking about the movie that he wants you to keep smiling: Joker. Now, there is a lot to unravel in this film. It's like a cocktail of films from the past, heavily imbued with the spirit of Martin Scorcerce's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, among other films of the era. It's incredibly ambitious, not only because it has shots of Joaquin Phoenix dancing in puddles and laughing and crying his way to an Oscar nomination, but also because of the sociopolitical commentary that's impossible to ignore. There's also the fact that director Todd Phillips goes BREAKING against comic tradition by giving the character a definitive backstory.

But what exactly is the film trying to say? That you should, for the love of God, continue taking your medications. Well, maybe, but we think there's something deeper going on, and that something is the politics of

recognition

. So get ready for this spoiler-filled trip to Clown Town, in this

quick

Wisecrack version of Joker. And we're also going to spoil a 1976 movie, Network. Alright guys, let's do a

quick

recap. Joker follows the heavily medicated Arthur Fleck as he dreams of becoming a successful comedian. But, due to his mental illness and his resulting inability to stop laughing at awkward moments, he is tormented by idiot children, rich adults, and even his favorite talk show comedian.

And he gets worse: budget cuts to social services prevent Arthur from receiving his much-needed psychiatric medications, and he loses his job for bringing a gun to work, as is often the case. He then uses the aforementioned weapon to kill the aforementioned rich adult thugs. People revel in these mysterious yuppie deaths, sparking a strange social movement in which protesters blame people like Thomas Wayne and the rest of Gotham's rich for the city's problems. Fleck ends up on television next to his talk show hero, kills him and denounces the society that abandoned him. The broadcast leads to a city-wide riot, resulting in the now-familiar murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Fleck apparently ends up in Arkham Asylum, where he continues to laugh. The end. Perhaps the most obvious theme of the film is

recognition

: that is, the state of being recognized. As you know, as a human being with needs and feelings. This may seem vague, but it is very moving. The audience realizes this in several ways, some of them very subtle. For example, when Arthur visits his mother in the hospital, he has a hard time being "recognized" by the automatic sliding door marked "Exit." Additionally, the Wall Street bankers he kills are initially outraged that the woman on the train does not recognize them.

Most obviously, clues to this issue come from Arthur's mother, Penny, who constantly writes letters to her former employer, Thomas Wayne, and begs him for financial help. Thomas Wayne is a good man, he reasons, so surely he wouldn't ignore the needs of a human being he once employed. Of course, his letters go unanswered, prompting Arthur to search for his own answers. Arthur also needs recognition: he spends his days as an anonymous clown advertising local businesses; the only people who recognize his existence on the street do so to torment him. Without a father, he dreams of being recognized and subsequently loved by his comedy idol, Murray Franklin.

He even daydreams about Franklin hugging him like a kind of surrogate son, which is very reminiscent of similar scenes from Scorsese's The King of Comedy: "I really have to ask you that. How... how do you do it?" A brief exchange with a neighbor leaves Arthur even fantasizing about a full-on relationship with her. The only person he can really trust, besides his imaginary girlfriend, is a social worker, who he claims doesn't really listen to him. Then budget cuts leave him completely alone and forgotten by the system. Arthur's problems without medication are now invisible to the world. The social movement he generates speaks more to the problem of recognition: Gotham's everyday residents rot away, while people like Thomas Wayne live behind closed doors with personal butlers: blissfully disconnected from the misery.

His demands are vague, but they could be summed up as a mix between “eat the rich” and “I'm very angry and I'm not going to

take

it anymore” but we'll get to that later. In one scene, the well-to-do people of Gotham watch Charlie Chaplin's “Modern Times” at a gala event. Ironically, the silent film, about the dehumanizing nature of factory work, is being happily enjoyed by the people who probably own those factories, or at least, inherited the profits. When Arthur finally appears on Murray Franklin's show, he does not seem interested in the mass movement he has created; he's just delighted to be seen.

He quickly confesses to the murders and complains that, unlike his three rich victims, no one would notice if his corpse was strewn across the streets. He even tells Murray: The message seems to be: the system is broken and ordinary people are alienated and powerless. They have no other way to be recognized, especially politically, other than to riot, commit heinous acts, or be the subject of public scorn and ridicule. Arthur gets the first hint of recognition of him when the masses are galvanized by the anonymous murders of him. He is then most directly recognized when he becomes the William Hung of the '80s sitcom.

And, real or imagined, he eventually becomes the object of everyone's attention as he basks in the adoration of rioters after shooting Murray Franklin. He explicitly seems less interested in the politics of the revolution than simply in being seen. Meanwhile, her mother, abandoned in her apartment and ignored by the Wayne family, had her only moment of notoriety when she revealed herself to the public as a neglectful mother, which Arthur discovers when he finds old news clippings. about her own childhood. abuse. In contrast, Thomas Wayne is immediately seen and recognized by virtue of his wealth and power. If he thinks the protesters are lazy and useless, his status provides an easy outlet to make his voice heard.

After all, he has never been a politician, but the media constantly points to him as the best possible candidate for mayor. Recognition is a topic addressed by several political philosophers, but I want to focus on one in particular: Jacques Rancière. For Rancière, the act of being recognized is a foundational political act. Setting budgets and building bridges is not so much a

quest

ion of politics for Rancière but of bureaucracy. Instead, returning to the democracy of ancient Athens, he defines a political act as one in which a person demands to be recognized as an equal.

This was as true for ancient Athenians as it was for, say, suffragettes, factory workers, or civil rights activists. Historically, the response to these claims has always been some form of the same argument: that a group or person is not capable of acting politically or rationally. For example, when Aristotle defined man as a political animal because he had a persuasive speech, he stated that slaves were incapable of doing politics, since their speech was, for him, more similar to the noises of animals: capable of expressing sadness. , hunger or anger. but not much more. Which is a pretty convenient way to not pay attention to the guy who gives you grapes while you philosophize.

I don't think it's a coincidence that, in Joker, Thomas Wayne doesn't address the protesters as people with opinions different from his own, but as "clowns" who haven't done anything with their lives. It is implied, then, that these losers are not worthy of political recognition. Phillips' message seems to be that, without other means of recognition, people will resort to the loudest and most violent means: whether rioting in the streets or the murder of an on-air talk show host. That search for recognition, political or otherwise, is also reflected in the film's two biggest inspirations: Taxi Driver, where Travis Bickle seeks recognition from a woman he desires, and King of Comedy, where Rupert Pupkin seeks recognition from his role model in comedy. and talk show audiences in general.

But even more important may be the film's least discussed influence: the 1976 film Network. Network is a big Wisecrack favorite. I love it. Jared and Alec probably like it too much. Network is the story of a news anchor, Howard Beale, who suffers a mental breakdown on air, which turns out to be really good for the ratings. So he continues to mentally collapse into thin air while greedy executives profit from his illness. But those mental breakdowns also come with a message: the world is a garbage fire, the system is broken, and we should all be angry. How angry, you might ask?

Well, very angry, thanks for asking. Howard denounces the fact that crime and poverty are considered a normal part of society. Importantly, he does not ask his viewers to write to their congressman or protest or riot, but simply to affirm his human dignity with his anger: "You have to say: I'm a damn human being, my life It has value". For Howard, that recognition of courage comes from the simple mantra: "I'm as angry as hell and I'm not going to

take

this anymore." And boy, everyone else is really mad and they're not going to have it. Howard's tirade is enormously popular and, more importantly, makes the once-struggling network a ton of money.

His unfiltered anger even generates more anger on television, when the network airs The Mao Tse-Tung Hour, starring a band of terrorists affiliated with the Communist Party. Everything is going very well until Howard's anger is directed at selling his network to a Saudi Arabian conglomerate, thus jeopardizing the deal and prompting his quick assassination. Both Howard's and Arthur's crises are tied to his general degradation in the world. Both are unceremoniously fired. They both feel trapped in a crazy world and both want their fundamental humanity to be recognized. And just as the network executives exploit Howard's illness, Murray Franklin exploits Arthur's illness.

After his uncontrollable laughing fits and bad jokes lead to a nightclub bombing, footage of the event is shown on television to a mass audience. Audiences love embarrassing images so much that they demand more, and Arthur is invited on the show to be the butt of more jokes. When Arthur murders Murray, the film cuts to a grid of televisions showing the murder interspersed with banal commercials, a clear nod to the end of Network, where Howard's murder becomes another sensational news story. There could also be a subtle hint of profiting from the misfortunes of others when Arthur looks at the message in his diary that says: Like Joker, Network is about a society that fails its people and what anger means. resulting.

Network cynically maintains that behind every sincere call for revolution, there is an executive with a plan to package it and sell it. Joker, however, does not take such a clear position. Rather, he simply suggests that the people are angry and that horrible consequences will ensue if they are not appeased. There really aren't any good guys: even if Thomas Wayne is an insensitive jerk, the protesters are a violent, disorganized mob. And the Joker himself has no broader political project: he initially murders those who wronged him, but soon finds the recognition intoxicating. It is clear that Arthur is not a good model for achieving recognition, but rather a warning of the instability and chaos that a broken society can generate.

So what do you think? Should we even take Arthur's monologue seriously? After all, it's hard to ask for courtesy right before shooting a guy in the head. Or was it all just an illusion? Let us know what you think in the comments. Thank you to all our sponsors who support the YouTube channel and our podcasts. Make sure to subscribe and thanks for watching. Peace!