Mallory's Camera

It was a dark and stormy day. Exercise was out of the question, so instead, I went to see Joker.

I hadn’t been planning to see it, but croneitude posted the Michael Moore review, and I thought, Well. Maybe it’s important!

Joker is the Incel creation myth.

Its box office success? Kinda depressing.

The guy who made it, Todd Phillips, is the guy who made The Hangover movies—which, come to think of it, are also Incel panegyrics though of a higher-end sort.

Guess what, ladies?

We live in a world with a lot of men who really, really do not like us.

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Reviews have cited Joker as a bookend to The King of Comedy, one of the few Martin Scorsese movies I actually like—in general, I think Martin Scorsese is waaaaay over-rated. More of an homage, I’d say. That part, I liked.

The cinematography is excellent. The art design hovers on brilliance. New York City during the dark, horrific 80s! Because at least Joker doesn’t shuffle around on the Where is Gotham City really? question. All those seedy, roach-infested stores on the verge of extinction! Those dark, graffiti-encrusted tunnels! The Bronx steps! (The Bronx actually has 63 sets of such steps; I scampered up most of them in my spry, delinquent youth.)

Joaquin Phoenix’s much-vaunted performance?

Well. He did lose a staggering amount of weight!

But I dunno. There’s no real way to evaluate the performance of an actor who plays a completely over-the-top character because there’s no real-life analogue to compare that performance to. And I think it’s probably easier as an actor to pull out all the stops than it is to give a subtle, modulated performance.

Joaquin Phoenix’s performance was neither subtle nor modulated.

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Michael Moore is absolutely fucking nuts if he thinks Joker is any kind of political statement. (Although his throwaway line about the “KFC grease-stained nuclear codes in the Oval Office” is pur-ty good.)

Could it be that Michael Moore is trying to rationalize his own Incel tendencies?

Moore rattles on and on about how Arthur Fleck is a victim—typical Incel hagiography by the way—but in fact, the only things we really know about Arthur Fleck is that (1) he’s an unreliable narrator because (2) he’s a paranoid schizophrenic.

I worked with a number of paranoid schizophrenics in my nursing rotation at Highland Hospital and subsequently as an ER nurse there. Kassie, whom I like a lot, is a paranoid schizophrenic.

Are they victims?

Well. They certainly have a difficult karma.

But, of course, that sense of victimization is one of the symptoms of the disease.

Michael Moore fumes, No one wants to ask why two smart boys skipped their 4th-hour AP French Philosophy class at Columbine High to slaughter 12 students and a teacher. Who would dare ask why the son of a vice-president of General Electric would go into Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, CT and blow the tiny bodies apart of 20 first-graders.

Seems to me that a lot of people have asked that question.

And the answer is: Those shooters were mentally ill.

Their particular type of mental illness is like a magnifying glass under which the minor slights and indignations to which we’re all subjected as part of the human condition become combustible.

Hey! Arthur Fleck’s Bronx apartment is pretty big! No junkies to trip over in the lobby! (Unlike the apartment building in which I grew up.) I didn’t see any cockroaches! (Again, unlike the apartment building in which I grew up.) And the elevator might be bumpy, but it worked.

Arthur and his Mom have a lot of electronics—a VCR—that were pretty pricey back in 1981.

Even in 1981 NYC, there is no way that Child Protective Services would have returned custody of an abused kid to a crazy mother.

Also even in 1981 NYC, there is no way that when a social services office shut down, they would not have given their patients a six-month heads up and an alternate source for their anti-psychotics.

Again in 1981, no small consumer cameras existed that would have allowed anyone to video Arthur Fleck’s disastrous open mike routine without him noticing. But even in 1981, you did have to sign a release before a TV show would be allowed to show footage of you.

Confidential to Michael Moore: Joker is not cinema verité!

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Else? I am considering getting my hair cut. It has reached that long and stringy stage.

It is bright and sunny again this morning. Shortly, I will go running.