Abstract
ABSTRACT Dancing on the thin edge between tragedy and comedy from the very first tear that rolls down Arthur Fleck’s face into the painted creases of his clown smile, Joker revels in ambivalence. In fact, it exceeds its diegetic bounds to stage a clash between two kinds of masculinity: the conformist masculinity of director Todd Phillips, known for the alcohol-fuelled bonding and casual misogyny of numerous frathouse-cum-road trip films, and the deformist masculinity of star Joaquin Phoenix, whose loner roles have plumbed the depths of masculine alienation, rage, and malaise. While Phoenix’s star persona is inseparable from his reflexive disassemblage of masculinity – to the extent of attempting to dismantle his own celebrity in the mock-documentary I’m Still Here – Phillips’ canon celebrates the comic fortitude of the male ego, able to reassemble itself after each stab at self-destruction. This article examines the ‘masculine indemnity’ common to Phillips’ films in contrast to Phoenix’s celebrity, which has been built on the willingness to flout the indemnification of white male privilege. In the unresolved mash-up between Phoenix’s and Phillips’ star-brands of masculinity, both masculinities prevail, adding fodder to the male can(n)on.
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