Joker

Joaquin will win the Oscar for Best Male Performance, next February. No doubt about it. Unless I see a better contender in the coming months, this is what I take away from Todd Phillips’ Joker. The film extends itself over a diaspora of human emotions and sympathy drenches its frames from the very beginning. There have been many interpretations of the eponymous character, the most defining one being the one portrayed by the indomitable Heath Ledger. However, one can say that The Dark Knight’s Joker would pick up where this one leaves off.

The story is a simple – and I would even call it clichéd – a mix of timeworn retellings that make up of most movies dealing with psychotic breaks and the various triggers that society sets out for the weaker sections that populate it. The average guy once again seizing power in the upheaval that follows through the movie, and the dynamic of nihilism combined with psychosis keeps sparking until it bursts forth in the climax.

When I saw the trailer a few months ago, I knew what I was in store for. There was no light that peeked through any of the script and what most of the fluorescence and shadowed daylight did was show the angled bent of the character’s descent into madness. The cinematography of the movie is superb. The play of light and shadow in a scene with Phoenix at the back of a bus, littered with graffiti, moving down a bridge is one of my favourites. A close second is the overhead shot of Phoenix in the dressing room, in full regalia.

I will not go into the details of the story. The script is a character study. The following of a polite, unassuming, troubled soul into his future. His past keeps cropping up at various moments and his struggles to make sense of it keeps aligning the viewer to his state of mind. The beauty of the madness is the innocence of it. Abuse and neglect by parental figures forms the twisted backbone of the Joker here. Watching disability create isolation is another theme that Phoenix portrays so well.

That laugh. Man, he should get an award for just cultivating that laugh.

The more I speak about Phoenix’s performance, the less it would be. The spiral he goes through as he commits the first murders is surreal, and the surrealism flows out toward you in the following dance. Did I mention it was exquisite? This actor has taken the mantle from Ledger and created another story of the Joker. Just as dynamic, chaotic, deranged and tumultuous – but the difference here is that the bats he faces are all within. It is a psychological war that he loses – it is his faith, his hope and his belief structure. It is a study of a victim who turns inward, finds the bedlam within, and lets it devour himself and the ones around.

In accordance with this, Lawrence Sher’s cinematography sets the tone of the movie. Everything is muted, subdued. It’s just the clowns that pop with their makeup and green hair. Some scenes leave a mark: Phoenix’s close ups, the angled back, the scenes in public transport, the sun hitting a running train, and the curtain call scene. Superlative poetry in picture.

I have mentioned the plot is not great. The segues formulate into clichés more than once. The interesting part to note is the fact that though madness is used as a tool to create situations it doesn’t always do so with absolute certainty – that in itself, grasps the idea of insanity. You can see what the character sees, and feels what he feels with no great clarity given to the ones behind the fourth wall. Your sharing this ambiguity makes his madness logical. There are friends who watched it with me who found this fact unnerving.

I will add something as a personal view. When I observe the protagonist’s descent into madness because of certain circumstance, I understand why it happened and I shudder to note how society ignores and mistreats mental illness that leads to his becoming an antagonist. I understand victim hood. I do not celebrate it leading to murder. One must mark a moment of concern when the audience cheers as he descends the stairs, emblazoned in a red suit, and dances. The dance is exquisite and pathetic, true – but there should be the following of dread in the onlooker, not anticipation.

The rest of the cast are mere extensions of Phoenix. DeNiro stands strong. Conroy is her usual raving characters. No, the film is solely Joaquin Phoenix’. This movie is definitely worth a watch, and once you do, it will stay with you for a long while, settling on your heart as ash settles on fresh snow.

The Greater Good

When I hear the phrase, ‘for the greater good’, I always wait for some kind of catastrophe to befall. It becomes an antithetical idea for me. because whenever someone spouts this ideology I think of where the ax is going to fall. The greater good always denotes that someone somewhere is definitely not going to be feeling good, and worse, his feelings eventually must be sacrificed. It is as simple as that.

It’s like people talking in quite a blasé manner about another phrase that spells doom for me. Casualties of war. Literal and figurative this term does not bode well for someone somewhere. What makes someone and his life not worth it? That a man, woman, child, animal can be given up for the greater good? Less money? Less intelligence? Wrong place at the wrong time? Bad upbringing? Good upbringing? Luck? Bravery?

These are question that can never be answered. There are pessimists and there are optimists and there are realists out there. I read a nice anecdote a long time ago that stuck with me through the years. The optimist, it said, invented the aeroplane. Wow! Superb! And the pessimist, it said, invented the parachute. Both feature in this world. And the realist? Well, he must have been the passenger. So who becomes the casualty of war? Who has more right to remain alive? How do you choose?

Have you ever seen Sophie’s Choice? Read it? What is the greater good? Decisions of the greater good make you weep – or at least, they should. If they don’t then there really is no good out there. We can only choose. Do we listen to the snake and bite into the apple? Do we allow logic and reason to guide us into making decisions we were never equipped to make? Or do we finally realise that the greater good was never a matter up to us in the first place?

Marriage

On social media, at times the question goes like this:

Cute boy asks me, “so what are you doing now?”

I reply, “I’ll be taking the kids down and then I’ll be coming home and having some tea.”

There is a pause. “Kids?” Then, I can never figure this tone out: “Are you married?”

I inevitably go this route. “Gay guys can’t get married, in India.”

Of course, the conversation then veers, depending upon various factors. If horniness takes over, the fact that I am gay segues into a sexual tone. If romanticism takes over, I am asked, “but you can still marry, can’t you?” If someone truly understands the status quo, they will just say, “Ah, furkids then.” (I agree that it is usually not easy to correlate the fact that I treat my dogs as my kids…but it’s never happened that someone will just say, “oh, how many kids do you have? Which breed are they? Their names?” But I am shooting for the stars.)

Let me talk about the romanticism and my idea of marriage. I have never thought of marriage. Even as a teenager, when I got to understanding my sexuality, I never thought about it. I never wanted to be a groom, of standing before an altar, or at a mandap, or at a place of worship and saying, “I do”. It has nothing to do with me being an atheist. It has nothing to do with the fact that I am not a romantic. I am.

In fact, I am too much of a romantic. I don’t believe in love that is godlike. I believe in a love that is human. I believe that marriage is a series of vows. Promises. I take promises seriously. And my promises can be made without marriage – without putting on a show, for or with others. I have no problem if others choose to do this, it just is not something that I take lightly. It’s like getting a tattoo. It’s a commitment, that I do not see the end of – and for that it’s between me and my tattoo artist. I do not want any regrets. I got the tattoo because I wanted it on my body, not because I wanted to show it off to the world.

This brings me to a very salient point. I am not as much bothered about the world as I am bothered about the Government. I pay taxes. I love my country. I love my family. I contribute to society. As such, I would like rights that any straight, loving, tax-paying patriot enjoys here. I would like to share a home with a spouse. Give him the right to live as my partner. Enjoy the same benefits a straight spouse enjoys: mainly, the identity of a relationship given by a court of law, which no institution can contradict.

Ergo, I would like to be able to get married for one very essential reason. We do not live forever. If at the end of my life, I need life-support, I would like him to have the authority, given to a spouse, to tell the doctors that I was against it. If need be, my spouse should have the authority to unplug me from life itself. This is what I am most interested in, when we talk of marriage. That one can take still care of the other, when the other is dying, or dead.

Without this very important status, afforded by law, and the country, marriage just remains a garland of flowers that will eventually wilt and succumb to time.

“But you still can marry, can’t you?” The cute boy asks, with love emojis in his eyes.

And I shall then copy past this URL and send it to him.