The problem with talking about I’m Still Here is that we have to discuss something you by all rights shouldn’t know when entering the theater. But every review you come across will pontificate on it. Odds are you already know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, stop here, and go watch the movie. Spoilers ahead.
That something is the question of the film’s authenticity. Director Casey Affleck documents Joaquin Phoenix’s resignation as an actor and attempts at a hip hop career. Is the portrayal, including Phoenix’s now-famous Letterman meltdown, real or staged?
I came into the theater knowing full well that the film was very likely staged. With the seed of doubt in place, every frame rang false. In a celebrity culture obsessed with self-effacement (think the guest spots on Entourage, The Larry Sanders Show, or Curb Your Enthusiasm), Joaquin’s friends have too much fun making fun of themselves. I’m not saying Hollywood stars can’t be vain — I’m just saying they usually are smart enough to downplay it when cameras are rolling. Even though his acting is superb, Joaquin’s dialog overplays the image of a spoiled, out of touch superstar by a multiple of ten. Good satire straddles a fine percentage. 100 percent like the real thing may be too understated. 110 percent may be good satire. This film is exaggerates reality by 1000 percent.
But the film isn’t a hoax. No one is trying to fool us here. The credits very plainly attribute the writing to Affleck and Phoenix. Casey Affleck appearing on Leno said, “I wanted them to think it was real while they were watching it. But then I assume that when it was over, they would understand that it wasn’t real.” He also compares the film’s reality to that of pro wrestling, which I’ll get back to in a moment. I’m kind of astounded that there was ever any doubt. It’s a scripted movie that happens to have actors playing characters who share their names. Case closed.
But is it any good? On the most recent The Film Talk podcast, you’ll hear at least one of the hosts speak glowingly of the way the film, “exposes the reality of our horrible anti-humanist system.” (I haven’t heard it yet. Quote culled from The Film Talk’s Twitter feed.) In exchange for fame, the press has carte blanche to make a total mockery out of you, so the argument goes. But the press were the only authentic people in the entire film. Joaquin’s friends encouraged his hip hop affectations (in staged interactions). His many admirers were willing to lie about his talents in exchange for a chance at one-on-one time (sadly, probably authentic). Even P. Diddy soft-pedaled him. But only the media told it straight — his decision to leave acting was a huge mistake, and his rapping skills were abysmal (intentionally so, we now know. He was trying to be awful.) They weren’t in on the joke, and they asked the right questions. If anything, the film shows the strengths of the American press: “Warning. If you try to bullshit us, we are going to call you on it.”
I suspect Phoenix and Affleck weren’t thinking lofty themes when plotting the picture. Instead, they probably just wanted to emulate Andy Kaufman and Sascha Baron Cohen. There’s a scene at a Miami club where Phoenix shouts to the dissatisfied audience, “This suit costs more than you make all year!” and my mind went immediately to the time Andy Kaufman left the comedy world for a career as a wrestler. “I’m from Hollywood, California!” If the filmmakers weren’t directly influenced by Kaufman’s wrestling persona, I’ll eat my hat. (Remember Affleck compared the film to the reality of pro wrestling.) And that’s when it hit me. The real life Joaquin Phoenix isn’t all that different from his I’m Still Here persona. One mistakenly thinks he can rap. The other mistakenly thinks he can be Borat. The result is the same: A person of privilege getting too much exposure from an art he hasn’t paid his dues in.
To risk actual career suicide by growing a beard, speaking incoherently, and leaving the acting world is truly a courageous act and a major sacrifice for one’s art. But it’s misfired courage, all the more heartbreaking given how much time Affleck and Phoenix have wasted. Joaquin’s performance is flawless, but his skills as a social provocateur are completely amateur. If you want to see a far better study of the interaction between art and media, go see Exit Through the Gift Shop, a skillful con job that asks more important questions with far fewer pretensions.
Tony Youngblood is the current Foursquare Mayor of the Belcourt Theatre, a film and music snob, and producer of the experimental improv music blog and podcast Theatre Intangible. His favorite films include Eric Rohmer’s The Green Ray, Abbass Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us, Ingmar Bergman’s The Magician, Lee Chang Dong’s Oasis, and Rob Reiner’s This Is Spinal Tap.
I was genuinely conflicted while watching the film.
On the one hand, I had the ongoing sense that the film “felt” staged. The comedic moments were too perfect. His supposed “disastrous” appearance on Letterman cut back to his publicist backstage, who had a big smile on her face (while watching her client make a buffoon of himself?). His own brother-in-law makes no attempt to intervene to stop JP’s downward spiral, baffling if it weren’t a hoax.
But Joaquin’s performance as an out-of-his-mind drug addict was so good, I thought “maybe it’s real”. When he was throwing up back stage, he didn’t just put a can of soup in his mouth and spit it back out – he was really sick. It was such a fantastic performance it planted a seed of doubt that it was real.
I agree that the credits ultimately give it away, but I think it was a pretty fantastic “hoax”, if there ever was one.
Glad I’m not the only one who thought of Kaufman, except I thought of Tony Clifton rather than the wrestling career. :->
@Phil & Regeya,
Thanks for your comments. I will agree that Joaquin’s peformance was quite brilliant. What felt off was the writing/improv. The characters did a fine job acting — it’s the situations/words that I found unconvincing. That’s why I feel Joaquin is a brilliant actor and an amateur satirist.
Tony, thanks for the critique of this film. I’ve not seen it yet — and wasn’t less inclined when it was revealed to be a spoof/satire — but after this and the other TFT review, I might catch it.
It seems to me that whatever the intentions of Phoenix and Affleck (and we can really only guess at this point), they perhaps didn’t have the true satirical chops to pull off a real piece of performance art. Their strategy (if that’s what it was) was off: release the film, be cagey about it, and let people come to their own conclusions.
They missed an opportunity to raise their intentions beyond the film, and to instead take a much broader view of celebrity worship, delusion, what have you. Where was the Twitter feed showcasing “Joaquin Phoenix’s” weirdness in 140 characters or less, for instance? Just think how many followers he could have gotten — and what that says about celebrity worship, more than ticket sales.
My point is: they didn’t drag the audience further into the joke by making them active participants/contributors. Gareth, I think, alludes to this in the podcast. Something about how we in the audience have a power over celebrity watching the film (please correct me if I’m misstating).
Again, perhaps they just didn’t have the ability to do that. Phoenix clearly is no Andy Kaufmann, and Casey Affleck is no Stephen Soderbergh.
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