- This video is brought to you by Upstart. (tense string music) What's up Wisecrack? Helen here. We talk a lot about the choices made by screenwriters and directors, but there's one piece of
the filmmaking process that film scholarship often
under-appreciates, acting. Today, we're going to zoom
in on the interesting, inventive, and sometimes
inexplicable choices that actors make. And the way those choices
can define a character in our collective imagination. And we're doing so by looking at pop culture's most baffling character, your favorite diabolical clown, the Joker. - Why so serious? - So, welcome to this Wisecrack Edition, How to Portray the Joker. And not really any spoilers ahead, unless you somehow weren't
aware that the Joker is a criminal with a
penchant for manic giggling. (giggling) - But before we get into it, I wanna give a quick shout out to our sponsors over at Upstart. Credit card payments,
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automatic payment options. "Super easy!" See why Upstart is ranked number one over 300 other businesses on Trustpilot, and go to Upstart.com/Wisecrack or click the link in the description to find out your personalized rate today. Now, back to the show. So, for our purposes,
and with no disrespect to the vocal legend that is Mark Hamill, we're going to focus
on the four and a half live-action cinematic portrayals of Gotham's most villainous clown. For some of this, we're going to look to the work of academic Dan Hassoun, who did a really smart comparison of Cesar Romero, Jack
Nicholson, and Heath Ledger, while supplementing it
with our own analysis and a look at Jared Leto
and Joaquin Phoenix's interpretations of the role. Let's start with the delightfully
cheesy 1966 performance by Cesar Romero, who also
portrayed the character in the 1966 to 1968 television show. Romero's take on Joker fits squarely into the harmless circus clown camp. He's a giggly prankster who seems to be having a
fantastic amount of fun. If you haven't seen the film,
it's an interesting watch if only for marveling at
just how much the character, and the series, has
changed with the times. This version of Batman features
corny moments like this. (tense instrumental music) - Hand me down the
shark-repellent bat spray! - [Helen] Fight sequences like this, and lines of dialogue like this. - [Robin] Holy Halloween! - [Helen] Fittingly, for the campy tone, Romero imagines Joker
as a cheerful criminal with a penchant for loud
giggles and saying things like, - I'll incapacitate the
beast with my trick confetti! - His over-the-topness skews
somewhat Marx Brothers-y even. Romero's portrayal of the
Joker fit his acting strengths as well as the broader
cinematic approach taken when making this spectacularly
weird Batman debut film. So what choices make
Romero's Joker his own? Let's start with Romero's background. He grew up as a dancer in
nightclubs and musical theater where he was used to employing
his entire physicality. As an actor, he became best known for his appearances in
musical comedies and romances, making his comedic portrayal
of the clown quite fitting. There's almost a mock-Shakespearean, read: theatrical, element
to Romero's performance. His arms are perpetually thrust
out, and he trills his R's. - Of course he will keep going forever, while we will circle the
earth a few more times to give everyone a good look at my saucer, as they await my ultimate
ultimatum in fear and trembling before I return, ruler of the universe! - [Helen] Which is an old theater trick for projecting one's words
clearly to the audience. Each movement is injected
with a hint of the surreal. Instead of walking, he seems to frolic. Instead of staring, he bugs his eyes out like an overacting silent film star. His laugh was never menacing, merely reveling in his own depravity. (laughing) - What a deliciously humorous trajectory! - While suited to his
strengths as an actor, Romero's style also fit filmmaking
conventions of the time, particularly in the way they
were employed in this film. Hassoun notes that the way
Romero was shot in this film is perhaps best communicated
by the opening image of him, a long shot in which he gestures wildly with a bouquet of fake
flowers before running, along with the camera pan,
toward his crew of evildoers. The camera proceeds to remain
in wide to medium-wide shots for the rest of the scene. Such a setup was common for
the Batman television show and indeed for many shows at the time because it didn't require
any major lighting changes. Which was a notoriously cumbersome task when shooting on film. What's more, the low
contrast lighting scheme and reliance on bright
colors and high saturation means that there's nowhere to hide. No part of Romero's
body that isn't visible. Importantly, the movie has
a high average shot length, with this scene averaging in at a whopping 10.81 seconds per shot. That makes it virtually
impossible for Romero, or any character, to remain
too static for too long. And lastly, we can't talk
about this performance without mentioning this. Romero refused to shave his
iconic mustache for the role, saying that he would rather
lose the part entirely than lose his upper lip fuzz. Particularly once the TV show
was digitally remastered, this resulted in an especially unbecoming and unintimidating look, long before Henry Cavill's stachegate. Compare Romero's clownish antics to the slicker performance
of Jack Nicholson in the 1989 Tim Burton Batman, which watches the character descend from a not very nice mob boss to a positively diabolical clown, who defaces art museums
and poisons deodorant. Nicholson's performance comes with a perpetual eyebrow raise, like he's in on the joke
and is creepy but funny, which keeps it from fully
passing over into terrifying. It's somewhere in between
the campiness of Romero and the depravity of Heath
Ledger's performance. Nicholson is true to
the cartoon character, and he even co-wrote the Joker's dialogue. The resulting performance
transformed the character for a grimmer time and a more
sinister Gotham metropolis. Hassoun notes that the way
Nicholson portrays the Joker also correlates pretty closely
to the tradition of acting that he grew up in. Nicholson honed his craft
in a Hollywood crossroads during the 1950s. It was the death of the tightly
controlled studio system and the rise of method acting. As a result, Nicholson is a
somewhat transitional figure from old to new Hollywood. While old Hollywood dictated
their actors' brands, encouraging them to take on similar roles to bolster that brand, the new philosophy of method acting had actors becoming immersed in different pseudo personalities. Method acting asked actors to dig deep into their own emotions
to find their character, sometimes through improvising. In the role of Joker,
as in many of his roles, Nicholson embodied the contradictions of the Jack Nicholson persona. That is to say, on the one hand, he melds the old form
of personality acting, in which actors became firmly associated with the character type they played. That is, you're watching
not just the Joker but Nicholson himself and his wild, smack-talking,
bad boy brand. On the other hand, he injects the new
methods of improvisation that gave his character a
wildly unpredictable air. He might, in the same second, laugh or dance like a crazy bird. What's more, Nicholson
was clearly having fun. He literally told other actors on set not to take the comic book too seriously and rather to let the
wardrobe do the acting. While this is obviously an overstatement, Nicholson was doing plenty of
acting in every single frame, it still expresses the
fact that he saw the role as one of theatricality. Only, unlike Romero's lighter version, Nicholson's was a darker,
slyer, firmly sarcastic theatrical portrayal of Joker. Then there's the cinematography. Unlike Romero, Nicholson
is filmed primarily in single character, medium,
or medium close shots, which led Hassoun to
describe his performance as more oriented around the upper torso. The framing of the shot
limits Nicholson's movements, even his dramatic or energetic arm motions have to be tightly
controlled to remain in shot. As a result, Hassoun
describes his performance as relatively still in comparison to Romero's playful antics. This all means that
Nicholson's performance exists largely in his
face and arm movements. The importance of his face
is even telegraphed to us in the film, which takes great pains to very, very dramatically reveal the Joker's
transformed countenance. as he steps into the light the camera zooms in to
a low angle close-up. What's more, the moody,
dark, and high contrast lighting scheme, means
that aspects of the frame are less visible. As a result, Nicholson's
face full of white makeup stands out, making it the
true center of his character. This face-centric framing and performance would be further accentuated in arguably the most iconic Joker
performance of all time: Heath Ledger in "The Dark Knight." The actor played the character with a new, deadly seriousness and
an almost reptilian air of psychotic evil. His tongue was always flicking,
his brows always writhing, his eyes perpetually darting around. This was the darkest version
of the Joker we'd seen yet, and, many would say, the very best one. How did Ledger pull this off? While immensely talented, he
was unschooled as an actor, saying in interviews
that he relied largely on instinct and impulse to
guide his performances. Though not a method
actor in the scholastic way of Nicholson, Ledger
notoriously disappeared into the role of Joker. Isolating himself in his apartment, where he journaled for
hours as the character, filling a notebook with
disturbing writing and imagery to conjure the character. As Hassoun puts it, Romero,
Nicholson and Ledger show Hollywood's evolution in acting from star personality, to
improvisation, to impersonation. That is, actors in the
modern era are expected not only to find the character through emotional introspection,
as method actors did, but to actively inhabit the
entire world of their character. Which is often signified by
the actor undergoing major physical transformations for each role. While Ledger's Joker
character is, at moments, funny to behold, it's clear
that Ledger approached the role with utter seriousness. You couldn't for instance,
imagine him telling this costars to "let the wardrobe do
the talking" even in jest. But Ledger's performance is
also pretty firmly cemented in its own cinematic era. Whereas an actor like Romero had luxuriously lengthy
shots to clown around in, the average shot rate
plummeted from 11 seconds between 1930 and 1960
to just a few seconds by the early 2000's. Film theorist David
Bordwell argues that this is symptomatic of the intensified continuity that the film industry has undergone, which tends to lead to faster-paced edits, perpetual camera movement, and
increasingly zoomed-in shots. Ledger had to convey
entire emotional journeys in mere seconds. The fact that his
performance was so salient shows just how effective
he was at doing so. Recall the 1966 Batman for a second. As we saw there, film and
TV studios once relied primarily on the strength
of a master shot, which captures an entire
scene in one wide frame, allowing all the action
to take place within it. Think of this as the
camera frame acting like a theater stage. For variety or emphasis,
directors would cut to closer shots of objects or characters,
but for the most part, actors were shown from
the waist or knees up, often in shots with multiple characters. But in recent decades,
the tight single shot has become king. With close-ups comprising
ever more time in most films. As Bordwell puts it, "Mouths brows and eyes
become the principle sources "of information and emotion,
and actors must scale "their performances across varying degrees "of intimate framings." This is clearly demonstrated
when the Joker is first revealed in "The Dark Knight", with a close shot that slices
off his forehead and chin, and still chills you to the bone. As teased by this shot, Ledger's Joker will exist
primarily as a face, an incredibly meticulously
controlled face. One where the slightest twitch of an eye or redirecting of an
eyeball, or raise of a brow, or flick of the tongue, can do more than most actors could do
with their entire body. Ledger brought all the tortured
gradations of the Joker to just beneath the surface, variously revealing the
character's pain, torment, paranoia, anger, and glee. Also critical to the characterization is the octave-shifting
ventriloquist inspired voice that gives the character
a hint of unpredictability and instability. - To them you're just a freak, like me. They need you right now,
but when they don't, they'll cast you out. - The fluctuations of his voice and face lend the Joker character more complexity than he'd previously been afforded. After Ledger's passing
and posthumous Oscar, the future of the Joker was cemented as a dark force of nihilism. All of which brings us to Jared Leto. Because we don't like
harping on negatives, or beating a dead cultural horse, we're gonna breeze right
through his "Suicide Squad" performance, which is
both underwhelmingly, and blessedly, brief. Leto's Joker was all
gold-toothed psychopath, full of crazy eyes and large
over-the-top movements, almost a high school play
version of the character. Leto's turn as the Joker was much-hyped, and also very much
disliked by the majority of critics and audiences. There are plenty of scathing
takes on his performance, from The New Yorker calling his portrayal of evil, "roughly as
frightening as Goodnight Moon," to Vice calling it "comically
campy, like a suburban "Hot Topic manager's idea of edginess." - I am not someone who is loved, I'm an idea. - [Helen] What makes the
performance even more painful, is that Leto so clearly
seems to be attempting to resurrect Ledger's performance. As indicated by his dialed-up
immersion in the role, which involved sending
dead pigs and used condoms to other actors. This amounted to plenty of
press attention and flash, but made for a frustratingly
one-note performance, without a hint of the nuance
that colored Ledger's take on the character. In the same vein, Leto's Joker
is weirdly flashy and gaudy, in an entirely predictable way. Basically, Leto's performance
turned the deadly serious preparation Ledger went
through into mere fodder for film marketing, the
suffering, misery, and craziness associated with getting into
character, as a performance, usurped the performance itself. Also, that laugh. - (laughing) - [Helen] Yikes. So, lets move on to last year,
where we reached peak Joker with the release of, um, Joker! Starring Joaquin Phoenix,
the film promised audiences a good two hours of über darkness, this time largely without
the do-gooder interference of Bruce Wayne. Phoenix's Arthur Fleck was
unique in his vulnerability, he was soft-spoken and clearly tormented. Yet the character had a seething anger that seemed to radiate, and
eventually overwhelm him. Watching him evolve
from a beaten-down clown plagued by his inability to stop laughing, to a gun-toting killer who cackles merrily at his victim's death, makes for arguably the most haunting performance of the year. Now, Phoenix had a luxury
never before afforded to an actor playing the Joker. Because the movie was less
a typical comic book film than a character study
of a person's descent into a raging nihilistic psychopath, there was a lot of room
for Phoenix to show off his acting chops, and then some. Determined not to refer to past
renditions of the character, Phoenix, like Ledger,
immersed himself in journaling while also rapidly
shedding around 50 pounds, enough weight as to, in
the actor's own words, "start to go mad." As a known improviser,
Phoenix is particularly rich to discuss when it comes to choices. The director and crew have
discussed the way Phoenix's spontaneous experimentation
was central to the way they shot the film. From choosing to empty out
the fridge and crawl inside, as if signifying the
character's desire to disappear, to this iconic scene after
committing his first murders, in which Phoenix began
spontaneously dancing in the bathroom. His performance, according to New York Times
dance critic Gia Kourlas, "essentially placed two characters
within one dancing body." Showcasing the dichotomy of Arthur, with the emerging Joker character that will slowly take over. Dance is, from the first time
he grooves in front of his TV while holding a gun, as Kourlas puts it, "His path to bravery,
something he's never known "As Arthur recedes and
the Joker takes over, "the choreography becomes more drawn out." He presents himself in
a sort of power pose, as if by claiming space,
he's claiming his identity, demanding to be seen. A topic we discuss in
more detail in our video on Joker and the politics of recognition. This is also afforded
by Todd Phillips' more experimental vision for the film. Which spends lengthy
moments focused on Phoenix's captivating physicality. Zoning in on the way his
muscles writhe and contort, as if to match his troubled soul. Then, of course, there's the laugh, which had previously ranged
from goofy to diabolical. Phoenix's version instead, is
painful, and gut-wrenching. - (laughing) - [Helen] His entire
sinewy body convulses, his mouth stretches open against his will, his laugh forced out from his gut, all while his eyes show
incredible suffering. He transforms the iconic
laugh into a howl of pain. Phoenix's performance purposefully
elicited audience empathy and even perhaps pity. We feel for him, it's impossible not to, and that was absolutely necessary
to the themes of the film. If Ledger gave the Joker depth, Phoenix forces us to emote with him. This rendition of the
Joker would have been unimaginable in the late 60's, when the Joker was a
simple, skin-deep villain. Phoenix transformed the
Joker into a consummate anti-hero, someone you can feel with, even as you're horrified by him. - What do you get, - I don't think so, - When you cross a mentally ill loner, with a society that abandons him, and treats him like trash! I'll tell you what you get, - Call the police, - You get what you f**ckin' deserve! - [Helen] There's something
fitting about the unreliable trajectory of the Joker. For a villain famously
without a backstory, it makes sense that he
doesn't have a consistent characterization. - What do we got? - Nothing. No matches on prints, DNA,
dental, clothing is custom, no labels, nothing in his
pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias. - And it makes each new rendition
of the character exciting. While other characters tend to thrive on their sheer predictability, you'll never have a clumsy, tongue-tied James Bond, for example, the Joker is so fascinating
for the endless facets and gradations that talented actors have been able to uncover. But what do you guys think? What makes a good Joker performance, and who, if anyone was
the defining clown prince? Let us know what you
think in the comments. Thanks again to our incredible patrons for supporting our podcast and channel, go ahead and click that subscribe button, and before you go, I wanna give
a quick shoutout to Upstart. See why Upstart is ranked
number one over three hundred other businesses on Trustpilot, and go to Upstart.com/Wisecrack
to find out your personalized rate today. Thanks for watching guys, peace. (upbeat music)
