The man at the center of this impeccably rotting frame is Arthur Fleck (Phoenix), already the saddest of sacks when we meet him in the summer of 1981. His filmmaking here has a powerful and uncharacteristic lucidity, and his vision of Gotham City has its own squalid grandeur, rooted in the gloomy interiors of Mark Friedberg’s production design and the deep, enveloping shadows of Lawrence Sher’s cinematography. ![]() Phillips has long been a Hollywood specialist in the comedy of stunted male misbehavior (the “Hangover” movies, “Old School”), and in “Joker,” the barely disguised misanthropic streak that animated his earlier films comes to full, spiky fruition.
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