With an acting career that carbon dates to the early ‘80s, Joaquin Phoenix has steadily built his success and honed his skills.
After a key role in the immensely successful “Gladiator,” which came out in 2000 and won five Oscars, Joaquin gained more fame, and with it, better acting opportunities.
It seemed as though his career caught its stride and he was on an unstoppable path toward superstardom. The most recent evidence of this climaxed in late 2005, when he played Johnny Cash in the Oscar-winning film “Walk the Line.” It was a confirmation that Phoenix was an infinitely capable actor of the highest caliber.
But on Oct. 27, 2008, Joaquin announced the end of his acting career, choosing instead to pursue a career in hip-hop music.
Then on Feb. 11, 2009, Phoenix appeared on “The Late Show with David Letterman,” and things went from bizarre to disturbing.
Phoenix’s brother-in-law, actor and filmmaker Casey Affleck captured this transitional period of Phoenix’s life on camera and released it as a documentary titled “I’m Still Here” on Sept. 10.
However, after many of the film’s moviegoers were left confused and movie critics hostile, Affleck confessed to The New York Times that the movie is actually a mockumentary.
Nothing in the film is real; Phoenix has been in character for the past two years.
Impressed? Surprisingly, most people were not. The media has been virtually unanimous in calling the film a failure.
But I tend to agree with Affleck that, “It’s the performance of [Phoenix’s] career.”
Even if I’m wrong, Casey’s vision of a subjective reality, and Phoenix’s unprecedented commitment to the creation of that vision, even risking his delicate career, is certainly remarkable — even admirable — and, at the very least, interesting.
It is not a documentary that, as film critic Roger Ebert simply dismisses, “serves little useful purpose other than to pound another nail into the coffin.”
So — generating emotional and intellectual stimulation is not productive? OK, maybe.
But, since when has art been about being ‘useful’?
The vast majority of Ebert’s criticisms of the film are factually based in Phoenix’s behavior and attitude and the fact that he is a “gifted actor who apparently by his own decision has brought desolation upon his head.”
But now that the curtain has been lifted, it should be great, right? The critics think not.
The furiously bad reviews are not indicative of the inherent quality of the documentary itself. People are upset by feeling mislead and confused. After all, everyone is sick and tired of politicians taking advantage of us — so God forbid an actor, well, acts.
Ebert commented, “All of this is true” as the premise to his argument against the film, but still he says: “If this film turns out to still be part of an elaborate hoax, I'm going to be seriously pissed.”
That seems strikingly contradictory and close-minded. It’s almost as if Mr. Ebert is too old and cynical to enjoy new movies.
Evidently he missed Affleck’s point about subjective reality: fact or fiction – it’s irrelevant.
Getting caught up in objective ‘truth’ is a constricted, surface-level way of interpreting art.
The truly great artists — the most progressive, or advanced — are rarely appreciated during their time. However, one accomplishment nobody can deny Joaquin, good or bad, is he gets people talking.
As John Horn of the L.A. Times acknowledged, “the [potential] [movie] buyers did agree on one thing: They’d never seen anything like it.”
Tune in to David Letterman tonight to see Phoenix finally stop acting.
Send movie critiques to djoconn1@asu.edu
