Was Joker bad? Truly? The Dark Knight puts you in a dilemma. But then, Joker puts everything to shade, including the delicious Christian Bale playing Batman. Batman in fact, becomes but a shadow of Joker, being led rather than leading, playing out a script that Joker, God-like, writes for him. Delicious irony and a wonderfully written and made film thanks to Heath Ledger who makes you believe in the Joker.
Joker tells you about his father(violent and hateful) and wife(who hated him) but never about his mamma. Which makes you wonder, was Joker mother-less or his mamma more psychotic; one who Created a Joker?
Just imagine an innocent child seeking attention but getting indifference or hate instead. Imagine the child feeling neglected, wanting love, getting none – lashing out and getting the attention he wants in other ways. Imagine the mind of the child, obviously greater than average intelligence, finding amusement in ways that are unique, interesting (to him); that could be obnoxious to society. Aware, above average minds, this child grows up seeking attention or control(or even entertainment, for he could be bored with the pedestrian) through devious destruction. The Joker is not alone.
We all know that he is out there, lurking in some of us; cowardly perhaps since we are embedded firmly in a society that is accepting in inclusion. The moment you are different, the wall forms, excluding you. Which is why, Bruce Wayne feigns a wealthy, inane lifestyle for acceptance, and is a ‘freak’(as Joker calls him), an ‘incorruptible’ one at that, whose alter ego seeks to correct what his real self cannot.
Which again is why, you and me don our ‘normalcy’ as tokens to acceptance unwaveringly and perhaps unconsciously every day, forgetting something ‘freaky’ that has been stifled to non-existence.
And once again, which is why, we beat our children to the path of mediocrity, for being ‘different’ could earn a distinction that could lead to exclusion. Somewhere along the way our children learn to don the characters we dole out to them collectively and play their roles: some of them lurk beneath, perpetually rediscovering their true selves till…
…the joke’s up! Am I Joker’s mamma?
this post makes me uncomfortable, but draws me to it again and again... as if it's a scab i can't help picking. what truth lies hidden in it that my subconscious recognises, but my rational self won't let me see?
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