Where to start? Casey Affleck’s mocumentary “I’m Still Here,” about his brother-in-law, Joaquin Phoenix’s 2008 horribly public fall from grace is a mixed bag. There were some things to hate about this film, but some to admire. Some things were just plain idiotic, and some just terrifying. Hoax or not, there is something intrinsically real about “I’m Still Here.”
Supposedly trying to take aim at the media, and the meaning, nature, and implications surrounding the term “celebrity,” and the nature of fame and self, “I’m Still Here” succeeds on some type of molecular level. We see how the media can so badly damage someone’s reputation, and how a celebrity’s meltdown is only helped along by the constant hounding of reporters, paparazzi, newspapers, magazines, and television shows. It’s a tragic and sad depiction of someone struggling to stay relevant in a lifestyle where the public is always ready to tear you to pieces.
To clear this up however: Joaquin Phoenix is playing a character. He is “in character” the entire film. Affleck describes this film as a piece of “performance art,” which may or may not be code word for “experiment gone horribly wrong.” Many of the scenes were staged. Phoenix did not actually do cocaine like he is portrayed in this film, and the scene with the hookers is also staged. The scene in which he is vomiting backstage after jumping off stage and trying to maul a fan booing him was real.
But picking apart what was real and what was staged is futile. I understand what Affleck was going for here. No one can really criticize Joaquin Phoenix since he’s playing a character, but a scarily realistic one at that. This lets us look behind the shiny, seemingly perfect façade of an actor working in Hollywood and shows the pressures involved in keeping that lofty, alluring status. We see Joaquin at his worst, freaking out over a bad rap performance or caring too much about what the public thinks about him. At one point after his Letterman interview, he cries that he’ll never be able to return to acting again, his music sucks, and that he has destroyed what little career he had left.
“I’m Still Here” casts its ugly spotlight on us, the superficial, materialistic society that fuels all of this, and the light its casting is pretty uncomfortable. This film, however, is not as convincing as it could be. Like Joaquin Phoenix’s appearance in the film, “I’m Still Here,” is messy, unintelligible at times, and sloppy. There is absolutely nothing special about the way this is filmed. Anyone could pick up a handheld camera and capture what is going on onscreen. Often delving into “Cloverfield”-like quality, the camera itself feels as if it’s just as lazily shot as a paparazzo’s camera. It’s intrusive, uncomfortable, and often times, just extremely amateur. The sound is even worse. But does it even matter? It invites us a peek into some of Joaquin’s most tormented moments, hurtling toward complete oblivion.
It will certainly be interesting to see what becomes of Joaquin’s career after this bizarre, but interesting misstep, because the Joaquin seen onscreen is perhaps one of the most unlikeable sympathetic characters ever. This is a great performance, really, but it’s an odd film because it seems like it doesn’t matter what I or anyone else has to say about it. It doesn’t matter what the media will make of it either. So what to make of a film that doesn’t care about what anyone else has to say about it? Nevertheless, watching a man’s self destruction on film is fascinating and terrifying. The film ends with Joaquin returning to the childhood watering hole that he swam through when he was a child. It’s a cleansing and a rebirth of sorts, so hopefully, this will wash Joaquin’s hands and career of this destructive mess.
Where to Find It: If you’re willing to pay $7, it’s ondemand
Rating: 2 ½ stars, but it really doesn’t matter
Supposedly trying to take aim at the media, and the meaning, nature, and implications surrounding the term “celebrity,” and the nature of fame and self, “I’m Still Here” succeeds on some type of molecular level. We see how the media can so badly damage someone’s reputation, and how a celebrity’s meltdown is only helped along by the constant hounding of reporters, paparazzi, newspapers, magazines, and television shows. It’s a tragic and sad depiction of someone struggling to stay relevant in a lifestyle where the public is always ready to tear you to pieces.
To clear this up however: Joaquin Phoenix is playing a character. He is “in character” the entire film. Affleck describes this film as a piece of “performance art,” which may or may not be code word for “experiment gone horribly wrong.” Many of the scenes were staged. Phoenix did not actually do cocaine like he is portrayed in this film, and the scene with the hookers is also staged. The scene in which he is vomiting backstage after jumping off stage and trying to maul a fan booing him was real.
But picking apart what was real and what was staged is futile. I understand what Affleck was going for here. No one can really criticize Joaquin Phoenix since he’s playing a character, but a scarily realistic one at that. This lets us look behind the shiny, seemingly perfect façade of an actor working in Hollywood and shows the pressures involved in keeping that lofty, alluring status. We see Joaquin at his worst, freaking out over a bad rap performance or caring too much about what the public thinks about him. At one point after his Letterman interview, he cries that he’ll never be able to return to acting again, his music sucks, and that he has destroyed what little career he had left.
“I’m Still Here” casts its ugly spotlight on us, the superficial, materialistic society that fuels all of this, and the light its casting is pretty uncomfortable. This film, however, is not as convincing as it could be. Like Joaquin Phoenix’s appearance in the film, “I’m Still Here,” is messy, unintelligible at times, and sloppy. There is absolutely nothing special about the way this is filmed. Anyone could pick up a handheld camera and capture what is going on onscreen. Often delving into “Cloverfield”-like quality, the camera itself feels as if it’s just as lazily shot as a paparazzo’s camera. It’s intrusive, uncomfortable, and often times, just extremely amateur. The sound is even worse. But does it even matter? It invites us a peek into some of Joaquin’s most tormented moments, hurtling toward complete oblivion.
It will certainly be interesting to see what becomes of Joaquin’s career after this bizarre, but interesting misstep, because the Joaquin seen onscreen is perhaps one of the most unlikeable sympathetic characters ever. This is a great performance, really, but it’s an odd film because it seems like it doesn’t matter what I or anyone else has to say about it. It doesn’t matter what the media will make of it either. So what to make of a film that doesn’t care about what anyone else has to say about it? Nevertheless, watching a man’s self destruction on film is fascinating and terrifying. The film ends with Joaquin returning to the childhood watering hole that he swam through when he was a child. It’s a cleansing and a rebirth of sorts, so hopefully, this will wash Joaquin’s hands and career of this destructive mess.
Where to Find It: If you’re willing to pay $7, it’s ondemand
Rating: 2 ½ stars, but it really doesn’t matter
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