I'm Still Here: The Lost Year of Joaquin Phoenix [Import]

Madness or high-concept performance art? "I'm Still Here," the faux documentary about actor Joaquin Phoenix, is likely to baffle and divide its audience. When Phoenix decided to quit acting, and seemingly hygiene, to pursue his passion of becoming a rap star--his friend and brother-in-law Casey Affleck was there to follow and film the inevitable fall from grace. There was rampant speculation from the get-go about the legitimacy of the endeavor (especially as it was all being filmed), but the longer the debacle played out--the less it seemed to matter. Fake or real, the damage was being done. Now, almost two years later, to have the entire experience and film declared a ruse seems the ultimate act of futility. Who, exactly, is the joke on? And to what purpose?

"I'm Still Here" covers all the trappings of a celebrity life in descent. Drug use, prostitutes, public intoxication, brawling and a "star" desperate to be taken seriously despite his best efforts to act a fool--we've seen the act before in countless narrative films and fictionalized biographies. We get a repeat of the infamous Letterman interview, the concert performance that became a YouTube sensation, and the incident where Phoenix attacked a concert goer. We also get to see moments of celebrity intervention--Edward James Olmos tries the spiritual approach while Ben Stiller tries to get Phoenix back to work. Much of the film is about a scramble to get into the music industry. Phoenix aggressively pursues P. Diddy, the film's most inspired performance, who is mainly just concerned about getting paid. Now that's real! And it all concludes on a rather ridiculous "arty" note which has got to be satirical.

Affleck has maintained that this is his brother-in-law's best performance. The problem is--I don't know if I believe him, I don't know that I care, and I don't know if it matters? At some point, you have to ask yourself "what's the point?" As near as I can figure, the only analysis has "I'm Still Here" as a discussion on the nature of reality and/or the nature of celebrity. On either account, is it relevant and necessary? When it was declared "I'm Still Here" was a hoax, that really doesn't change much of the on-screen content. Phoenix deconstructed his life on camera and those bad acts were put in the film. Even if some of the private incidents were staged (who knows? who cares?), the public behavior earned Phoenix notoriety as a drug addled buffoon. So whether he was living the life depicted or "acting" like he was living the life depicted, there isn't much real difference. What's that say about reality? Not so sure. And with celebrity meltdowns almost a monthly occurrence, does a "fake" one merit much interest? Not so sure.

The alternate option, and the one I tend to gravitate towards, is that it's all really quite meaningless in the long run. I think Affleck's "truthful" revelation while the film was in limited release was meant to fuel interest and debate. Duh? Fine, then, let's set a different set of standards. As a fictional experiment, I still think the film and its topic play out too often in real life to be particularly revelatory here. In terms of entertainment, I'd make the same argument. At best, I'd say that "I'm Still Here" is a fascinating excursion in self-indulgence both by Phoenix and Affleck. Whether that's enough will depend on your interest in the pair. I was mildly interested when all is said and done. KGHarris, 10/10.

Among mockumentaries, I'm Still Here holds a unique place. It is brilliantly made, a clever parody of celebrity, and the culmination of a extended real world prank by Joaquin Phoenix as he very publicly announced his retirement from acting and into a hip hop career. As directed by Casey Affleck, it catches the vanity and self-entitlement of celebrity with a knowing sense. After all Phoenix comes from a life in the spotlight, one that took his brother's life, and Affleck, the lesser known than brother Ben, is no slouch in terms of talent and brains. So they fashion a cunning end to Phoenix's prank. At the time this was released, many still believed that he had lost his mind. For a year the public worried that this talented actor had really lost it. All your worst assumptions and emotions about the privileges of being a celebrity are tweaked in this film. The viewer became complicit in the the prank because we were had. It is a brilliant and unique idea.
But the film holds up on its own, too. Like 'Exit Through the Gift Shop' by Banksy, it raises wonderful questions on art and life, celebrity and talent, by personally putting the filmmaker's, or artist's reputation on the line. And look for an great performance by Sean Combs (P. Diddy) as a hip hop entrepreneur who brilliantly parodies and plays with our expectations of Diddy himself.
The message? We don't know these people, so perhaps we ought to give up the judgements we make of these celebrities and stars with whom we hold no real affiliation. After all, they are just like us they can be flawed - even if they are richer - a lot richer - more respected, more beautiful, and more privileged that we the huddled masses.

meh. That's it. The rest of this text is to fill the requirement of nineteen words. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.