I’m Still Here (2010)
I’m Still Here (USA) Directed by Casey Affleck
I’m Still Here arises out of a tradition that includes Spinal Tap; Sasha Baron Cohen’s Borat; and Bruno; the films of Christopher Guest; and the work of Andy Kaufman, performance art played out in a mockumentary format. The best of this type of work exists on multiple levels, revealing truths about cultural/societal morays that only the best satirical material can accomplish.
While, like the recent Paper Heart, I’m Still Here melds fact with fiction, what really makes this film different than its predecessors is the prolonged set up, starting with Joaquin Phoenix’s announcement in October 2008 that he was retiring from acting to pursue a career in rap, as well as the A list nature of his celebrity. Word soon got out that he and brother-in-law Casey Affleck (who’s married to Joaquin’s younger sister Summer) were at work on a project that would document Phoenix’s career change. It seemed obvious to this writer that all of this was a stunt for the sake of the documentary, but speculation continued about the validity of the Academy Award nominated actor’s pursuits, subsiding only in the past few days when Affleck revealed that the entire thing was, in fact, a hoax.
The film shows us the infamous and hilarious February 2009 Letterman interview that garnered world wide publicity. It also gives us several of Phoenix’s live rap performances, including the Las Vegas LIV nightclub where he dove into the crowd in order to attack a (planted) heckling audience member. We see numerous excerpts from entertainment shows, You Tube clips, and comedians and talk show hosts commenting on and mocking his behavior, as well as shots of the paparazzi trailing him at various events.
Behind the scenes we see Phoenix interacting with Affleck, who for most of the film is, presumably, behind the camera, and the other members of his small entourage, including assistant Anton (former Spacehog guitarist Anthony Langdon), a recovering addict and Phoenix’s whipping boy, and put upon manager Larry, exasperated and befuddled throughout as he tries to appease his star client. Celebrities who appear in amusing cameos, include Edward James Olmos; Mos Def; Ben Stiller (who notably mocked Phoenix’s bearded look at The Academy Awards); and Sean “Diddy” Combs.
Phoenix, who refers to himself as J.P., a tag connected to his new found persona, is like Brian Wilson without the talent. His insanely wild, unkempt beard (Letterman compared him to The Unabomber); scraggly, untethered head of hair; and generally disheveled look, combine with his barely coherent mumblings and incessant cursing to frame an absurdly self-involved, off-kilter character. J.P., who has clearly let himself go physically (Phoenix appears shirtless; and several shots focus on his enlarged belly), smokes pot, sniffs cocaine, and with disturbingly manaical laughter orders up hookers by phone. When he’s not recording music at his home studio, he’s waxing poetic about art and purity, while consistently demonstrating his pettiness and jealousy, verbally abusing and berating those in his employ, and spouting deluded ramblings in a neverending stream of consciousness. While the project itself could be considered self-indulgent, it is actually about that very subject; J.P. is, for the most part, a despicable person, his every whim indulged by sycophantic glad-handers who fawn over this rich and famous person.
There are plenty of laugh out loud moments here, including JP’s dealings with Combs, whom he essentially stalks in order to meet. Phoenix is wonderful at playing awkward and uncomfortable, and uses silent pauses, nervous tics, and twitches to great affect, his immersion in this persona so deep that he makes us believe (or at least go with it) in spite of our better judgment. The excruciating rap bits are priceless, with audience members using their cellphones to take photos of the celebrity on parade, excited by his presence, yet slowly coming to the realization that he’s terrible. The confusion over the validity of the enterprise adds additional strangeness as no one is quite sure whether to laugh or get angry.
What’s most compelling about I’m Still Here though is the degree of vulnerability and rawness that Phoenix is somehow able to infuse into the hapless JP, a character we should clearly loathe. There is something about his talk of dreams (he reads from a children’s book on the subject at one point), and his willingness to put himself out there against all logic, that beckons to the child in all of us. He compares acting to being a puppet, and explains that he wants to do something creative to be heard, and one can’t help but wonder how much of his truth is sprinkled amongst the nonsense.
What’s undeniable is the fact that Phoenix intentionally (or at least consciously) took a torch to his career for the past few years, and one wonders how this enters into how he will be received (by audiences and film insiders) in the future. One wonders what James Gray, director of Phoenix’s last film (the woefully underrated Two Lovers), felt about his publicity stunt as they promoted that film. And to go to this extent, wouldn’t there have had to have been something personal about the ideas being explored here? Could it be that Phoenix was really burned out and looked at this project as a way to escape some of the madness (although seemingly contradictorily opening himself up to an entirely different brand of public scrutiny)? And what of the two recently settled real life (?) sexual harrassment lawsuits filed by female producers connected to the film against director/producer Affleck, and how this factors in to this extended prank of a film.
It is perhaps in the opening created footage evoking the Phoenix (or Bottom) family when they were young, playing in a outdoor lagoon and waterfall in Panama (Phoenix was born in Puerto Rico), and then later, when Affleck and Phoenix (or at least, JP) return to the same spot, that we fully realize this is something more than the usual mockumentary. Though it is never brought up, it is impossible not to recall the tragic death of brother River, and the sense of sadness and loss that seems to underlie the proceedings.
While Spinal Tap set the bar, and stands as perhaps the richest, most fully developed film of its kind, I’m Still Here melds humor; outrageous over-the-top sophmoric moments; pathos and a poignant depiction of personal fragility; with satirical commentary on fame, wealth, and publicity. The result proves subversive on multiple fronts, not the least of which being the fact that several genuinely moving moments sneak up and bite us, regardless of how seemingly ironic and ridiculous the whole affair might be.