One of my favourite movies of the last decade is the Joaquin Phoenix and (the now problematic dude, but always dislikable) Casey Affleck mockumentary I’M STILL HERE. I understand that it is a really hated, critically panned movie (although Ebert wasn’t too harsh in his review when it was first released), but it’s been almost a decade since it first came out, and I cannot get enough of it. I find myself returning to it at least once a year because it’s such an odd movie: nothing really exists like it. The only way I can describe it: I’m Still Here is like a weird mixture of Borat, Jackass, and some kind of Harmony Korine art project.
I totally get that it isn’t an impressive movie by any means: it isn’t well shot, and it isn’t even very well focused. It’s one of those movies that has great ambitions, but kind of goes all over the place. There’s also the issue of it being the movie that Casey Affleck allegedly sexually assaulted a woman during the making of, which puts a damper on the whole thing.
However, here is why I keep returning to it: I’m Still Here might be one of the greatest movies to cover theme of being an artist, the artistic process, and all the rockiness that entails ever made. If you’ve never seen it: the Joaquin Phoenix that exists in the documentary decides he wants to become, out of all the things in the world he could possibly choose....a rapper. He isn’t that great at it, the entire world seems to be laughing at him, and even Phoenix himself can’t really figure out if it is something he should truly be doing or if it’s an interest that is the result of his burgeoning drug abuse. Is he actually as talented as he believes he is, or is he pursuing a lost cause? At one point an apparently drug addled Phoenix thinks out loud and tells the camera, "Is it that your dream is unattainable or that you had the wrong dream?”
We are now well aware that the whole film was just a fun little project, and Phoenix has obviously starred in several films since I’m Still Here was released. But at the time, the whole thing was kind of exciting: here was one of the greatest actors of this generation acting recklessly (months before the whole Charlie Sheen “winning” cultural moment, it’s worth noting), and bravely making the decision to try an art form he had zero experience in. He says “nigger” in the film, does cocaine, and invites prostitutes over to his place: what the fuck were he and Casey Affleck thinking? In today’s landscape of people constantly apologizing for even the slightest infractions, there is no way this movie would get made in 2018, let alone be released in actual movie theatres. At the very least, Netflix would probably take it and then issue some half-assed apology a week later when people on Twitter would inevitably start bitching.
That is partly what is so fascinating about it: it’s a rare, unflinchingly honest look at a guy trying his hand at an art form (even if he’s just fucking around for the sake of a fake documentary) and failing spectacularly. The fact that the art form he happens to choose is rap is particularly fascinating to me because rapping is one of those things everyone thinks they can do. It’s similar to comedy in that regard: everyone at one point or another has thought, “I’m funny!” That spark of Phoenix thinking he’s capable of doing what others do creates a very fine line between actually having talent and just having a hobby.
Whether or not Phoenix has any talent is besides the film’s point for me (in my opinion, I actually would love to hear what a Joaquin Phoenix rap album sounds like. I unironically love this). What I truly admire about this movie is the fact that we get to see a grown man being incredibly vulnerable as he stumbles around trying to figure out the value of his art. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or not to anyone else, because HE loves it and believes in it. You can’t help but feel kinda bad for Phoenix as he plays his demo CD for Diddy (or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days), the man who was partly responsible for putting Biggie, one of the greatest rappers to ever do it, on the map. If anyone can recognize talent in hip-hop it’s Diddy, and it’s rough watching him listen to Phoenix’s rough work. It would be like an amateur comedian trying to do unfunny comedy in front of George Carlin in his prime: there’s no way that can end well. Phoenix has delusions of grandeur and he becomes absolutely heartbroken when nobody hears his work the same way he does. If there’s anything I’m Still Here does perfectly, it’s illustrating the absolute madness of being an artist - even a “bad” one.
This movie is unlike any other when it comes to showing us clearly what it’s like to believe in yourself when everyone around you doesn’t. Even when Phoenix is questioning himself and feeling awful about where his life has ended up, you get the sense that he really does want to pursue rap as a real career. Who knows if he was ever serious about it at one point and then decided to label the whole thing a “mockumentary” to save face? Either way: just watching him try to create something, fail, pick himself up again, fail again, try, rinse, repeat is infinitely more compelling than 99% of the artists making hyper-polished generic, shitty albums that sound like everything else. I would much rather listen to a full album of Joaquin Phoenix trying his hardest to rap and failing than Drake phoning it in for the millionth time. As J. Cole would say, “It's beauty in the struggle, ugliness in the success.”