It’s always fascinating to be a part of a historical event, and look back at reports and discussions on that particular era that you lived through, even if only as a mere observer. One of the more memorable that I can remember is Joaquin Phoenix’s announcement in 2009 that we would be stepping down from acting and pursuing a career as a hip hop artist, pulling one of the most intricate, long-term pranks the entertainment industry has seen since perhaps the (supposed) demise of Andy Kaufman. The pinnacle of this era in the actor’s supposed transition between careers came in the form of an interview he conducted on The Late Show with David Letterman, where he strutted out, dressed in a shabby dark suit and his face obscured by both dark glasses and a thick beard that gave off the impression that he was a lumberjack on the way to a funeral, and mumbled his way through ten of the most awkward minutes in recent television history. Like many people around the world, I watched the veteran host try his best to salvage what was the epitome of a television disaster, confused and amused by what was being shown. The fact that this all ended up being part of an elaborate experiment by Phoenix and brother-in-law Casey Affleck is both relieving (since it shows that the actor isn’t actually that demented) and somewhat disappointing (since there was an abundance of entertainment value associated with this period of his career). They turned it into I’m Still Here, an ambitious and outrageous mockumentary that is a no-holds-barred indictment on the film industry, taken from the perspective of a couple of its insiders, who do their best to expose the hypocrisy of the people who the rest of the world idolizes so frequently and with such sincerity.

A good description of I’m Still Here would probably be as if David Lynch had been hired to direct Curb Your Enthusiasm, with all the same intentional discomfort and darkly comical portrayals of ordinary people being both entertaining (if we can figure out what it is that we’re watching) and discomfiting.Affleck and Phoenix are using their status as relatively popular actors to venture into the heart of Hollywood, presenting one of the most bleak and disconcerting portrayals of the film industry, filtered through the perspective of a couple of its more notable young insiders, who are influential enough to convince us that what they are doing is legitimate, but without the investment in the industry that would cause them to burn too many bridges once their intentions were made clear. Known for their unique approach to their projects (which has made them staples of both the arthouse and more mainstream fare), it’s surprising that the most unhinged work both Affleck and Phoenix did was essentially working in a world they were both very familiar with, playing themselves as they eviscerate the industry that put food on their table. You have to admire the ambition, even if the final product isn’t necessarily the strongest when it comes to living up to the effort that went into its creation. As a film, I’m Still Here has many problems – as a cinematic experiment, it’s absolutely spellbinding. Awkward, uncomfortable and absurdly insightful into the machinations of the film industry, it offers invaluable contributions to what is still arguably the most elusive world that many aspire to be a part of (superseding even royalty in many corners of the world) – and with an open mind, the experience of seeing this maddening glimpse into Hollywood is unlike anything else we’re likely to see.

The question that has been asked in the decade since the release of I’m Still Here has always been around the fact that, despite nearly three decades of magnificent work, whether this is Phoenix’s greatest performance. It is certainly his most committed, since he maintained the character for nearly two years, which he played across a number of projects, most of them only accidentally capturing his truly bizarre performance. Phoenix often likes to position himself as something of a method actor, but unlike some of the more notable actors that have aligned themselves with this process of exploring the inner lives of their roles, Phoenix finds the most effective character is himself, and he becomes lost in this heightened version of “J.P”, to the point where we start to wonder where the boundary between Phoenix the actor and Phoenix the character actually sits. One has to wonder what possessed him to go about portraying this image of himself, but it does prove that Phoenix is either one of the most covertly ingenious creative minds working today, or truly one of the most deranged people in Hollywood. The most logical conclusion is that he is quite possibly a blend of both, which makes I’m Still Here such a fascinating experiment, since he is playfully deconstructing not only his own image, but the very concept of being in the public eye overall. It’s certainly the funniest he had been at the time (his supposed dourness was utilized perfectly in the context of the narrative, and played a major role in convincing audiences that he was being totally serious, never giving off the hint that what he was doing wasn’t real), and he is having a lot of fun manipulating perceptions of himself. Mercifully, Phoenix would go on to make some terrific films in the decade that followed, so we can simply add this to his ever-growing list of fascinating performances.

A critical re-evaluation of I’m Still Here as a fascinating film industry satire is in order, and over a decade since its release, there isn’t a better time, especially since the rise of reality television (which served as the impetus for this film in the first place) has reached a grotesque peak, and makes this a very timely work of fiction fueled by reality. The thesis statement behind this film’s creation is centred on how audiences are so eager to consume every bit of knowledge about the lives of celebrities that they can find – the existence of invasive paparazzi practices, the obsession with reality television (many of the most popular shows centring on people who are famous for simply having every aspect of their lives scrutinized by the public) and the general preoccupation with dissecting each moment that our favourite public figures are alive, in the hopes of getting some insights into their lives. It’s a harmful practice, since it both invades the privacy of the subjects, and gives the observer a false sense of connection to these people who are often playing a role. Phoenix and Affleck very cleverly use this as the starting point for their fiercely provocative look into how we consume the media – as one of the finest actors of his generation, as well as someone at the peak of his stardom, Phoenix embodied the kind of person who would be foolish to sacrifice his status for the same of a new career, at least from a public perspective. This film blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction in very interesting ways – we never know, outside of the two main creative minds, which of the people they encounter are in on the joke, and which ones are oblivious to the fact that this is all staged. Arguably, some of them (such as Ben Stiller and Sean Combs) had to be somewhat aware of what was transpiring, but the really effective aspects of the film are those moments where someone is taken by complete surprise, and shocked at the behaviour they’re witnessing – these are moments when we realize the true scope of this project, and how essential it has been in exposing something quite prominent.

Film, like all art, is supposed to make us feel something, and elicit some kind of reaction, even if it is one of profound discomfort. What becomes clear throughout I’m Still Here is how powerful a tool awkwardness can be, since when it is used correctly, it can be incredibly effective, and all the more enthralling, since we’re placed in a position of feeling some of the most visceral emotions available to us. This film is a tour de force of carefully-calibrated satire – as a work of entertainment, it might not be all that successful (since it never really becomes enjoyable, unless someone has a profoundly dark sense of humour, and finds the twisted comedy of this film captivating, which may be contrary to the point it is making), but as a social experiment, it is far too notable in its intentions to fully-dismiss outright. There’s a subversive brilliance to this film that doesn’t manifest frequently, but does come through in how, despite its cynical perspective, it does have noble intentions. Whether it is a product of a pair of self-indulgent filmmakers biting the hand that feeds them, or the mischievous antics of two deranged individuals that wanted to incite chaos and label it as a film isn’t clear, but it does contribute to the general sense of bewildering magic that emerges as a result. I’m Still Here is more defining of a period in the lead star’s real-life career than a fully-formed film (so much that it will never be anything other than a footnote to one of the more puzzling celebrity controversies of the past two decades), but if we can look beyond the circumstances surrounding this film, and instead focus on the very interesting message it conveys, it’s possible to understand why this deserves to be considered one of the most potent satires on showbusiness produced in recent years.