"Doctor Parnassus" includes allusions that eerily parallel the mythic aura that has grown around Ledger. The movie has references to unforeseen death, remaining forever young — even James Dean, to whom Ledger has been compared as another rising star who died before his time.
Gilliam said those parallels were in the script before Ledger died, and he decided they should stay because "this is the movie Heath wanted to see, and this is the movie that we will do. And I hope he would be pleased with it. I think he would be."
Before we get this show on the road, there are some important things that need to be said about this final date of the Joker’s.
· Ned Kelly is a movie that starred Heath Ledger in the title role. I haven’t seen it, but I wanted a major nod to Mr. Ledger in this story, since this was the last one in the Date Series.
· Another major inspiration for this story was Stealers Wheel’s song “Stuck in the Middle with You.” Here are the full lyrics, for anyone interested.
Well I don't know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain't right,
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,
And I'm wondering what it is I should do,
It's so hard to keep this smile from my face,
Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place,
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.
Well you started out with nothing,
And you're proud that you're a self made man,
And your friends, they all come crawlin,
Slap you on the back and say,
Please.... Please.....
Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I can see that it makes no sense at all,
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,
'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.
Well you started out with nothing,
And you're proud that you're a self made man,
And your friends, they all come crawlin,
Slap you on the back and say,
Please.... Please.....
Well I don't know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain't right,
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you,
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,
Stuck in the middle with you.
Hopefully, my use of the song will help scrub the brains of several psychically-damaged Reservoir Dogs viewers, but probably not, since the movie is referenced as well. Ha! Either way, I wouldn’t mind having a clown to the left of me (never thought I’d say that) and Joker to the right. Just trying to be honest. Honesty is, after all, the best policy.
· The song to which Annie serenades the Joker and Roxy is “Mandocello” by Cheap Trick. It was also covered by Concrete Blonde which, over the course of the Date Series, has become the top contender in scoring my personal Joker. Don’t ask me why, as I’m as perplexed by this as anyone else may be. At any rate, if you haven’t heard Concrete Blonde, you really need to. Johnette Napolitano, the soul of the band, is a total genius. Her music and lyrics are nothing short of miraculous, inspirational, and magickal.
· The end of this story is not mine at all, save for a little artistic license on my part. It’s not so easy to flesh out a script, which is what this was, and turn it into prose, so I hope my attempt measures up, at least in part, to the brilliance of the original script. In my own little Joker world, I’d like to think that the friend to whom Mister J infers might be smuggling out the sessions in “Arkham Bound” is actually Annie, perhaps with the help of Roxy. All that said, the end of the story belongs to Mister J and the whole Joker Blogs crew, and is the beginning of The Joker Blogs, entitled “Therapy Begins.” Without them, I don’t think I would have continued to write the Joker for as long as I have. Certainly ‘The Banker’s Date,’ although very much inspired by PaisleyDaze, wouldn’t have been written, nor would have ‘The Singer’s Date.’ The part where J notes that Kelly is a girl’s name is also Blogs-inspired. The mention of Steve is also from the Blogs. Again, I can’t stress enough that you people who haven’t seen these Blogs really really really need to. Here’s the URL: http://www.youtube.com/user/TheJokerBlogs. Now skadoodle (I took that from there, too, but you’ll have to watch them all to see from which Blog I got it. Now you have to watch them. All. Neener.).
· The Final Date is dedicated to Kanike (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rancid_rainbow), gratefuldread (Harley Queen), paisleydaze, miintikwa, booraven22, Gerry Rafferty (glad you’re alive!), Johnette Napolitano, the Joker Blogs Dude (I’m calling you Norvus Cobblepot until you, at last, reveal yourself to the Jedi, and the Sith) and, of course, Heath Ledger. Without Heath, none of this would even exist. May your time in the Summerlands be graced with joy, peace, and blessed sleep, until you decide to return to awe and inspire us all over again.
It was hot. Interminably so. The Joker hated heat and Gotham was hot, so he hated Gotham too. He peered out of the abandoned building in which he was currently holed up, cursing the loss of the posh mill house to which he’d grown accustomed. Hell, Arkham was more comfortable than this dump. He was barefaced, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He’d used a popsicle stick and a paper plate to make a fan with some scotch tape he’d found. Sitting by the broken window, hoping for a breeze, the Joker fanned himself with his makeshift fan and cursed his bad luck.
There’d been no sign of the Batman, even after all the Joker’s personal gifts and messages, but home base was raided by a pack of blue shirts led by Commissioner Gordon himself in the middle of the night. They barely made it out, but not without some losses, the worst of which was Sidney and the Joker’s new Gordon Ramsay. He was without good food and a trusted good, thanks to Gotham’s Finest. And now there was this godawful heatwave. He scowled, the corners of his mouth turned downward, despite the scars constantly pulling upward in an incessant grin. Just once, the Joker would like to really frown and it not look like a parody. His scowl deepened. Turning away from the window, he walked over to his computer, which was set up next to Leopold’s habitat. Leopold had been in a ball for the past 24 hours, as freaked out by the hustled move as everyone else had been. He looked over at his hedgehog and said, “Mammalian pill bug, that’s what you arrrre Leopold.”
Leopold ignored him in his self-protection mode. The Joker shrugged his shoulders and fanned his face. Things looked bleak, what with losing most of the cash and his closest henchman. He tried to look on the bright side, though: at least he didn’t have to kill Sidney himself now! The Joker sighed and juggled his iPod carefully into the air in front of him in between bouts of fanning. What was this any way, the fucking Deep South? Fucking miserable weather. It was enough to make him go on a killing spree.
They say that heat causes acts of violence to rise. And god makes heat, so thank god!
Ever since the untimely death of Sophia Carteres and the raid on the Joker’s lair, things had been hanging on a precipice in Gotham. Just one little push and everything would fall into the Abyss that is pure madness, or pure enlightenment, depending on one’s point of view. The Joker liked to consider himself enlightened, like a mad wandering shaman who’d just soon rip your head off as give you the secret to Life, the Universe, and Everything. He was Zaphod and Deep Thought all rolled into one. And, right now, he was a fucking sweltering Zaphod. Maybe he should ditch this dig, move to the Deep South, and kill everybody. It’d could be chalked up to euthanasia. He may even be proclaimed a hero.
The Joker blew forcefully through his lips. He needed some fun. Once the sun began to go down, he’d don his outfit and apply his war paint. He’d then go out on a date. But what sort of girl was he in the mood for? He’d had nurses, singers, crazy punk rock girls, even a nun. Who else out there could he woo to his chamber? The Joker thought, listening to his music the entire time. Nobody that really seemed extremely palatable came to mind. Again, the Joker blew through his mouth, stretching the scars on his face. When he did this, their presence was made even more apparent to him. They no longer hurt him, but he was well aware that they were there….forever. A long-tended rage surged freshly through the Joker’s solar plexus and he was determined to reclaim what was his and staple the make-shift fan he was forced to use to the forehead of whomever was responsible for losing him his mill house.
A knock at the door.
“Come in…” the Joker mumbled.
It was a henchmen he’d never seen before. “Mister J, any plans for tonight?”
“Yes, I’m going into town tonight. What’s your name?”
“Kelly.”
“Kelly?” The Joker raised his dark blonde eyebrows at the criminal in his service. “-That’s…That’s a girl’s a name.”
“That’s my last name, sir. My first is Ned.”
The Joker looked at him for a minute. “You’re Ned Kelly.”
“Yessir.”
“Helluva name, Ned-d. Do we have a car yet?”
“Just stolen. An Oldsmobile.”
“It’ll have to do. I’ll be down by sundown. Be behind the wheel or don’t-t be here at all."
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