It’s hard to believe it’s been half a decade since Entertainment Weekly refused to give Joker a score because of the film’s potential to cause violence in the real world. They did give it plenty of press, just no score, because that sort of thing makes a real difference and isn’t just a level of vacuous virtue signaling so unfathomably stupid and pretentious that it should call into question the writer’s ability to engage with art in a meaningful way. Yes, it’s been five whole years since countless other voices in film journalism, echoing EW’s smooth-brained sentiment, were so afraid of the film’s potential to stoke violence that they almost seemed to wish it would just so that their idiotic worldview would be validated and their appetite for sensationalism could be sated. And who could blame them? In the five years since its release, Joker has inspired…
::checks notes::
…no violence whatsoever. Literally nothing. The worst thing to happen at any Joker screening was likely just some jack-off refusing to put their phone away or chatting as if they’re on their couch at home.
Now to be fair, movies don’t cause violence. Full-stop. But if we’re playing in that world it’s worth noting that a kid killed his parents because he thought The Matrix was real. But since The Matrix is deemed nutritious by culture commentators (which it is), it gets a pass.
Joker spawned a divisive reaction, largely because the titular character was viewed by many as an incel, while the in-film movement he generated read as being similar to Antifa. The film made the bold statement that both groups, incels and Antifa, were borne of rage toward a society that no longer seems to care about its people. This was hard for binary-thinkers to process, and it stung to think about because it was true. Further annoying controversy occurred when writer/director Scott Phillips stated in an interview that comedy was increasingly difficult these days given how quickly people get offended.
This was decried as a ridiculous assertion by people who were offended that he’d say such a thing.
Alas, there’s no such thing as bad press (even if you don’t put a score at the end of your review), and Joker was a huge hit, netting both Joaquin Phoenix and composer Hildir Guǒnadóttir well-deserved Oscar wins, while the film itself took home the prestigious Golden Lion award at the Venice Film Festival.
Naturally, there had to be a sequel.
This comes in the form of Joker: Folie À Deux, a semi-musical with the distinction of being one of few movies whose full title nobody (me included) wants to say out loud, lest they sound silly trying to pronounce it. The unspoken title translates to “madness for two,” and it’s in reference to the clinical concept of a shared psychosis. In the case of Joker 2, which is both easier to say and type, it’s in reference to the team up of Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) and Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga).
It’s been two years since the events of the first film, and Arthur is awaiting trial for the five murders he committed in the first film (yes, that means two off-screen assumed murders didn’t occur, which is kind of a lame retcon). He’s a model prisoner, relatively speaking. He pretty much keeps to himself and exchanges jokes for cigarettes from the guards (including Brendan Gleeson, who is somehow in this movie). Most comedians bristle when you ask them to tell you a joke, but it’s the one currency Fleck has inside the walls of Arkham Asylum. Well, that and his infamy (and his ability to be a punching bag for the guards). During a sojourn to a lower security wing of the asylum, Fleck meets Lee and the two fall in love. This is to the dismay of Fleck’s lawyer (Catherine Keener) who is doing her best to put forth the notion that Fleck and Joker are two different entities, and it’s the latter who is responsible for the former’s crimes. She’s confident that Fleck, given the right meds and therapy, can get better, but Lee wants him to embrace his Joker identity.
What follows is a compelling, but sometimes clunky mashup of genres, most notably a colorful musical and a courtroom drama. At just under 2.5 hours it’s a whole lot of movie, and I get the sense that a fair amount of it was left on the cutting room floor. I say this because the way the multiple filmmaking styles are meshed together isn’t always graceful or pleasant, even if each is done beautifully in their respective vacuums. Add to that the fact that multiple images from the trailers aren’t even in the movie and it’s safe to say that there’s likely a director’s cut headed our way at some point. I look forward to it.
It’s a bold and audacious concept for a sequel and your mileage may vary on how well it works, but I’ll take what is ultimately a slap in the face to reasonable expectations over yet another samey comic book adaptation. That said, I wish it went into the musical elements harder. The songs are all well performed and properly suited to the plot, but I was hoping for a full-on Chicago/Carousel style affair, rather than a Joker sequel that just happens to have some musical numbers in it. I do think that the inclusion of the supposed cut scenes could likely push the film further in the right direction. I also wish that Lady Gaga had more to do. She’s very good here, but she doesn’t have the chance to go as big as her brand and talent would dictate. For the first act of the movie, before any other characters explicitly acknowledged her, I fully suspected that she was a figment of Arthur’s imagination. Thank FUCK this isn’t the case. I’m done with that tired reveal.
Phoenix, as to be expected, is stellar. The script requires him to do something markedly different than he did in the original film. The Fleck we first met was a mentally ill man who found a violent angle through which he could finally be noticed by the world. The Fleck we have now is questioning whether he wants to be noticed at all — whether the attention he ultimately received actually meant anything. He’s gone from wanting to be seen to wanting to be loved, and now he’s in a position where love is not exactly something he deserves. This is a dangerous place to be, and it’s exactly how someone can find themselves in a toxic relationship.
The filmmaking craft impresses. Phillips again imbues the film’s sturdy construction with a skewed energy. At times we feel like a fly on the wall, witnessing the many tragedies of Arthur’s world as they unfold. At others the immediacy is felt, as if we’re sitting right next to the protagonists, unsure of our own safety. There is a bit of a shagginess in moving between these two modes, however. It’s a less focused affair than its predecessor and the mania doesn’t always match the pace, nor is it always clear if certain parts are meant to funny and failing at it, or are knowingly unfunny just to spite the audience (one of the film’s many goals — a move that the troll in me respects). If it doesn’t grab you right away, it’s likely a large portion of the film will feel like a slog. This really comes down to taste. It worked for me, but I can see how some might feel like they’re just waiting for something to happen.
The cinematography by Lawrence Sher once again captures a version of Gotham that perfectly rides the line between comic book artifice and real world civic beauty (and grime). In the heightened fantastical moments, the colors pop at a high contrast, giving it a classic feel. When Arthur is in full Joker drag in the middle of a drab courtroom, he’s comparatively radiant. One musical number which is meant to call back to the TV appearances of Sonny and Cher is a real standout, taking the general color palette we saw in the original film’s Murray Franklin Show and tweaking it into something that feels more in line with 60’s television. The inspired production design by Mark Friedberg works hand in hand with Sher’s work to give life to the film’s many visual modalities. Whether you love or hate the movie, you will be blown away by the way it looks.
The script doesn’t dip as much into the larger Batman lore as the previous film, which is a good thing — it’s very clear that the filmmakers want to keep this iteration of the Clown Prince of Crime out of cinematic universe bondage, but it does call into question why we’re using the Batman mythology at all. That said, it’s fun to see a version of Joker squaring off against Harvey Dent in court a la Ted Bundy (lots of imagery is reminiscent of Bundy’s failed attempt at representing himself at his own murder trial).
What gives this film its edge, despite being slightly inferior to the near-perfect original, is the way it satirizes the folks who were performatively scared of the original film. These people aren’t helping anyone, and if the subtext of Joker: Folie À Deux is correct, they’re the ones creating the monster. Lee says to Arthur as he’s reconciling his Joker image with his infamy and his fading humanity, “The world only loves you as Joker; not as Arthur. They don’t care about your mental illness. All they need is sensationalism.”
Joker isn’t real. He’s just some dude. The Zodiac Killer isn’t an otherworldly genius, he’s just some guy who got lucky and had great press. Joker wasn’t a hypnotic chunk of propaganda that makes incels pump bullets into their enemies, it’s just a fucking movie. And the people who claimed otherwise didn’t actually care about harm reduction — they just wanted to look like they did, and they knew sensationalism would point eyes in their direction while they flapped their jaw and patted their own backs.
Joker: Folie À Deux is sure to be as divisive as its predecessor, which is good. Broadly appealing films are fun but often forgettable. There’s no way to predict how you’ll feel about this one until you’ll see it.
One thing, however, is for damn sure: I can’t in good conscience give this a rating because doing so might inspire lonely people to become become pen pals, fall in love with, and eventually marry incarcerated serial killers.
Directed by Todd Phillips
Written by Scott Silver, Todd Phillips (based on characters created by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, Jerry Robinson, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm)
Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener, and Tim Fucking Dillon
Rated R, 138 minutes
