‘Joker: Folie à Deux:’ A Depressing, Disturbing, Bleak, Soul-Rattling Delight

Joker: Folie à Deux is a depressing, disturbing, bleak, soul-rattling DELIGHT.

It is not a film that seeks to capitalize on the world’s polarizing hatred like many a revenge saga out there in indie and studio-land. Nor is it your father or grandfather’s Joker. From some of the review headlines I’ve had the misfortune to read, most critics are disappointed about that. And about where the film dares to go. Writer-director Todd Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver have refused to pretend humans are not vile, star-fucking vultures who seek out demigod demons to guide us like mass hysteria lemmings into a self-annihilation.

Do I sound angry? Well, I am because, as the credits rolled in Palazzo del Cinema’s Sala Grande screening room in Venice, I knew the film would be divisive, but I sensed a feeling of betrayal from the crowd—a bratty notion emanating (and some chat) that somehow Phillips was supposed to make a satisfying film—a Batman-respected denouement where the villains pay, the damaged murderer is punished but “in the right way” via our justice system (Hah!). The girl stands by her man, and Joker does not deviate too much from our preconceived notion of who he’s supposed to be based on past Jokers, that expectation…. Alas…they did not get what they wanted. So the poison pens emerged.

Media tirade over.

From the inspired Looney Tunes opening to the open-wound revealing musical numbers to the gobsmacking climax, Joker: Folie à Deux is a stunning cinematic achievement. It’s the most ambitious of any film I’ve seen since Oppenheimer —one that isn’t afraid to genre-blend and ask a lot of its audience. It demands the audience check their Hollywood/comic book-brainwashed expectations of what cinema is supposed to do and who Joker is supposed to be at the front gate. It asks them to leave themselves open to something authentic, unique, majestic, raw, devastating, and ultimately sublime.

The movie is set two years after Joker killed 6 people including talk show host Murray Franklin live on-air. Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) is now imprisoned in a psychiatric institution awaiting trial. While Fleck is fairly medicated and immobilized, his Joker persona has become the stuff of fan worship. Much like Gaga fanatics here in Venice (you should have seen the “monsters” go nuts), “Joker” has become a media celebrity. One who fights for the little people—seeking vigilante justice because the actual system has become completely corrupted. Oh, and a really good or bad TV-movie about Fleck’s life has fanned the fan flames.

So much irony here because Fleck is a man who was abandoned by society, except for the bullies who enjoyed mocking and hurting him—this included his deluded mother. He continues to be bullied in jail by the prison guards led by a dastardly Brendan Gleeson. No one has never truly cared about him, loved him. Enter Harleen “Lee” Quinel aka Harley Quinn (Lady Gaga) who he first sees in a music therapy session at the institution. They meet. They bond. They share a wicked sense of humor. She knows who he is and has obviously sought him out. And she believes in him, well, she believes in his alter ego, “Joker.”

Meanwhile, Fleck’s attorney, Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener) is mounting a defense that has him suffering from DID (dissociative identity disorder) that, due to the extreme trauma he underwent as a child, he split into different personalities (at least two) resulting in his committing those heinous murders. Suffice to say the two women do not agree on how he should proceed and the narrative takes off from there.

Fleck is an emaciated shadow of himself but through song, he is able to express his innermost feelings, along with Lee. Together these many keen musical moments are pained, heartfelt, emotionally devastating and sometimes hopeful. They’re also vulnerable expressions of love, something Fleck is experiencing for the very first time. But just how invested is Lee?

One of the spectacularly ironic uses of song is “That’s Entertainment,” from the Fred Astaire starrer The Band Wagon, directed by Vincente Minnelli. Usually sung as an anthem to the great musicals of the past, the song here serves as a reminder of how our society loves to create and elevate certain people to celebrity status and keep them on top as long as they continue to perform for us in the manner we have come to expect…until we tire of it. Of them. Never truly seeing them as human. They exist for us.

Phoenix is astonishingly restrained here. It’s another masterful turn, and his chemistry with Gaga is off the charts.

Gaga is perfection. This is easily her best screen performance. Some will complain that she doesn’t have enough screen time, but it’s only partially Lee’s story. Her face and body language show who she really is, an outcast but one who has chosen that route, as opposed to Fleck who never had options. And, considering her vocal chops, she gets mega points for never overdoing it. Only in Anthony Newley’s stirring “We’re Gonna Build a Mountain,” does she do some necessary belting. In a just world, this would be her acting Oscar (although, I would argue in the supporting category).

The film’s ending didn’t immediately sit well with me until I realized how perfect it was.

Joker: Folie à Deux is such a brilliantly subversive comment on our culture because it dares to hold up a mirror to who and what we are—cruel and harshly judgmental beings. Billy Wilder was a master at this. Phillips, with far less humor than Wilder, refuses to depict the world as some glammed up bullshit version of itself. But there is also room for redemption. Paraphrasing the Bacharach/David song from the movie, what the world TRULY needs now is love…sweet love.