Folie à Deux translates to madness for two, but the madness remains woefully undercooked. With no clear thematic throughlines or narrative consistency, Joker: Folie à Deux proves bland and forgettable rather than dazzling or provocative. Joker: Folie à Deux is now showing in cinemas nationwide
Twenty-nineteen’s Joker is undeniably popular, but I’ve never understood the hype. While it has its merits – namely Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score – it was a shallow film with a flakey anti-hero who regressively used mental health as a scapegoat. Its sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux, not only suffers from many of the same problems, but it’s surprisingly bland, something that the original, for all its faults, wasn’t. If the film had punchlines, Folly à Deux might’ve been a more fitting title.
Two years after murdering six people, including a TV host live on his own show, Arthur Fleck, aka Joker (Joaquin Phoenix), is being held at Arkham Asylum, pending trial. His crimes have since been capitalised on by the media of Gotham – including a TV movie and constant news coverage – turning him into something of a martyr, enticing the city delinquents, who threaten to escalate tensions. Prison isn’t much better, as Fleck remains mostly silent, caught between inmates who admire him and guards who belittle him, with the latter led by the brutish Jackie Sullivan (Brendan Gleeson).
Leading up to his trial, Fleck meets another inmate, Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga), an allusion to Harley Quinn from the DC comics. She expresses admiration for Fleck, and a romance begins to blossom between them. Believing he has found someone to truly live for, Fleck decides to turn his trial into the show that his followers eagerly want. This is at odds with his defence attorney (Catherine Keener), who believes Lee is a bad influence and wants to argue that Fleck has multiple personality disorders, with Joker the manifestation of this condition. Thus, as different interests clash, an explosive outcome seems inevitable.
This film’s drabness is ironic as it initially seems more rambunctious than its predecessor. Where the original was constant doom and gloom, this sequel opens with an animated short: a Looney Tunes parody depicting Fleck as being haunted by his shadow, which then assumes the Joker persona, serving as its own form of foreshadowing. Once the live-action medium kicks in, the film interrupts its own narrative by having the characters break into song and occasionally dance, even if the latter is shown to be inside Fleck’s head.
Guðnadóttir returns to score the picture, and her tracks are much livelier than last time, reflecting the morbid hope Fleck seems to have found in Lee. Colourful, spacious setpieces decorate these sequences, their referencing of titles like Sonny and Cher or The Umbrellas of Cherbourg acting as a direct contrast to the bleak claustrophobia of Fleck’s reality. To an outsider, this could be conceived as something vibrant and fun.
Unfortunately, the musical numbers are either ham-fisted or superfluous. Despite numerous songs, their inclusions are scattershot, rearing their heads at seemingly random moments. They disrupt the pacing of an already long movie, creating tonal whiplash throughout. Lawrence Sher’s cinematography sometimes flows alongside the dancing, but, for the most part, remains just as stagnant as Fleck’s reality, with the editing rarely more expressive than shot countershot techniques.
These numbers don’t enhance the themes or character dynamics; they exist to pad out the running time, their lack of style or original songs further souring the potential. The use of songs from iconic movies like Singin’ in the Rain and The Band Wagon doesn’t inspire intrigue – they make one crave those films instead. Director Todd Phillips has repeatedly rejected the musical label for the film, yet still calls back to the above pictures at various points. It’s a musical that seems embarrassed to be a musical.
A romance developing as one is about to go on trial is not a bad idea for a film, but the premise is thinly stretched. The overstuffing of songs, last-minute developments and external complications, such as Joker’s fans waiting for an excuse to riot, suggest that Phillips and his team were struggling to find substance within this idea. Lee’s character suffers in particular here. She spends much of the film as a generic simp, only to have a twist that reveals her as far colder than initially believed. This makes her unique among Harley Quinn adaptations, but it also robs the character of a certain pathos, leaving nothing of equal interest in its place.
What made Quinn so tragic, particularly in her first appearance, was her infatuation with the Joker, an attraction she couldn’t help but feel despite knowing what a monster he was, as reflected by his abuse against her. Reversing the gender roles here does very little to make the character fresh. If anything, it only serves to further this franchise’s nihilistic attitude, teetering on the edge of sexist territory regarding Lee. It’s hard to see what attracted Lady Gaga to this role.
There is one great scene: During the courtroom antics, where Fleck, who has embraced his Joker persona, encounters an ex-colleague, Gary Puddles (Leigh Gill), who is giving testimony. A routine recounting of evidence turns into a verbal spat between the two men, and Puddles reveals just how much Fleck’s actions have hurt him emotionally. It’s a moment that holds the mirror up to Fleck and forces him to face his deplorable actions. It’s a powerful scene emboldened not just by Gill’s remarkable performance but by the blistering sentiment underneath that using your personal woes to hurt others makes you just as bad as the forces you resent. Some overzealous fans of the original saw Joker as a validation for their own misgivings in life, but this scene directly calls them out for engaging in the same self-pity as Fleck. It’s the closest the film comes to a coherent thematic principle.
However, aside from this, the film remains just as confused as its predecessor regarding its ambitions. Phillips’ direction is flimsy as he has no idea whether to portray Fleck as a lunatic or a victim of an oppressive, bullying society, thus excusing Fleck of all wrongdoing. Like before, he tries to have it both ways, but all it does is leave us with no thematic, narrative or character consistency. One scene will see Fleck, as Joker, proudly recanting his crimes, cackling in the faces of those looking on in terror, only to have the next scene depict Fleck being sexually assaulted. It’s crass rather than compelling, making its sombre tone eye-rolling instead of engrossing.
Considering all of this, Joker: Folie à Deux may seem like a fascinating misfire. But it’s not. I’m as surprised as anyone to be typing this, but boredom is the most consistent feeling this film exudes. With so many different tones, ideas and genres mixed, it ultimately creates something resembling beige rather than a spectrum of colours. It’s loud and vivacious at times, but it does little to take your eyes off the hands of your watch. It’s bloated, fickle, and anxious about itself, giving us little reason to invest in its aims. You feel every second of its 138-minute runtime.
Folie à Deux translates to madness for two, but the madness remains woefully undercooked. With no clear thematic throughlines or narrative consistency, Joker: Folie à Deux proves bland and forgettable rather than dazzling or provocative. That its final scene ultimately takes an already uninspiring page from the book of the Gotham TV show is the last nail in the coffin. Where the original was a problematic but nonetheless well-made film, Joker: Folie à Deux could be a viable prescription for insomniacs.
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