Joker: Folie à Deux et les folies d’un réalisateur

Two very different Jokers, from several perspectives, starting with the explosive box office success at the Venice Film Festival of the first film, compared to the colossal disappointment of the second. This was not what anyone had signed up for. The first film left the stage with a Golden Lion and Joaquin Phoenix pocketing an Oscar for Best Actor. Quite the curtain call. The second? Well, it barely managed to keep the audience awake, let alone intrigued.

Todd Phillips has delivered various films over the years, but this second act leaves one wondering what exactly he wanted to communicate to an audience that was so mesmerized by the dark brilliance of the first film. Phillips attempts to revisit themes of the deforming power of mass media and the violence born from disillusionment. He reflects on idols and the inevitable crash of their downfall, but the result? A half-hearted revolution that never really takes flight. If anything, it seems like Phillips himself wasn’t quite sure where to land.

One thing the director makes crystal clear is his intention to draw a not-so-subtle comparison between two versions of America: the current one and that of the eighties. To give this parallel some Hollywood flair, he pays homage to some iconic talents of the time, including casting Robert De Niro as talk show host Murray Franklin. While this nod to an era of cinematic greatness is appreciated, it doesn’t save the film from drowning in its own confusion.

Then there’s the musical element. Yes, you read that right. Phillips decided to sprinkle in a few musical numbers—an interesting, albeit risky, decision. It adds a dramatic layer, but sadly, it fails to touch the audience where it counts. Not even the presence of Lady Gaga, a fan-favorite, manages to sweeten the bitter pill the film forces down our throats. The musical, it seems, is there to distract, not enhance.

Arthur Fleck, locked away in Arkham State Hospital (which, for the record, doesn’t even compare to the Arkham we know and love from the video games), is now dealing with murder charges and the aftermath of that infamous on-air shooting. After the live execution of Murray Franklin and the subsequent chaos on Gotham’s streets, Arthur is briefly crowned the city’s criminal king, but it’s a title he holds for barely a night. Phillips, it seems, is determined to use Gotham to tell us something about our present—this, unfortunately, comes off as more of a clumsy attempt at meta-narration than a sharp critique.

The die has been cast, and Arthur must now prove himself worthy of the scepter he’s been handed. The problem? Fleck has inspired a legion of fans and imitators, including Harley Quinn, aka Lee Quinzel, and they expect something grand. But can he really live up to the persona he’s created? Can he embody the role of a societal reject who rises to control the chaos? The answer, it seems, is no. Fleck’s fragile character is too overwhelmed by the fame thrust upon him, becoming just another victim of his own notoriety—like so many fallen stars before him.

Despite the ambitious mix of drama, musical elements, and intriguing ideas, none of it manages to hold up under scrutiny. The film feels indecisive, directionless, and, frankly, a little boring. Sure, there are bright spots, like the commentary on a distracted and destructive American society, and the exploration of love between protagonists in difficult times. There’s also an interesting play between reality and imagination in Fleck’s fractured mind. But these themes can’t mask the fact that the movie is a chaotic mess, much like its characters trapped in Arkham. Instead of soaring, it sputters compared to the first film. The difference is night and day. The first was a masterpiece; this second attempt… not so much.

In recent interviews, including one with IGN, the director pointed out that the film isn’t titled “The Joker” but just Joker, implying that it’s not the Joker we all know, the king of crime. Moreover, in the first film, it was specified as “an origin story,” not “The origin story” of the Joker and his misdeeds. Phillips emphasizes that this isn’t the real Joker but gives rise to what will probably become the true Joker later on.

The musical numbers, meant to highlight the characters’ mental instability, instead end up exposing the cracks in the film itself. Perhaps the real madness here belongs to the director, who seems to be trying so hard to make something “different” that he forgets to make something good. In his bid to outdo the first film, Phillips creates a project that lacks any cohesive artistic vision. It doesn’t entirely fall flat, as the ending manages to salvage a bit of the wreckage, offering a symbolic passing of the torch from one madman to another Joker in some future saga. But it’s a shaky save, at best.

Compared to the first chapter, this one sinks in its experimental approach, failing to recapture the raw emotional power of its predecessor. At no point does the film find its footing or establish a real sense of purpose. It drifts aimlessly, leaving the audience to wonder what it was all for.

The soundtrack is admittedly one of the film’s highlights, with a few gems like “Close to You” by The Carpenters, beautifully performed by Lady Gaga. Yet, even this can’t rescue the film from the clunky writing that ignores the basic rules of storytelling, rules that could have given the film the depth and impact it so desperately needs. Instead, we’re left with a series of half-baked ideas that never fully materialize. The story lacks the emotional weight it promises, and many have pointed out the glaring absence of psychological depth—something the first film had in abundance.

The film tries to further explore Arthur Fleck’s character, but where the first film delivered a brilliant and dramatic transformation, this one flatlines. From start to finish, Arthur remains the same—failed, dull, depressed, and frustrated. There’s no psychological progression, no growth. It’s as if the film is stuck in place, much like its lead character. While the first film offered a deep character study of Joker, this sequel seems content with a shallow exploration of Arthur Fleck—a man doomed to his social inadequacy, forever a nobody. And by the film’s end, the audience feels a growing sense of repulsion.

In this act, the Joker doesn’t really exist—he’s merely a shadow of someone whose legacy will be inherited by another. His followers, disillusioned by his retreat, abandon him, and Arthur willingly allows himself to be imprisoned once more. He confesses to being just a psychopath with severe clinical issues, far from the criminal mastermind Gotham feared. The curtain falls. Everyone, including Lee, is disappointed, leaving him alone. And the audience feels the same disillusionment.

The sequel to Joker is a film suffering from a profound identity crisis. But perhaps that very crisis is the point. Maybe Todd Phillips wanted the film itself to embody the breakdown of its lead character—a narrative falling apart, mirroring the man it’s trying to portray. A character in crisis within fiction, and a film in crisis in reality. It’s an interesting concept, but one that doesn’t quite land. If Phillips intended to create a sense of disillusionment and depression to reflect a deeper pathos, well, he succeeded. But that’s a bitter pill to swallow for audiences expecting a continuation of the greatness they witnessed in the first film.

In the end, the first Joker told the story of a fragile man, humiliated by society, pushed to the margins by a cruel world. That sense of abandonment triggered a personal war against a corrupt, rotten system. All of this played out in a Gotham without heroes, where Batman was still a child. A Gotham already on the cusp of change, led by the ambitions of a young Harvey Dent trying to tear down a corrupt and prejudiced society.

The first Joker masterfully balanced social critique with a psychological study of its lead character. This second chapter, however, feels more like a leisurely stroll through Arkham’s corridors, with a few quips exchanged with the prison guards. And Arkham itself? It’s a far cry from the dark, ominous asylum fans know from the DC comics, video games, or TV shows.

So, how has the film been received? In a word: disastrously. Its structural weaknesses and narrative shortcomings leave it smoldering in its own mediocrity. To be fair, the film was a bit unlucky—its predecessor left behind towering expectations that were never going to be easy to meet. It’s not a full-blown musical, but it does try to mimic the drama of La La Land with its own take on musical sequences. More than a bad film, it’s just an insignificant one, leaving a bitter aftertaste despite a decent ending and a stellar performance from Lady Gaga. But one has to wonder: what convinced Joaquin Phoenix to sign on for this? A hefty contract, perhaps, but certainly not an eagerness to sing.

The character Phoenix portrays undoubtedly carries weight, as there are still many aspects of Arthur left shrouded in mystery. There’s also a clear desire to close a chapter and wrap up this saga. But the question remains: does Arthur-Joker have the will to continue his twisted crusade, or has he given up? It seems he’s realized that the world he’s fighting against won’t change, that the hostile forces around him are too strong. He’s no captain steering the ship toward victory—his revolution was doomed from the start. And those who believed in him? They’re left bitterly disappointed.

Despite the many criticisms leveled at this sequel, it’s important to recognize Todd Phillips’ courage in attempting a different path from the previous chapter. The choice to explore new narrative forms, such as incorporating musical elements and focusing on a more human, less mythical figure of Arthur Fleck, represents an attempt to break with the conventions of superhero and anti-hero cinema.

Although the experiment didn’t fully convince, especially compared to the great success of the first film, Joker: Folie à Deux still offers moments of emotional intensity and top-tier performances, particularly from Joaquin Phoenix, who once again demonstrates his ability to authentically and deeply embody the tormented Arthur. Lady Gaga adds a touch of originality and passion to the film, despite the difficulties in finding a balance between psychological drama and musical sequences.

In conclusion, even though the film may feel fragmented and less cohesive than its predecessor, it remains a work that attempts to explore complex social and personal themes. Perhaps not destined to leave an indelible mark like the first chapter, the film still stands out for its boldness and desire to tell a different, more intimate story of a man broken by the society he lives in.