JOKER: FOLIE A DEUX – Review by Valerie Kalfrin
The term folie à deux refers to shared madness, two connected people further linked by a similar delusion. Joker: Folie à Deux certainly tracks with that, depicting the twisted infatuation of a mass killer and his number-one fan. But there’s another delusion at work here: that the film has a deep point to make that other films haven’t said better.
Set two years after 2019’s Joker, Joker: Folie à Deux opens with Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix, Napoleon), the sad-sack party clown turned killer, awaiting trial for his crimes, including shooting a late-night host on the air. Arthur adopted a persona, Joker, at the end of the earlier film, complete with a red suit and harlequin face paint, which inspired a fervor that apparently hasn’t abated. An animated song before the opening credits recaps Arthur’s killing spree but also depicts Joker as a shadow he can’t seem to shake, with fans mimicking his appearance and holding signs that support him.
Held in a facility that’s part prison, part asylum, and all tinged in sickly green hues, Arthur soon falls hard for Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga, House of Gucci), an allusion to Harley Quinn, the gal pal of Batman’s Joker in DC animation and comics fame. The two chat about how many people they’ve harmed, then try making a break for it when Lee sets a piano on fire, the security in this place leaving much to be desired. (Brendan Gleeson of The Banshees of Inisherin plays a guard with a heavy hand and a song in his heart, frequently whistling When the Saints Go Marching In.)
Between the so-called love story, Arthur prepares for trial with a compassionate attorney (Catherine Keener, The Adam Project), who argues that the Joker committed these acts, not Arthur. Lee is enamored with Joker, seeing Arthur as a mask, as are other hangers-on who cluster at the courthouse. But unlike 2022’s The Batman (or 2008’s The Dark Knight, for that matter), the film doesn’t explore the appeal of someone who wants to burn it all down. One wonders whether it would have been stronger without the Batman baggage, as it often feels forced into ticking off references, such as Arkham, the prison/asylum; prosecutor Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey, Industry); and Gotham, the city that characters also call New York.
Returning director Todd Phillips, again sharing screenwriting duties with Scott Silver (8 Mile), imagines the world in Arthur’s mind as a stage where he and Lee are adored, regardless of what they’ve done—in fact, they’re celebrated for it. Singing and dancing fantasies drenched in bright lights and colors contrast with the drab circumstances in which Arthur finds himself. Cinematographer Lawrence Sher often finds ways to center the lovers in spotlights, whether searchlights from the asylum or a transition from an imagined stage performance to a courtroom entrance.
The production design and art direction also change up the musical numbers, depicting Arthur and Lee twirling on a rooftop like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in one moment or dueting on a 1970s stage a la Sonny and Cher in another. However, the music choices often feel on the nose (Get Happy, That’s Entertainment), failing to provide character revelations or advance the plot.
Upon Joker’s release, some described it as a modern-day Taxi Driver or The King of Comedy. Joker: Folie à Deux largely reminded me of the 2002 film adaptation of the musical Chicago, with its immoral protagonist who escapes through musical visions and cynical take on what the public wants. Yet where Chicago’s murderous Roxie Hart thought herself special, too good for her sweet oaf of a husband and thriving on all the attention, Arthur deep down knows he’s lousy. He feels undeserving to inspire any devotion, let alone love, making his Joker alter ego less than convincing with a reach for poignancy that comes much too late.
Phoenix, who won an Oscar for Joker, is as immersive a performer as ever, making Arthur a shell of a man with a hunched, bony frame and a needy gaze, even when smoking the cigarettes his attorney thinks make him look glib. Singing in a whispery, scraggly voice, with none of the charisma he exhibited in 2005’s Walk the Line, Phoenix tries to show the grown-up victim of abuse behind the Joker’s violence, something undercut whenever Joker seems full of himself.
As for Gaga, she’s a magnetic performer, but the film doesn’t give her character enough substance. Lee is an enigma, a pathological liar with no depth or reasoning behind her motivations other than being considered as unstable as Arthur, if not more so.
Joker: Folie a Deux has some visual flair, but that doesn’t make up for the plodding pacing over two hours and eighteen minutes, or its cursory examination of fame. It’s a folly that rings hollow.
