You have to hand it to Todd Phillips. The director has thrown caution to the wind by following up Joker, his Oscar-winning, billion-dollar-grossing Batman spin-off, with a musical. With more than a dozen numbers over two-plus hours, despite what the trailer may indicate, any more singing and Joker: Folie à Deux would be an operetta.
As the film opens, Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix), the delusional failed clown and accidental anarchist, is confined to Arkham Asylum, where he is menaced by brutish guards headed by a malevolent Brendan Gleeson. Outside the facility, this gnarled, shuffling shell of a man has become a political icon, attracting the attention of his well-intentioned lawyer (Catherine Keener) and a superfan he encounters in Arkham’s music-therapy programme.
Harleen “Lee” Quinzel, played with tremendous verve by Lady Gaga, shakes Arthur out of his stupor. She has watched the TV movie depicting his crime spree multiple times. She sounds awfully like the kind of Joker obsessive who inspired IndieWire to call that first film a “toxic rallying cry for self-pitying incels”. No matter: incels are unlikely to queue up for a jukebox musical featuring Lady Gaga and such vanilla standards as When You’re Smiling (The Whole World Smiles With You) and That’s Entertainment.
Blurring the line between bursting into song and madness is a trope effectively used as long ago as Sondheim’s Anyone Can Whistle. Unfortunately, the script can’t pick between that idea, the musical number as an inner monologue, and the musical number as a fantasy sequence. The latter, including a lovely moonlight-and-neon rooftop sequence, works rather better than an incongruous NBC Sonny and Cher-style skit. Unhappily, few if any of these tunes move the scanty plot along. Longueurs abound. The denouement hits story beats that ought to wrap up act one.
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The film similarly flounders between genres. It’s a musical, a prison movie and, mostly, a plodding courtroom drama.
That’s a great shame, as there’s much to admire.
An early over-the-shoulder shot of the title character as his cigarette sparks during a psychiatric appointment opens a parade of virtuoso compositions from the film’s cinematographer, Lawrence Sher, who favours details and close-ups of the committed central performers.
Phoenix, recently making headlines for the wrong reasons, is a sight to behold. Arthur’s body is visibly gnarled by abuse and loneliness. Gaga, too, gives everything to an underwritten role. Exemplary production and costume design from Mark Friedberg and Arianne Phillips, respectively, amplify the seductive early-1980s Scorsese-De-Niro-enthralled aesthetic. The story makes judicious use of Batman mythology and other studio IP, notably Looney Tunes. There are interesting notes on the intersection between love, mental illness, obsession, performance, and fandom. If only the movie were a little better.
