Joker: Folie a Deux - Review

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

TODD Phillips' original (and Oscar-winning) Joker proved far from a laughing matter in the way that it expertly subverted comic book conventions and offered up a ferociously intelligent - if polarising - examination of mental health, under the gaze of one of the most popular film genres of recent times.

He repeats the trick with Joker: Folie a Deux, a wildly ambitious follow-up that continues to fly in the face of expectation and explore far wider issues than the premise may initially suggest.

In doing so, he would seem to have alienated genre enthusiasts, who have turned against the film in their droves, thereby turning it into a box office disaster. But the joke is really on them as Joker 2 - in my opinion - triumphantly rises above many of the criticisms being levelled upon it to deliver something equally as provocative, thought-provoking and insightful as its illustrious predecessor.

The story itself picks up in the aftermath of the live-on-TV murder of Robert De Niro's Murray Franklin, as Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) awaits trial for that killing (and four others) in Arkham Asylum. It's here that he meets Harleen Quinzel (Lady Gaga), with whom he strikes immediate sparks, and who offers him some form of hope in an otherwise desperate environment.

But while his lawyer (Catherine Keener) fights to save Arthur from the death penalty by way of mental illness, Harleen fans the flames of The Joker, compelling Arthur to adopt that persona and beat the system on that level, thereby allowing them to pursue their own fantastical lives together.

It's this fantasy element that allows Phillips to really take some big swings directorially, turning his film into a musical of sorts, while also drawing on Looney Tunes-inspired animation early on. But they are all in service of the story and its character, offering an insight into Arthur's mind.

And it's mind and mental health that feature so prominently in both Joker films - from the effects of trauma on a person to the shortcomings of the care system and the dangers inherent in ignoring mental health need. Arthur is a product of his environment and abusive upbringing, a man continually ignored and let down by the systems around him. He is a loner, forced into flights of fantasy to offer some respite from his desperation. He just wants to be loved.

In Folie a Deux, that despair has grown even deeper. He is surrounded by depression and further abuse. So, when a guard (played by Brendan Gleeson) offers him the chance to attend a music class, he leaps at the chance, not least because he has already caught sight of one of its members: Harleen. Their ensuring relationship offers further escape - a chance at love, of recognition and understanding. Arthur is smitten.

Phillips incorporates the musical numbers to show the escape that Arthur's passion brings. But he delivers the set pieces in ways becoming of Arthur's mind, with every song chosen for the impact of its lyrics. It's a clever tactic - one that, admittedly, can become diverting and sometimes over-stretched, but which mostly serves to lend the film its fierce sense of identity.

But that's far from all there is to this Joker. Not content to merely examine mental health and society's attitudes [and failures] towards it, he also now examines the idea of fame, media exploitation and society at large's fascination with criminality and murder. Hence, the film probes Arthur's place in the scheme of things, and whether his Joker is merely a product of his own imagination, or of the media that seeks to exploit it.

As Arthur's trial beckons and begins, Arthur/Joker whips up a media frenzy, with outlets clamouring to interview him and sculpt him into their own view of what he represents: a view that the wider public also buys into. But this begs its own question: where does Arthur end and Joker begin? Who is controlling who? And where does responsibility really begin and end - from all sides?

By posing such questions, Phillips also seems to be holding a mirror up to society in general (and its sustained fixation with true crime, courtesy of shows/films/documentaries dealing with the likes of Dahmer and the Menendez brothers), while also delving into the psychology of superhero movies: the dynamic and duality that exists between heroes and villains, and Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy in particular.

In Batman Begins, for example, Bruce Wayne talks about the idea of creating a symbol, something everlasting... something bigger than himself, that others can take on. It was intended as a sign of hope and a form of protection. In Joker: Folie a Deux, the same kind of ideology is at play - Joker himself becoming a symbol of people's frustrations, of their anger, as well as an outlet for their violence. But what if the symbol doesn't add up to the ideology? What becomes of the man behind the symbol? And how does society respond to that collective disappointment?

The comparisons extend to The Dark Knight itself, which may feature an altogether different Joker, but which shows the consequences of symbolism being misread and misrepresented. An iconic moment, featuring an emotionally bereft Batman standing amid the flaming rubble of a bomb site, is echoed in Folie a Deux, in a moment in which a similarly broken Arthur surveys the fallout from his own journey against the backdrop of burning rubble. The scenes almost compliment each other, while offering two sides of the same superhero coin.

But therein lies another of Joker: Folie a Deux's successes: its ability to continue to exist within Batman iconography, while bringing something altogether new and fresh to the party.

Needless to say, with so much to work with, the cast excel. Phoenix is extraordinary, cutting both a scary physical figure (painfully thin, permanently bruised, protruding bone structures), as well as an ultra complex emotional one. His facial expressions are incredible, yet they cut straight to the tortured heart and soul of the character.

Lady Gaga is also terrific, imbuing her character with a moral ambiguity that makes her both clever and dangerous, while Gleeson is quietly but brilliantly effective as the prison guard who may owe more than a passing resemblance to Arthur's abusive father in the way that he affords his charge fleeting moments of kindness, and copious amounts of heckling and abuse. Kudos, too, must go to the likes of Keener and Steve Coogan, who crop up with significant moments of their own.

If a lot of critics and audiences haven't been kind to Joker: Folie a Deux, then perhaps they are doing it a major disservice, based upon their own expectations of what both movies should have been. And while it's certainly true that both films steadfastly refuse to conform to such expectation, and certainly are not building to any great Batman reveals, it's this desire to be different that makes them so outstanding.

They exist to challenge more than to entertain. But they do so in a way that makes them unmissable viewing. And while the end results are sure to be polarising, it's genuinely exciting to find a director willing to take such big risks and be able to carry most of of them off with such finesse. Joker: Folie a Deux may not ultimately be to everyone's tastes, but it's a dark, tragic and deeply thought-provoking work of art.