Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Very few films in recent memory have me as torn as Todd Phillips’ Joker. I instantly knew after leaving the theatre that first watch that the DC Comics villain origin story was flawed, but that certain elements of the film were excellent; the way the film is produced and shot; Hildur Guðnadóttir’s breathtaking score; Joaquin Phoenix’s Oscar-winning performance. As I revisited the film during the Academy Awards season (as to rank every category of nominees, as I do annually), I became perplexed; how could a film with this many endearing qualities be anything but great? Was I wrong despite having seen the film three times by this point? Could a film I enjoy in so many ways actually be mediocre or worse? That’s when I fumble and give the film another chance, and I am quickly reminded as to what the biggest problem is: the screenplay. Story is so fundamental to cinema. If you have a pitch perfect motion picture in every single way aside from the screenplay, the film will still be noticeably tainted. Such is the case with Phillips’ Joker: an excellent film in practice that is severely held back by plot holes, nonsense, and three different screenplays feuding for the spotlight (where none wind up winning).

When the proposed sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux, was announced, it was instantly being sold as a musical. To me, the musical genre is one that prioritizes aesthetics over story (in ways that work, mind you, unlike Joker). If there was another swing at this that Phillips and company could take that would make sense, it was within the form of a musical. Now, you may be rightfully asking why that is. The first film isn’t a musical, so why should the sequel be? If Joker: Folie à Deux is told by the prose of an unreliable narrator just like the previous film, and the majority of what we see takes place in the mind of someone in need of psychological assistance, then I don’t see why some rules can’t be broken, especially if anti-hero Arthur Fleck continues to get madder and madder. However, despite the urgency to veer away from the guidebook, a film should still make sense even — and especially — within its own reality. Joker: Folie à Deux is a musical where the songs just appear and don’t amount to much. We learn very little about our characters or the story when the numbers happen. They just appear, and then the film proceeds. You cannot break rules if you don’t even know what these rules are or how they work.

That is to say that Joker: Folie à Deux gets more wrong than Joker does, which is a crying shame because the previous film shows much potential that isn’t met due to a flimsy screenplay; Joker: Folie à Deux feels weaker in more ways than just its writing (which, somehow, is worse here, if you can believe it). As it is a musical, Guðnadóttir’s score is less frequently used, despite being much of the heart of the previous film. The editing feels less methodical. Even the performances, while still strong enough, feel weaker this film; Phoenix included, who is given less meat to work with in this sequel.

To say that Joker: Folie à Deux is just a worse film isn’t the proper picture. What bothers me specifically is that this sequel is weaker specifically because it doubles down on all of the things that held Joker back. Joker has moments of strong dialogue that shine amongst all of the clunky, expository, obvious lines; Folie à Deux is almost full of dialogue that feels written by an undergrad student trying out their first screenplay. Joker makes it a game to figure out what is real and what isn’t; Folie à Deux exists so heavily in the recesses of Arthur’s mind that you never play along at all. Joker’s weakest moments are when it feels forced to be a Batman origin story; Folie à Deux only tries to deepen the ties to the comic book stories that have been told ten thousand times already (either be an origin tale, or be the daring film you profess to be and stand alone).

What confuses this film even more is that, sure, it is a musical, but it is also — believe it or not — a courtroom drama. After the events of the previous film, Arthur is being threatened with the death penalty (and held in custody at Arkham State Hospital). He is a superstar amongst the people, perhaps due to society’s obsession with true crime (it is said that a film was made about Arthur’s murders). While he is being prepared by his lawyer (Catherine Keener), Arthur comes across Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga): a fellow patient who idolizes him and supports him throughout his trial. Arthur — like many other inmates — is abused by prison guard Jackie (Brendan Gleeson). Both Jackie and Lee have a propensity to sing, and this influences Arthur’s mind to turn his times of jubilation and distress into musical numbers (not nearly in an effective way like, say, Dancer in the Dark). If you have been a reader of Films Fatales’ reviews before, you may know I am a sucker for genre bending and blending, but you actually have to bend and/or blend genres in order for me to be won over. Folie à Deux blends its courtroom and musical elements as well as oil and water. It subverts or twists these genres as well as Elon Musk tries to be cool and hip.

Despite its dedication and artistry, *Joker: Folie à Deux* doesn't work as a concept or finalized motion picture.

Now, before you lose your marbles, my biggest frustration with Folie à Deux is — again — what feels like great potential being misused; unlike Joker, where the potential is still there and some things work, Folie à Deux outright wastes what it has. Gaga is highly intriguing as Lee, but she is hardly utilized to the best of her abilities in this film that focuses solely on Arthur (in the same way that the Batman villain, Harvey Dent, is introduced as the opposing district attorney; just to have these familiar characters in the film). The musical numbers are incredibly well shot and choreographed, as not to mimic the prestige of the Golden Age of Hollywood but rather to have the characters of this film try their hand at the impossible (this works better than you’d think). However, these numbers mean very little to the actual story, so they also feel unnecessary despite their successes. Additionally, the majority of these numbers are iconic songs by Burt Bacharach, The Bee Gees, and… lo-fi legend Daniel Johnston (okay, that is neat). The jukebox approach feels artificial: wouldn’t it be more interesting if Arthur was conjuring up original melodies in his head, as to best represent the anarchy of his thoughts?

The courtroom scenes present themselves as open forums to discuss mental illnesses and societal disparity, but we never get that far with these topics when Folie à Deux settles for having these sequences play out as numerous attempts to recapture the weight and tension of Joker’s late-night climax (the courtroom scenes never come close, because not enough is properly built up to take us there). There is an effort to try to continue the mythology of the first film, but there may be more damage done than good, especially with having previous characters reappear to represent themselves while Arthur is on trial. All they do is over explain what we see in Joker; if anything, this removes enough of the previous film’s ethos. Then there are the handful of sequences that try to push Folie à Deux beyond being a typical film. They act somewhat like bookends. The film starts with a Warner Brothers-esque animation that acts as both a recapture of what happened in Joker while setting the stage of what will happen in Folie à Deux. Towards the end of the film is an admittedly strong one-shot sequence (I won’t spoil what happens within it) that ties you up within the chaos of what is going on. It doesn’t feel futile either, as the use of a long, complicated take actually succeeds in building a sense of calamity and panic.

There is a conspiracy that Phillips sabotaged his own sequel because there was never meant to be one before Warner Bros. pressured him into making one. Seeing as there are many interesting ideas (some that work, many that don’t), the return of the majority of the big names that worked on the first film (excluding actors, anyway, for obvious reasons), and an effort to continue the story and themes of the first film, I don’t think that Phillips wasn’t trying at all. If anything, I think Phillips tries too hard. He throws in everything and the kitchen sink in Folie à Deux, but I don’t think he knows why he is doing so. With far fewer successes in this film than in Joker, it’s clear that perhaps all that works in Joker was by chance. Phillips maybe knows the qualities of what makes a great auteur (ever since he abandoned comedies and tried to start making bold films), but he doesn’t necessarily know what makes these artists great. Film is a language, and you have to know how to communicate with your audience. Just knowing the Spanish words for “salad,” “please,” “croutons,” and “no” doesn’t mean you can properly string a sentence together to have croutons removed from your bowl while in a restaurant in Barcelona. You may still wind up with croutons.

There’s also the discussion that the film is meant to be a metaphysical answer to those who misunderstood Joker. There’s Arthur’s expressions of guilt to negate viewers who wrongfully idolized the character the first time around, the musical numbers to punish alpha-male incels who based their personality on Joker, and a number of instances throughout Folie à Deux that are sure to bother many audience members because the film seems to be talking to them. This is a possibility, and maybe an interesting experiment if this is true. However, this doesn’t make Joker: Folie à Deux a strong film. Freddy Got Fingered is an amazing joke in a postmodern sense (what can one prankster do with millions of dollars from the studio?), but that doesn’t make the film itself watchable. You can appreciate what Joker: Folie à Deux is doing, but not the ways in which it is trying to go about these statements. Such is the case for me. You can still make a strong film while conducting meta commentary. Joker: Folie à Deux isn’t that film. How can a film that is unsure of itself make certain claims to others?

I don’t think Joker: Folie à Deux is a complete disaster of a film, but it unfortunately definitely is a mess when it comes to telling a story. You can get defensive and say that this film is messy because it happens in Joker’s mind all you want. That doesn’t make it a good film. The story doesn’t go anywhere. Arthur’s character doesn’t develop as much as he backpedals. We don’t learn anything we didn’t already know from the first film. The musical numbers — while better than you’d think — add nothing (you can argue they’re Arthur’s moments of joy or fantasy, but even then, we can get that in a myriad of other ways). The courtroom scenes can only get so interesting because the outcome was clearly set in stone from square one. It’s not that Todd Phillips didn’t try with Joker: Folie à Deux: the bigger problem is that it isn’t clear what he was trying to achieve with this film. If anything, all of these well-intentioned attempts lead to a bigger problem than purposeful sabotage: proof that this sequel didn’t need to exist. Any efforts to justify its worth — ranging from the risky to the homogeneous — only cement the fact that this film wasn’t necessary, likely in any capacity. Seeing all the work that went into it, I think that’s a crying shame.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.