It’s been five years since Todd Phillips’ Joker gave us a bleak, ultra-realistic take on the iconic comic book villain. Set in a seedy 1980s version of Gotham, Joker’s nihilism touched on contemporary issues such as political divides, wealth disparity, and social isolation, which only intensified after the covid pandemic. There was (and still is) a lot of critical debate about whether or not the film glorified the clown’s violent actions or served as a cautionary tale about the community’s neglect of marginalized individuals. Joker: Folie à Deux, sadly, has an even more muddled point of view—and it’s also just a worse movie.
After shooting talk show host Murray Franklin live on national television in the first film, Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix in another wacky yet redundant performance) spends five miserable years in Arkham Asylum awaiting his trial, and has since become a cultural icon known as the Joker. One of the guards Arthur Fleck befriends (a tough Brendan Gleeson) enrolls him in a music therapy class, where he meets Harleen “Lee” Quinzel, played by pop icon and movie star Lady Gaga.
There’s been a lot of conversation about whether or not Joker: Folie à Deux can be considered a musical. During a Venice Film Festival press conference last month, Gaga said, “I think the way we approach music in this film is very special and extremely nuanced. I wouldn’t necessarily say that this is a musical. In a lot of ways it’s very different.” Todd Phillips said something similar the month prior, telling Variety that “most of the music in the movie is really just dialogue. It’s just Arthur not having the words to say what he wants to say, so he sings them instead.” But characters singing their emotions out loud is literally the definition of a musical, so people were, naturally, confused.
Joker and Harley in Joker: Folie à Deux certainly do sing their emotions (quite a bit), but the numbers they perform are hardly showstoppers. While there are some exceptions (which are the only real quality parts of the movie), the majority of the musical sequences are ordinary, everyday scenes of Joker and Harley whisper-singing to themselves or sharing their favorite songs from the radio. They’re not the stop-and-stare moments found in most musicals, you’re not swept away by the lively movement and soaring vocals that make you feel everything the character is feeling.
In Joker: Folie à Deux, classic American songs such as “That’s Entertainment,” “I’ve Got the World on a String,” and “Gonna Build A Mountain” are randomly thrown in and performed with wafer-thin voices, articulating very little about the current situation or a character’s perspective. Joker: Folie à Deux seems like the mumblecore version of a musical–and it had LADY FREAKIN’ GAGA at its disposal, a woman who has proven, time and time again, that she’s one of the best contemporary pop singers.
If Todd Phillips had leaned more into the musical genre—going over-the-top with the song choices to express Arthur Fleck’s mental health struggles, disdain for society, or overwhelming obsession with Harley—he would have given the songs more purpose. The format of Rob Marshall’s Chicago, where the vibrant musical numbers are inside the main characters’ heads as a form of escapism from their daily life, would have been a perfect fit for this film.
There are two scenes that jolt us out of the movie’s monotony, making us care about the eccentric couple’s romance despite their non-existent spark. One of the best scenes is when Joker imagines himself singing the Bee Gees’ “To Love Somebody” with Harley on a Sonny & Cher Show-esque television series, dressed to the nines and standing in front of flowing curtains that burst with Technicolor hues of red, blue, and yellow. In another scene, they dance on a rooftop, with Joker in his suit and Harley in a flowing white dress, bringing to mind the elegance of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. A giant moon illuminates the bright blue sky that reminds us of the fantastical visuals of Moulin Rouge.
Another standout moment features Joaquin Phoenix warbling “For Once in My Life” in the prison rec room; at first, we’re unsure if the inmates can truly hear him, but clever cuts reveal that it’s all in his head. With his perpetually furrowed brow and weepy eyes, his whole body vibrates with desperation. He also appears scarily thin—more so than in the first film, with his shoulder blades jutting out sharply. Phoenix’s performance carries Joker: Folie à Deux as much as it did the first Joker, keeping us invested in Arthur Fleck’s collapsing mental state despite the tedium of the story. But listening to his flat, ragged singing over and over again with little variation becomes more grating as the movie goes on.
While Lady Gaga certainly brings a quiet intensity to the role of Joker’s sweetheart, this version of the Harley Quinn character is more of a wide-eyed waif, lacking the firecracker personality found in other iterations. She’s still completely obsessed with Joker, gazing at him with starry eyes and confessing that she’s seen the made-for-TV movie about him hundreds of times, but Joker: Folie à Deux puts an interesting twist on that loyalty. Although it’s interesting that Todd Phillips takes a more low-key, gritty approach to her character—especially during her special visit to Arthur’s cell—other iterations of Harley Quinn and Joker are far more complex and fascinating. In Joker: Folie à Deux, Joker and Lee barely spend any time together, and their lackluster singing fails to establish any real chemistry or emotional depth.
Lee’s pyromania gives us one of the film’s few visually stunning scenes as she sets Arkham Asylum on fire, casually singing and dancing amongst the bright, crackling flames. But yet again, the singing is softer, quieter, than it should be at this moment. The notion of Lady Gaga as Harley Quinn—a fiery character beloved by so many portrayed by a fiery popstar beloved by so many—had so much promise. But she often fades into the background, given little to do throughout the film aside from sitting on the courtroom sidelines. What a waste.
Lee’s sole purpose is to get Arthur Fleck to believe that the most important thing about him is being the Joker, and he should embrace his true identity during his trial. This is directly against the wishes of Fleck’s government-appointment lawyer Maryanne (a detached Catherine Keener), who wants him to pursue the insanity defense. This tension between Arthur and his Joker persona should be riveting, but the courtroom scenes are a snooze, barely unpacking interesting themes like where Arthur Fleck ends and the Joker begins, or whether the true sickness lies within him or the world itself.
This sudden shift into the legal drama genre retreads past details we already know without offering anything new. Unlike the first film, in which we witness the gradual dissolution of Joker’s mental health and his growing anger toward an uncaring society, Joker: Folie à Deux has zero plot momentum or character development.
Todd Phillips’ direction felt more comfortable in the first film, a paint-by-numbers riff on Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy infused with DC lore. Joker: Folie à Deux would have benefited from the director taking his cues from other movies, either fully embracing a subversive realism similar to Lars Von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark or giving us a direct homage to Hollywood Golden Age musicals like Singin’ in the Rain or The Band Wagon.
But this is adrift in the middle, as numb and apathetic as its emotionally damaged characters. Joker: Folie à Deux wallows in uninspired misery with little to say about Arthurt’s mental stability, his romance with Lee, or what led him to the courtroom in the first place. Unfortunately, the best part of Joker: Folie à Deux is the opening scene, a Looney Tunes-style animation about the Joker’s shadow: which offers a fun, focused story before shifting into mundanity. Joker: Folie à Deux is a failed experiment that squanders its promising concept and stellar cast on a lackluster and overly dour vision. Musicals may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but Joker: Folie à Deux managed to make the genre mind-numbingly boring.