Superhero movies were at the peak of their popularity when Joker first hit theaters in 2019. It arrived months after Avengers: Endgame became a box office megahit, and for fans worldwide, co-writer and director Todd Phillips’ origin story for Batman’s primary adversary represented the genre’s potential to be taken seriously. Although Joker borrowed heavily from two Martin Scorsese films, Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, the fans got their wish. It made more than $1 billion, and earned multiple Academy Awards, including Best Actor for Joaquin Phoenix’s sinewy, tortured portrayal of Arthur Fleck and his alter ego, a psychopath in clown makeup.
Five years later, and the sequel, Joker: Folie à Deux, arrives at a time when the popularity of superhero movies has waned. Yes, there are still hits like Deadpool & Wolverine, but Marvel is not the juggernaut it once was, and the crossover between movies and TV has diminished overall interest in superhero franchises, to the point where watching the latest entry can feel like a chore. Absent the goodwill of half a decade ago and nearly wringing the genre of any new ideas, Phillips takes a daring gambit with his sequel: It’s a musical co-starring Lady Gaga, one that attempts to litigate the Joker legacy, both literally and by provoking the audience. On paper, no one can say Phillips is playing it safe, and yet Folie à Deux lacks any new insight about Joker’s character or his legacy, and the musical flourishes never quite stir the imagination. It is worse than bad—it is boring.
Phillips and co-screenwriter Scott Silver set the majority of the film in two drab settings. After being caught by the cops, a depressed Arthur aka Joker (Phoenix) stews in Arkham Asylum, awaiting trial for his murder spree, one that culminated with shooting a late-night talk show host on live TV. Before the trial gets underway, Arthur meets Lee (Gaga), a fellow patient in the minimum security wing. She is obsessed with him, seemingly becoming his lover and accomplice overnight, and the attention inspires Arthur to ditch his medication and take a more active role in his trial—the film’s second drab setting—while his desperate and angry fans gather outside. By the time Arthur ditches his defense attorney (Catherine Keener) and makes a mockery of the courtroom, Lee adopts the Harley Quinn persona and serves as Joker’s biggest cheerleader.
What is strange, even distracting, is Arthur’s passive role in his own story. Phoenix dials back his sinister charisma in Folie à Deux, leading to long stretches that make us wonder whether he will assert himself: In the world of Joker, asserting oneself is synonymous with violence. But save for a handful of musical fantasy sequences that take place in Arthur’s mind, he declines to harm anyone in this film, letting his acolytes act on his behalf. While it is an interesting choice, one that should get the audience to ask why Joker appeals to their biggest fans, a protagonist without much inertia or self-determination can be—and is here—tedious to watch. Instead there are scenes where ordinary people, whether they are prison guards or prosecutors, regard Arthur with more amusement than terror—a strange choice for a film ostensibly about arguably the most beloved, deranged villain in all of popular culture.
The musical elements are the primary reprieve from the halfhearted narrative, and even then they unfold lifelessly. Phillips and Silver opt for a jukebox musical approach, one that includes popular songs like the Carpenters’ “(They Long to Be) Close to You” and lesser known tunes like Daniel Johnston’s “True Love Will Find You in the End,” but the performances here are oddly anemic. Even in the musical fantasy where Arthur and Lee sing and dance, they still move and sound like their characters, barely using the full expression of their instruments.
Put another way, Folie à Deux casts Lady Gaga—one of the most exciting pop stars of our time—then declines to let her character belt out a showstopper. In fact, most of the songs are sung by Phoenix, who can carry tune but lacks Gaga’s expressiveness. Strange choices notwithstanding, Phillips and Silver are vague about the interiority of their characters, so only a few of the musical numbers illuminate or embellish their precise feelings. Some songs are staged in interesting ways, a callback to the splashy musicals of Hollywood’s golden age, yet Phillips fails to do much more than copy the past and slap some makeup on his antiheroes.
After Arthur sleepwalks through prison and most of his trial, there’s a glimmer of hope when he humiliates his attorney and decides to represent himself. Courtroom dramas are inherently exciting, and maybe his twisted self-aggrandizement will turn the trial on its head, right? Any feeling of excitement is short-lived because Arthur, now embracing his identity as Joker, declines to undermine the institutions that the courtroom represents. The trial ends abruptly, leaving the characters to wander through a chaotic situation they don’t understand and that Phillips declines to explain. Once we get past the provocation of a musical, Joker: Folie à Deux is timid to a fault, a film that hides its lack of conviction and ideas in a conceit it half-heartedly explores. The last image should leave an impression—it could feel like closure or leave room for a third film. It does neither. And no matter Arthur’s fate, Phillips has made it difficult for anyone, even the longtime fans of the character, to care either way.
Joker: Folie à Deux (R, 138 minutes) opens in theaters on Oct. 4.