Why Joker: Folie à Deux is heavily criticised

The final outcome of Joker: Folie à Deux (from here on referred to as Joker 2) is something many viewers who watched the first instalment might not have anticipated.

The first film tells the story of a marginalised individual at the bottom of society who, after enduring complete humiliation and betrayal from society, the government, friends, and family, ultimately breaks down, leading to a destructive confrontation with the world.

Classic character development arcs indicate he should be evolving into the charismatic, anti-social villain seen in The Dark Knight. However, in this latest film, he takes a different path.

When he kills his neglectful mother, harms his friends, and retaliates against the celebrities who insult him, he does not spiral deeper into the chaos and sense of freedom that comes with violence; instead, he enters into a state of unsettling calm.

After venting out in anger, this is a sense of fulfilment coupled with regret, helplessness, and fear as he returns from a state of violent passion, along with the warmth brought by the support of countless strangers. These emotions combine to prevent him from taking a more extreme path. Instead, he begins to take his medication with a newfound sense of peace, as the world suddenly seems less terrible. Subconsciously, he wishes to reintegrate into society.

However, society is clearly dissatisfied with his transformation. Be it those who hate him or those who support him, both expect him to embody the cold and ruthless anti-social persona. His haters need him this way so he can be punished severely, satisfying their sense of justice. His supporters want him this way so he can be their champion, fearlessly dismantling the old world and igniting the flames of revenge in Gotham.

Only those who truly care for him understand that he is just a patient, a helpless individual who craves even the slightest kindness from society.

Does he choose to become his more authentic self, or does he conform to the expectations of the two opposing factions? If he chooses authenticity, he must confront his own shortcomings and ugliness, losing the persona that attracts so much attention. But if he embraces the identity of a dark icon, he cannot bear the weight of the crown of evil, hindered by the remnants of his humanity and conscience, as well as his lack of the courage and ambition needed to truly upend the world.

The entire film, from Arthur’s perspective, centres on this difficult decision-making process. This choice is deeply internal, resulting in less intense external dramatic conflicts as compared to the first film. Instead, it highlights his disheartening struggles with his pitiable balancing act – a patient pretending to be a hero, and a marginalised individual trying to maintain a hard-won dignity that feels precariously close to slipping away.

Beyond the psychological, the first film addressed the coldness of the world, while this sequel explores the cruelty of seemingly admiring onlookers. The first was about an individual's rage against the world; this one shows that if he does not sustain that rage, the audience will turn their anger on him instead. In short, this film serves, to some extent, as a critique of the audience itself.

Lady Gaga's character, Harleen “Lee” Quinzel (hereby referred to as Lee), is a quintessential representation of the audience. Her upper-class background adds a layer of irony to the film.

Arthur's tragic backstory and his violent actions done in madness serve to fulfil her dramatic and twisted desires. Her fascination with his rebellion against the system has nothing to do with notions of justice or evil; it’s simply the best daydream a privileged young woman can conjure after a life of comfort. The calmness of her upper-class existence makes her restless and unsatisfied with her life which countless others yearn for. As such, she looks at danger with rose-tinted glasses. She craves the spotlight and wants to be the main character in a drama, and Arthur becomes the perfect gateway to her envisioned world.

She emerges as the most powerful catalyst for Arthur's transformation into the Joker. Their relationship is her key to entering the chaotic world she imagines. Using her love as bait, she tries to guide Arthur into becoming a true anti-establishment hero, allowing her to step into the heroic fantasy she has created for herself.

However, Lee differs sharply from the lower-class admirers of the Joker in her approach to this dream. She is fully aware that Arthur is not the imagined icon the masses have created; he merely possesses the potential to become the Joker. When Arthur ultimately rejects her plan and refuses to enter her constructed heroic narrative, she exits quietly and coldly. In contrast, his most devoted fans from the lower class cannot accept that their idol is just an illusion. Consequently, the desperation of shattered ideals is expressed through the murder of Arthur by one of the inmates.

From this perspective, the film's musical elements are particularly fitting. The extravagance of the musical numbers resonates strongly with the falsity of this dream.

At this point, the film shifts away from being a narrative about an anti-hero and instead suggests that all heroes are simply narratives themselves. It portrays the complicity between heroes and the public's understanding. When one acts outside of this agreed-upon narrative, they will face the backlash of that very story.

The film's revelations about Arthur's inherent weakness and its deconstruction of the anti-establishment hero narrative lead to a complete loss of satisfaction stemming from the intense violence present in the first film. Instead, it evokes a sense of despair and emptiness. For viewers craving escalating violence, this creates a jarring and frustrating disconnect. Interestingly, this frustration parallels the bloodthirsty desire of the mob in the film, who long to see an anti-hero emerge.

Such an approach is quite rare in contemporary Hollywood. It serves as a valuable slap in the face to the audience, challenging certain politically correct notions in a significant way.

In this sense, the second film carries equal weight as the first since both meticulously showcase the abyss—though the sequel leads to an even deeper chasm. Both films possess convincing psychological logic and emotional sensitivity. This instalment makes a more precise distinction between anti-social behaviour and anti-human sentiment. After this film, the world and everyone in it become a joke for Authur. This utter despair brings about a terrifying freedom, rendering the Joker's final form more believable, which is what’s depicted in The Dark Knight – viewing humanity’s treasures as mere toys and laughing hysterically yet meaninglessly as they’re destroyed.

Thus, the sequel is even more unsettling than the first because it places the audience at the crime scene. They believed themselves to be in a position of judgment, only to be revealed as accomplices. Our seemingly innocent expressions of support are, in fact, a form of exploitation. Our idol is seemingly guiding us, but in reality, we created the idol. The idol serves merely as a tool for the masses to vent their frustrations, and those who refuse to be tools risk being discarded or even destroyed.

Original sin never simply lies with those in power, but also with us, the seemingly harmless onlookers.