'. . . what's the point of an origin film for someone we're never going to see again?' – Some internet dipstick, October 2019

Todd Phillips' Joker was one of the last really big films of the pre-pandemic era and became a bit of a phenomenon, primarily as it was a superhero (or at least superhero-adjacent) movie yet managed to win one of the major Oscars – specifically, Best Actor for its star Joaquin Phoenix. That kind of critical respectability, coupled to a global box office take somewhat north of a billion dollars, eventually led to Warner Brothers getting on board with the idea for a follow-up that Phillips and Phoenix had been working on since prior to the release of the first film, despite the fact it was initially presented as a standalone.

So here we are with one of the bigger releases of the Autumn, Joker: Folie a Deux, about which my Batman-loving young colleague Toby le Rone (not his real pseudonym) has already said: 'I'm not watching it' and 'It's not a real Batman movie'. What are we to make of this apparent act of baffling apostasy?

Perhaps context will be helpful (it generally is). The new film is set two years later, time which profoundly troubled aspiring comedian/homicidal psychopath Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) has spent heavily medicated, in the criminal wing of Arkham State Hospital. (Fun factlet: this film's version of Gotham City is in New York State, whereas most other recent iterations have been in New Jersey. This breach of canon is not the reason Toby isn't watching the film, by the way.) He has become a sort of pet of the guards (the chief guard is Brendan Gleeson, giving a very Brendan Gleesony performance).

While he is waiting for a hearing to determine whether he can be held criminally responsible for the murders he committed at the end of the first film, it is determined it would be healthy for Arthur to attend a sort of musical therapy group. Here he encounters Lee Quinzel, a clearly slightly ga-ga lady (Lady Gaga), and there is an immediate spark between them – though, as she is in there for arsonism, this is not necessarily good news.

The relationship with Lee seems to do Arthur's own mental state a world of good, even after he is judged to be competent to stand trial. It soon becomes apparent that the case will boil down to one key issue – was it really Arthur who killed five men, or the Joker personality which had manifested within him? And – perhaps more importantly from Arthur's perspective – who is Lee really interested in, him or Joker?

I think it's fair to say that by this point we are some distance away from the usual conception of what a comic book movie looks like – considerably further, even, than the first Joker was. While there are still appearances by some of the other Batman characters and a brief glimpse of the Wayne Enterprises skyscraper, the subject matter isn't what you would associate with an action-adventure movie, being much more internalised.

The main other Batman-related character on this occasion is, of course, Lee Quinzel, more commonly known (in, for example, her Margot Robbie incarnation) as Harley Quinn. For me this character usually falls into the category marked 'inexplicably popular', but – as you might expect – the version we see here is radically different from the usual one. Gaga plays her as an one of those women who fall in love in incarcerated killers, only more unhinged, and holds her own against Phoenix in the dramatic parts of the film as well as the musical sequences.

Oh yes, there are musical sequences. This, by the way, is the reason why Toby and the other Bat-fan at my workplace are boycotting Joker: Folie a Deux; they just have a problem with musical films. The songs tend to be classic old standards – some of them reprised from the soundtrack of the first film – and, perhaps mindful of resistance to this conceit from Batman fans who are inclined to take things a bit too seriously, they preface one of the early ones with a quote from The Band Wagon about 'artificial barriers between the musical and the drama'.

Well, I have no problem with musicals generally – for me they are one of the purest forms of cinematic escapism – but even I thought that this seemed just a bit gimmicky, an attempt to introduce a bit of colour and variety to a film which frequently seems utterly downbeat and shudderingly dismal. On reflection, though, I think I can see the idea here – the burgeoning romance between Arthur and Lee lifts him out of the awful dystopian slough he seems trapped in, and the songs represent this more hopeful, idealistic world he is able to access. Is this rationale, even if it's right, enough to justify the singing and dancing? That, I fear, is up to the individual to decide for themselves.

The main problem with Joker: Folie a Deux for me has nothing to do with the singing and dancing, which is a fairly minor element of the film anyway – it's that the film feels oddly shapeless and directionless. The original film was essentially an origin story, the story of Arthur's subsumption by the growing Joker personality – and given a real power by the tension between the catharsis of seeing Arthur stand up for himself, and the knowledge the Joker is going to do something terrible. There's an obvious throughline there, with the opportunity for such edgy and effective moments as his jubilant dance on the steps.

This film opens with a bit of a reset – the Joker personality has receded – and while the trial element gives it some structure, it's not at all obvious which way the story is going to go. Is this to be a romance, a courtroom drama, or a thriller? There are elements of all three here, but the film feels reluctant to decide. The feeling of not quite knowing what to expect is only compounded by the fact that the trailer for the film contains at least one clip from what looks like a major sequence which hasn't made it into the final film: the end, when it comes, feels even more abrupt as a result.

I'll be interested to see how well this film does – Phoenix's performance is certainly as impressive as in the first one, and the hellish atmosphere of the Gotham prison system is effectively conveyed. The whole world is quite horrible, to be honest, and not without allusions to real-world violence and brutality. This is very well sustained, but the result is a film which is downbeat to the point of being quite depressing, songs or not. This doesn't feel like a sequel to a film that made a billion dollars, but more like some kind of art-house drama that's grim but inventive. As an experiment in pushing the Batman setting as far as it can go, it is certainly interesting and made with skill – but I think we have reached the end of what's viable here.

Also Showing. . .

. . . Francis Ford Coppola's long-in-the-making fable about. . . err. . . we'll come to that, Megalopolis, which he sold his vineyard to finance. (The polarised response from proper critics suggests a lot of people would rather have had the wine.) Adam Driver plays Cesar Catilina, visionary architect in New Rome (which is basically New York City with more gold paint). He has invented a revolutionary new building material called Megalon, with which he wants to construct the city of the future, but the traditionalist mayor of the city, Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito) is opposed to this. Will a burgeoning romance between Cesar and Cicero's daughter help or exacerbate the situation?

And this barely scratches the surface of what this film's about – I haven't even mentioned Cesar's odd ability to stop time at will. Watching Megalopolis is like being stuck in a lift with a guy determined to share his views on finance, history, conspiracy theories, romance, the future of the human race, and much more, regardless of your own wishes. Not all of it is outright bad, and some of it is genuinely impressive – Aubrey Plaza gives a terrific performance as a ruthless social climber named Wow Platinum – but the overall effect is stilted and theatrical.

. . . Anand Tucker's The Critic, our first hats-and-cigarettes British period film in a while. Ian McKellen plays Jimmy Erskine, the scourge of mid-1930s London theatreland, writing scathing reviews by night and living a hedonistic existence. . . well, that's also by night, actually. But a change of proprietor at his paper puts Jimmy's comfortable existence at risk, forcing him to contemplate taking ruthless and devious steps to preserve it.

It's the kind of thing you've seen before many times if you follow the British film industry, but McKellen is always good value and he's backed up by an excellent supporting vast – Gemma Arterton, Mark Strong, Alfred Enoch. I don't think it has a very great deal to do in terms of exploring what it means to be a critic (it's not thematically about that), but it's engaging enough and Patrick Marber's script doesn't shy away from the darker side of 1930s life. It has a vaguely Somerset Maugham-ish vibe but the conclusion lacks the wallop he would have come up with. But still very watchable if you like this sort of thing.

Awix

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