Joker: Folie à Deux, 2024.

Directed by Todd Phillips.
Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener, Zazie Beetz, Steve Coogan, Harry Lawtey, Leigh Gill, Ken Leung, Jacob Lofland, Sharon Washington, Troy Fromin, and Bill Smitrovich.

SYNOPSIS:

While struggling with his dual identity, Arthur Fleck not only stumbles upon true love, but also finds the music that’s always been inside him.

Co-writer/director Todd Phillips wants the last laugh with Joker: Folie à Deux. In some ways, it’s remarkable that something so anti-fan and experimental yet mainstream exists in a David Zaslav-run Warner Bros. world. None of this is the reason the movie is bad, mind you; that would be because, despite its initially intriguing, offputting nature that has no interest in being what anyone would expect from a Joker sequel, it is also crushingly boring and often feels like a 2+ coda to that film. The movie has a point to make, which could have simply been Todd Phillips making a statement online. Then again, perhaps it’s funnier to make people, especially fans, endure something so aggressively subversive and oppositional to what those fans believe. Either way, the film isn’t good.

Joker: Folie à Deux (penned by Todd Phillips and Scott Silver) is a courtroom drama that follows Arthur Fleck (a returning Joaquin Phoenix, once again unnerving and convincingly unstable) at Arkham Asylum whenever not on trial for his psychotic break and subsequent murders throughout the first film. Unsurprisingly, the guards (led by Brendan Gleeson) dish out inhumane treatment from time to time and reduce him to a source of cruel entertainment or personal gain. If they aren’t demanding to hear jokes, one of them is asking for an autograph under the impression it will be worth a hefty sum of money once he gets the death penalty.

Occasionally moved around the asylum, Arthur comes across a music room. He meets fellow inmate Lee (Lady Gaga), a disturbed individual who has developed an odd obsession with him and his actions. They quickly start falling for one another and planning a future that involves getting Arthur off trial, escaping, and building a mountain on the hills. At one point, Lee starts a fire because everyone working in this facility is incompetent (really, the movie makes everyone in New York City look incredibly irresponsible at their jobs), which leads to the two almost escaping while singing and dancing outside. It’s a sequence that plays like part of it might be inside Arthur’s head, but it is soon confirmed as full-on reality. So, too, is the scene where a guard lets Lee into Arthur’s bedroom at night.

Not only is there something wildly off and illogical about what’s happening here, but Arthur starts getting in touch with his musical side to express certain emotions. Most of these scenes depict Arthur retreating into his mind to sing and behave freely, especially when the courtroom pressure gets to be too much for him, but it mostly feels like a cheap tactic to get some Joker scenes in there alongside a scene or two of fantasy violence to be shoehorned into the marketing to muster up extremely misleading interest. Again, that’s not bad, but this movie is between interesting and boring across its entire running time.

Even with popstar sensation Lady Gaga in some of those musical sequences, the direction here is flat and makes no visually compelling use of real-life or fantasy surroundings. It’s one thing to make a Joker movie pointing and laughing at everyone who believes the character is some misunderstood symbol of good in the face of a selfish, greedy world looking down on the lower class, essentially making fun of Joker fans. That’s also one hell of a questionably cruel creative choice to make about a character who has been physically and sexually abused as a child, regardless of the murders he committed and cult following he amassed. It’s another thing to decide to make a musical that is a forgettable musical, aside from occasionally recognizing the lyrics from familiar songs. Fortunately, Hildur Guðnadóttir has crafted another brooding, unsettling score, trying and failing to do some heavy lifting from the rest of the lackluster narrative.

Speaking of Lee, this universe’s take on Harley Quinn, there isn’t much of a character here. She is infatuated with Arthur, but there’s never any sense of why since the screenplay spends most of its running time clouding whether or not this is a fresh interpretation of the character or something with slight familiarity with the source material. Is part of the joke here also casting Lady Gaga only to give her nothing memorable to do?

It truly is a baffling experience watching Joker: Folie à Deux, a movie certainly not made for fans but also seems to have been made for no one. By the time it tries to recreate some of the chaotic feel of the climactic first film, eventually taking a few admirable crazy swings, one can’t help shrugging one’s shoulders. It’s a film that wants to explore the extent of whether Joker is a second personality or an extension of Arthur, starting with a Looney Tunes-inspired cartoon to set up that concept but mostly slogs along aimlessly. It doesn’t know what to do with these ideas, characters, or subgenres. Joaquin Phoenix and Lady Gaga are let down and left hanging in this mess.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★

Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

By Steve Erickson

Pepe is an immense achievement: one of the most formally and politically radical narrative films to turn up on the international festival circuit in 2024.

Pepe, directed by Nelson Carlo de los Santos Arias. At the 2024 New York Film Festival, screening on October 5, 6, and 9.

Pepe sounds like a Netflix docuseries: a chronicle of the stranger-than-fiction fate of a hippo once owned by Pablo Escobar. Thankfully, Dominican director Nelson Carlo de los Santos Arias’ approach is infinitely more adventurous. This is an immense achievement: one of the most formally and politically radical narrative films to turn up on the international festival circuit in 2024. De Los Santos Arias uses the trials and tribulations of Pepe — granted the power of speech in a voice-over delivered in several languages — as an illustration of colonialism. The hippo’s parents were stolen from Namibia and brought to the Americas. But Pepe also works at face value as an exploration of animal rights. It delves into the consciousness of beasts — and the danger of humans misunderstanding it.

The very first shot of Pepe is a white frame. Visually, the only variation we see comes from damage to the film stock; the sound of a helicopter pilot calling out to a Corporal Gonzales intrudes upon the image’s blankness. Then, the hippo introduces himself. Named Pepe, he’s confused that he has been resurrected as a ghost. Caged in Pablo Escobar’s private zoo in his Hacienda Napoles estate, he escaped to the surrounding river (as did most of the other animals) following the drug lord’s 1993 death. What follows is not a straightforward, linear narrative, but a story that takes vast leaps in time and space. A group of German tourists are seen on safari in Namibia. The director De Los follows people and animals down the Magdalena river for brief intervals, moving on to another one after a few minutes. Rejected by Escobar’s menagerie, Pepe is forced to live on his own. One section details the rocky relationship of fisherman Candelario (Jorge Puntillon Garcia), who encounters the hippo while working, and his wife Bethania (Sor Maria Rios). These scenes are the ones where Pepe comes closest to conventional characters and storytelling, but they make up a small portion of the film.

De Los Santos Arias’ style is accomplished and eclectic,to say the least. He’s fond of stationary long shots. Often, the camera position, floated in a river, suggests a hippo-eyed-view, looking quizzically at people. Drones are used for distant, overhead views. On the one hand, the cinematography can be breathtakingly pretty,but Pepe never lets one forget the animal’s feelings of loss –and the military squad that is out to kill him. The calm of an aerial shot of Escobar’s mansion and its surrounding streets, as we watch cars slowly pass, is broken by pilots’ chatter. De Los Santos Arias lets these images play out, moving the camera further back, till he cuts to white. The film’s view of nature leans towards ‘objective’ abstraction; lush shots of the river are stripped of narrative intent. Genuine documentary footage is integrated with staged scenes.

Along with its fascinating visuals, Pepe is a film about language. The hippo speaks to us as a ghost, unable to understand his ability to talk. (Four actors, each speaking a different tongue, represent his voice.) I’ve often wondered: what do animals make of the symbolic value humans place on them? Could they understand it? Would goats be baffled by their association with witchcraft and the devil? Pepe muses on these and other issues. At one point, he gazes at his own representation: he glimpses a cartoon about his life that is being shown playing on a living room TV.

Does all that sound like it could be overly didactic? Pepe might have gone that way. A few scenes are close to being lectures in post-colonial theory. The film works so well because it focuses on the threatening drama of the present moment. Pepe speaks about his own experience and the way he’s perceived: “in their story, I became a monster, an Other that scared everyone.” Brought to the Americas, he’s seen as important only insofar as his story intersects with that of humans (especially one as infamous as Pablo Escobar.) In the end, he’s perceived as a danger, with has some basis in fact, given that his presence endangered local fishermen. Pepe is never seen as a being with a life that matters for its own sake.

Pepe has yet to be acquired by a U.S. distributor. (De Los Santos Arias’ previous film, Cocote, did receive a brief release here in 2018.) American audiences will encounter difficulties with this film: they’ve grown wary of subtitles, let alone the degree of experimentation Pepe embraces with a vengeance. But grappling with its eccentricities  is well worth the effort. De Los Santos Arias described his earlier feature, 2015’s Santa Teresa & Historias, as “an anarchic rebellion of multiple narratives, colors and formats…in a drive towards permanent revolution.” Pepe continues that fierce critical critique with a rare combo of formal beauty and political astuteness.

Steve Erickson writes about film and music for Gay City News, Slant Magazine, the Nashville Scene, Trouser Press, and other outlets. He also produces electronic music under the tag callinamagician. His latest album, Bells and Whistles, was released in January 2024, and is available to stream here.

I’m sitting across the table from veteran actor Tobin Bell, whose gaze I try to hold. Between us lies a hefty metal briefcase containing nine composition books. One for each “Saw” film he’s appeared in. Two decades of rigorous preparation to play a horror mastermind.

The first page of handwritten notes for 2004’s “Saw” includes a drawn spiral interrogating the likes, dislikes and motivations of John “Jigsaw” Kramer, the methodical, hyper-intelligent, deadly-contraption designer who some call a righteous vigilante and others a ruthless killer.

“Each film is a different story and John’s in a different place,” Bell tells me, wearing a dark red-carpet-ready suit. “Same guy but different circumstances.” When speaking about his morally questionable character’s philosophy, Bell occasionally quotes Kramer’s phrases verbatim, with the same muted ferocity and growly voice as I’ve heard him do on screen.

“Live or die, make your choice,” he adds, sending chills down my spine on what would otherwise be an unremarkable sunny afternoon at the Lionsgate offices in Santa Monica.

As part of this year’s Beyond Fest, Bell will attend a 20th anniversary screening of the first “Saw” in its unrated version on Friday at the Egyptian Theatre. (Later in the month, the chapter that kicked off the gruesome franchise will return to theaters for a limited time.)

Bell, 82, an acting savant who broke into cinema’s foreground in his sixties, explains that the pages are occupied by a series of questions about the character. They start with the most basic details — “Where am I?” for example — and evolve into increasingly specific queries until they form an inverse triangle brimming with insight he’s deciphered on his own.

He learned this method from Oscar-winning actor Ellen Burstyn at the Actors Studio in New York City back in the ’70s and has applied it to every role he’s landed since.

“By the time I get to actually rolling the camera I’m up to 128 answers,” Bell says. “You never know everything, but hopefully I know enough so I don’t go mad trying to play someone I don’t f— know at all.”

“I wanted to just follow my instinct rather than some kind of idea of a career.” Bell says of his early days that led him to acting.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

He has always pursued the kind of lived-in performances of actors such as Montgomery Cliff, Gary Cooper or Spencer Tracy, whose movies Bell says he watched in the theater as a child in his hometown of Weymouth, Mass. every Saturday. “They became their characters,” he says of those screen legends. “You didn’t feel like they were indicating.”

Before stepping into the still-expanding “Saw” saga, Bell had been a working actor for almost three decades, amassing a varied collection of screen credits. Among them were memorable supporting parts in the racially charged crime thriller “Mississippi Burning” and Sydney Pollack’s “The Firm” (two of the four times he’s acted opposite Gene Hackman).

He watched Sidney Lumet direct Paul Newman in “The Verdict” while sitting in the courtroom next to Bruce Willis, another unknown at the time. And he’d experienced the heartbreak of being left on the cutting room floor after working with Martin Scorsese for “Goodfellas.”

“I had a scene with [Robert] De Niro that got cut,” he says. “You’ve got to be prepared for that s— too. I’m now in it only for a handshake and I say, ‘Come into my office.’ ”

Although Bell worked in summer-stock theater as a young man, he attended Boston University to study journalism, with specific aims to work in broadcast television. (In an alternate universe, Jigsaw would have become Walter Cronkite.) It was there that the 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy would reset the course of his future.

Soon after the tragedy, Bell snuck into a drama-department-only session to hear Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy speak about acting as an honorable profession. That day, he concluded the world didn’t need one more talking head and decided to become an artist.

“Kennedy says in a speech to the poet Robert Frost that the artist is the last great defense of freedom, and that the artist has a love-hate relationship with society and keeps us on our toes,” Bell recalls. “I felt I no longer had any responsibility to anything. I wanted to just follow my instinct rather than some kind of idea of a career.”

“I always thought I was going to be a romantic leading man,” Bell says. “But an agent also once told me, ‘If you want to work, Tobin, they’ve got to see you as something.’ ”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

With a mattress tied to the top of his car, a resolute Bell moved to New York City in 1964 after being accepted at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre. Little did he know that in order to chase his acting goals, he would be laying on his back painting the underside of stairwells in a 17-story apartment building to make a living.

“I worked at 53 part-time jobs to keep myself going for more than 20 years in New York,” he says. “I loaded trucks, parked cars at the Hilton garage, bussed tables, waited tables, tended bar. I worked as background and a stand-in in 35 films before I ever spoke.”

His entry into an artistic life was far from linear, however. At one point during his time in New York, Bell married and had a child. In need of steady income, he took a master’s degree in environmental science and for the next six years created educational experiences for school children on the Hudson River, catching, observing and releasing fish.

Throughout it all, Bell held onto a strong conviction. “As much stage work and television as I did in New York, I believed I would become a film actor,” he says. Being part of the Actor Studio, a membership-only organization for professionals, help him keep that dream alive.

“I had a place to belong,” Bell says. “If they took you into the Actors Studio, it made one say to oneself, ‘Maybe I have something. Maybe I’m good enough.’ ”

But the years piled on and one day, a scene moderator at the famed acting workshop suggested that in order to advance his career, Bell should go to Hollywood and play “bad guys.”

“I always thought I was going to be a romantic leading man,” Bell says, remembering the frustration. “But an agent also once told me, ‘If you want to work, Tobin, they’ve got to see you as something.’ ”

Bell in 2023’s “Saw X,” which earned some of the franchise’s best reviews. “It’s all in the writing,” Bell says.

(Lionsgate)

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Then came Alan Parker’s 1988 “Mississippi Burning,” in which Bell played an FBI agent. Bell remembers the late British director asking him, “You know why I had you come in, Tobin?” Parker then pointed at the headshot that Bell was using and said, “Because there’s power in that headshot.” A year later, on the recommendation of his “Mississippi Burning” co-star Kevin Dunn, Bell moved to Los Angeles.

He wasn’t here two weeks before he was cast as a criminal in the pilot episode of the 1990 television series “Broken Badges” that would shoot in Vancouver, Canada. From there, one job after another followed and for the first time he was able to make a living solely working as an actor. The quality of the projects ranged from compelling to forgettable. You may have seen him in one episode of “The Sopranos” as the head of a military academy, or on “Seinfeld” as a no-nonsense record store owner.

“I’ve learned more doing crap than I’ve learned doing good stuff,” he says. “Because you have to try to make it better, more interesting.”

“Saw” would eventually come his way in a fortuitous manner, like most breaks. He’d played Patrick Dempsey’s father on the TV show “Once and Again,” and while his character was a shadowy figure, Bell’s potent, piercing voice cut through. That series and “Saw” shared the same casting director, Amy Lippens, so when the debuting Australian director James Wan needed a voice for Jigsaw’s tapes in “Saw,” she suggested Bell.

It wasn’t until the first sequel, “Saw II” that Bell felt more substantial ownership of the character of John Kramer, whom he describes as a “King Lear-size guy,” making suggestions for the screenplay, including dialogue, which he has continued to do for each new film. And though Bell doesn’t condone Kramer’s actions, he understands his disdain for those he traps.

“John feels that the world has been taken over by mediocre people,” Bell says. “He believes we all have to deal with the consequences of what we create. And that these people are not appreciative of what they have.”

“When I was a kid I didn’t like going to horror films,” Bell says. “As soon as the scary part of a film would come up, I’d be down behind the seat.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Admittedly, Bell has never been a fan of horror (though he was impressed by the Australian slasher “Wolf Creek”). He prefers historical films and period dramas. But through conventions and casual meetings with horror fans, he’s gained an appreciation for their devotion to the genre and the thoughtfulness of their questions about Kramer’s worldview. He also has his own theory about why people like being scared.

“It’s a visceral experience that you can’t control,” Bell says. “You’re not just sitting, passively watching. All of a sudden you [jumps up from his chair, startled]. Some people like that. Not my cup of tea, necessarily. When I was a kid I didn’t like going to horror films. As soon as the scary part of a film would come up, I’d be down behind the seat.”

When I ask if he’s ever felt pigeonholed in the billion-dollar-grossing phenomenon of “Saw,” Bell suggests that every actor gets pigeonholed, whether as “an ingenue, the girl next door,” or in his case, a “bad guy.”

“If within being pigeonholed I can create a rich acting experience — which is why I became an actor — pigeonhole me, go ahead,” Bell says. “It’s every artist’s responsibility to create within whatever is given to him and it’s my job to change your perception of me. If you want to perceive me in a certain way, maybe you’ll see me differently when you see the next film.”

About the upcoming “Saw XI” slated for release during the fall of 2025, Bell confirmed he’s a main part of it. The hope, he says, after the reinvigorated critical and audience reception to last year’s Mexico-set “Saw X,” is to continue elevating the quality of the series.

“It’s all in the writing,” he adds. Bell believes horror films can be as layered as those of any other genre. “It’s not all one guy outside the screen door with sidelight on him.” And the fans, he says, always want to talk to him about the big moral questions of “Saw,” not the gory particulars.

“I’m really excited about continuing to develop him,” he says. “John Kramer is not done. There’s more to learn.”

Even after 50 years devoted to acting, there’s just as much left to be seen from Bell, who is also writing a memoir and his own screenplays — he’s putting on one of the pieces he’s penned at the Actors Studio soon. As he starts a new composition book for another Jigsaw tale, his own storied life keeps adding pages.