Ah, Joker 2, the cinematic equivalent of reheating leftovers and trying to convince yourself they taste better the second time around. Because, of course, the world desperately needed more of Arthur Fleck’s sad-boy origin story, right? What better way to follow up a film that was already polarizing in its attempt at being both “gritty” and “deep” than slapping on a “2” and hoping for the best? The sheer audacity of thinking another two hours of Joaquin Phoenix brooding in clown makeup would be revelatory is almost impressive—except, no, it’s not. It’s just… there. A sequel born out of a boardroom full of executives chanting, We need more franchise money! But let’s dig in, because Joker 2 deserves a proper evisceration. You know, for art.
A Plot So Thin You Could See Through It in the First 10 Minutes
If you thought the first Joker had a wandering plot, brace yourself—Joker 2 doesn’t even pretend to have one. It’s as if the filmmakers decided that coherent storytelling was a construct, opting instead for a series of disconnected moments where Joaquin Phoenix stares into the abyss while Todd Phillips mistakes aesthetic for meaning.
When Arthur Fleck first reappears in the sequel, it immediately struck me that we were in for more of the same—Phoenix’s gaunt frame filling the screen, his voice a hushed mumble, the world around him a sickly wash of yellows and greens. Gotham is still burning. The people are still rioting. The rich are still terrible. And Arthur? He’s… still dancing.
The premise is so weak it feels like a bad improv prompt. Arthur is out of Arkham, once again the accidental messiah for Gotham’s disillusioned masses. His journey? A meandering series of “look-how-society-has-failed-him” moments, occasionally punctuated by bursts of violence that are supposed to feel shocking but instead come off as uninspired echoes of the first film. And the pièce de résistance of this narrative genius? Arthur starts a podcast. Because of course he does.
Trope Overload: A Masterclass in Recycling
Tropes, tropes everywhere, and not a fresh idea in sight.
- The “Rebel Leader Who is Actually a Hot Mess” Trope: Arthur is once again thrust into the limelight as the unwilling symbol of the downtrodden. Except, unlike other reluctant leaders who grow into their role, Arthur remains the same unstable, self-pitying man-child from the first movie. No growth, no new psychological depth—just more twitching and mumbling.
- The “Evil Rich People” Trope: We get it—wealth inequality is bad. But Joker 2 doesn’t expand on this idea; it just repeats it, louder, with more burning cars. The film acts like merely pointing at the problem is the same as commenting on it.
- The “Mental Illness as a Superpower” Trope: If there’s anything Joker 2 commits to, it’s the tired, problematic notion that mental illness is a gateway to brilliance or violence. Arthur’s descent isn’t explored with any new nuance—it’s just aestheticized suffering, presented as if the very act of depicting it is inherently profound.
Performances: Joaquin Phoenix Does His Best… But Why?
Joaquin Phoenix is still phenomenal—because he’s Joaquin Phoenix. The man could act his way out of a wet paper bag and make it look like an Oscar-worthy performance. But even the greatest actor can’t salvage a film that has nothing to say.
One scene that really encapsulates the film’s problems is when Arthur, mid-monologue about how the world is against him, suddenly starts dancing. Again. The first film’s stairway dance was iconic—a moment of twisted self-actualization. In Joker 2, there are so many interpretive dance sequences that they lose all impact. At times, the film feels less like a psychological thriller and more like an experimental art piece about movement therapy.
The supporting cast is largely forgettable, with new characters introduced only to serve as set dressing for Arthur’s continued unraveling. But the biggest tragedy? How little the film allows Phoenix to do beyond retreading old ground. Every performance choice he makes is something we’ve seen before, just slightly exaggerated.
Direction & Cinematography: Style Without Substance
Todd Phillips continues his attempt to prove he’s more than just the guy who made The Hangover. Visually, Joker 2 doubles down on the grime, the claustrophobic close-ups, and the shaky-cam aesthetic. The color palette is a mix of jaundiced yellows and murky greys, as if Gotham itself has jaundice.
But for all its efforts to be gritty, the film feels empty. There’s no new visual language here—just the same washed-out color grading and slow-motion sequences meant to make everything look important. And can we talk about the sheer amount of slow-motion? There are so many scenes where time crawls to a standstill so we can really soak in Arthur’s thousand-yard stare that I started checking my watch.
Cultural Relevance (Or Lack Thereof)
There’s an attempt—however flimsy—to connect Joker 2 to modern social unrest. The riots, the class divide, the institutional failures—it’s all there, but it feels less like commentary and more like headline regurgitation. Unlike the first film, which at least tried to tap into a broader cultural malaise, the sequel’s social critique feels like an afterthought.
And then, of course, comes the inevitable media discourse about whether Joker 2 is dangerous. The first Joker was accused of inspiring incel violence—a charge that never really materialized. This time around, the film barely registers as a cultural moment, let alone a threat. If anything, it’s just… exhausting.
Why Joker 2 Missed the Mark
At the end of it all, Joker 2 is a case study in why some films don’t need sequels. The first Joker worked because it was a self-contained tragedy. This? This is a contractual obligation disguised as art.
- A story that didn’t need continuing: Arthur’s arc was complete. Stretching it out for another two hours feels like an exercise in diminishing returns.
- Overreliance on Phoenix: He’s great, but even he can’t save a movie with no direction.
- Social commentary without depth: Repeating Joker’s themes without expanding on them makes the film feel redundant.
- A muddled genre identity: Is this a psychological thriller? A political statement? A dance film? Who knows?
Final Verdict
If you’re a die-hard Joaquin Phoenix fan, Joker 2 might be worth a watch just to see him do his thing. But if you were hoping for a sequel that builds on the original in any meaningful way, prepare for disappointment.
Because Joker 2 isn’t a movie—it’s an echo. A sequel nobody asked for, made by people with nothing new to say. And if the idea of sitting through two more hours of Arthur Fleck’s interpretive dance recital is appealing, then congratulations: this film was made for you. For everyone else? Just rewatch the first one. At least that felt like it had a point.
