Joker is NOT a Movie About The Joker
I went into Todd Phillips’ Joker with cautious optimism. The promise of a gritty, R-rated character study of the iconic Batman villain, paired with Joaquin Phoenix’s undeniable acting talent, had piqued my interest. Like many fans, I hoped this film would offer something fresh while staying true to the core of what makes the Joker such a compelling character. Unfortunately, while Joker delivers a powerful portrayal of a man unraveling under the weight of his own despair, it fundamentally fails to capture what makes the Joker such an iconic and enduring villain.
Why? Because the Joker’s essence isn’t just about his chaos—it’s about his mystery.
One of the Joker’s defining traits has always been his lack of a definitive backstory. Across decades of comics, films, and television, creators have wisely avoided pinning down a single origin for the Clown Prince of Crime. Instead, the Joker’s past is fluid, shifting, and often contradictory. Is he a criminal mastermind pretending to be insane, or is he genuinely unhinged? Is he an anarchist with a twisted sense of morality, or simply a sadistic agent of chaos? No one—not even the Joker himself—seems to know the truth.
This ambiguity is central to the character’s power. The Joker is terrifying because he’s unpredictable. He doesn’t operate by the rules of sanity or morality, and his motivations remain inscrutable. When Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke flirted with an origin story, it did so with a caveat: the Joker himself admitted that he preferred his past to be “multiple choice.” It’s this refusal to define him that has allowed the Joker to remain one of the most enigmatic and compelling villains in fiction.
Phillips’ Joker, however, throws all of this out the window. Instead of leaning into the character’s mystique, the film gives us a grounded, definitive origin for Arthur Fleck, a man whose descent into madness is explained in painstaking detail. Arthur is not the Joker; he’s a tragic figure struggling with mental illness and societal rejection. By giving the Joker a clear and sympathetic backstory, the film strips him of his most essential trait: his mystery.
Let’s be clear: Joaquin Phoenix’s performance as Arthur Fleck is phenomenal. He masterfully portrays a man grappling with loneliness, delusion, and a world that seems intent on breaking him at every turn. Watching Arthur unravel is both unsettling and heartbreaking, and Phoenix deserves all the accolades he’s received for his work.
But Arthur Fleck is not the Joker.
The Joker is not supposed to be a sad man driven to violence by his circumstances. He’s not meant to be a victim of mental illness or societal neglect. What makes the Joker so terrifying is his ability to make us question whether he’s truly mad or simply reveling in the chaos he creates. Arthur, on the other hand, is a character whose every action is rooted in his trauma and suffering. His transformation into the Joker feels like a straight line: a man beaten down by the world lashes out in violence and finds validation in the process. It’s a compelling character study, but it’s not the Joker.
By attributing the Joker’s actions to mental illness, Joker inadvertently diminishes his threat. Instead of a villain whose actions defy explanation, we’re given a character whose every move can be traced back to his struggles with his mental state. This makes Arthur a sympathetic figure—but it also makes him far less interesting as the Joker.
Another issue with Joker is its attempt to position Arthur as a symbol for societal discontent. The film frames Arthur’s descent into violence as a response to a society that has failed him, and his actions spark a populist movement against Gotham’s wealthy elite. While this narrative may resonate with some audiences, it feels at odds with the essence of the Joker as a character.
The Joker doesn’t start revolutions or lead movements. He’s not a symbol or a martyr. He’s an agent of chaos, motivated by his own twisted desires. By turning Arthur into a leader of an anti-establishment uprising, the film places him into a context that feels too grounded, too deliberate, and too ordinary for the Joker. The character is at his best when he’s operating outside the bounds of logic and reason, defying our attempts to make sense of him. Arthur’s story, while compelling in its own right, is far too rooted in reality to embody the Joker’s larger-than-life persona.
To be fair, there’s an argument to be made that Joker is not meant to be a definitive origin story for the Joker we know. Perhaps Arthur Fleck is merely a precursor—a tragic figure whose story inspires the real Joker to emerge. This interpretation would preserve some of the character’s mystique while allowing Joker to stand on its own as a character study. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t commit to this idea, leaving audiences to assume that Arthur is, in fact, the Joker.
A better approach might have been to lean into the ambiguity. Imagine a film where Arthur’s descent into madness is left more open to interpretation, where we’re never quite sure how much of what we’re seeing is real and how much is his delusion. Imagine a story that hints at the Joker’s origin without ever fully committing to it—something that feels more in line with the character’s chaotic and enigmatic nature.
Todd Phillips’ Joker is a well-crafted film anchored by an incredible performance from Joaquin Phoenix. As a standalone character study, it’s powerful and thought-provoking. But as an origin story for the Joker, it falls flat. By giving the character a definitive backstory and tying his actions to mental illness and societal neglect, the film robs the Joker of his ambiguity, his unpredictability, and his mystique.
The Joker isn’t meant to be understood. He’s not meant to be explained. He exists as a force of chaos, a villain whose very nature defies comprehension. Joker may succeed as a portrait of Arthur Fleck, but it fails as a portrait of the Joker. And in doing so, it misses what makes the character one of the most fascinating villains in fiction.
