Let’s put on a happy face, at least to start, for If there’s one undeniably compelling thing about both and his new follow-up, it’s that these movies are best when they dance. The first movie might have been a muddled attempt to retrofit a “Taxi Driver”-styled ‘70s realism into a Joker origin story, but, man, when Joaquin Phoenix is on his toes, it’s hard to look away. Just the image of a gaunt Phoenix decked out in the red suit, with his green-streaked hair slicked back, was enough to give “Joker” a kick.
The role gave Phoenix, a full-bodied actor, a day-glo canvas on which to unleash torrents of movement, cycling between wounded restraint and flamboyant release, in a comic-book genre that usually leaves performers paralyzed by spandex. He’s nearly as captivating in “Joker: Folie à Deux,” a musical that closely follows the events of the first film as an imprisoned Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) goes on trial for the murders that occurred at the culmination of “Joker.” Even the way Phoenix theatrically smokes as Arthur — which he does quite a lot in “Folie à Deux” — shows you how much he’s luxuriating in the limber physicality of the character.
But any sense of forward momentum has gone out the window in “Joker: Folie à Deux,” which opens in theaters Thursday. Phillips has followed his very anti-hero take on the Joker with an a very anti-sequel. It combines prison drama, courthouse thriller and musical, and yet turns out remarkably iner.
