'Joker: Folie à Deux' review: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga hit all the wrong notes

In 2019, Todd Phillips’ “Joker” was the year’s most “dangerous” movie. A real-world treatment of a DC comics supervillain, it cast Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur Fleck, a sociopathic killer in clown makeup who, adopting the persona of Joker, sparks a nihilist revolution. As social commentary, it barely reached grade-school level, but by striking a chord of chaos during peak Trumpism and its backlash, it stirred up fears of cinema-driven civil unrest not seen since “A Clockwork Orange.”

That didn’t come to pass, but Phillips’ sequel, “Joker: Folie à Deux,” arrives with a shiver of anticipation. Imagine what the Joker could do if he were to find his soulmate, the equally psychotic Harley Quinn! Played by Lady Gaga, no less! And — get this — it’s a musical!

For all that, “Joker: Folie à Deux” is a listless, witless, pointless film in which very little happens. You’ll wait and wait for Phoenix’s Joker to do something besides smoke a cigarette with a menacing stare, but he turns out to be shockingly weak, passive and ineffectual. Phillips and co-screenwriter Scott Silver have taken a character who once embodied the soul of a sick society and turned him into a garden-variety wretch.

“Folie” opens with Arthur incarcerated at Arkham State Hospital, a grisly place filmed in the usual grays and blues by cinematographer Lawrence Sher. Here, he’s either being beaten by the guards (the great Brendan Gleeson plays their high-spirited leader J ackie Sullivan) or interviewed as a celebrity (Steve Coogan does a nice turn as needling journalist Paddy Meyers). A music class brightens Arthur’s spirits, partly because that’s where he meets Lee Quinzel, the future Harley. She’s a superfan. “We’re gonna build a mountain,” she tells him, citing a lyric from an Anthony Newley song. But that, alas, is one of the movie’s many unkept promises.

Instead, “Folie” turns into a courtroom drama — and a dull one. As prosecutor Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey) trucks out his witnesses, Arthur’s aloof demeanor turns to guilty panic. And we’re supposed to feel — what? Outrage, pity, sorrow? Instead, we start rooting against him, especially when he serves as his own attorney and begins blustering in a phony Southern accent like something out of, well, a courtroom drama. Meanwhile, Gaga sits around like a Manson groupie, making goo-goo eyes at her hero.

“Folie” was inspired by Phoenix’s idea for a Broadway musical, but it’s a strangely small-scale, low-energy production. Mostly, characters sing something from the American Songbook (“That’s Life,” “Bewitched”) while standing still. The real “numbers” — with costumes, a band, some choreography — are few and underwhelming, and often don’t make a clear point. In one, Joker and Lee sing “To Love Somebody” dressed like Sonny and Cher for a crowd that thirsts for blood. In a word: Huh?

Rare is the musical that can waste a pop megastar of Gaga’s caliber. Rarer still is the one that will send you away humming no tune, tapping no toes. If you bought a ticket to “Joker: Folie à Deux,” then the joke — yet again — is on you.

By Rafer Guzmán

rafer.guzman@newsday.com@raferguzman