The Euphoria of The People's Joker

If the phrases “cracked egg,” “t4t,” or even “Joker-pilled” mean nothing to you, then I apologize—you've clearly gotten lost on your way to reviews of films which are far less interesting and cool than the one discussed within. If what I say resonates, however, please remember to do your injection and check the batteries in your carbon monoxide detector and run, don't walk, to the nearest possible screening of The People’s Joker, a crown (clown?) jewel of Fantastic Fest 2023 and one of the most essential queer films in years. My gut tells me to mention it's flat-out one of the best movies I've ever seen, but popping that declarative in the first paragraph doesn't leave much suspense for the review. Suffice to say, The People’s Joker is flat-out one of the best movies I've ever seen.

People’s Joker’s reputation precedes it: screened at Toronto International Film Festival 2022 and immediately pulled from subsequent circulation after legal posturing from Warner Bros., director/mad genius Vera Drew’s comic book coming-out narrative wound up the center of debates on parody, free use, and what qualifies as transformative (or trans-formative) work in the era of iron-clad pop-culture monopoly. A year later and the struggle to fully #FreeThePeoplesJoker continues, but the harlequin hotness is back on festival screens for us lucky few with the means and access to attend. And to be clear, I feel very, very lucky to have attended a sold-out totally-wired screening with a maybe 1-to-7 trans-to-cis audience ratio; just enough to feel comfortable and hope that everyone else felt weird about the jokes they didn't get.

Crucially, The People’s Joker isn't “just” a lampoon of Batman narratives or Todd Phillips’ Joker or whatever else orchestrated by queer and trans performers; nor is it a film which couches the experience of transness in subtext or metaphor. It’s a remarkably sincere, explicitly trans, and, in Drew’s words, “very autobiographical” story about coming into one’s own gender identity, lovingly mapped to and enhanced by parody of a property which has always had queer meaning bubbling beneath the surface. Believe me when I say the understanding and application of Batman mythos to this film is air-fucking-tight. The story follows—who else—Joker the Harlequin (played by Drew), and her journey from repressed small-town child to unfunny egg comedian to clown princess of comedy. She meets fellow villains, starts hormones, and faces down the same trials and tribulations as every trans woman: unsupportive parents, abusive partners, the Caped Crusader, Alex Jones, and uh, a CGI Lorne Michaels. Like Lorne Michaels “the SNL guy” Lorne Michaels.

There’s not much I need to say about the beat-by-beat plot or how threads resolve. It's a coming-out story… you can be pretty sure when you buy a ticket that someone is going to come out. There’s also not much to address about People’s Joker’s particular style of clownery. While there's plenty of hilarious jokes and bits, the whole thing zips along with a hyperactive, almost associative, and certainly absurd sense of humor; only enhanced by the cobbled-together mega-artificial visual style imbued by countless talented artists who worked to patch this labor of love together. If you've watched an Adult Swim production—particularly Tim & Eric, on which Drew was an editor—you'll have a pretty good idea of what to expect. If you're irreverent, terminally online, have unmedicated ADHD, or all three, you'll also know what to expect. Doesn't translate well to text, but absolutely kills in a theater.

The idea of comedy is important as Joker’s journey of self-discovery entwines with a narrative focused on comedy itself; namely what it means to be an independent voice in a field populated by manufactured, largely unfunny slop. Enter Lorne Michaels. For Drew, this search for authenticity as a comedian is impossible to extricate from the difficulties of coming to terms with oneself, particularly one’s gender identity. As several characters note, comedy comes from experience, and it's not easy to find those moments or perspective when you're stuck inside a shell. Speaking both of and from experience, I agree. When every waking moment is spent either suppressing or tearing yourself apart inside, there isn't much left to share with other people.

After all, you can't have comedy without tragedy, and who understands this principle better than the Joker? What vaults The People’s Joker above simple parody and into the realm of greatness is its vulnerability, its openness and honesty about the experience of not just living and existing as, but growing up as and navigating the process of accepting yourself as trans. Anyone who's transitioned knows: it's simultaneously one of the most freeing and validating but also most horrendous, confusing, and traumatizing processes a person can experience. Drew puts it all on display—admittedly through the lens of self-deprecating humor and Batman parodies—and the effect of sitting in a theater and watching it unfold as another trans woman was like being shot in the heart by a psychic cannon ad nauseum until I had to remember to breathe.

I don't need to bare my entire ass in this review; nor do I want to imply that every trans woman on earth has the same experience when coming into their own. However, some of the situations Drew explores in this film (which, by her own admission, she would duck out of thanks to the vulnerability of certain moments) are so intimate and so resonant I felt as though someone had scooped out chunks of my brain and slathered them across a cinema screen for three sold-out crowds. The confusion, the denial, the difficult childhood, and the moments of revelation were all there. The first time Joker is called a girl by another character, it’s while hooking up with her future partner. When she experiences her first dose of estrogen (courtesy jumping into a chemical vat, of course), she climbs out of the stew babbling about how the instant euphoria she feels must be a placebo effect; how she knows this was the missing piece in her life. At one point Joker is offered a wish, and both her refusal to wish herself cis and her eventual request hit so close to home. I spent such moments in stunned silence. How did these memories get here? How did my life wind up on the screen?

It turns out when a trans person carves the space to create candid art about their experiences, in their own uncompromised voice, the result is deeply affecting. Who would've thought? As Joker narrates in the film’s beginning, a life spent watching media where people like you wind up corpses or bad jokes doesn't teach you to expect the sort of representation you deserve. The People’s Joker is both the representation we deserve and need right now, particularly in our rapidly-escalating climate of hatred and attempted extermination. For my money, it's—and when I say this I am talking to you, yes you; the humble transsexual, and not the many cis people who I am sure will read this and who this review is honesty not really meant for—the most fulfilling and complete display of what’s it like to be transfemme I've ever seen in a movie, and specifically a nerdy neurodivergent kinda-very-online tgirl with a habit of trying to make people laugh. Throw a fursona in there and I would've had bingo.

The People’s Joker is a joyous, affirming film which is both very very funny and very affecting in a way which will make certain people feel like they've been hit by a truck or probably just make them cry in the theater (or while writing a review later, apparently). Everything from its patchwork visual style to its use of the Joker mythos as a springboard represents a seemingly endless fount of creativity; a heartfelt enthusiasm and labor of love with an energy so invigorating it's nearly impossible not to want to immediately watch it again. The things I loved about this film could fill four reviews over—I’ve been thinking about the concluding musical number for two days straight—but all I can say is that it's something which must be seen; must be experienced and felt to be believed.

I hope in my heart that you’ll get to see People’s Joker someday; I hope that every sad and confused nerd girl out there sees this goofy-ass nutty fucking truly hilarious punk-rock film made and released and defended by a very brave woman and I hope it helps those girls feel less alone in the world. I left the theater feeling more ecstatic, more seen than I've maybe ever been from a movie; happier than I've ever been and probably ever will be to hear a cover of The Beach Boys’ “Heroes and Villians” playing over some credits. I can't wait to watch the People’s Joker again, and I can't wait for you to watch it too.

By the way, my favorite joke was when “t4t” is likened to the ESRB “RATED T FOR TEEN” sound clip. So true bestie.