During a Thursday editorial meeting, a Variety editor asked if anyone was willing to give up their Friday evening to write a piece covering an opening night screening of “Joker: Folie à Deux.” After an interminable silence with no takers, I reluctantly raised my hand. With Todd Phillips’ previous “Joker,” I watched Joaquin Phoenix transform into the titular Clown Prince of Darkness from a plum seat at the Toronto Film Festival during its North American premiere at a theater filled with journalists and VIPs. This would be a different experience, with me sandwiched in with the sweaty fanboy masses. It turns out I was wrong.
Figuring that a Friday night showing at the Grove would offer a good template for how the “Joker” sequel was playing across the country, I made my way to the ticket kiosk. Twenty minutes ahead of showtime, seating for a regular screening at this popular AMC Theater was wide open. Only a handful of “Joker” seats had been claimed. How could that be? It would be another 12 hours before the film’s dismal “D” CinemaScore became known.
I asked a helpful attendant who didn’t appear surprised. “The Prime and the Dolby tend to send sell out. The tickets are a bit more expensive if that’s OK,” the young woman suggested. As for whether she planned to see the film, she deadpanned: “I was until I saw the reviews.”
A Dolby screening was about to begin, with trailers still playing. Again, I was shocked that tickets were still available. So, I looked at options for an IMAX screening in 45 minutes. Finally, a screening in which the open seats were limited, but still abundant. I would have preferred a seat near the exit. (It is a Joker movie, after all, and the Aurora gunman dressed up as the deranged villain is still fresh in memory). Alas, a mid-aisle seat would have to do.
There was time to kill, so I approached patrons leaving earlier screenings, as they stopped to grab a complimentary poster that featured Phoenix and co-star Lady Gaga (as Harley Quinn) descending a steep flight of stairs in an image reminiscent of the 2019 version’s key art that featured Joker howling like a lunatic at the heavens at the top of a Gotham City staircase. Six USC students had just exited an IMAX version and seemed eager to share their impressions.
“I liked this better than ‘Megalopolis,’” said one young man named Matthew. (It was unclear if that was meant as a compliment or insult.)
Matthew’s friend Grace said she came for Gaga and wasn’t disappointed. “It was definitely funny. I’m not sure if it was intentional, but I had a laugh,” she added.
Another young man named Landon, wearing an apropos T-shirt that read, “Only anarchists are pretty,” noted the dearth of fanboys at the screening.
“I didn’t see like any comic book-seeming people — like Marvel or DC, right?” he said. “The first [‘Joker’] had a lot of like, wink, wink or like this, like, little Bruce Wayne. They don’t have that in this one, right? It’s like the demographic you’d expect to, like, show up,” Landon explained. “But it makes sense considering [this ‘Joker’] is just as much talking as ‘Lincoln.’ It’s basically the same movie as ‘Lincoln.’”
These reviews don’t bode well for a $200 million movie that needs to attract all four quadrants. Speaking of the budget, Matthew said he doesn’t see the massive capital outlay translating onscreen.
“They kind of gave [Phillips] a blank check,” he said of Warner Bros. “This cost $200 million and it takes place in like four locations. And I was like, where did the money go? Gaga and Phoenix probably. And, like, jail cells?”
As I made my way to seat F11, I surveyed the crowd and immediately questioned if I was in the right theater. The vast majority of patrons were couples — straight, gay, young, middle-aged — holding hands, cuddling for a film that would soon feature the eponymous psycho bashing a judge’s head with a gavel until his brain matter runneth over the stand. In fact, I haven’t seen this many couples in a theater since an opening night screening of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.” No one was dressed up as Joker. The only masks were the cloth Covid types.
The couple to my right — two men — moved to two empty seats to my right after the trailers ended. But a minute into the movie, another couple — male and female — arrived and wanted their rightful seats. They stood directly in front of me arguing, resulting in me missing most of the animated intro. Once the heterosexual couple nestled into their seats, they started to get busy. Really busy. Kissing, talking, ignoring the movie altogether. At one point, they were spooning, with their seats fully reclined — the woman (and man’s hand) stretching into my territory. My fears of catching a mass shooter stray were replaced by landing an STD by proximity.
Throughout the screening, the (still not full) theater was filled with constant movement. People coming, people going. To the bathroom, to the concession stand, just stretching their legs amid the 2:19 runtime. A couple of walkouts ensued. It felt busier than LAX, where I had just landed hours earlier. Despite all of the bustle, this was the lowest-energy crowd I have witnessed in some time. No cheers. No laughter at the few jokes. Definitely no singing along to the very recognizable tunes.
Ahead of the screening, the gay couple to my right agreed to give me their full take on the film after “Joker” ended. But the second the first end credit rolled, they made a beeline for the exit along with most of the theater. Only about five patrons watched to see the hundreds of names who toiled on this ambitious project shot here in their hometown.
I made my way to the only one person who looked like a potential fanboy, an empty bucket of popcorn in his hand, as the lights came up. Again, I misjudged. Tedashii was not a self-described fanboy by any stretch. He just liked the first film and showed up for another outing of unabashed nihilism. “Long but enjoyable” was his overall critique. But he, too, struggled with his fellow theatergoers and their lack of engagement.
“There were people next to me whispering and talking, hugged up, kissing. And I’m just like, ‘Why are you spending $50 plus concessions to come here to watch?’” Tedashii asked. “I mean, literally, the judge is hit in the back of the head. And then as soon as it’s done, they’re whispering. And then [Joker and Harley Quinn] tell a joke, and then [his seat neighbor] kisses her. And I was just like, ‘What is happening next to me?’”
