Rating: NR | Runtime: 92 minutes
Release Date: April 5th, 2024 (USA)
Studio: Altered Innocence
Director(s): Vera Drew
Writer(s): Bri LeRose and Vera Drew
It also comes in rainbow for Pride.
It’s the autofiction, coming out transition tale told through the filter of DC Comics IP that took the festival scene by storm for not being shown to the public. Because even though Vera Drew’s The People’s Joker was accepted into TIFF and included on its 2022 schedule to earn a world premiere—ready to go to the point where I had a screener in my inbox to review it once I got back from Toronto—Warner Bros. put the fear of God into everyone, forcing the festival to pull it. Not even that screener survived the rumored cease and desist (apparently it was a strongly worded, threatening letter to scare potential distributors). So, only those lucky few able to catch it before all that red tape were able to describe the experience. Until now.
With a lengthy disclaimer (so long I needed to pause the film to read it all) distancing itself from DC and Warner Bros. Discovery (before also thanking them in the end credits for the free publicity) and explaining the notion of fair use and the appropriation of existing characters to tell a personal, original story, The People’s Joker delivers on its promise to both reinvent the mythology of these superheroes and inspire trans youth and non-conformists to take control of their identity and rise above the constraints of a close-minded society quick to blame one of its most marginalized communities for ills that they’ve conversely created themselves via their own insecurities.
Written by Drew and Bri LeRose, the film follows Joker the Harlequin (Drew) as she narrates the tale of her rebirth as a comedian, woman, and DC villain. You have the usual drama that comes from being closeted in a conservative midwest town like Smallville (where Mom, played by Lynn Downey, puts Joker on drugs to keep her “happy” and “normal” as Dad avoids ever being seen and thus risk being associated with homosexuality). Then there’s the gender dysphoria that gets exacerbated by a patriarchal society hellbent on archaic rules rendering the binary even more rigid than its existence alone (only men can be comedians while women simply dance in the background). And, most memorably, an authentic depiction of love wherein romance and abuse are allowed to coexist without negating the reality of one for the other.
That’s the real draw here. Yes, it’s a lot of fun to see what Drew and company (a mix of creatives lending animation and visual effects to turn her autobiography into an artistic smorgasbord of painted backgrounds, computer-rendered models, and great indie costuming and make-up) do to bring Gotham City to life with its mustachioed Batman, multiple Jokers (Kane Distler plays Joker the Harlequin’s toxic boyfriend Mr. J with obvious cribbing from Jared Leto’s rendition), and rogue’s gallery of comedy friends (Nathan Faustyn’s Penguin), rivals (Trevor Drinkwater’s Riddler), and heroes (David Liebe Hart’s Ra’s al Ghul). But the film packs its punch via the unfiltered emotion of finding oneself through and despite the mirrors that are constantly blocking the path towards our individual truths.
Drew and LeRose skewer everything along the way from Alex Jones (Tim Heidecker’s animated Perry White), reality television, celebrity-focused politics, and the irony that the real problematic people in the comedy sphere are cishet men (it should be no surprise that every mention of someone like Louis CK, Woody Allen, or Bill Cosby is followed by a “before ‘x’ was revealed” since this whole project was largely inspired by the filmmakers reacting to Todd Phillips saying “comedy was dead” in our current “pc-culture”). Add a hilarious and inspiring Cameo from Robert Wuhl and it’s impossible not to get swept up in the creativity and sheer chutzpah necessary to get a film like this off the ground, let alone in theaters. No matter your opinion on the final result, it’s undeniably impressive.
I would argue that it works very well on a narrative level beyond that production insanity too, though. We get drawn into Joker the Harlequin’s story in much the same way we usually get drawn into that of a hero like Batman. We rejoice in her ability to reinvent herself. To stand-up to corruption and hypocrisy. To find herself cleared-eyed and intent to acknowledge her flaws provide a means to grow and evolve. Whether she really is the “chosen one” in this story’s prophecy or not shouldn’t have any bearing on the fact that she deserves to be the “chosen one” in her own life. It might not be an easy road to get there, but the destination is well worth the trouble.
Vera Drew in THE PEOPLE’S JOKER; courtesy of Altered Innocence.






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