“Sometimes the loudest laughter is the quietest graves dug in the mind of man,” from the notebook of the unconscious.
While the wounded consciousness of the modern age, on a giant stage decorated with rotten urban rituals, wants to feel not only what is but also what is not; the cinematic elegy called “Joker: Folie a Deux” not only erases the ancient border between reason and madness, but also rewrites it with aesthetics. This film is not only a descent into the fragmented psyche of a character, but also into the bottomless screams of the collective soul, kneaded with repressed desire and violence – a kind of unconscious choreography. This work, which transforms love into an existential defeat, laughter into a psychotic symptom and dance into the most fragile thresholds of consciousness, is a tragic reminder that art is not only representation, but also exposure. This encounter, woven between Arthur Fleck’s muffled laughter and Harley Quinn’s melodic madness, is not only the mental meltdown of two individuals but also a cracked mirror held up to the internally decaying ethical fabric of civilization. When we look into this mirror, we see not only them but also our own repressed ones, our own disintegrations and most importantly, our collective madness that we hide under the guise of normality. Joker’s universe is no longer a fiction; it is a diagnosis, a prophecy, perhaps the most heartfelt cry of postmodern times: Because here, madness is not just a medical fact, but a philosophical rebellion.
“Joker: Folie a Deux” begins where art sculpts reality to make it more real. This film is neither just a sequel nor just a visual narrative; it is the musical curtain of a tragedy where the broken psychology of an era, the repressed anger of an art form, echoes and philosophy, love and the death drive are intertwined.
Essentially, this film is a collective projection of individual collapse, an ontological storm where reason and madness come together, the inner theater of the human soul that shatters itself in a mirror where love goes crazy. And in this theater, the rotten selves of a man and a woman share the leading roles: Arthur Fleck – aka Joker – and Harleen Quinzel, that is, Harley Quinn, who forgets her own name and becomes the inner voice of the Joker.
Arthur Fleck is the embodiment of the isolated individual of the modern age. It is a state. He is a soul that has been systematically humiliated, ignored, suppressed and most importantly misunderstood since the moment he was born. The cracking of this soul is not only a personal psychosis, but also a rotten mirror of the collective unconscious of the entire society. Arthur’s illness – a complex disorder that, if defined, would probably be located somewhere on the schizoaffective spectrum – transforms into a psychotic mythology in which Jungian archetypes are transformed. The traumatic bond he establishes with his mother erases the boundaries between reality and fantasy; and this erasure, together with Arthur’s effort to make himself “visible,” turns into the construction of a “persona”: Joker.
But Joker is not just Arthur’s mask. He is also the embodiment of the anger, violence, marginalization and everything that is outside the “norm” that society represses. Therefore, Joker’s madness is not individual, but the internalized endpoint of a collective destruction. And now, in the corridor where this madness echoes, another self appears: Harley.
Harleen Quinzel is initially a professional working in a mental hospital; she is introduced to us as a person equipped with academic knowledge and a mental health master's. However, just like in Lacan’s “mirror stage” theory, when she looks into the Joker’s eyes for the first time, she reflects her own self in his distorted reality. And at that moment, Harleen leaves; Harley comes. This transformation is not only love – it is also a dissolution of identity. Under the guise of love, Harley ceases to be a subject and becomes an object attached to the Joker’s subject. However, this transformation is not passive victimization; it is an active choice. Harley does not want to heal the Joker. She wants to burn with him.
From a Freudian perspective, Harley’s attraction to the Joker is an erotic projection of the repressed death drive (Thanatos). This love is the dance of eros and thanatos. When these two forces mix, not only tragedy emerges, but poetry also.
Gotham is not just a city; it is an internalized labyrinth of social decay. Justice, there is a theater stage. Mercy, there is only a story the weak make up to console themselves. And there, the individual is a ghost melting between the wheels of the system. Joker and Harley are not figures pushed out of this system; they are the echo of everything the system ignores, suppresses and excludes. While individuals whom society calls “smart” live in depression suppressed with psychiatric pills, Joker’s naked scream is an aesthetic rebellion against that suppression.
Here, Foucault’s line of thought on “the relationship between madness and power” comes into play: Madness is determined by the definition of power. Joker’s madness is actually an expression of the suppression reflex that society shows against its own collapse. Therefore, Joker is not a patient but the perverse hero of social morality.
Although the musical form of the film may seem like a strange choice at first glance, it is actually both a structural and symbolic necessity. Because the mind expresses the pain it cannot express in words, with the body and music. Joker’s dances are not only an aesthetic performance; they are the rhythmic reflection of an inner storm. Harley’s songs are the language of the unconscious. There are neither words nor logic there. There is only pure emotion – uncontrolled, raw and sharp.
Joker’s laugh is a note; Harley’s laughter is a scream. And when these screams become music, the madness that the audience suppresses inside them also begins to echo. Maybe that’s why the film is disturbing: Because the “chaos seeking meaning” that we all suppress inside us echoes in this film.
Jean-Paul Sartre’s proposition that “hell is other people” defines Joker’s life. For Arthur, others are not just threats; they are also enemies of his identity. Because an individual who is not valued in a society destroys their own value. The Joker is the embodiment of this destruction. However, at some point, this absence turns into absolute freedom. When nothing matters anymore, everything is possible.
Nietzsche's concept of the "superman" appears here in a grotesque form. The Joker rejects social morality. He creates his own values. He transforms madness into a "virtue." And Harley is the Joker's first disciple in this new world. Their love is not only a romantic obsession; it is also the first sin of an unethical universe.
"Joker: Folie a Deux" treats madness not only as a disease, but also as an aesthetic, a philosophy, a narrative form. The Joker's make-up does not hide his face – on the contrary, it bares his soul. Harley's love does not heal – it is the most romantic form of mutual annihilation. And Gotham isn’t just a dark city – it’s an invisible map shaped by the system that echoes inside all of us.
This film forces us to confront not just one character’s breakdown, but all the brokenness we’ve suppressed within ourselves. Because sometimes the strongest emotions are hidden in the quietest songs and the loudest screams are hidden in the deepest looks.
And maybe we’ll finally understand: “Sometimes madness is the most honest way to understand the world.”
