I will give everybody one “love letter to cinema” pass this year, but only if it’s used to describe Vera Drew’s The People’s Joker.
This superhero parody reminded me of what makes cinema great. It reminded me of studying film at Pratt Institute and being ashamed of liking mainstream movies. It reminded me of the first time I watched a Marvel movie in 2018 and instantly immersed myself in the fictional universe. It reminded me of the first time I watched Batman and was left disappointed (I always thought Batman’s superpower was turning into bats, turns out he’s just a sad, rich guy with dead parents, and he’s also a cop.)
Lastly, it reminded me of how special the theatrical experience can be when we screen movies in an unpretentious environment, one that encourages its viewers to appreciate the work, rather than critique it.
Viewing My People’s Joker in a 35-seat microcinema in Brooklyn (Spectacle Theater, check them out) at a totally-legal, invite-only screening was an experience unlike any other. From the moment I walked through the door, the room was abuzz with anticipation – some of us were people who wanted to catch the movie during its run at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival before the drama happened, others were Drew’s friends and various cinephiles who have been following the movie since its creation. There were a few special guests in the audience, including an animator who worked on the final fight scene and Drew’s longtime collaborator-slash-the actor who voiced Penguin in the movie.
In all, it was a special space for a special occasion that screamed, “The People’s Joker is back, baby, and there’s nothing Warner Bros. can do about it.”
At the top of the screening, Drew did a brief introduction, stating, “This film is protected by US copyright law, it’s fair use,” a sentiment which she repeated throughout the evening. “I hope you all enjoy it, I love watching this with people. I’m so excited to watch this with all of you,” she added.
And then the movie played.
The People’s Joker is a mixed-media alien egg that utilizes live-action film, 2-D animation, Robot Chicken-esque stop motion, and hand-drawn backdrops. At its surface, the movie is an unauthorized re-telling of Joker’s origin story with the eponymous character portrayed by Drew. But beyond that, it is a coming-of-age exploration of Drew’s experience with her own sexuality and gender identity.
When fictional Vera first expresses to her mother (portrayed by Lynne Downey), as a child, that she feels “trapped in the wrong body,” the parent reacts in fear. The child is taken to a conversion therapy-esque institution where she is prescribed Smylex – a drug that forces you to smile. Later in the film, an adult version of Vera expresses that hard things are easier to handle when you’re smiling and pretending to be happy.
For obvious reasons, this mentality leaves her fairly fucked up. She decides to travel from her hometown of Smallville to Gotham City to disrupt the status quo – a.k.a, form an illegal underground clown posses in protest of Lorne Michaels and his comedy troupe’s reign on the clowning industry which resulted in a Footloose-like ban on outside comedians – this storyline gives way to introducing various iconic DC characters and witty commentary directed towards what Drew knows best: comedy.
As this plays along, she begins to fall in love with a less-successful member of her club, Mr. J (Kane Distler), who turns out to be an abusive buttwipe (surprise, surprise).
In retrospect, describing The People’s Joker feels like a fever dream, but I hope it further translates into just how special this movie is. With its psychedelic visuals, rock tunes, and sentimental value, this movie left me thinking about John Mitchell Cameron and Stephen Trasks’ Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Along with being an exploration of queerness, the comedy is a story about love and finding yourself, and it even includes an epic musical sequence that puts whatever Lady Gaga and Joaquin Phoenix are working on to shame.
Unfortunately, the movie hasn’t had a traditional distribution process. After the movie’s premiere screening at TIFF, Drew found herself facing threats from Warner Bros., which led her to cancel its subsequent screenings and film festival appearances. At the time, Drew referred to the conglomerate’s behavior as “bullying” and later, it was revealed to the Los Angeles Times that Warner Bros. letter contained a veil threat. It read, “While Ms. Drew’s personal experience is moving and compelling, copyright law prohibits appropriating the Batman character and universe as the vehicle for telling that story.”
However, last night wasn’t about that. The screening gave Drew and her supporters an opportunity to celebrate what Drew had accomplished and the post-screening Q&A kicked off without a single question about the Warner Bros. legal interference.
Drew recalled her initial inspiration behind the movie and how it started as her first “real film commission” from a friend who had Venmo’d her $12 to re-edit 2019’s Joker. “She said she would only watch Joker if I did, like, an Abso Lutely Productions, like fart-edit, of it, basically.” From there, it blossomed into a COVID project that made Drew “fall back in love with Batman.” Her colleagues in the audience vouched for her with Penguin actor Nathan Faustyn recalling that he came on board when the script was unfinished, but nonetheless, “fantastical.”
Drew, who co-wrote (with Bri LeRose), directed, and edited the film, went on to share her experience revisiting the iconic DC movies. “I mean, to me these characters are queer. It was honestly really fun going back and examining like [Christoper] Nolan’s Batmans [The Dark Knight trilogy] and seeing the themes of identity perpetuation of trauma and what we’re expected to do as men and women inside of a fucking failing state,” she said.
“But yeah, I really was ready to see a colorful gay version of it, because it was long overdue, and I miss Joel Schumacher,” Drew added, and it would be remiss to not add that the entire movie is dedicated to the late filmmaker, along with Drew’s mom. “I wanted to lead the charge of reminding everybody that he was one of the best we ever had. Just one of the best mainstream filmmakers,” she said.
When a question was posed about the future of the film, the comfortable, safe space illusion was shattered, and the audience was reminded, once again, of the legal wet blanket that greed has imposed on Drew’s film and the future of cinema, as a whole – the very reason why we were all sweating our asses off in a small, packed theater after trekking through the rain on a Thursday night to catch a top-secret, totally-legal screening of a movie that has no concrete plans to be made public. “We’re figuring that out,” Drew answered.
“The movie is a parody. It’s protected by Fair Use,” the filmmaker explained, comparing her work to a documentary film and highlighting its personal spin. “The only reason it ruffled any feathers was because nobody’s ever done anything on this level. Nobody has ever been as sick as me. I really do think that’s it.”
But all hope hasn’t been squashed. “I really do see a world where this could get some sort of traditional limited release, and we’ll see what happens. Every time I screen this, it’s like punching a hole into the universe and I am completely out of control. So who knows where we’ll be next week with our legal status,” Drew continued.
She said, “I’m really hopeful for the future. I think at some point or another, everybody’s gonna be able to see it. And that’s all that is important to me.”
