If you haven’t heard, The People’s Joker is an independent film made with absolutely no rights to any of the DC (or other) characters used, made by and starring Vera Drew– a comedian and editor who’s worked on projects such as Who Is America?, I Think You Should Leave, and a number of Tim and Eric shows, and is a trans woman — that uses both the language of superhero comics and the comedy world to tell her coming-out story.

Drew’s original concept started when a friend suggested she recut Joker; the project then evolved as Drew saw the characters as an opportunity to tell her own life story and journey of coming out; an initial idea to re-edit together all of the Batman films to this end was ultimately scrapped in favor of what we did get. The film was originally screened at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2022, after which subsequent screenings were quickly canceled due to “rights issues.” Drew lawyered up and is confident enough that the film falls under fair use, such that a theatrical release tour was planned again this year. (Find your local screenings here!)

I feel a little odd writing about a film that’s such a blatant allegory for coming out as a trans woman for its creator, as a cishet white man who, for however trans people might consider me an ally and for whatever struggles I’ve dealt with in trying to find a place in the world, have never experienced that particular one. But, on the other hand, I recognize that kind of struggle in anyone, and I am human, and so is this film: For all that the characters and setting, plus the Tim and Eric-inspired aesthetics, might suggest an ironic distance from the subject matter, The People’s Joker is achingly personal and sincere through it all, while also being howlingly funny at points, and the one never undercuts the other. That’s going to be the thrust of this review, so if you want to go see it while knowing as little as possible, you should stop here.

No, wait, one more recommendation: Show up early. At our screening, there was about a half-hour of bonus material before the film’s start time, including some trailers for classic films that had been recut, lo-fi-ed, or as we might say in Houston, chopped and screwed. (Sure, we’ve heard jokes about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off really being the story of a manipulative teenage sociopath, but have you wanted to see a trailer that re-cuts it into a horror film? Now you can!) There’s also a short interview with Vera Drew.

Okay, now stop.

Beyond here be SPOILERS.

The story is technically set in the DC universe, with the two named cities being Gotham City and Smallville, although it’s not any version of the DC universe you may recognize. An older, washed-up Batman has retired from the day-to-day crimefighting, but Wayne Enterprises has sold Gotham on a series of drones and other security measures to enforce– often lethally, if the stated punishments are to be believed– the draconian and fascist laws. Lex Luthor is president, all media has been outlawed except for a single content company, and all comedy is illegal unless it’s run through and approved by the UCB (“United Clown Bureau”), who, naturally, have ludicrously expensive improv classes for you to take if you are admitted to their ranks– and a weekly comedy show, the biggest in America, produced by Lorne Michaels.

The story starts with a young, disaffected child growing up in the small town of Smallville, and we immediately get the sense not only that this child feels like a misfit, but is being raised by a narcissistic mother and technically-present but always-absent father. (At least for me, the former becomes immediately apparent as soon as ____¹‘s mom makes clear that she only cares about her child’s sadness and discomfort insofar as it affects her and makes her feel inadequate as a mother.) And one day, child _____ asks mom if it’s possible _____ was born in the wrong body, and ____’s mother takes her insistences she is raising a happy boy to a new level– taking her child to Arkham Asylum where a creepy doctor prescribes his new experimental treatment for even the whiff of gender dysphoria: an inhaler of Smilex, which keeps on a happy face! (May cause Jokerification in most people.)

(1 – The main character’s deadname is bleeped out when it’s used in the film. I’ll revisit this later.)

Ultimately, as a young adult, ____ announces a move to Gotham (and ____’s mother protests vociferously) to pursue comedy. After trying out for UCB– the tryout, hilariously, mostly involves a scan to determine the applicant’s gender (males can be “jokermen”; females are consigned to be anonymous dancing “harlequins”) and whether their penis size is small enough to be concerned with outside approval– ____ is accepted. But upon discovering the $15,000 course fees and required improv classes from comedy legend Ra’s al Ghul (always pronounced “racial ghoul” for some reason), ____ strikes up a friendship with Oswald Cobblepot, your future Penguin, and they decide to start their own comedy troupe (if Oswald’s parents will loan them the money for warehouse space). And they decide to get around the laws against comedy from other sources by labeling their project “anti-comedy.”

Their own creative space begins to attract other misfits who don’t conform to the UCB model, including a Riddler and a non-binary Poison Ivy. One of these is Jason “Mr. J” Todd, who’s taken on a look and persona roughly based on Jared Leto’s Suicide Squad Joker, and whom ____ immediately finds themselves smitten with. The feeling is mutual, and after their first date, Mr. J discloses he’s a trans man, which helps ____ discover her own identity and work it into her act.  Ultimately, ____ starts openly identifying as a trans woman and going by the name Joker the Harlequin. (Her showcase bit involves getting an audience member on stage to tell the story of the saddest thing that’s happened to them, while all the while JTH huffs Smilex and laughs uncontrollably at inappropriate moments throughout it.)

Mr. J also tells JTH about his own background with Bruce Wayne² and some unsettling details about him.  But as their relationship progresses, we see the heartbreak of patterns repeating themselves, as Mr. J turns out to be as much of an emotionally and psychologically abusive narcissist as JTH’s mother. (Remember how I mentioned Joker the Harlequin’s deadname is bleeped out for the entire film? That’s true… except in one instance, and that choice maximizes the devastating impact that instance has in its context.)

(2 – Of course, right? Even I know the name “Jason Todd.” I’ll leave the unsettling details to you, but you can probably guess at the broad strokes. No pun intended.)

Eventually, JTH finds the strength to break away and be her own person, and then decides on a grand gesture to hack the UCB network. (Another funny line, albeit one that had to be a little rushed in delivery to fit the tight pacing of the film: “You don’t know how to hack.” “Everyone here is an incel or a trans woman; I’m willing to bet someone at least took coding in high school.”) And from there… well, that’s enough plot detail, because I still want you to see the movie, right?

I didn’t mean to make this so much of a plot summary, but it helps in part to highlight some of the really funny lines and segments here. I didn’t get to everything funny, so here’s a few more in a film packed with one-liners and visual gags atop everything else:  The not-Saturday Night Live credits sequence had me screaming; the inexplicable use of Robert Wuhl was very funny; the brief moment of Kamala Harris as Two-Face cracked me up. All in all, this should give you a good idea of if you’ll at least find the film funny.

Having done enough comedy in my life, I really enjoyed the skewering of the comedy world: In particular, making the baked-in sexist subtext of the comedy world text; calling out UCB’s ridiculous racket; the absurdity that a nearly 80-year-old man is the sole gatekeeper for the surest path to a guaranteed career in comedy. There’s also, I suppose, truth in the fact that every once in a while at an open mic you’ll see a brilliant bit of anti-comedy, but you’ll see a whole lot more stuff that’s not funny just because it’s bad. Plus, one of JTH’s dating red flags she narrates over her relationship with Mr. J is a timeless piece of advice: Don’t date comedians. Just don’t. Nobody gets into comedy because they’re stable and well-adjusted.

Drew’s experience in the Tim and Eric world shows with the aesthetic of the film; the mix of visual styles (live-action with some very cheap green screen effects; animation in several different styles, including some collage) and medium decay strongly harkens to their work. And of course someone with experience not only on those shows but also as an editor for Who Is America? and I Think You Should Leave has excellent comic timing and a sense of where to cut for maximum effect; the movie runs 92 minutes and there isn’t a wasted moment or ounce of fat in it. The People’s Joker is, unsurprisingly given both the comic-book-world setting and story of a trans woman, very colorful. And as much as this is a pastiche of elements from the Batman world and films, other influences present themselves in sometimes unexpected ways (a couple of GoodFellas riffs are quite funny).

You’ll notice some big names in the credits, even if you don’t initially recognize their voices. Tim Heidecker voices Perry White, playing him as an Alex Jones-style conspiracy crank on TV ranting about the “transgendered lizard people agenda.” Maria Bamford plays Lorne Michaels, in a performance that I did not recognize and that doesn’t really sound much like Lorne but is still very funny. (Apparently Sarah Sherman originally voiced the role but asked to be recast after the TIFF premiere. Given what she’s doing now, probably a good career move.) Bob Odenkirk and Scott Aukerman, among others, also show up in small parts.

And for all that this is gaudy and funny and over-the-top and based in existing comic-book characters, it’s remarkably personal. We really do feel JTH’s journey through the film, from the discomfort she feels as a child raised as a boy, to her tentative attempts to make friends and find herself in the big city, to finding the love that helps her to live as herself, to finding the strength to walk away when that becomes toxic, and finally to her full self-actualization. And it makes the ending all the more remarkable and lovely, as JTH helps set her world right, finds the confidence to live as herself, while still being able to reconcile her past and be at peace with her mother and her upbringing. (With a little help from “Mx. Mxyzptlk.”)

The People’s Joker is a funny, strange, remarkably moving film. Somehow, Vera Drew has taken existing characters and settings and used them to tell a deeply personal story in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. Indeed, thinking about it now, I realize that may even magnify the film’s effect: After years and years of the MCU formula and DCEU’s attempts to replicate it feeling so, well, formulaic and factory-assembled as to be antiseptic, here is a movie that plays with the same characters in the same worlds and is the most personal work of art I’ve seen in a long time. I promise you won’t see another movie like this this year.

As far as the copyright questions go, that last sentence is what I keep thinking about. If this film doesn’t qualify as original, then I don’t know what does.