Joker: Folie a Deux, The Odyssey, the Brave Little Toaster, and Drag

Sit down for some shocking news you may not be ready to handle:

The sequel to Todd Phillip's Joker film, Joker: Folie a Deux, is not doing well at the box office.

Sorry if I was the one to break it to you.  But, if THAT bit of news actually did shock you, then there's certainly nothing I could have done to prepare you for it mentally. It's not just "not doing well", it's doing worse than Sony's Morbius did.

So perhaps Jared Leto isn't the problem, after all.
Merely "a" problem.

Many have identified the fact that the "Arthur Fleck" character of the original movie is in the sequel revealed to be obviously a shell, just an empty figurehead for a bunch of gratuitously aggrieved numbskulls. You know, just like in real life.

To me, the problem with JFAD isn't that it's a semi-musical or that it seeks to undo the misinterpretation of its predecessor.

Because you know what else was a semi-musical sequel that sought to undo the misinterpretation of its predecessor?  Homer's Odyssey.  But audiences ate that **** up.

Homer, it is deduced, was displeased that dullards in his audience took The Iliad as praise of the Greek Heroic Ideal, rather than as the condemnation it was intended to be.  Thus, its "sequel", the Odyssey, took to deconstructing that "ideal" more explicitly and aggressively.

And it takes some effort to do anything more aggressively than The Iliad.

It's clear that the creators of JFAD were making a Homerically heroic attempt to undo the misinterpretation of the first film as an endorsement of destructive nihilism by an aggrieved audience of dullards.  It's only natural that it would thus alienate fans of the first film and attract exactly no one else, since sensible folk don't really need to hear that message.

Similarly, The Brave Little Toaster would not be a beloved classic if its message had simply been "don't stick your finger in a toaster", because that's not a message sufficient to sustain a feature-length film.

But as a comics fan, I see the real problem of Joker and JFAD much more broadly. To me the problem is "Villain Drag".

No offense intended, guys.

The problem, in short, is when DC (or any IP-owner), allows an independent creative entity (a person or another company) to a tell story about a character that wouldn't otherwise get funding by draping it in the disguise of a well-known character they own.  This character is often a villain, because the company is less invested in the "purity" of the portrayal of such characters.

There's three easy examples right there of characters who have been put in villain drag to capitalize on the Q rating those villains have built up over 80 years.  It's not a sure-fire formula for failure; "The Penguin" seems well received so far. But nothing could symbolize the fact that it's just Villain Drag better than the show runners changing the character's name to "Oz Cobb", rather than Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.

The Penguin's name is SUPPOSED to be stupid. That's part of the point of his effete but fatal "gentlemen burglar" routine.

Adaptation is one thing, and variants are necessary and helpful mechanism for building a truly mythical character long-term. That's just how ancient myths were developed, too.  

I mean, this guy killed a hobo for a sandwich, fell in love with the Riddler, and was nearly emaciated. But he was still definitely The Penguin.

But there is a palpable difference between wanting to do a new take on a well-known comic book-based character and simply creating a character you want to tell stories about and then covering them with a coat of paint to make them LOOK like the comic book character.

As I mentioned, this phenomenon is not confined to villains, but the less the company has invested in the purity of the character's portrayal, the more likely a target the character becomes.

Sometimes this can be happening without anyone really noticing it.

"Batman versus Superman" is a good example of Anti-Hero Drag.  The essential thing wrong with that movie is that well-known characters chosen specifically because they are well-known characters are acting completely out of character.

You really can't have your cake and eat it, too. If you want to tell a story about BananaMan, then, damn it, you have to be prepared to tell a story about a man who throws Bananarangs, has a pet monkey, and adopted a kid sidekick named Second Banana. These characters aren't just COSTUMES; they come with stories and personalities BUILT INTO THEM; it's why everyone knows who they are already. It's the source of the popularity that opportunistically parasitic outside creators are hoping to leach.

Putting on a little grease-paint and faking a smile doesn't make someone the Joker.

So don't be surprised when "comic book adaptations" that think it does wind up failing hard.

This will hurt me more than it'll hurt you!

Do me a favor: bookmark this page.

Now.

Next time you read someone online asking,

"Why don't they just execute the Joker?"

Give them the link.

And remind them that.

"The Joker Walks The Last Mile", Batman #64, 1942

They already did. 81 years ago.

He got better.

Bachmotifs for Batvillains

 

Shirley Walker, the composer who did the music for Batman: The Animated Series, was a skilled crafter of leitmotifs (musical themes to used as the signature music for particular characters).  Sometimes she missed the mark a bit (what possessed her to give Two-Face a theme that's in THREE, I cannot imagine).  But the fact that themes for the Penguin, Two-Face, and (especially) the Joker are all based on Elfman's Batman theme is simply genius.  

In this episode ("The Strange Secret of Bruce Wayne", Oct. 29, 1992), the three themes are all played in immediate succession as they get off the plane to visit Hugo Strange.

But what if Walker had not been available and we had to rely on an earlier musical talent? Say...

J.S. Bach.

Batman may merit a more serious composer.
But I have still chosen Bach.

That is to say, what pieces of J.S. Bach would one use as leitmotifs for Batman's most iconic villains? Here are my choices.

The Joker 

Die Kunst der Fuge, Contrapunctus IX, BWV1080

Bach wasn't exactly a free spirit.  A obsessively hard working perfectionist with anger issues, who still had a tender side.

Reminds me of someone else, seen here firing Alfred's predecessor. 

Bach was pretty strait-laced. But if there is any Bach piece that can be said to sound unhinged, it is Contrapunctus IX.  Boldly themed, it leaps out of the gate with an octave jump and pell-mell scalar run that always remind me of a madman's laugh, its theme punching through frequently, almost mockingly, above the melee of the voices. 

The exemplifying performance I offer you is by the modern madman of the keyboard, Glenn Gould.  I find it easy to imagine this version playing as the accompaniment to scenes of chaos perpetrated by the Joker as he is chased by Batman.  In fact, when I listen to it, I find it hard to picture anything else.

The Penguin

English Suite #5, Prelude (BWV 810: I)

This piece, like the Penguin, has a peculiar rolling gait. Bach's having a bit of fun with the "English" style; it's a bit precious and seems almost to take itself too seriously. It's trying to be dignified with its pompous theme, but can't help coming across as risible.  

However, the repeated reassertions of the theme give it a diehard dignity with a dark undercurrent. This is still Bach, after all, and despite his rolly-polly appearance, his ability is not to be underestimated. And genius disguised as gentility is the hallmark of the Penguin.

This harpsichord version by the impish Chiara Massini captures this feel.  The Prelude is the opening part, but you might enjoy the rest of the suite as well.

Two-Face  

Now, some people would have gone right to Bach's Two-Part Inventions, which are all about the interplay between two voices with related themes.  But I am not among those people, because I think Two-Face is a much more complex character than that.

I mean, c'mon; it's music for KIDS.

Instead, I have thematically chosen not one, but TWO pieces that could serve as leitmotifs for Two-Face.; one is for keyboard, the other is choral.

Canon 1 à 2 from J. S. Bach's Musical Offering (BWV 1079).

You don't see the Soprano Clef often.
Let alone a REVERSE Soprano Clef.

This deceptively simple-looking piece is more commonly known as Bach's Crab Canon.  A crab canon is a piece that can be played forwards or backwards, and --

here's the tricky part--

forwards and backwards SIMULTANEOUSLY.  Let that sink in a bit.

If you are old enough to, like me,  have suffered through the painfully baroque Goedel, Escher, Bach, you will already be familiar with this piece, or at least its structure.

The forward and backwards versions of the canon are like the obverse and reverse of a continually flipping coin. They are two opposite melodies that nevertheless fit perfectly together, both balanced and inextricably intertwined. Neither can "triumph" over the other, since they are the same thing. As such I think they well represent the "good" and "evil" sides of Two-Face and how he views those as merely two sides of the same coin, each implying the other.

It also sounds pretty creepy, and I have chosen Jos Leys' version for your listening AND watching enjoyment because it illustrates its unique nature well.

That is my cerebral, "amoral" choice of theme. My other (also creepy) choice is a more emotional and morally charged choral piece: the opening motet-style chorus from the cantata Siehe zu, daß deine Gottesfurcht nicht Heuchelei sei (BWV 179).

Mein Gott, what a terrible translation.

Boy, this baby had them squirming in their pews in Leipzig on August 8, 1723! "Mind that your fear of God isn't hypocrisy" is a rather scoldy title, even for a hard-ass JSB church cantata.  But he wasn't kidding around here; the work is considered his musical condemnation of, well, people who were two-faced.  Being Bach, he built that into the musical structure. Each time the theme enters, it is answered (in stretto!) by an inversion of the theme as a counter-subject, with some chromatic spin, which is Bach's nifty (and salty) way of demonstrating (and condemning) two-facedness.  

It can be hard to pick out by ear if you aren't looking at the score and lyrics can be distracting, so I offer you a malinowskigram of the piece that may make it easier to perceive and, if you really want to get into it, here's a detailed analysis of the chorus.

The Riddler 

The Fugue in A minor (BWV543, No. 2)

What were you expecting: Schubert's Ave Maria?

This one was easy.

It's a fugue, because only a fugue could convey the complexity of the Riddler's schemes. It's in A minor, because the Riddler is weird and creepy.  It's relentlessly driven yet still capering, like the Riddler; its hiccuppy melody evokes Frank Gorshin's manic giggle; its frequent suspensions mimic the tension of confusion that the Riddler causes in those he challenges.

For decency, I must present you with music-stud Matthias Havinga's definitive organ interp, for atmosphere, I offer you Michele Bianco's plangent accordion version; and for clarity, a version that follows the score AND an especially helpful malinowskigram.

And, no, don't be silly: I didn't consider any of his "riddle" canons. Those are "riddles" only in historical context and nothing in their musical nature is appropriate to the Riddler.

The Catwoman

Ricercar à 6 from Musical Offering

Like the Crab Canon, this six-voice fugue is from Bach's Musical Offering (BWV 1079), which has a bunch of separate but related pieces.  It's a little sad, a little slinky, with an oddly jumpy melody that's a bit like a cat walking on a keyboard.   Being a ricercar, it's not strict and formal like Baroque fugue, so it's got a meandering quality, as if it simply can't be bothered to follow the rules.  And that reminds me of Catwoman.  Like Catwoman, the piece is actually more complicated than it might seem. 

Ordinarily, I don't approve of Bach played on a piano, but this version captures the Catwoman feel I get from the piece. Stretch out and relax to listen; it takes its time.

What is: The Joker? A Beautiful Butterfly

This week I'm going to lay down the law on what Batman's five most iconic foes are and are not, starting at the top: the Joker. 

The Joker is highly intelligent and methodical.

The invention of Joker venom (below). His "cure" of the Weeper.  His undoing of the Silver Age Justice League.  The 48 Jokers (WAY better than just three).  Crime in Reverse.  The list of evidential stories and schemes is long.

Pictured: Evil. Not crazy. Evil.

And it doesn't stop at comics.  His bank heist planning (and about 9 other incredibly complex schemes) in Dark Knight Returns. The binarization and distribution methods for Smilex (Batman 1989). I mean: the work that must have gone into BTAS "Christmas with the Joker" ALONE, people.  

This isn't really a point for much debate but it's an essential underpinning for several of my subsequent points.

The Joker is not an "agent of chaos."

The Joker doesn’t stand for chaos. The Joker doesn’t stand for anything. If you think otherwise, then you've fallen for one of the Joker's tricks, or you have been indoctrinated by a writer who has.  

The Joker isn’t trying to make a point to Batman or to anyone else, because he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.  This is one of the principal reasons I hate Heath Ledger's Joker: he's an insecure ideologue desperate for attention, trying to prove the validity of his worldview.  That's a very weak figure, no matter how much dust he throws in your eyes or how impressive his schemes, because his motivations are based on caring about something rather than not caring about anything.

Writers are always desperate to make the Joker MEAN something. 

The real Joker told us exactly what he stood for when he painted
"Death of a Mauve Bat".  And we loved him for it.

They are missing the point and defanging the Joker in the process. What makes the Joker scary is precisely that he stands for nothing.  His only motivation is to have fun, which just might mean killing you; it's nothing personal and he doesn't care what you think about it.

Now, it's easy to make the case that the Joker, therefore, symbolizes the impersonal chaos that can ruin our lives in a second at any point; he's a bogeyman. But that's a far cry from chaos having anything to do with the character qua character and having chaos being HIS rallying cry.  

The Joker is not obsessed with Batman.

The Joker is already obsessed with someone: himself.  There's zero room for anything else. If you read Joker stories from the Golden Age and Silver Age, you understand that the Joker has only one true enemy and it's not Batman.

It's boredom.

The Joker's not crazy.

The idea that the Joker is insane -- now considered by most to be most essential characteristic -- is an invention of the Bronze Age, specifically of one of DC's least subtle writers, Denny O'Neil, in 1973 (Batman #251, "The Joker's Five-Way Revenge"). 

And, no, Batman #74 doesn't count.

Certainly, the Joker has always been... non-normal.  His sense of humor is especially so.  But, no matter how many times a writer tells you the Joker is" crazy", the evidence is strongly against it.  The Joker could not function at the incredibly high level he does and meet any traditional real-world definitions of insanity (a severely disordered state of the mind usually occurring as a specific disorder). 

I'll admit his repertoire of reactions has always been ... non-standard.  Most people do not laugh when they realize they are dying. But having an unusual worldview doesn't mean you're insane.
 

The Joker doesn't have a severely disordered state of mind and good luck trying to figure out which specific disorder(s) he has.  Some mental pathology? Sure. Questionable taste in clothes and decor? Yup. Anti-social morals and a lack of empathy? No doubt.  But if those were qualifiers, half of all celebrities would be eligible for Arkham.

We don't need to talk about him.

The Joker has no backstory.

The Joker is a bit like the Phantom Stranger: the things that make him a bad character are part of what make him a great character.  He has no origin and no name; he just is.  It's not an oversight: it's an essential part of the character. The Joker isn't a person so much as he is a concept, an archetype.  

The Joker is a blank canvas, as it were.

He doesn't need to be more; he shouldn't be.  The more you try to make him some else, something more specific, the less he becomes.  

He's like a talkative Art the Clown.  
Trying to give him a backstory with a pregnant wife will not improve the character.

I'm not just a comic fan, I'm a huge horror fan. And in scary cinema, you make the distinction between horror and terror.  Terror is what you feel BEFORE you open the scary door in the scary place; horror is what you see after you do.  Horror is specific and concrete and known; terror is the infinite fear of all the things that MIGHT be behind that door, a fear of the unknown or unknowable.  

You want terror?

Too many clumsy modern writers write the Joker as horrifying and insist on increasingly graphic depictions of his huge and constantly growing body count.  What the Joker should be is terrifying; an unknown evil, without origin or goals or relatable emotions. 

The Joker holding a baby is terrifying.

Giving the Joker an origin was stupid when they tried it the first time.

Admit it; you haven't read this story. 
Do; then you'll realize how stupid it is.

Why writers and fans are wed to this stupid story and the impulse to pin down the Joker's origin.  It's not just that THIS story is stupid; ANY origin story you give to the explain the Joker lessens him.  

The Joker's just like a beautiful butterfly. Free to be the simple creature it is, it's one of the world's most colorful, elegant creations.  Try to pin it down, to add to your collection and all you get is a dead bug.

Fine, it's a death's-head moth, not a butterfly.
I have to work with what's available.

Cinematic Greasepainting

Speaking of movies about the Joker...

The forthcoming Joaquin Phoenix film will probably be great.  Everyone involved seems good at their trade, JP's acting chops are unquestionable, and it seems so far to be rich and well thought out.

It's almost too bad it's not about the Joker.

Alternative interpretations of a character are fine; they are part of what makes a character mythic rather than merely literary.  I am not one of those people to complain "The REAL Joker would use more conditioner on his hair!"  Although that's probably true; he's rather vain.  

It's important to remember that these two pictures are of the same character.

But when an interpretation seems so entirely off-base that it lacks the character's central elements that make him recognizable, then I start to frown.  And that's the case with Joker.

The film tells the story of hard-luck stand-up comic Arthur Fleck in 1980s New York (even if they call it "Gotham") City.  After being dealt one too many bad hands by life, he cracks and becomes a clown-like public menace.  

The elements of this that miss the mark are pretty clear.  The Joker has a name, and a (tragic) backstory; he's a character for whom we will feel sympathy.  It's not surprising for a Hollywood film: these are near essentials for most cinematic storytelling, of course. They aren't a story so much as basic requirements for a protagonist. 

But those are elements that the character of the Joker, from a mythic perspective, LACKS and always has. It's part of the character's appeal--well, let's call it 'genius' or 'schtick', rather than appeal.  The fact that some characters (such as the Joker or the Phantom Stranger) do not have proper names, backgrounds and origins isn't some kind of oversight, a convenient lacuna that a later creator can "helpfully" back fill to suit their tastes.  It's an essential part of the character. Something that Dan Didio doesn't get, by the way.

"This" = Dan Didio

These characters aren't PEOPLE as much as they are concepts; the Evil Clown or the Mysterious Stranger. Much of their mythic power comes from that abstraction; if you rob them of that, there is little reason use to them. Unless they are just greasepaint to make your otherwise hard-to-sell movie suddenly salable, which the creators of Joker have nearly explicitly said it is what they are doing:

"[Director Todd} Phillips said it does not "follow anything from the comic books... That's what was interesting to me. We're not even doing Joker, but the story of becoming Joker." Rather, he used elements of the Joker lore to produce an original story." [Courtesy of Wikipedia.]

THAT is literary greasepainting. That's the kind of approach that turns the Phantom Stranger into one of Jesus's disciples or gives you Halle Berry's Catwoman.  You can focus on whether the results are good or not (Joker is likely to be a better film than Catwoman, for example), but don't ignore the role the 'greasepaint' method has in that and the longer term effects.  If the film is bad or flops, an opportunity was wasted and comic book movies take it on the chin.  If the film is good and succeeds, you are training creators that the key to using comic books as sources is to ignore as much of the original material as you can, except perhaps for the character's general appearance.

Not only does greasepainting happen with 'comic book movies', it's happening in comic books (writer Tom King's run on Batman isn't so much issues of Batman as is it Tom King's issues) and movies (Ari Aster's execrable work putting on a monster mask to pass as 'horror' rather than merely horrible). You could make the case that Bob Haney's body of work is almost entirely greasepainting.

Batman wants to live.
That's why he regularly jumps off tall buildings and gets himself put in a deathtrap every week,
same bat-time, same bat-channel.

In the case of Joker, Alan Moore is, of course, partly to blame for not getting the Joker right and in the vicious and crappy Killing Joke, convincing a generation of readers that the Joker is a tragic victim, the product of the world's callousness, and that at one time he was just like you and me. And if you don't believe my condemnation of what Alan Moore did with the Joker, maybe you'll believe Alan Moore himself:

"I’ve never really liked my story in The Killing Joke. I think it put far too much melodramatic weight upon a character that was never designed to carry it. It was too nasty, it was too physically violent. There were some good things about it, but in terms of my writing, it’s not one of my favorite pieces.  

"I was naively hoping that there’d be a rush of fresh and original work by people coming up with their own. But, as I said, it [my work] was meant to be something that would liberate comics. Instead, it became this massive stumbling block that comics can’t even really seem to get around to this day. They’ve lost a lot of their original innocence, and they can’t get that back. And, they’re stuck, it seems, in this kind of depressive ghetto of grimness and psychosis. I’m not too proud of being the author of that regrettable trend."

Pictured:
putting more melodramatic weight on a character than appropriate and
 being stuck in a kind of depressive ghetto of grimness and psychosis.

It IS an interesting story, it's just not the JOKER's story. It's much more like Harvey "Two-Face" Dent's story (normal guy cracks under the pressure of a hard knock and turns against society).  In fact, most of my criticism of the Dark Knight's plot would vanish if the entire plot had been Two-Face's story with no Joker to be seen.  Meticulous planning to manipulate both sides of the law?  Dismantling the mobs by stealing their money AND catching them on RICO charges?  Pitting a boatload of good citizens against a boatload of bad criminals in a "Prisoner's Dilemma" to make a point about the arbitrary distinctions between good and evil?  Really, what could be more Two-Face-y than that? Why is the Joker in Two-Face's movie at all?

The Joker's original origin (in the idiotic "Man Behind the Red Hood", Detective Comics #148, 1951) at least knew well enough to preserve several essential elements of the Joker (with the efficiency typical of Golden Age comics stories, I might add):

Specifically:

• you don't get to know his name;
• you don't get to see his face before he becomes the Joker;
• he was already a crook and terrible person BEFORE his accident;
• he was a schemer and inventor (he designed the red hood device to allow him to enter inhospitable environments like chemical plants)
• he was goal-oriented ("I will steal $X and then retire!")
• he had style and showmanship (really, even in Gotham, who dons a tuxedo to rob a chemical plant off-hours?);
• he was opportunistic ("I'll use this to my advantage!"); and
• he was thematically-oriented and brand conscious ("Ooo, the Joker is a much better schtick than the Red Hood!")

Even in this crappy throwaway detective story, Golden Age writers knew not to mess with the character's core.  Even Golden Age writers, the creators who gave us penny-themed villains and stories about milk racketeers, even THOSE people would have laughed at the foolishness of positing that the Joker, Batman's archenemy an all-around threat to society, was some poor schlubby hack who just had a bad day that somehow magically turned him into a criminal genius.  How can modern creators and readers have less common sense than the people who put giant props in every commercial property in Gotham City?!

This movie SHOULD have been Joaquin Phoenix as JOE COYNE, THE PENNY PLUNDERER.
Because THAT would have been awesome. That would have been ART.

The Joker is:

• not a tragic figure; he's a figure who finds comedy in bringing tragedy to others;
• not someone undone by his accident, he's someone who turned it to his advantage;
• not normal or average;
• not good or sympathetic;
• not poor or pathetic.

The Joker is not society's victim; he victimizes society.  It may not be fashionable any longer to believe anything OTHER than the idea that society creates its own victimizers.... but that's not the Joker's story.





, 

No, I do NOT like Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker, thanks for asking.

Recently, the Rotten Tomatoes-eating public voted Heath Ledger's entrance as The Joker in The Dark Knight, the most memorable cinematic moment in the last 21 years.  This, of course, is patently absurd, since most viewers would AT BEST be able to quote the line "I kill the bus-driver" and be unable to describe much of anything else done or said in the scene.

It goes without saying that this says MUCH more about the cinematic habits and discernment of the average movie-goer than it does about Ledger's performance.   I mean, really now.  Need I remind you that THIS scene from Deep Blue Sea (1999) also occurred within in the last 21 years...



If you have seen both films, there is no way you remember the Joker's entrance in The Dark Knight MORE than you remember Samuel L. Jackson suddenly getting eaten by a shark in Deep Blue Sea in mid-sentence during a Standard Rousing Bad-Ass Speech.

It also says a lot about how Fanboys Be Representing when such things arise, since their are a lot more Batman/ Joker/ Dark Knight fanfolk than there are DeepBlueSea-fanatics. ARE there Deep Blue Sea Fanatics?  I'm not sure I want to know.

And it says a lot about people's ability or willingness to follow instructions; clearly, people voted based on whether they LIKED a moment, not how memorable it was.

Heck, Ledger's entrance as The Joker in The Dark Knight wasn't even as memorable as the one it was based on: Cesar Romero's first entrance as The Joker on Batman'66:

The difference, as Megamind would say, is presentation.  NOBODY makes an entrance like Cesar Romero's Joker.

Now, THAT is an entrance. No bus driver required.

I know that many people revere Ledger's performance as The Joker but for most part it seems like boilerplate adoration, without much critical analysis.  Look, Ledger certainly did a better job than anyone had a right to expect, especially since much of his past movie work wasn't all that... deep.  Hat's off to him for proving that he was more than just a pretty face while he was with us.

Very pretty, in fact.

But Ledger's Joker, while admittedly intense, was also clearly ... not genuine.  There was little sense that this was an actual crazy person or an evil genius with a wicked sense of humor.  Ledger's Joker was an act, a put-on, a disillusioned man putting on a crazy act to convince others, and himself, that he didn't care about anything. But he did care; he was a nihilistic ideologue DESPERATE to prove his point to others, and painfully needy.  He didn't leave chaos in his wake; everything he did was painstakingly choreographed.  He seemed like a sad clown, eager for approval by the audience; a tough guy, eager to show much he didn't care; a tragically realistic man, eager to come off as a lunatic.  Ledger's Joker was... just a terrorist.  Because I guess that's what scares current-day audiences.

The script is to blame, of course, but Ledger didn't help.  Most viewers were just impressed that Ledger's Joker seemed menacing, because the Joker can seem pretty silly and nonthreatening if done wrong.  And Ledger's Joker was menacing... because both the character and the actor were obviously working really hard to MENACE.  The Joker shouldn't work hard at being menacing, he shouldn't have to try to seem crazy, and he shouldn't really care what you think.  I can't believe I saying this (because I didn't like Jack Nicholson's Joker all that much) but... Jack Nicholson got all of that. Nicholson's Joker had no idea anything was wrong with him, had fun during his schemes, and certainly didn't care whether you got the joke or agreed with his worldview.

And, as you can see, he's a lot happier.

Cesar Romero's Joker never tried to seem threatening... but was deadly all the same; that was part of the point of his performance.  His Joker actually just thought it was really funny to feed you to a giant clam.

Never forget.

Ledger's neurotic tics and slimy speech patterns were clearly affectations of both the actor and the character, suitable more to that homeless guy you avoid in the park than Batman's archenemy.  To top it all off... Ledger couldn't laugh.  There are thousands of people in the world who can do a Joker laugh; why can't Hollywood ever find someone who can?

Even THAT guy could probably do a better job at it!