Adopting the iconography of DC comics, Vera Drew’s subversive and kitschy “The People’s Joker” often feels like a revelation. Transfiguring a genre that, recently, has been oversaturated with rote storytelling and narratives, Drew’s film is something remarkable in the age of constant IP. It’s personal and more than a bit bewildering. It’s also incredibly rough, fusing together various aesthetics (live-action and animation, notably) to create a collage-like approach to a trans-coming-of-age story. It’s no surprise, then, that the film is dedicated to both Drew’s mom and Joel Schumacher, synthesizing the latter’s campy aesthetic into a heartful queer story about growing up.  
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Drew co-writes, directs, and stars as Joker the Harlequin. If that name feels like an amalgamation of both Harley Quinn and the Joker, that’s the point. It’s the type of film that defies summary, moving in a million directions at once, intertwining Joker’s midwestern upbringing (in Smallville, no less), her gender dysphoria brought about by Nicole Kidman in Schumacher’s “Batman Forever,” and her move to Gotham, hoping to get into the comedy scene.
There, she meets the Penguin (Nathan Faustyn) at a try-out for UCB, a comedy program so obviously inspired by “SNL” that it’s run by an animated Lorne Michaels. Unable to “yes, and…” her way through an audition, Penguins and Joker start their own anti-comedy club, bringing along the likes of Poison Ivy, The Riddler, Bane, and, importantly, Mr. J (Kane Distler). Mr. J, as the name suggests, is also the Joker, clearly modeled off of Jared Leto’s ‘damaged’ aesthetic in “Suicide Squad.” Trans himself, Mr. J coaxes Joker out of her shell, accepting her gender identity but also simultaneously gaslighting Joker at the same time.
The scenes between Mr. J and Joker are the strongest, with Drew using the shorthand relationship between Harley Quinn and the Joker to explain the paradoxical feelings that she is going through both loving and fearing Mr. J. But, the film moves quite rapidly, never settling into a certain rhythm or style. That’s, of course, purposeful, but it sometimes creates an unintended whiplash.
Further, not everything works as strongly. Detours into the New York comedy scene feel increasingly insular. Using SNL as a punching bag, Lorne Michaels inexplicably takes the most shots, as Joker tries to get a gig hosting the show before realizing its homogenized form of comedy doesn’t mesh with her personality. It’s a decision that would perhaps make more sense given some context — especially in a film that has no problem breaking the fourth wall and calling attention to its own real-world parallels. But, as displayed here, it feels oddly personal in a way that doesn’t translate. 
Much more successful, however, is the use of side characters in the Batman universe, using Bane, Penguin, and Selina Kyle as a collective of outsiders that fight against Batman’s heteronormative view of the world. In this version of Gotham, Batman is running for mayor, attempting to rid Gotham of anyone who doesn’t conform to his worldview. The final animated showdown between all the ‘villains’ and Batman is, honestly, impressive in how it recreates the aesthetic of “Batman: The Animated Series.” 
Often, when a film is aiming for cult status, it inevitably fails. There’s nothing worse than someone self-consciously trying to replicate a campy aesthetic. Yet under all of these genre pretenses, “The People’s Joker” is so deeply rooted in personal experience that it feels quite revelatory and transgressive. Despite WB’s claims, these characters and narratives are not their own but owned by a collective of fans who have grown up with comic books (and comic book films). “The People’s Joker” is deeply weird and often feels like the first draft of someone’s first attempt at using genre as a type of autofiction. But it’s also heartfelt, fascinating, and a really compelling introduction to an original cinematic voice. [A-]