7 THE APARTMENT MURDER

James Dyer: Coming around 90 minutes into the film, the sudden, brutal, bloody death of Randall (Glenn Fleshler) in Arthur’s apartment is Joker’s defining moment. After an hour-and-a-half of creeping, gradual build-up, the film finally opens the valve for an explosive release, letting it all out in a burst of savagery and a fountain of arterial blood. While the subway killing sets Fleck on the path to what he will ultimately become, it’s not until this moment that he truly becomes Joker, embracing the nihilistic brutality that defines him. Driving a pair of scissors into his former colleague’s neck, the restraint Fleck has struggled with until that moment is cast aside entirely as he proceeds to smash the off-duty clown’s skull, sinking panting to the floor, his white-masked face now spattered with gore.

It’s unwarranted, unexpected and entirely unjustifiable, but in that one moment Arthur seems to have found himself. No longer the downtrodden mess, the butt of every joke, he’s taken control for the first time and, however disturbing the imagery or irresponsible the depiction, it’s this one act, more than any of the carnage that follows, which embodies Todd Phillips’ ‘Clown Prince Of Crime’.

Ian Freer: Phillips may have said that he’s left comedy behind because it’s impossible to be funny in a woke world, but there are still remnants of his trademark sense of humour. The scene in which Arthur is visited by Randall and Gary (Leigh Gill) to inform him that the police have been asking questions turns ugly as Arthur stabs Randall then beats him to death. But the scene pivots towards jet-black comedy as Gary, whom Arthur lets live, can’t flee from the apartment because he’s too short to reach the door chain. It’s a scenario that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Old School but with an added layer of darkness that typifies Joker’s neatly juggled different tones.