Inside London's Grand Theatre.
A middle-aged man with slightly long, golden hair stared intently at the massive screen.
His left hand clutched a pen, while his right held a laptop, though he had no intention of jotting anything down.
His emotions were entirely consumed by the film.
This man was Derek Elie, one of Britain's most renowned film critics.
At this moment, he was profoundly shaken by Martin's Joker.
More than Martin's directorial finesse, it was his acting that captivated Derek.
Derek Elie had a well-known theory on acting, dividing it into four realms:
The first realm: "Exaggerated Facade." Actors in this realm overplay their roles with excessive gestures, flailing limbs, melodramatic cries, and over-the-top flourishes.
The second realm: "Natural Control." These actors perform as directed, letting loose when needed and reining it in when required. At the director's "Cut," they snap back to normal instantly.
The third realm: "Unity of Actor and Role." Here, the actor and character merge seamlessly. Their performance leaves no trace of artifice, subtle yet powerful, striking the audience's most sensitive nerves and evoking intense emotions.
The fourth realm: "Becoming the Character." At this level, actors don't just play the role—they become it. The audience forgets who they are and sees only the character on screen.
In Derek's eyes, Martin's portrayal of Arthur transcended the third realm, reaching the pinnacle of "Becoming the Character."
When he saw the film's climax—Arthur dancing atop a car, the crowd around him stomping and chanting his name—Derek Elie's entire body trembled. This spine-chilling performance sent shivers deep into his soul.
As a deeply sensitive person, Derek could vividly feel the reckless abandon radiating from Arthur on the screen—a fury pushed to the extreme, giving way to a manic joy born from despair.
"I designed four distinct laughs for the Joker," Martin said in a post-screening interview. "I studied videos of people with pathological laughing disorders, a condition that causes uncontrollable outbursts. To authentically recreate the Joker's iconic laugh, I chose to mimic them.
"It was an uncomfortable process. I watched clip after clip of people in distress, grappling with something beyond their control. I analyzed 168 minutes of videos and images, ultimately selecting four laughs I deemed most fitting, then added my own interpretation to bring them to life in the film."
"No, no, no, Joker is not a left-wing film," Martin said, fixing a sharp gaze on the reporter who asked the question. That reporter was clearly fishing for trouble.
He continued, "Yes, Joker does expose certain truths—like how, in our current capitalist structure, the elite subtly protect their interests not through overt exploitation or harm, but through more refined means. They use lineage, education, social circles, and cultural capital to maintain class separation.
"To carry out necessary 'evils' while keeping their hands clean, the elite cultivate vast networks of proxies. These networks even include faces from the lower classes, bribed with favors to enforce structural cruelties—surveillance, isolation, abuse, deprivation. Most evils stem from these proxies.
"That's why the Joker says, 'If I were killed, no one would care. They'd step over my body like nothing happened.'
"But to call this a left-wing film? It doesn't quite fit.
"Yes, I said it doesn't qualify.
"Because while the Joker does become a figure of resistance, he's not a revolutionary in the traditional sense.
"He lacks a mature political ideology or any vision for a new system. He's not some ambitious idealist but a man with a pathological laughing disorder, starved of paternal love, and deeply sensitive—an outlier.
"So, calling it a left-wing film is a stretch."
"What? You're asking how I view violence justified as righteous?"
"Well, if violence isn't aimed at redefining justice, it's merely a grave for order. While filming Joker, I grappled with whether to justify the Joker's violence.
"But in the end, I chose not to.
"There was no need. As I said, the Joker isn't an idealist. He's just a product of madness born from countless pressures. His violence is just that—violence, without any moral rationale.
"In truth, the Joker's condition is a common societal phenomenon. Gilles Deleuze once said, 'Schizophrenia is the universal state of capitalist humanity.' But his solution was to accelerate capitalism's desire-driven production, with schizophrenia as a shortcut to liberation. (For thrilling novels, check out Feilu Fiction Network!)
"What I'm trying to say is that in our society, everyone harbors a Joker within. Most choose to suppress it, but a few let it out, becoming… truly mad."
Joker took London by storm.
No, to be precise, Joker set all of Europe ablaze.
Audiences flooded theaters like a tidal wave.
The critics went wild in response.
The Manchester Evening News: "Bold, destructive, and utterly beautiful, the collaboration between Martin Meyers as director and Martin Meyers as actor not only redefines one of cinema's greatest villain archetypes but reinvents the very concept of comic book adaptations."
The Guardian: "Oh, Joker—what a daring, explosive film. Its story is as twisted as its central character, brimming with ideas and veering toward a state of anarchy."
The Times: "In this provocative tale of psychological unraveling and perversion, Martin Meyers crafts a burgeoning villain, delivering a devastating impact."
Le Figaro: "A comic book villain gains an epic origin story in Joker, providing Martin Meyers' acting genius with its grandest stage yet! Oh, and don't forget—he's the director, too."
Le Monde: "This is Martin Meyers' film. He infuses it with a madness that's at times pitiable, at times terrifying. This isn't a performance to be taken lightly. Martin Meyers' work makes Joker the next avant-garde masterpiece in Hollywood's comic book film industry."