What is life other than the continuous process of trying to figure out your identity, and maintaining the image of being in control when in reality we are all as hopelessly clueless about existence as everyone else? It’s often been said that anyone who doesn’t have even a minor existential crisis at some point is clearly not doing something correctly, since every one of us tends to have those doubts that simmer and become difficult to comprehend in coherent terms. For many, this is not as trivial or quirky an experience as it may sound, since some find themselves genuinely conflicted about their individual journey in life, which seemingly can only be understood through surrendering to these quiet but persistent whispers that dare them to look beyond the position into which society has placed them based on the most arbitrary of rules and conventions. For the past few decades, we’ve seen an enormous uptick in art created by or about the queer community, following their struggles and experiences in the hopes of providing more insights into their lives and the range of identities into which they place themselves. Packaged into this growing canon of terrific works that focus on those who exist on the margins of society as a result of their identities are stories about the trans experience, with gender becoming one of the most contentious subjects in contemporary media, and one that we are starting to see questioned more than ever before, especially in terms of deconstructing the gender binary and everything that goes along with quite an outdated belief. Yet, these stories are still missing from a lot of mainstream media, which is why it is vital to elevate the voices that not only exist within that community, but spend time telling their stories. Vera Drew is not a name that is familiar to many, but she joins the steadily growing list of exceptional artists who use their own experiences as the foundation for ingenious, daring works of art, and her directorial debut The People’s Joker is one of the most incredibly compelling examinations of a number of themes, all of which are filtered through perhaps the most deranged perspective imaginable, taking an absurd concept and delivering it in a way that is quite simply impossible to ignore.

The People’s Joker is a film that many may hear about based on its reputation long before we actually have the time to sit with it and experience the vision for ourselves. Arguably, most of this is related to the director’s struggles to get the film released, with legal challenges and several other factors leading to a two-year journey between its first appearance and the eventual moment when audiences can witness it for themselves. The premise is gleefully deranged and wonderfully simple – a young individual moves from their small town to the big city, discovering that they do not quite fit in with the idealistic image forced on them in childhood, and coming to the stunning realization that they were born in the wrong body. A very clear allegory for Drew’s own journey as a trans woman, the film tells this story through the tale of Joker the Harlequin, a very clear (and blatantly fearless) parody of superhero films, where the character of the Joker is used as a stand-in for the protagonist’s journey to discover her identity and the steps she takes to ensure that she sees the person she is inside when looking across from herself in the mirror. In theory, The People’s Joker sounds awkward and difficult to embrace, and seems like nothing more than a trivial attempt to capture the zeitgeist. Yet, it doesn’t take even a few moments before Drew makes her intentions abundantly clear, and through an honest and frank series of conversations interspersed between the more outrageous moments, its ideas become clear. This is one of the most unorthodox coming-of-age stories, following the character based on the director herself as they venture from the familiar but restricting surroundings of the American Midwest, to the hustle and bustle of an urban epicentre, where she discovers that life is not quite as binary as she was led to believe. Absolutely anyone who has felt out of place, or as if they didn’t quite meet the rigid standards set down by society, will find a lot of resonance in The People’s Joker, which constructs itself as a genuinely offbeat character study about a young woman searching for her identity and discovering more about herself and her potential in the process than we ever could have anticipated.

The ideas that dwell as the heart of The People’s Joker are certainly sprawling enough as they are, so it only becomes even more impressive when we realize that it was initially designed to be primarily a parody of superhero films, with Drew setting out to re-edit several Batman films into her unique work, and only through engaging with this existing material did she find the inspiration to tell her story in the process, rather than simply making a parody. The best way to describe this film would be as a conceptual collage, with the director working with a team of artists from several different disciplines to tell this story. Working on a shoestring budget, Drew certainly did not have the resources or funds to create something as technologically complex as the films she was parodying, but somehow managed to create something entirely different, and far more engaging. This film exists in dialogue with the films being references, taking their general themes as well as much of the contemporary criticism that surrounds them, and using it as the foundation for a film that makes exceptional use of its materials, creating something truly extraordinary. The “do-it-yourself” aesthetic does make The People’s Joker stand out as being vastly different from other films that exist within the genre (even those that veer towards the comedic), but it reminds us of the works of so many incredibly gifted independent filmmakers from a bygone era, where they embraced smaller budgets and allowed their films to be driven by a ramshackle charm that is genuinely unconventional but earnest and engaging, creating something fascinating from a bold concept. The use of animation, green screen technology and a range of other methods to cobble together this film gives it a unique quality that does require some time for us to become acclimated, but once we are fully in the clutches of the story (which does not take long – Drew is a tremendous storyteller and she immediately throws us into the heart of the film), we are entirely convinced to its merits. This isn’t a case of a low-budget film in which the strong story allows us to overlook the crude and kitschy aesthetic, but rather one in which the artistic vulgarity becomes part of the experience, and considering how much of the film hinges on these qualities, a more polished approach may have forced it to lose a lot of its brilliance.

As a comedy, The People’s Joker is certainly quite exceptional, but it would have been extremely easy to limit it to simply an off-the-wall parody (especially since we haven’t received a decent one in decades), which may have been entertaining, but at the cost of the characteristics that truly make the film stand out as a remarkable piece of cinema. Putting aside the outrageous humour that oscillates between scathing satire and blue humour, The People’s Joker is an oddly endearing film with a story that feels like it was formed as a labour of love. Drew is a fascinating artist insofar as she is not afraid to make herself the subject of ridicule, granted she has the opportunity to also speak from the heart, which is essentially the elements around which absolutely every aspect of this film revolves, drawing back to the director’s gradual attempts to explore her life through an offbeat dark comedy in which she is afforded the chance to process her own experiences in a form that she feels best represents her struggle. At the heart of this film is a very touching story about a young woman growing into her identity, and becoming a part of a community she didn’t know existed until she took that leap into the unknown. While we can applaud the film for not being too flippant about these very real themes (since as entertaining as the novelty may be, it still tackles a subject that is of immense importance to a large portion of the global community), we can also celebrate its refusal to be entirely heavy-handed in how it delivers these ideas, navigating this somewhat difficult subject matter in a way that feels elegant and nuanced, rather than being compressed into an unnecessarily dense, overwrought bundle of ideas. The commentary here is not to capture the full spectrum of the trans experience, but rather to show it through the eyes of the director, whose own journey to developing her identity underwent many challenges, and which forms the foundation for a poignant and meaningful leap into the mind of someone navigating the ambiguities that come with going against the status quo and forging their own path, which she does brilliantly.

Despite the continuous ascent of queer voices into the pantheon of incredible artistic visions, trans stories are still woefully neglected, usually being considered as being too divisive and difficult to embrace by the general public, particularly since its a subject that far too many people feel is impossible to market. Yet, The People’s Joker proves that this is certainly not the case in any way. Drew provides all the evidence we need to see the film as a daring, provocative piece of cinema, which navigates challenging themes and delivers a brilliantly captivating, outrageously funny ode to the trans experience, all seen through the eyes of someone who has been through many different encounters with her existential dread, which she uses as the foundation for this bitingly funny, exceptionally earnest work that refuses to trivialise a complex subject, and flourishes into a heartfelt, moving testament to the power of staying true to your identity. The People’s Joker embraces its absurdity and finds the heart within, using Drew’s magnificent lead performance (she’s as tremendous an actor as she is a writer and director) to examine the underlying concepts that make up this film. Compelling from the very beginning, and genuinely original in how it delivers a consistent stream of ideas that never feel too heavy-handed, but instead function as a beautifully poetic and extremely unorthodox cinematic autobiography, the film is a wonderful surprise, and truly one of the greatest pieces of queer storytelling of the past few years, not only in its intentions but also its oddball sensibilities and frequent efforts to redefine the medium to be something both recognizable and thorough innovative.