If Joker is just another celebration of a toxic egotistical male justifying his bad behaviour, I'm not here for it

You've already met the Joker. He vaped. His favourite book was The Unbearable Lightness of Being. There was music he understood that you just had to listen to. Few people understood him — but he picked you

The new trailer for Joker, the forthcoming movie about the DC Comics villain of the same name, opens with a close-up of a sad man. (Well, it actually opens with sweeping views of the New York City skyline at dawn, but the sad man follows pretty quickly.) He’s dejected and talking to a Department of Health employee. “Does it help to have someone to talk to?” she asks.

Judging by what follows, it does not.

See, the Joker is moody. It is, of course, his mother’s fault – she always told him to smile and put on a happy face, the sad man laments. She told him he had a purpose: to bring laughter and joy to the world. What follows is a montage of the Joker dressed as a clown, trying to do just that – except the world will not have it. The Joker gets bullied. The Joker gets beaten up. The Joker gets called a freak. The Joker tries to smile, but he just can’t – and while the trailer only hints at the devastating consequences that rejection will have on his psyche, the outcomes are well known to those who have watched one of the many films in which the Joker features.

As a character, the Joker has acquired a bit of a fan following over the years. His popularity has been bolstered by the performances of Jack Nicholson, Heath Ledger and Jared Leto – and soon Joaquin Phoenix, who plays the title role in Joker. And while I’m sure DC’s forthcoming film will find its audience, it’s hard not to notice that dedicating an entire standalone film to the Joker (and possibly a couple of sequels if it does well enough) contributes to romanticising one of the most toxic archetypes of pop culture.

It bears reminding that the Joker is, at his core, a psychopath, a mass murderer, a terrorist, and an all-around bad guy. His portrayal varies slightly from one film to the next, and from one comic book to the next, but you can be pretty sure that at some point he’s going to commit a crime and/or kill someone, and that he will enjoy it. He’s the quintessential toxic man. If you need proof, just watch 2016’s Suicide Squad, in which Jared Leto’s Joker submits his girlfriend Harley Quinn to “tests” before letting her into his life. The ultimate test, by the way, comes when he turns to her and asks: “Would you die for me?” (Of course she would.)

To be clear, the Joker is a great villain. There’s no denying it. That in itself isn’t nefarious: pop culture has always needed bad guys, and superhero films are the perfect outlet to have a bit of fun with them. But what is harmful with the Joker isn’t how bad he is, it’s why he’s bad: he’s either a bitter loser or a misunderstood, tortured soul – or perhaps a bit of both. He wasn’t born this way, not completely: it was others who made him like that.

We are hardwired to respond to that narrative. First, there’s something compelling about sad clowns. It’s a gimmick that works all too well. But then there’s also the fact that so many women have been conditioned to think of toxic behaviour as charming, and as something that’s not their partner’s fault. There is something sexy about the Joker (there’s a reason why people get tattoos of his face). On some level, you want to hold him until the pain goes away. That’s the purpose assigned to so many female characters: be that breath of fresh air in a tortured man’s life. Fix him. Make him feel seen. Make him feel understood. Dedicate your own life to holding him up.

But here’s the thing: you’ve already met the Joker, and he wasn’t nearly as interesting or attractive in real life. Perhaps you didn’t realise he was the Joker, because he didn’t look like Heath Ledger or Jared Leto. Perhaps he smoked or vaped. Perhaps his favourite book was Infinite Jest – or was it Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Perhaps he wanted to show you the world. There were books he wanted you to read and music you just had to listen to. Few people understood him. He was trying his best, but the world just seemed to be against him. All he wanted was a special soul who would finally get him – and how lucky were you that he had picked you?

We all have a bit of the Joker in us. It is tempting to think that our failures are the result not of our own shortcomings, but of other people’s misconceptions. It’s a natural defense mechanism, and sometimes it’s justified. Who hasn’t felt like the Joker at least once over the course of their life? It’s hard to watch the new trailer and not think of at least one instance of childhood bullying. Who hasn’t been taunted for standing out? Who hasn’t been called a freak, or an equivalent insult? (If you answered “me” to any of these questions, feel free to drop me an email, I have about 100 questions for you.)

But the Joker isn’t a child. He’s a grown man. And yes, I am aware that he’s fictional, but here’s why I still care: when people see themselves on a screen, they feel vindicated. Most of the time, that is a very good thing (think Black Panther, Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel, who all filled huge gaps in the pop culture landscape).

But I worry – not to the point that it’s keeping me up at night, but still – that some toxic guy will watch this film and think: “See? There’s nothing wrong with me. There is beauty in my chaos. I am the chaos. I am the beauty. The ends justify the means.”

Of course, Joker hasn’t even come out yet, so it’s too early to judge its portrayal of the title character. There is a possibility that the film will present a fuller picture of the supervillain, in a way that doesn’t completely glamourise his neuroses. I’ll certainly be on the lookout.