Brooklyn Studios, New York.
The massive Studio No. 1 was abuzz with activity, transformed into three distinct sets: a gritty bar, an old-fashioned apartment, and a vintage theater. Each of these settings was meticulously crafted to capture the brooding, atmospheric tone that Martin, the director, envisioned for his latest film—'Joker'.
In the heart of the chaos, First Assistant Director Steve Downton moved with purpose, guiding the set and prop teams as they made final adjustments to the intricate details. Martin had requested several changes, and Steve, ever the professional, ensured they were being implemented swiftly and efficiently.
Off to the side, Joel Negron, the film's editor, had arrived early, seeking a quiet corner to review Martin's meticulously drawn storyboards. He was there to absorb every shot and angle, understanding the flow of the film before the cameras even rolled. His task was critical, he would observe the entire shoot from start to finish, ensuring that when it came time for post-production, the transition would be seamless.
Meanwhile, the lighting crew was busy perfecting the mood. They adjusted and readjusted lights, ensuring every shadow fell in just the right place, every glow hit the actors perfectly, and the set came alive with the haunting atmosphere required for this unique take on the Joker's origin.
In the center of it all stood Director of Photography Jeff Kronweiss, hunched over the camera track with Martin, deep in conversation. The two men discussed the intricacies of the first scene, each frame, and how they could make the audience feel every emotion of the character's descent into madness. Martin was clear about what he wanted; the storyboards weren't just rough sketches, but rather a detailed blueprint of the exact lens effects, angles, and moods he sought.
Steve joined them, and the trio deliberated for a long while, making sure every element was perfect. This wasn't just another film, it was a psychological exploration of a character teetering on the edge.
As the day wore on, Martin stepped in front of the camera himself, now fully in costume for the promotional shoot. With a blue screen behind him, he posed in various pre-designed stances, each one iconic, capturing the essence of the Joker in its early form. These images would be used for promotional posters, scheduled for release alongside the film's launch. The crew would soon enter the most intense phase: the start of filming, which would be accompanied by a massive marketing push. Several concept posters were ready, but the first one; the pièce de résistance, featured the Joker standing against a backdrop of city flames, his face blurred to create an air of mystery.
Unlike previous incarnations, this version of the Joker wasn't part of the DC Comics universe as fans knew it. Martin made that crystal clear during a coordination meeting with the department heads. "We're not filming 'the' Joker," he said, voice firm as he looked around the room. "We're filming the story of how a man becomes 'a' Joker. The focus is entirely on his transformation, on the person he once was."
Heads nodded, absorbing the vision. Screenwriter Bradt, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. "When I wrote the script, I didn't draw from any previous depictions of the Joker." His tone was serious, deliberate. This was new territory, an entirely fresh approach.
The actors, including heavyweights like Robert De Niro and Saoirse Ronan, listened intently as Martin continued. He gestured to them, particularly De Niro, saying, "All the characters and backgrounds in this film are black, dark, depressing, and devoid of hope. There's not a single glimmer of light in their lives."
De Niro, who had already discussed his character with Martin at length, offered his own insight. "Villains aren't born bad," he said, thoughtfully. "They're shaped by something, something happens in their life that pushes them to lose faith in humanity."
"Exactly!" Martin exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He glanced over at Bradt, inviting him to elaborate.
Bradt didn't miss a beat. "Before he turns into the Joker, our character leads a miserable life. He's neurotic, yes, but not insane, yet. It's society that pushes him over the edge. The constant discrimination, the teasing, the abuse, it eats away at him until, finally, the Joker is born."
The room fell into a contemplative silence.
"In the end," Martin summarized, "it's a cruel society that creates clowns."
Martin's directorial style had been shaped by many influences, but most notably, he'd been greatly inspired by David Fincher's dark and psychological storytelling. His approach to 'Joker' was a reflection of this; raw, unnerving, and deeply introspective. Though he admired Christopher Nolan's narrative brilliance, particularly in marketing, it was Fincher's brooding, intense style that Martin leaned toward.
And it made sense. Martin had always been drawn to characters on the brink, those who were not just mad, but dangerously so. This version of the Joker wasn't just a villain, he was a product of a broken world, a chilling embodiment of what happens when someone loses all hope.
As the crew busied themselves with final preparations, it was clear to everyone involved: this film wasn't just going to be another comic book adaptation. It was something much more, a dark, psychological exploration of humanity's deepest flaws.
This is not your typical comic book superhero movie, nor does it follow the familiar patterns of Hollywood blockbusters. Instead, Martin is tapping into the current social climate, crafting something far more provocative and timely.
While promoting the film, Martin might claim it delves into deep themes, but insiders know that's mostly for show. His real aim is something subtler, more opportunistic, capitalizing on the chaos and tension brewing in society.
A few days later, Martin sat down for an interview with 'The New Yorker', his face set in a serious expression. The poster of his new 'Joker' loomed behind him, adding weight to the conversation. Grant, the magazine's top journalist, wasted no time.
"The last time you portrayed the Joker," Grant began, "it was hailed as the most iconic villain performance in film history. What's different this time? There are so many versions of the Joker in the DC universe, does this film follow any specific one?"
Martin paused, considering his response. "When we started working on the script," he said, "I sat down with Daniel from Warner Pictures, Louise from Pacific Pictures, screenwriter Bradt, and even Nolan and Emma Thomas, who were involved early on. After a lot of discussion, we decided not to base this on any comic book version. Instead, we created something entirely new, a story about how the Joker becomes an agent of chaos."
Grant nodded, leaning forward. "So, what kind of character is this Joker? Beyond the chaos, the madness, and the evil, what's at the core?"
Martin's gaze intensified. "I've been asked this question a lot," he began, his voice deliberate. "What kind of person is the Joker? Why does he have such a magnetic pull? It's because he represents something that people crave, freedom. The Joker is free in a way that most of us can never be."
Grant blinked, caught off guard by the answer. Martin, ever the master of media, knew exactly how to frame his narrative. He was tapping into the cultural zeitgeist, where concepts of freedom were often distorted, used to justify all kinds of behaviors, even the extreme.
In a country where various movements and ideologies, from the LGBTQ community to political radicals, were often branded under the banner of freedom, Martin's interpretation of the Joker struck a chord. Chaotic, evil, yes; but free. Free to burn, destroy, and act without consequence. It was an eerie reflection of America's own contradictions, where the pursuit of freedom sometimes led to destruction.
Grant, momentarily thrown, collected himself and asked, "But doesn't the Joker's version of freedom also lead to devastation?"
Martin, unfazed, smiled slightly. "The Joker doesn't want to destroy the world, Grant. He wants to see it reborn. Sometimes, for something new to emerge, the old must be torn down."
Grant thought to himself, 'Well, you're the director, so I suppose whatever you say goes.'
The interview made its way into the pages of 'The New Yorker', the 'Joker' poster gracing the cover. It was the perfect storm of publicity. The crew seized the moment, launching a massive promotional campaign. The film's official website went live, along with its social media channels, all featuring the same striking image: Martin, as the Joker, striding confidently through flames in a purple suit, a smirk on his face that hinted at madness.
The poster captivated audiences. It wasn't just another comic book movie, this Joker was something more unsettling. Wherever the character walked, chaos followed.
Film blogs, news outlets, and social media lit up with coverage. Headlines screamed:
'"First Poster of 'Joker' Released: Martin's Joker Walks Through Fire, Pure Evil!"'
At the same time, the production team announced that 'Joker' would officially begin filming at Brooklyn Studios in New York, with a release date set for the following year. Fans were already buzzing, and the hype machine was in full swing.
For many, the Joker had become more than just a character. He was an idea, a symbol, deified by film lovers and internet culture alike. Martin's bold reimagining would only add fuel to that fire.
Martin's portrayal of the Joker had already been cemented in cinematic history as one of the greatest villains ever brought to the screen. So, when the announcement dropped that he would be taking on an independent 'Joker' film, the fan response was immediate and intense.
Online forums and social media were flooded with excitement:
"Martin's Joker is so captivating, it makes Batman seem insignificant in comparison!"
"The poster alone is explosive! I can't wait for this film!"
"His last Joker performance was legendary. Now he's challenging himself again, this is going to be something special."
"I'm looking forward to a masterpiece from Martin!"
"None of that cartoonish, comic-book style, this needs to be raw, gritty, and real!"
"Imagine if he wins Best Supporting Actor for Joker, and then Best Actor in the same year!"
Though internet comments can be a mixed bag, many of them carried valid points. Expectations were sky-high, and the pressure was real.
In a quiet hotel room, Saoirse Ronan had just finished performing an impromptu dance for Martin, showcasing her graceful athleticism without holding back. As she caught her breath, she casually scrolled through social media on her phone. "Do you really think this role could win you another Oscar?" she asked, half-joking but with a trace of genuine curiosity.
Martin, refreshed and relaxed, poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her. "Hard to say about winning awards," he replied with a smirk, "but the character definitely has the right ingredients."
Saoirse raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'the right ingredients'?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.
Martin leaned back, his tone becoming more playful yet reflective. "I call it the pity game," he explained. "I was talking to Nicholson and DiCaprio about it once, they joked that the Oscar for Best Acting should be renamed the 'Pity Award.'"
Saoirse's lips curled into a thoughtful smile. "That... actually makes sense," she said, her mind racing through past winners. "Now that I think about it, the actors who've won Best Actor or Best Actress in the last 20 years or so, they all played characters who went through hell."
Martin nodded. "Exactly."
Saoirse began listing off examples, ticking them off on her fingers. "Jodie Foster's roles were always full of emotional trauma. Tom Hanks, first he had AIDS and was gay in 'Philadelphia', then he played a mentally challenged man in 'Forrest Gump'. Daniel Day-Lewis won for portraying a man with cerebral palsy. Charlize Theron transformed herself completely for 'Monster', and Russell Crowe lost his entire family in 'Gladiator'."
She could have gone on, but the point was clear: playing a victim or a tragic figure often seemed to pave the way to Oscar glory.
"If that's the formula," she concluded, "then the Joker definitely fits the bill. He's not just chaotic, he's a product of misery, pain, and a cruel world."
Martin raised his glass, taking a thoughtful sip. "The Joker ticks all the boxes for that 'tragic figure' archetype, but let's not get too caught up in the awards. The real challenge is making sure this film comes together the way it needs to. It's going to be far more difficult to shoot than 'The Shallows'."
Saoirse smiled warmly. "You've got this, Martin. I know you do."
Though he appreciated her support, the pressure weighed on him. He sipped his wine slowly, his mind still racing with the complexities of the project.
Saoirse, sensing his unease, leaned in. She knew Martin too well, knew when he needed a distraction. "Hey," she said, her voice light and playful. "I'm thinking about inviting some friends over to New York for a little party soon. Would you have time to join us?"
Martin glanced at her, his mood lifting slightly. "I think I can make time," he replied, intrigued.
She grinned. "Perfect! It'll be a small group, just people you know. Sofia Stallone, Elle Fanning, and Dakota Fanning are coming. They're planning to visit once filming starts, so it'll be good for everyone to catch up."
Martin nodded, recalling their long-standing friendships. It would be a good way to relax before the chaos of production kicked into high gear.
As the new week began, the crew ramped up their preparations. While overseeing his duties as director, Martin also carved out time to rehearse with the actors, particularly Saoirse and Robert De Niro. Every scene was meticulously crafted, and Martin's earlier work on 'Split' informed his approach to the 'Joker'. The dark, psychological intensity of that film had laid the groundwork for what was to come.
With each rehearsal, every conversation, and every adjustment to the script, Martin's vision for 'Joker' took shape. This wasn't just another comic book movie; this was something far more personal, more raw. And though the pressure was immense, Martin knew one thing: he was ready to dive deep into the madness, and the world was eager to follow.
The character of the Joker in Martin's film was nothing like a split personality. Martin's vision for the Joker was singular: a descent into pure madness and chaos, with no room for the fractured traits often found in other villains. This Joker would be a force of nature, spiraling deeper into anarchy as the story unfolded.
While Martin's creative process took shape, Louise was hard at work negotiating with New York City Hall to secure filming locations. Though they had planned to avoid exterior shots in Manhattan, aside from scenes near City Hall, the bulk of the exterior shots would take place in Queens. This decision made the filming schedule much more flexible, allowing for easier adjustments.
The crew had also scouted the New York subway system. After thorough inspections, the location team concluded that the older subway lines, which dated back to the early 19th century, didn't require much modification. The worn, gritty aesthetic of the subway perfectly matched the mood of Martin's Joker, adding an authentic, raw edge to the film without needing any elaborate set designs.
Beyond New York, another key location had been secured: Wayne Manor. After much searching, a suitable stand-in for the iconic residence was found. And conveniently, Martin's own villa on Long Island could serve as a backdrop for certain interior scenes. Renting out his property to the crew seemed like a practical move, and it kept the production local.
As these preparations moved forward, Martin briefly stepped away from New York in late April to attend the Houston premiere of 'Sicario', a film co-produced by Davis Studio. Given the film's focus on the Texas-Mexico border, it made sense to hold the premiere in Houston, Texas' largest city.
The premiere was a glamorous affair. Martin walked the red carpet, smiling for photos with the cast and crew. The film's director, Denis Villeneuve, was riding high. Fresh off the success of 'The Town', and now with 'Sicario' generating early buzz from previews, he had just received an offer from 20th Century Fox to direct the sequel to the legendary sci-fi film 'Blade Runner'.
The original 'Blade Runner' had been a financial flop upon release, but over the years, it had gained a cult following and become a cornerstone of science fiction. Fox was finally ready to roll the dice on a sequel.
Martin congratulated Villeneuve but politely declined the director's offer to star in the new project. High-concept science fiction was always a gamble, and Martin preferred to avoid the potential pitfalls. "I'm happy for you, Denis, but I think I'll pass on this one," he said with a wry smile.
Shortly after, Josh Brolin, who had recently been confirmed to play Thanos in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, greeted Martin with a friendly handshake and some small talk before the event continued.
As the crowd began to settle, Alexandra Daddario approached Martin, looping her arm through his. "The heroine in this movie is so strange," she remarked, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin.
Martin glanced at her, curious. "What do you mean by strange?"
"When we were filming," Alexandra explained, "I thought I was the lead character. But after watching the preview, I realized halfway through the movie that my character, Kate, had been sidelined. She ends up being more of a bystander than anything else, just a tool for the plot."
Martin chuckled. "Well, that's Villeneuve for you. He's a genius at subverting expectations."
He paused thoughtfully, then added, "I've got a disaster movie script for you to read soon. The heroine should be a bit more, shall we say, front and center."
Alexandra's eyes lit up. "Is this the project you mentioned before? The one with the firefighter as the male lead? Are you playing that role?"
"That's the one," Martin confirmed. "I'm having the script revised right now, still not completely satisfied with it. But we should be ready to move forward by next month."
As they wrapped up their conversation, the rest of the crew filed into the theater, and Martin took his seat in the second row. The lights dimmed, and 'Sicario' began.
The film was classic Denis Villeneuve; stylish, intense, and deeply personal. Though it wasn't a typical commercial movie, it expertly blended art and business, exploring the theme of "boundaries" both literally and metaphorically. The protagonist's unexpected shifts throughout the story were jarring, but they only added to the film's thrilling unpredictability.
As the credits rolled, Martin couldn't help but admire how Villeneuve had pulled it off. It was risky, unconventional, but undeniably compelling, a balance that Martin himself was striving for with his own 'Joker' project.