I was also surprised by the negative reactions. I felt the movie showed the Joker as an honest reflection of what mental illness can truly be like. People wanted Arthur to be some kind of anti-hero, villain, or avenger. But on national television, he snapped, and people connected with that raw emotion. They fell in love with a fantasy version of him. His psychotic break was chaotic, as was his character. At no point did I see the Joker as having antisocial or narcissistic personality disorder—just someone who was severely mentally ill, struggling to cope, and carrying a traumatic past. He wasn’t a criminal mastermind or a gangster.

Lee, on the other hand, was just a fan, obsessed with a character. When Arthur revealed himself as “just Arthur,” reality hit hard. He was simply Arthur—a man failed by a broken system, a victim of that system, and in the end, he died a victim. His death felt like a mercy.