Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

In the dim theater, Steven Spielberg trembled. As a legendary director, he could sense the greatness of the unfolding film, even before its climax. Glancing at Martin's seat nearby, he thought, This young man is truly extraordinary.

Beside him sat another Hollywood titan, James Cameron, stroking his bearded chin, eyes fixed on the screen. His mind drifted to his nearly completed Avatar. In terms of visual grandeur and effects, Avatar outshone The Joker. But for storytelling depth and character portrayal, Martin's film was unmatched.

That kid Martin knows how to tell a story—a true genius, Cameron mused.

The audience, immersed in Arthur's latest miseries—his father's denial, his mother's collapse, the detectives' suspicions—didn't yet realize Martin was about to shatter the faint glimmers of hope he'd woven into the film, like slivers of sunlight through a crack.

In the hospital room, Sophie's presence briefly calmed Arthur. A TV played the latest Murray Franklin Show. Arthur, thrilled, saw a clip of his stand-up act, believing his idol recognized his talent. But his joy crumbled—Murray was mocking him, using his awkward performance as a punchline. To Murray, Arthur was a joke, like always.

But this was different. Murray, Arthur's father figure, had betrayed him. Staring at the TV, Arthur's eyes blazed with fury—not just at the ridicule, but at fate's cruel kick after society's relentless blows. A ray of sunlight in the audience's hearts shattered.

Back home, Arthur lay awake, restless. The TV reported protests: Gotham's downtrodden, inspired by Thomas Wayne's elitist remarks, rallied with clown masks outside Wayne Enterprises, decrying his mayoral run.

The next day, at a theater where Thomas Wayne attended a charity event, Arthur saw crowds of masked "Jokers"—angry, fervent, alive. For the first time, he felt he wasn't alone, wasn't an outcast. He erupted in a genuine, hearty laugh, yet it carried the eerie edge of his disorder.

James Blen's eyes lit up, scribbling: "Once habits form, they're hard to break. This shows the Joker can't turn back."

Kevin Thomas disagreed, writing: "We were wrong. The Joker's heartfelt yet pathological laugh reveals he's not sick or mad—this is the real him, his true self."

Slipping into the theater during a clash between security and protesters, Arthur found a different world inside. Outside was chaos—unemployed masses; inside, polished elites enjoyed life without a care. The screen played Chaplin's Modern Times, where Chaplin, on night shift, skates recklessly in a store, nearly falling. Arthur, hidden in the back, laughed maniacally, unnoticed, as the elites laughed too—but their laughter differed sharply from his.

Kevin Thomas, electrified, wrote: "Chaplin in Modern Times and Arthur are of the same class. Capitalists don't care how they live; their lives are worth less than Gotham's trash. The suited elites laugh at Chaplin because, like Arthur, he's just a clown, a joke to them."

James Blen added: "As Modern Times makes everyone laugh, no one notices danger approaching. Martin's warning—a hazard sign in the bottom-right corner—signals the crisis looming over the theater."

Spotting Thomas Wayne heading to the restroom, Arthur followed. Confronting him, he revealed he was Penny's son. Wayne coldly denied any connection, claiming Arthur was adopted, even accusing him of seeking money. Arthur's bitter smile betrayed his suspicion of his mother's delusions, yet he clung to hope. "I don't want money or fame—just a warm hug," he pleaded.

Wayne recoiled, disgusted. Arthur's emotions erupted in his most frenzied laugh yet. The audience felt their last shred of hope crushed, sharing his anguished fury. Alarmed, Wayne punched Arthur, warning him to stay away from his son.

Another ray of sunlight extinguished.

Back home, Arthur locked himself in a refrigerator—an enigmatic act, leaving viewers to interpret. James Blen wrote: "Arthur senses something dark growing inside him. He uses this to stay sane, suppressing the rage and evil within."

Kevin Thomas countered: "The refrigerator symbolizes coldness, darkness—the perfect breeding ground for evil. This scene shows Arthur nurturing the Joker within, his true essence."