The trailer for Suicide Squad promised something gleefully irreverent—a kind of Deadpool-meets-A Clockwork Orange explosion of pop-punk anarchy.
The film, however, is neither gleeful nor irreverent, but just another overcooked stew of DC Comics nihilism. According to reports by trade magazines, the film—which was directed by gritty action specialist David Ayer—was mired in postproduction rewrites, edits, and reshoots, all designed to make the final product look more like the flamboyant trailer. The resulting film creates a bit of cognitive dissonance—gloomy, busy, end-of-the-world stuff, accompanied by bratty and exuberant songs by the likes of Eminem, The Whites Stripes, and the Rolling Stones. (It’s hard to imagine what the film would be like without the music constantly reassuring us that we’re having edgy, audacious fun.)
The basic premise: Amanda Waller (a dour Viola Davis) is a higher-up at a secret government agency tasked with keeping the world safe from otherworldly forces. “Superman shared our values,” she says ominously. “The next Superman might not.” Her solution: Fight fire with fire, recruiting the baddest of the bad, some with their own supernatural abilities, others just so crazy or fearless they can be weaponized. How to keep them in line? First, figure out what they love (if they love anything) and use it as a bargaining chip. Then, use an actual chip implanted in their heads that explodes if they disobey orders. (That oughta do the trick!)
The rollout of these forced-to-be-good bad guys (aka the Suicide Squad)—all of whom are locked in custom-designed, maximum security prison cells—is the best part of the film, although that bar is quite low. The first two we meet are Deadshot (Will Smith), a skilled assassin with a soft spot for his young daughter, and Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), a former prison psychiatrist who fell in love with her notorious patient, the Joker (Jared Leto), after he lobotomized her. (With boyfriends like that…)
An immediate problem: Deadshot essentially comes across as a good guy with an unfortunate job. (A charming assassin who loves his daughter? In most American films, that guy would be the straight-up hero). Note to the filmmakers: If you want Deadshot to seem a little menacing, a little unhinged, a little unpredictable—DON’T CAST ONE OF THE MOST LIKEABLE HUMAN BEINGS ON THE PLANET! (Ahem.)
As for Harley Quinn—with her little girl pig-tails, smeared lipstick, micro-mini shorts, stripper-pole-style acrobatics, and devilishly deranged grin—it’s practically redundant to complain that the character is sexist. (In related news, the sky is blue and snow is white.) At least Robbie seems to be having fun with the part. So yay?
The only other member of the Suicide Squad to be given a proper backstory is Diablo (Jay Hernandez), who can set things on fire with his mind. In a bout of rage, he killed those he loved most and now he lives a life of penance and regret. Then there’s the cannibal Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), a bruising hulk of a man afflicted with a horrible skin condition (the world treated him like a monster so—say it with me—he became one). Boomerang (Jai Courtney) and Slipknot (Adam Beach) are two other members of the Squad, but don’t ask me to tell you anything notable about them, because that is a test I will fail.
Frustratingly, the film has no fun with their badness, at all. They’re not particularly rude or disorderly or scheming—certainly not in an entertaining way. In some ways, the members of the Suicide Squad don’t seem much more angsty or dangerous than your typical Avenger. (Bruce Banner would fit right in.) At one point, Harley Quinn breaks a store window and steals a purse, then turns to the camera and coos, “We’re bad guys—it’s what we do!”—which feels more like a scene from the SNL parody of the film than the film itself.
In charge of all this would-be mayhem is Waller’s reluctant right hand man, military commander Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman, also dour), who has his own (super convoluted) past. You see, he’s in love with an archeologist named June (Cara Delevinge) who occasionally turns into an ancient witch named Enchantress with the power to destroy mankind. Waller keeps Enchantress’ heart in a box—literally—and is able to control her, until she can’t. (The Enchantress CGI is horrible, and reminded me a bit of the spirits in Ghostbusters, which, last I checked, was a comedy.)
If your primary reason to catch the film is because you want to see what method man Leto does with Joker—manage your expectations. He’s not a member of the Suicide Squad so most of his brief storyline is told in flashbacks. I guess what he does is promising? Sort of? He plays Joker like a louche bad boy on PCP—Justin Bieber meets Jim Carrey in The Mask. It’s a choice.
I haven’t even gotten to the film’s racial politics, which are…problematic. The one Hispanic character is a domestic abuser, the one character played by a Native American actor is disposable, and one of the three black characters is completely covered in scales. Do better, D.C. Comics!
Look friends, it gives me no pleasure to trash this film. I want DC Comics fans to have nice things, too. On the bright side, there are, like, a gajillion more DC Comics films coming down the pike. At least one of them has to be good, right? Right?