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J” like a conflicted ex-girlfriend wondering whether they should have broken up, Cassandra puts it plain: “Sounds like a dick.” It’s an effective clapback at Suicide Squad.Going into a DC Extended Universe movie always feels like rolling the dice. Rather than let yet another film fall under the spell of the Joker, who looms large in everyone’s imagination here, the filmmakers puncture that balloon with quick efficiency. Her Terminator-like assault on a police station-she wields a grenade launcher packed with smoke rounds and glitter bombs-is one of the only moments that achieves the anarchic glee that the film otherwise strains for. Freed from her prior status as the hot-pants bimbo, Harley is able to carry some stretches of this film strictly on her fizzy narration and a bouncy optimism that propels her through one seemingly no-win situation after another. What Birds of Prey has going for it is a less leering, self-important gaze than Suicide Squad. But it’s over almost before it’s even worked up a sweat, the whole thing suggesting a half-sketched-out Lady Gaga music video.
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One promising set piece, a half-dream sequence that riffs on the “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” sequence from Howard Hawks’s Gentlemen Prefer Blondes attempts to illustrate Harley’s cracked mentality-part flirty bombshell, part killer queen of the roost, all mixed with an Adderall loopiness-by substituting assault rifles and bondage masks for jewelry and furs.
A later scene in which Roman humiliates a woman and forces her to strip in public is less bloody but just as gratuitous.Įlsewhere, Bird of Prey’s fight scenes are choreographed with little imagination and a great amount of focus on snapping bones. It’s utterly brutal and played entirely for laughs. Early on, we’re treated to Roman and his scarred sycophant, Victor (Chris Messina, exuding far more magnetism than the role deserves), giggling while carving the faces off a gangland rival and his family. Instead, there’s greater focus on the casual sadism that’s become one of the more depressing characteristics of the DC Universe. Meanwhile, Harley runs, skips, and roller-skates away from all the police officers and thieves who have her in their crosshairs.Ĭathy Yan’s film does a shoddy job of tying all these characters together while keeping an eye on Harley’s shenanigans. Banding together to keep Cassandra alive, Harley and her loose-knit gang of heroines-ranging from alcoholic detective Renee (Rosie Perez) to Black Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), a singer with a mean karate kick, and appealingly dorky bow-wielding assassin Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead)-all find their own type of emancipation amid the crossbow-shooting and WrestleMania-grade backflips. Pickpocketing urchin Cassandra (Ella Jay Basco) steals it by accident. Here, Roman and his goons are hunting for a diamond and killing anyone who gets in their way. In a more earthbound twist on Marvel’s Infinity Stone McGuffins, Christina Hodson’s screenplay goes positively old-fashioned. Black Mask, the machinery of a larger superhero franchise grinds into action around her. While she rips it up at the nightclub of crime boss Roman (Ewan McGregor), a.k.a.
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Theoretically breaking loose from being the Joker’s moll, while enjoying the protection that comes with everyone thinking they’re still together, Harley starts off Birds of Prey in full motormouthed party-girl bloom.
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But since the film can never figure out how seriously to take its heroine, or how to gin up a halfway engaging caper what could have been an emancipation ends up feeling more like a trap for the character.Ī homicidally daffy, mallet-wielding roller girl with a PhD in psychology buried somewhere underneath her manic moods and Noo Joisey accent, Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) was just about the only spark in director David Ayer’s turgid Suicide Squad. And surrounding her with a squad of equally fierce and sarcastic female ass-kickers has the potential for a vibrant, pop-punk comedic franchise: Think Guardians of the Galaxy by way of Barb Wire.
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In theory, the self-consciously goofy story of a “badass broad” who breaks free from being pole-dancing eye candy for her villain boyfriend to carve out a life for herself would be a welcome addition to a canon of films still in thrall to hyper-buff and hyper-serious dudes.
The self-consciously ornate subtitle for Birds of Prey- And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn-lays out the reason for this film’s existence far better than the first 45 minutes or so of jumbled exposition that follow.
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