It’s extremely clear after witnessing the new DC-Comics adaptation Suicide Squad this week that Warner Bros. has a problem on their hands. In their haste to build an interconnected, Marvel-esque world they have made grave mistakes. What made the original Avengers a landmark film was how carefully planned and plotted it was. Each character was given standalone origin movies (some weaker than others but you know the drill) with unique personalities that were given hours of screen time to develop. After that The Avengers felt like a release and a reward – a money-grubbing thank you to the audience for their time. That tone let the film operate with a lightness that was as enjoyable as it was engrossing.
Cut to 2016 and DC is running to catch up. It has a catalog of characters to parse through that, while living in a much darker world, could theoretically bare the same fruit. But instead of taking a similar approach DC has opted for a different trajectory – slam as many of their characters into one movie as they can – some we’ve seen before but most you sure as hell haven’t.
Therein lies the most basic problem with Suicide Squad. For the film’s first (and much better) half we are introduced one-by-one to our bad guy heroes. Deadshot (Will Smith) is an assassin for hire with a legend surrounding his impeccable aim. Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) is a twisted former-psychologist who was corrupted by the Joker (Jared Leto.) There’s also a crocodile-man who likes BET, a bank robber with a boomerang, a guy who shoots fire and may actually be the devil, and Joel Kinnaman as Colonel Rick Flagg (lol) who almost certainly bribed someone to get this role.
For God’s sake even Batfleck is in this movie.
The crew is assembled when evil-government person Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) wants to create a group of secret operatives that she can use and castoff at even the hint of controversy. Her plan is thrust into action when an ancient witch wakes up and shoots a big, blue beam into the sky which will kill us all (ugh, for all the wonderful comic characters you think writers could come up with a better villain than a fucking blue light.)
Suicide Squad would only be able to sell such an obscenely lame premise if the writing and characterization own it and Director/Writer David Ayer tries his damndest with diminishing results. The film has a blast early, reveling in the absurdity of these evil-doers – evoking a very Deadpool level of snark. It’s when the film has to deliver the obligatory shoot ‘em up, punchathon that it completely loses its way.
Save for the fact what makes this even more bizarre is how game the cast is. Will Smith hasn’t been this charismatic on-screen since Hancock – nearly a decade ago. Margot Robbie is game as Harley Quinn, a hyper-sexualized crazy person whose only want in life is to shack up with the Joker behind a white-picket fence. Robbie is not always the most dynamic performer but she overcomes some seriously backward gender-politics here to deliver a fun performance.
While the rest of the cast is dutifully rendered as background noise, Jared Leto as the Joker gets a few moments of grandeur, and boy is it upsetting. I’ve never been a fan of Leto’s affected, method-driven mega-acting (not to mention his cringe-worthy band 30 Seconds to Mars.) To me it’s always signaled a slow devolution into the mid-late career path of Nicholas Cage. And if his performance as Joker is any indication I’d say he’s on that slow train to The Wicker Man. This is a look-away embarrassing performance that suggests Leto was always aware of Heath Ledger’s performance and never devised a way around it. I’m sure if you met him though he’d give you a two-hour download on his approach.
Still, for all the faults in Suicide Squad I’m inclined to at least defend its aesthetic. My main complaint with Marvel’s universe is everything feels so safe, so calculated and on brand. Everything in that universe is the same color. At least David Ayer uses his colorful palate to give his world a healthy panache. It’s not enough to save his schizophrenic disaster but it gets minor brownie points for trying to be weird. But even when Ayers succeeds with a flight of fancy you can always feel the pull of a larger, pointless cinematic-universe reigning him back in.
Rating: 
