The question has been heard ad infinitum, echoing like the Joker’s maniacal cackle throughout Arkham Asylum: will “Suicide Squad” put Warner Bros.’ troubled DC Extended Universe back on track? This posit, which normally has no business appearing in a review, cannot be avoided. Audiences have already experienced an incoherent DC Universe superhero movie earlier this year, and thus so much rides on the success of “Suicide Squad,” not so much critical or financial considerations (though those qualities matter), but as an overall cultural perception that DC Films creates worthwhile movies in the first place.
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So while “Suicide Squad” isn’t as poorly stitched together as its nearly unintelligible forebear “Batman v Superman: Dawn Of Justice,” it’s still a patchy, makeshift effort of awkward, mismatched tones, tacked-on jokes and a messy narrative. While a flippant sense of humor assists in terms of sheer entertainment, the third DCEU film ain’t no “Deadpool” either.
Uncharacteristically, “Suicide Squad” centers on the bad guys of the DCEU; namely, criminals locked up in a maximum-security prison paying for their crimes. Recruited, though more like manipulated, by the federal government, they are forced to run clandestine missions led by a punitive agent named Amanda Waller (a severe Viola Davis). When one of their own mystically inclined members goes rogue, the ragtag squad is sent on a veritable suicide mission to terminate the threat at all costs. And that’s essentially the entire movie —the rest is devoted to backstory, conveying group dynamics and the do-or-die stakes of an operation that is all too familiar. And while the members and puppet masters of the Suicide Squad are all supposed to be unscrupulous antiheroes, they’re nonetheless PG-13-friendly versions of morally murky miscreants.
“Suicide Squad” is directed by David Ayer, a macho helmer with a high testosterone level and normally humorless sensibilities. He spends the first act so cockily obsessed with communicating how cool and crazy his villains are that he often drowns himself out with redundancy. Each character is introduced with a swaggering and/or cheeky song (tunes by AC/DC, Black Sabbath, The White Stripes, Eminem, etc.) and a mini-origin story, but these conceits cause the film to feel like a series of vignettes for an inordinate amount of its running time.
Ayer’s tendency to overcook each element maligns the picture throughout. “Suicide Squad” has some effective comedy and can be occasionally refreshing, but its irreverence often feels artificial and contrived. Its conventional and melodramatic third act is no different from any other overwrought superhero film, and the sentimentality found in the subplot concerning Deadshot (Will Smith) feels overdone and incongruent for such a mercenary character.
Any winning elements to the movie are found within the cast. Margot Robbie shines as the sociopathic and saucy Harley Quinn, and the surprise stand out is Jai Courtney who excels at the shifty mien of Boomerang. Jared Leto has the unenviable task of following up Heath Ledger’s role as the Joker, and as many times as the character has been interpreted and as good as the Oscar-winner can be in select roles, he doesn’t come close to matching Ledger’s iconic performance.
Similar to the cameos of Batman (Ben Affleck) and another Justice League character, there’s little reason for the Joker to exist in this narrative, other than as a bothersome complication to the team’s largely-empty goals. In fact, all elements of DCEU connectivity are tone deaf, including a mid-credits tag that’s essentially stolen from Nick Fury’s role in the early Marvel films (the fact that DC doesn’t have original ideas in this regard is unfortunate).
Narratively, “Suicide Squad” has so little going on that it often feels like a building block rather than a stand-alone adventure. Tonally, the film can be uneven and goofy as well; it’s dark but flippant, dead serious and yet glib. And its grittiness doesn’t correspond with some of its ridiculous characters and silly comic-book-style scenarios.
For all its attempts at appearing eccentric and darkly subversive, “Suicide Squad,” especially in its turgid third act, devolves into super-hero sameness, with heroes sacrificing to save the world and trying to redeem themselves in the process. It’s almost as if Warner Bros. and Ayer are oblivious to the legitimate criticisms levied on comic book movies in the last few years, going back as far as the careless destruction porn evinced in “Man Of Steel.” The movie features yet another world engine whatsit in the sky that could destroy the planet, and the collateral damage and carnage is huge, yet there appear to be no real consequences when skyscrapers are decimated. And that’s not to mention the persistent problem in blockbuster filmmaking of an unmemorable villain.
“Suicide Squad” is a terrific idea: bad guys manipulated to fight evildoers because, as inveterate criminals, they have little choice. This basic kernel feels feasible with respect to contemporary events; the federal government employing expendables to do their black ops missions, and disavowing them if they fail, does not strain credulity. And yet “Suicide Squad” rarely does much with the idea, besides introducing “wild and kooky” characters to the overall movie universe and letting them loose in an utterly forgettable story.
“Suicide Squad” isn’t a terrible movie per se, and judged against its forebear ‘Batman v Superman,’ it resembles a shining beacon of coherence. But this does not mean that “Suicide Squad” should be mistaken for a good movie: It’s a mediocre effort with commonplace ideas of rebelliousness and salvation. In assembling a gallery of colorful characters, there was clearly a concerted effort to push the DC Extended Universe into new, more entertaining territory, but “Suicide Squad” only sees minor progress made, and a widening distance remaining to catch their competition. [C-]