(dir. David Ayer)
 |
| Warner Bros. |
“You know what they say about the crazy ones...”
In our age of cinematic universes, franchise
crossovers, and spin-offs there’s a lot to be said about the stakes of a movie,
and the weight we place upon it. These stakes are no longer simply narrative
ones, but financial and critical ones as well. For months we’ve heard about how
Suicide Squad was not only the film
to save a lackluster summer movie season, but also a film positioned to save
the still novel DC Expanded Universe (DCEU). Positioned not as a movie, but as
a seismic event, Suicide Squad never
stood a chance with critics looking to hang the studio’s fiscal goals, their
critical reputation, and the state of fandom all upon a single film’s
shoulders. In all the ruckus created from elements outside of the film itself,
we lost sight of the fact that Suicide
Squad is simply a movie, not a Dark
Knight or Avengers level event
meant to change the superhero film landscape for the next five to ten years.
Making a superhero film has become akin to playing a high-stakes round, and
while David Ayer may keep a disheveled hand and lose a few chips in the
process, Suicide Squad never folds.
While Ayer falls short of hitting the jackpot, he manages to stand out from the
ever-growing pool of superhero filmmakers and give us a game that never becomes
one to bet against.
In the aftermath of the events of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Suicide Squad picks up with government official Amanda Waller
(Viola Waller) putting together a task force of expendable supervillains to
handle Metahuman threats. The team, consisting of Deadshot (Will Smith), Harley
Quinn (Margot Robbie), Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), Killer Croc (Adewale
Akinnuoye-Agbaje), El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), Slipknot (Adam Beach), Katana
(Karen Fukuhara), and Col. Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman), is dropped in the midst
of a supernatural event at the heart of Midway City where they must battle the
forces of the Enchantress (Cara Delevingne), and try to get out alive.
Suicide
Squad feels like a David Ayer movie through and through.
Despite its blockbuster sized budget and marketing platform, Suicide Squad is, at its heart, a
B-level urban action movie with a secondary theme about the painful and
pleasurable destruction that results from personal loss. It may feature some of
DC Comics most iconic characters (and a handful of misfits) but it fits right
in with Ayer’s filmography. Characterization outweighs an admittedly slight
story, but given the characters involved it’s hard to find too much fault with
that aspect. As far back as Training Day,
Ayer’s screenwriting abilities have been defined by moments—specific lines, scenes,
and performances that remain highpoints even as the actual A to B story fades
from memory or care. Part of Ayer’s success with character comes from his
ability to lean into that which is considered visually pleasing and emotionally
honest to urban audiences, while welcoming in those who can appreciate the
hip-hop grunge of it all while standing just outside of it. Ayer doesn’t simply
cast diversely. He gives the film a unique voice that celebrates urban identity
to a degree. Suicide Squad may very
well be the first hip-hop comic book movie.
Suicide
Squad’s cast elevates the whole production with Margot
Robbie, Will Smith, and Viola Davis being the obvious standouts. Robbie and
Davis both fully inhabit their characters as if they stepped off the page onto
the screen, and everything from the way they eat to their stance shows a perfect
understanding of character and psychosis that extends beyond what we just see
on the screen. Smith adds personality and charisma to a previously
stock-character, giving us the “movie-star Will Smith” that’s been missing from
the majority of his more recent performances. While the rest of the cast serve
more supporting roles they’re each given a moment to shine and a measured level
of pathos. Jay Hernandez in particular stands out as El Diablo and delivers one
of the film’s highpoints, a dramatic scene right before the film’s action
packed final act. So many of these characters would have been generic
throwaways in another film, but each member of the cast offers these characters
something to make them feel like an indispensable part of the film’s unique identity.
The film manages to balance depictions of these characters that feel true to
the source material while also allowing their Ayer-isms to create moments of
unexpected emotion.
There are few characters as steeped in the unexpected
as the Joker, and Jared Leto offers his own unique take that feels familiar,
disconcerting, and surprising. While the late Heath Ledger’s Joker is often
described as reptilian, Leto’s Joker is feline. He’s cagey, dangerous, and
dryly morose. Leto doesn’t just speak his lines he purrs them, while his dead
eyes and slow grin hint at both violence and lust. Perhaps more than any
incarnation of the character, Leto’s Joker plays into that comic’s idea that
the Joker is only playing at being insane and is in fact totally in control of
what he’s doing. The film prods at the Joker’s manipulation of Harley Quinn,
and obsession for control under the guise of seemingly random chaos, but any
real insight into the character is tabled for a better film yet to come.
Ultimately the Joker has very little effect on the plot and he’s used in
sporadic bursts but never carries the film away with him. In his previous
iterations in both Batman and The Dark Knight an oft-repeated
complaint was that the Joker’s presence takes away from every other character
in the film, making them feel secondary to his all-consuming whirlwind of
intrigue. But in Suicide Squad, the
Joker feels secondary, perhaps to the point of being extraneous, but given his
historical scene presence it’s not surprising that he’s only allowed to nip at
the characters in the film instead of biting them full on.
Earlier this year I discussed the comic book movie
experimentation at the heart of Batman v Superman. Suicide Squad displays
its own willingness to experiment and adhere to the comic book source material,
perhaps closer than some would find comfortable. Where Batman v Superman operated under the prestige format graphic novel
with its grand themes and weighty desire to understand the roots of these
characters, Suicide Squad acts as a
collection of issues. Much has been made about the film’s editing and while it
certainly has its share of issues in its break from structure, and occasionally
logic, there is an actual purpose behind it even though the results are messy
and at times tedious. The beginning of the film is where Suicide Squad faces its greatest pacing issues in its aim to
introduce each member of the Squad through a series of flashbacks, exposition,
and pop-musical cues. As each character is introduced their name and criminal
history appears across the screen acting like a cinematic version of DC’s Who’s Who. These character
introductions don’t feel much different from the back-up stories or one-shots
that comic books often feature as supplements to their main story arc. In fact,
DC Comics is currently in the midst of a line-wide reboot and before the start
of these new comic stories DC offered a Rebirth
issue that re-introduces the characters central to the book and establishes
their status quo. The first half hour or so of Suicide Squad functions in the same manner, and while these
introductions are both too long and occasionally too broadly sketched they do
serve their purpose in introducing audiences to a world for which the entire
basis so far has been Batman and Superman. Once that opening chunk of
introductory business is over the film settles into itself and both Ayer and
the characters are able to let loose. But even then the film never loses its
comic book sensibilities with flashbacks coming connected to certain images or
lines and shots created to directly echo the work of famed comic book artists
(Alex Ross, Lee Bermejo, Eduardo Risso, and Bruce Timm most notably). And as
the film careens into its final act it becomes increasingly clear that the
story is following that of the most simplistic comic book storylines where a
protagonist(s) must confront a massively powered villain with flimsy
motivations. Everything from structure, the skimpy outfits, the villain’s
motivation, and the timing of set pieces are built on the foundations of comic
book basics, not much different at all from the new releases that hit shops
every Wednesday. We’ve heard both fans and critics say for years that they wish
comic book movies would hew closer to their source material well for better or
worse this is it. Suicide Squad is
about as close to the average comic book as you can get and that’s a hell of an
experience.
Grade: B
