Villain worship

‘Suicide Squad’ is a disjointed mess and the best DC Universe film yet

The carefully curated path that has defined Marvel’s extended universe of superhero films—a unified world built of largely satisfying, critically acclaimed and financially successful franchises—has thus far eluded DC and its studio master, Warner Brothers. A disappointing surprise, considering DC has Superman and Batman, easily two of the most recognizable and filmed comic book characters.

Perhaps in an effort to set itself apart from Marvel, DC decided to deconstruct: let Superman be darker, more conflicted—make him an imperfect God. Make Batman older and even more cynical and bitter than his previous screen incarnations. The one quality the two characters have historically shared is a refusal to kill bad guys—which they both wind up doing in “Man of Steel” and “Batman v. Superman” because, hey, it’s edgy.

Despite box office returns that would have pleased most studios, the negative reaction from fans and critics made clear that a killer opening weekend alone was a Pyrrhic victory. Zack Snyder’s brooding, self-serious approach to these stories, while beautifully crafted, was misguided and leaden. DC heard the complaints and endeavored to change tone from dark to darkly humorous with their third Expanded Universe outing, “Suicide Squad.” It isn’t enough of a course correction, though. “Suicide Squad” still finds itself lacking, if for different reasons.

Picking up after Supes embarks on what appears to be a permanent vacation at the end of “Batman v. Superman,” we meet a ruthless government agent, Amanda Waller (Viola Davis), who recognizes that, with Superman’s death, America has been left vulnerable to future threats from “meta-humans” like Zod and Doomsday. In response, Waller develops a black ops program comprised of seven incarcerated supervillains—some human, some not so much—whose unique talents will hopefully turn the tide in the event of another world-destroying invader from the stars.

Among them are contract killer Deadshot (Will Smith), bat-wielding psychopath Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), human torch El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), wisecracking Aussie thief Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), angry lizardman Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Abgaje), and mercenary Slipknot (Adam Beach).

The seventh villain, Enchantress, quickly demonstrates the flaws in Waller’s plan. The spirit of an ancient witch in possession of Dr. June Moon (Cara Delevingne), Enchantress goes rogue and unleashes her older brother Incubus from a cursed idol. The demonic siblings wreak havoc on Midway City, and the remainder of Waller’s suicide squad, led by Colonel Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) and his bodyguard Katana (Karen Fukuhara), must band together to save the world from total annihilation.

Are those enough origin stories for you? The sheer amount of character development is one of “Suicide Squad's” biggest problems—and emblematic of DC’s failure at properly crafting and developing an Expanded Universe in its rush to catch up with Marvel.

It quickly becomes clear that Deadshot, Harley, and her main squeeze The Joker (Jared Leto) are the only real persons of interest. The ancillary characters get their moments but wind up feeling superfluous in the not-so-grand scheme of things. It doesn’t help that the squad is bolstered by standard issue GI Joes like Flag and GQ Edwards (Scott Eastwood). Besides subverting the point of having the suicide squad be expendable black operators not connected to the government, their inclusion—along with cameos from Batman and The Flash—overstuffs an already unwieldy cast.

David Ayer brings plenty of verve and visual panache to the proceedings, awash in a balance of garish color and murky decay. The opening sequences introducing our antiheroes feel like they’re going somewhere at first.

But a lack of focus and some obvious meddling to insert more audience-tested action and humor into the mix ultimately lend “Suicide Squad” a tonally disjointed, film-by-committee vibe (though Ayer insists he had final cut). The film’s flailing for relevance extends to its soundtrack, which is loaded with pop hits that rarely correspond to what’s happening on screen. What is left are the hints of a better movie buried under a not-completely-terrible one.

The best scenes in “Suicide Squad” are the quieter character moments. Sure, seeing Harley and The Joker tear ass in a sports car while being chased by Batman is neat, but the nature of their relationship is actually kind of interesting. Of the cast, Robbie, Smith, and Hernandez are standouts, while Leto brings an unlikely gravitas to The Joker. They’re swinging for the fences.

Yet, their performances are subverted by editing that seems to have left a bunch of connective tissue on the floor. Almost nothing this movie attempts to capitalize on feels truly earned, but it’s still goofy enough to suggest that a fun time was almost had by all.

“Suicide Squad” is a flawed, premature attempt at capturing some of that “Guardians of the Galaxy” lightning (and a fine example of how not to do it). Yet, thanks to several strong performances and the absence of Zack Snyder, it winds up being the best DC Universe movie yet.

Which is, unfortunately, faint praise.

For more from Joe, read his article on the people who are saving the house from "The Outsiders."