The Suicide Squad
Warner Bros. PicturesFrom the “beautifully twisted mind” of James Gunn. Nothing beautiful nor twisted about him, really. Certainly not his rendition of The Suicide Squad. Reactionary inevitabilities to calm the temper of David Ayer fanboys. If DC wish to change their direction from ultra-serious, dense superhero dramas to self-aware, colour-clashing comedy capers then so be it. It is surely a change for the better, but one that relies all too much on one character. Margot Robbie is leading the charge for the D.C. Extended Universe and appears to be the only one doing so. Everyone has abandoned the burning wreckage, yet here we are. Bring on the beautifully twisted mind, release the director's cut, and move on feeling vaguely satisfied or completely unmoved.
“You know the deal . . . ” Viola Davis opens. What if we don’t? Gunn is having his characters talk not just to one another, but to the audience. What if we do not know the deal? Tough. Enjoy the colourful ride of self-referential humour. At least Davis and a handful of others make it through The Suicide Squad looking relatively good. Idris Elba and Peter Capaldi, in particular, offer up solid work and even a few moments of humour that work. They are rare sightings, but at least they are there from time to time. Not enough to make up for the dreck that makes it into the script, but enough to distract for brief moments. For every rat offering a leaf to Elba, there are four audible groans from poor dialogue or poor visual gags waiting just around the corner.
Blood and gore do not quite masquerade the cheap jokes and the terrible humour. Death can be portrayed as funny, but Gunn uses it frequently – and uninterestingly. He reinforces the expendability of this eponymous squad far better than Ayer did, but then at least Gunn does something interesting with the ensemble cast. While it may be a tonal disaster, at least it has a better, grounded focus on some of its character. When Elba and John Cena get themselves together, The Suicide Squad is, at best, an example of how bickering and misunderstandings can be used as humorous interludes. Gunn cannot stretch that to a feature of any real credibility. Interludes are breaks from the story. We need lots of them because The Suicide Squad is barely focused on what it wishes to say about these characters, or what it wants them to do.
The Suicide Squad is simple and conventional, but that is no surprise. Its record-scratch moments, its simplistic premise of bumping off big names every other minute, it all comes together but never feels all that interesting. You are watching a James Gunn film, and The Suicide Squad never lets you forget that. Not through stylistic choices, but through character interactions, stagnant humour and relatively competent action. The “beautifully twisted” mind audiences were promised is rather tame and tired. Even then, The Suicide Squad is far stronger than the past few years of Marvel offerings. Those brief flutters of humour are good enough, but if Gunn’s efforts are trying to tie in to the nonsense timeline of the extended universe, then it falls upon deaf ears. But if it is a one-off showcase, then it does little for the characters it brings to life and subsequently renders deceased. The Suicide Squad is narratively exhausting and has no real payoff. Twisted, but not beautiful.