Main cast: Margot Robbie (Harley Quinn), Idris Elba (Robert DuBois/Bloodsport), John Cena (Christopher Smith/Peacemaker), Joel Kinnaman (Colonel Rick Flag), David Dastmalchian (Abner Krill/Polka-Dot Man), Daniela Melchior (Cleo Cazo/Ratcatcher 2), Peter Capaldi (Dr Gaius Grieves/The Thinker), Alice Braga (Sol Soria), Sylvester Stallone (Nanaue/King Shark), and Viola Davis (Amanda Waller)
Director: James Gunn
We all know what to expect from a James Gunn superhero movie, right? The same old faces he has on in every movie of his—he is basically keeping his brother Sean employed at this point, maybe as a favor to their mom or something—and the while cheery music plays over scenes of violence in a tired effort to appear edgy and ironic. His movies look well produced and polish, but with enough vintage-feeling shlock elements to recall his Troma roots.
Alas, Mr Gunn’s hiring power can only go so far, so most of his buddies are relegated to playing bit roles, mostly as part of the first Suicide Squad, sorry Task Force X (the name Suicide Squad is considered demeaning now, as per their leader Colonel Rick Flagg) that are sent to the island nation of Colto Maltese. The island is ravaged by civil war, but the squad is more interested in destroying Jötunheim, a lab said to contain a top secret experiment called Project Starfish that the Squad boss, Amanda Waller, has deemed to dangerous to be allowed to continue. Hilariously, the whole squad is wiped out in ludicrous yet so appropriate ways, bar Harley Quinn, because of plot armor and they probably paid Margot Robbie most of the budget that didn’t go into CGI, and of course Colonel Rick Flag. The latter has to be part of a second squad to finish what the first squad couldn’t, after all.
This is how we meet Totally-not Deadshot, Bloodsport Alba (who’s also a deadly marksman played by a black dude, one with also daughter issues, but yeah, totally not Deadshot okay and Hollywood certainly does not think that all black guys are alike and interchangeable), along with John Cena, a ditsy psychotic lady of color (therefore, not Harley Quinn at all) with powers to control rats, a dumb but earnest idiot clearly marked for heroic sacrifice, and token non-human muscle monster voiced by a famous dude. Oh, and Harley of course, because she’s Margot Robbie. So, how will Squad Redux fare?
It is best to just pretend that The Suicide Squad is a fresh start that has nothing to do with Suicide Squad, because that’s what Mr Gunn did.
Seriously, this movie is so edgy and try-hard, it’s like a porn movie directed by a sixteen-year old edgelord with too much much cocaine and drugs. The opening credits play over the corpses of the first squad members while Amanda Wallace’s staff happily collect the bets they’d won (the staff bet before every mission which one of the squad will die and which one won’t) or curse the images of the dead members that have cost them their money. Not-Deadshot’s conversation with his daughter see them screaming “Fuck you!” at one another non-stop until I get flashbacks to a certain much-ridiculed scene from the video game DmC: Devil May Cry. The whole philosophy of this movie is encapsulated by a line that John Cena utters to Bloodsport, which is written by James Gunn of course, in a scene which sees the two of them competing to see which one can kill the most indigenous locals in the most stylish and violent ways possible.
Bloodsport: No one likes a show-off.
John Cena: Unless what they’re showing off is as dope as fuck.
Bloodsport: Fuck. That’s true.
Amanda Wallace is more evil than before—she actually intended the first squad I’ve mentioned earlier to be a distraction, to draw enemies away from the second squad’s arrival at Colto Maltese, heh, and her subsequent actions aren’t any better. Of course, this makes her stupid as well, as deliberately hiding information that would have allowed for greater cooperation between her minions is just counterproductive, but this is the same woman that imagines criminals that can barely work together will make good covert operatives, and also the same person with staff that routinely bungle up simple things such as background checks, and my favorite, eventually is undermined by the same incompetent mules in her staff. It’s actually hilarious how so little respect her minions have of her, and how apt.
Anyway, Amanda is a indescribably huge moron as well as a bully, but she’s also edgy in that she has no qualms sending everyone to their deaths, so she makes a good avatar of James Gunn, the deity of edgelords, in this movie. No, really—Mr Gunn has no qualms killing off characters that aren’t wearing obvious armor, although the obviousness of the plot armors also means that one can see right away which character is wearing one.
Does the movie work, though?
I hate to say it, but yes. From the fanservice (John Cena in tighty-whities to him in white pants that show off his rear end very nicely) to juvenile humor to comedic nudity to senseless stylized violence… yes, yes, I have so much fun that I can only ask you all to please imagine that this review is written by a 14-year old pimply kid in order to let me retain some dignity.
I do like that Harley Quinn is a far more dangerous psycho here without going way too over the top, and there are a few scenes here that actually make her quite sympathetic and even relatable in a dangerous way, but it’s also great that she doesn’t hog all the limelight. Bloodsport, Crazy Rat Lady, Shark Dude, and John Cena are all pretty memorable in their garish, over the top, psychotic glory. Seriously, Deadshot wishes he can have the privilege of licking Bloodsport’s weapons shiny and clean, because Not-Deadshot is definitely Thank God He’s Not by the end of this movie. The polka-dot dude’s mother issues are also quite amusing, although that one-note gag soon wears out its welcome.
As for John Cena, I have no complaints—that body and that arse are a solid grade B+ at the very least. Juan Diego Botto… oh my. He isn’t naked enough but what I see gets an A. Yes, there are asses and penises in this one, along with some brief female toplessness (not from the lead cast members, in case someone out there is getting their hopes up, heh).
Sure, the edgy aspects of the film are pretty cringe-inducing, because it’s just James Gunn letting his Troma screenwriter run free as the people at Warner Bros Pictures are too desperate for another hit DCEU movie and the R-rating allows him to unzip his pants and do the elephant dance, so to speak, while of course dragging his brother out of cold storage for another easy paycheck for Sean. In this case, the result is a wacky yet elegant mix of crude and childish humor along with graphic violence and unapologetic psychopathy that makes for an exhilarating roller-coaster ride of a movie no matter how predictable the plot twists may be.
More importantly, this is exactly the kind of movie one should get when it’s about criminals and psychopaths taking the spotlight. No forced redemption arcs, no fake villainy, just likable cold-blooded nutcases. The Suicide Squad is such a fun pleasure to watch. Now, for the love of whatever deity that watches over these things, please don’t let Mr Gunn go overboard and self-indulgent like he did with the sequel of Guardians of the Galaxy and kill whatever budding love I have for this particular franchise.
