The Suicide Squad

'Guardians of the Galaxy' director James Gunn hops to DC to leave his indelible mark on the franchise and the best DC film in over a decade.

Not since Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight has there been a DC Comics-related film so fully competent in its execution, wholly unified in its core ideas, or so minute-by-minute entertaining as Guardians of the Galaxy director James Gunn’s first shot at this universe, The Suicide Squad.

That really sucks to say—not because The Suicide Squad isn’t awesome; it is. But because Warner Bros. has produced 14 films since then, 9 of which are entries in their ongoing connected franchise—dubbed the “DC Extended Universe (DCEU)” by journalists and fans—an intended competitor for the Marvel Cinematic Universe; 14 films in 13 years, and arguably a greater diversity of filmmaking styles than the MCU has offered, and yet none individually that compare to any of Marvel’s top ten (among which Gunn’s Guardians ranks snugly).

But the DCEU has finally found its first truly great movie, given to them by one of their rival’s most creative and eccentric directors, no less; WB offered Gunn the opportunity to make whatever movie he wanted in the wake of his foolish firing by Disney—a premature response (which was later rightfully reversed) to a smear campaign by a conservative conspiracy theorist. It was probably one of the shrewdest business moves WB had made in a long time, and boy, has it now paid off.

Gunn has now almost assuredly made what will be one of the most beloved entries in each franchise. And he’s been hired back for at least two more Guardians projects.

But what about The Suicide Squad? Wasn’t that one of the early missteps in the DCEU? Something about Will Smith and an edgy, tatted-up Joker? Forgive yourself for the confusion; this is WB’s second swing at the popular antihero team, this time with an added “The.”

Effectively a reboot but maintaining continuity with the 2016 film, The Suicide Squad wastes no time getting into the thick of things. In the opening three or four minutes, we’ve already met a full squad of super-goons, officially named “Task Force X,” which includes franchise favorite Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), the first film’s team leader in Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman), and returning loose cannon Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney).

The rest are new faces; other incarcerated D-list supervillains turned loose to do the American government’s dirty work, motivated to cooperate by bombs planted in the bases of their skulls. If you saw the first film or read the comics, you know the shtick. This huge and colorful cast of characters includes Pete Davidson, Michael Rooker, Nathan Fillion, Flula Borg, and many more.

We also meet some new mains: high-tech mercenary Bloodsport (Idris Elba), the joyously murderous Peacemaker (John Cena), Ant-Man-but-with-rats in the form of Ratcatcher II (Daniela Melchior), and a Hulk-sized animal-human hybrid, King Shark (performed on-set by Steve Agee, and voiced by none other than Sly Stallone).

The Squad’s mission is as follows:

The Corto-Maltese government has gotten their hands on an extremely dangerous extraterrestrial organism, “Project Starfish,” and as far as Task Force X commander Amanda Waller (Viola Davis, returning) is concerned, they intend to weaponize it against the United States. The Suicide Squad is tasked with dropping into enemy territory, covertly finding their way to Jotunheim (the top-secret military research lab in which Starfish is held), and destroying Project Starfish along with any record of it. Along the way, they’ll need to forcefully recruit the help of Starfish lead scientist Gaius Grieves (Peter Capaldi), aka “The Thinker,” in order to find out how to take down the beast.

Gunn ensures that the main plot is clearly and simply defined early on, in order to make room for the more important things. With a cast this big and boisterous, that really helps in giving the characters room to breathe. Bickering abounds, mostly between Bloodsport and Peacemaker, who have an ongoing chest-puffing match about who is the cleverer killer. Harley and Rick, old war buddies from the first film, get to establish a bit more of their endearing platonic relationship. And Ratcatcher II, performed lovingly by Melchior, is the heart of the film, forming a new, adorable friendship with King Shark and a special kind of trust with Bloodsport.

It’s natural to compare the misfit makeup of this team to the Guardians in their first film, though I think it’s clear Gunn has learned since then how better to execute the push-pull of characters that don’t get along (but really kinda do) without letting it become tedious or forcing the characters into what feels like out-of-character behavior. While these Squad members might not be quite as iconic or memorable as their Gunn-Marvel counterparts, they do sometimes feel just a little bit more human. (Well, most of them literally are.) They might actually be funnier too.

The cast, additionally, puts in great work to bring these already-well-written characters to life. This is easily Robbie’s best take on Harley: sufficiently insane, lovably fiery, and fiercely independent; and yet never really grating, as she’s prone to in her previous films. Bloodsport bears a lot of physical and thematic resemblance to Will Smith’s Deadshot from the first film, but Elba grounds him in a more earthy, weathered performance; he even rides the same “I know I’m not a good man, but I have to do this for my daughter” arc but manages to give it just that much more punch.

Even Rick Flag is given more charisma and emotional weight, elevated by the fact that Kinnaman is clearly having more fun this time around—which was a bit vindicating for me, as I actually kind of liked him in the first film. John Cena is also phenomenally hilarious and convincing as the psychopathic “peace-loving” soldier; if you had doubts about his blockbuster potential in F9, this film puts those worries to rest. Additionally, Agee and Stallone’s body-voice combo makes King Shark an archetypal “cuddly, dumb brute” for the ages, perhaps more charming even than Groot.

Expectedly, as is made clear by the team name and the film’s marketing, not everybody can make it out of this one. I won’t spoil, but it’s probably somewhat obvious, based on who is and isn’t getting a lot of name-drops in this review, who gets to stick around awhile and who doesn’t.

The film’s tagline is “Don’t get too attached,” and while I love the notion of keeping all your characters in perpetual, genuine danger of death, I feel there was a bit of a missed opportunity in this dynamic. The fact is that most of the characters who get offed are taken care of way too early on in the film, quickly shedding the fat and unmistakably defining our main characters within the first act. Those who die have gloriously brief and funny deaths, but the film fails its tagline by not giving us a chance to get attached in the first place. Granted, the tagline was probably a decision by the marketing team more so than Gunn, but the mystery of “who lives, and who dies?” is inherent to a setup like this, and it’s, for the most part, thrown out the window very early on.

Gunn tries to continually remind you throughout the rest of the film that any member could go at any minute, but it’s a relatively limp threat when paired with the early slaughter and character setups that require inevitable payoff.

Wasted gimmick (or perhaps gimmick-ified concept) aside, there’s really only one other glaring issue, and that’s how Gunn opts to clump the characters’ emotional arcs throughout the film. While there’s some great, relationship-building banter in every scene, there’s one specific backstory dump in the back of a van that just rings as contrived and overly sentimental too early on. We learn all of the important details about Bloodsport’s and Ratcatcher’s backgrounds and motivations in what’s essentially two back-to-back expositional monologues. At that point, none of the characters had really even warmed up to each other yet; why, then, are we spilling our guts to each other?

But for the most part, the emotional core of the film is handled well (far better than any other DCEU film to date), sprinkled across different scenes and well delivered-on in it’s third act. I have to admit, Gunn knows how to design a finale that will grab your heart and make you misty-eyed. Even when it’s not all quite as well-earned as you’d like it to be (though it mostly is), Gunn has emotional manipulation down-pat. I cried like a baby at Guardians Vol. 2, despite largely being frustrated by the clunky and inconsistent character arcs in that film.

I’m realizing I haven’t really touched on the graphic violence and crudeness that permeates the film, as I think it’s pretty apparent from the marketing and the R-rating (which it more than earns). Probably don’t take your 7-year-old to this one. If they’re in middle school, they probably see and hear worse on a daily basis, in terms of the language and behavior, but might still squirm a bit at the violence. It’s nothing horribly shocking, but Gunn is clearly enjoying the longer leash for a superhero film, and indulging his shock-provocateur roots (with more class and heart).

With The Suicide Squad, Gunn has bridged the gap between his love of high-flying comic book adventures and his rough-around-the-edges filmmaking roots to create a uniquely chaotic superhero spectacle with no shortage of laughs, lacerations, and love. It’s a worthwhile venture for any fan of the caped genre, and finally a truly wonderful entry for DC.