Not so Squad Goals

We're bad guys.

Five minutes into Suicide Squad, I wanted to jump up and ask the projectionist to start it over from the beginning. Flashbacks meant to illustrate the main characters’ backstories were launched into so quickly that I was convinced the real start of the movie was accidentally skipped over. The effect was jarring, and as proved to be the case with the remainder of the film, the scenes were so rapid, disjointed, and sloppily edited that you get no real insight into any of the characters’ lives and motivations. The failure to successfully establish the members of the Suicide Squad means we never grow to care about the majority of them, and their actions and behaviors seem driven by the plot rather than born of their characters. 

To summarize the inane plot, ruthless government operative Amanda Waller, played by Viola Davis in one of the film’s few effective performances, recruits the “worst of the worst” villains and metahumans to defend the world against the possibility of an otherworldly attack following the events of the similarly dreadful Batman vs. Superman.

The team is swept into action when Enchantress, a centuries old witch possessing Dr. Joone Moone (Cara Delevingne), takes control of Midway City with the help of her spirit brother, who possesses the body of a random subway rider. Enchantress, lacking the creativity to devise a truly diabolical method of world domination, designs a machine that turns ordinary folk into mindless fighting zombies with heads resembling an amalgamation of pulsating boils. If it sounds ludicrous and hokey reading it, you should see it in poorly rendered CGI for the full effect.

The team goes through all of the predictable tiffs and smarmy banter expected of a group of misfits before coming together at the end to battle the comically unintimidating Enchantress, who writhes about like a jonesing crack addict. In a riff on Satan’s temptation of Jesus in the desert, Enchantress attempts to seduce the Squad by promising to fulfill their greatest desires. Deadshot, Harley Quinn, and El Diablo are all given glimpses of their ideal life, while Killer Croc and Boomerang are completely ignored. Apparently, they have no hopes or dreams. 

Jai Courtney (Boomerang) finds out how few lines he has.

The cast, for the most part, is the movie’s one redeeming quality. Will Smith is charismatic as ever as the world’s deadliest hit man with a soft spot for his daughter. Jay Hernandez hits the right notes as El Diablo, who is reluctant to commit violence after a horrific incident involving his family.

Margot Robbie’s performance as Harley Quinn is a bit more uneven. At times she comes across as unhinged and sadistic, but for the most party, she plays Quinn like a moody schoolgirl who sometimes has a thick New Jersey accent. Jai Courtney is given nothing of consequence to do as Aussie hillbilly Boomerang. Killer Croc looks intimidating and is given a few one-liners meant to provide comic relief, but unfortunately, no one in the theater I attended seemed able to understand what he was saying.

Joel Kinnaman, who I loved in AMC’s The Killing and has done good work in other films, is all over the map as Rick Flag, the special ops leader of the Squad. He seems to have no clue what emotions he’s supposed to be conveying, and his lines feel stiff and forced. We’re supposed to be emotionally invested in him because of his romantic relationship with Dr. Moone, but their relationship is glossed over so briefly that we never really care about the outcome.

Then, there’s Jared Leto as the infamous Joker. After hearing stories of Leto throwing a dead pig on the table during  a script reading and sending his fellow cast members unsolicited anal beads, I was expecting a memorable performance of one of cinema’s great characters. Unfortunately, the Joker has such little screen time that we don’t get an idea of how great Leto might have been if given more to work with. In the few scenes he is in, he’s fairly intimidating and bizarre, but nowhere near as complex and frightening as Heath Ledger’s rendition in The Dark Knight. As with Dr. Moone and Rick Flag, the relationship between the Joker and Harley Quinn is established so sloppily that it never resonates or seems believable.

The Joker, searching for more screen time.

How could this movie have gone so wrong? It has an A-list cast, intriguing characters, and a director who helmed the excellent cop thriller End of Watch and the gritty, violent World War II film Fury. Hell, anyone not named Zack Snyder would have been cause for celebration. When reshoots began after filming was completed, rumors swirled that it was to add more comedy after the backlash against the grim Batman vs. Superman; I hope that wasn’t the case. Batman vs. Superman wasn’t bad because it was dark. It was bad because it was bad. Then, there’s the case of the Enchantress. Roger Ebert once said a movie is only as good as its villain, and the Enchantress is not the least bit menacing or compelling. Perhaps more focus should have been given to the Joker, an infinitely more interesting character.

Now, I know the fanboys and fangirls get their respective underwear in a bunch whenever a film adaptation of a beloved comic series gets panned. This time, they thought they’d stick it to critics by starting a petition to shut down Rotten Tomatoes. I have never been a reader of comics and knew nothing of the Suicide Squad before seeing the first trailer, but if I was a fan of the comics, I would be exceptionally pissed off at what I saw on screen. I can’t believe that the comic series would have such ardent fans if it was of the same quality as this jumbled, incoherent disappointment of a promising movie.