The Suicide Squad (2021) | Film Review

Another decade, another crack at DC’s infamous The Suicide Squad. This elite team of supervillains is rounded up yet again by none other than steadfast government honcho Amanda Waller (Viola Davis, perfection as always) to take charge on a mission in the South American island of Corto Maltese. Evil dictators, oddball characters, and a mysterious foe await as our team continues to charge forward, lest be designated as disposable by Waller’s callous judgment. It’s an insanely wacky concept wrapped in a narrative that ping-pongs through time, which makes it ripe for riffing under the commendable talents of writer-director James Gunn.

If you were a fan of David Ayer’s Suicide Squad, this is a completely separate film. Which is also totally connected. But not exactly. It’s an odd mash-up and much like the heroes (?) of this go-round and the DC Extended Universe as a whole, the audience never quite knows exactly how conjoined this world actually is. Regardless, dysfunction is James Gunn’s specialty.

Returning from the previous film – besides the aforementioned Waller – is Margot Robbie’s maniacally delightful Harley Quinn (her role lessened a bit but is still DC’s most enjoyable loon with a fantastic prison breakout sequence), Joel Kinnaman’s Rick Flag (more well-rounded and engaging here), Jai Courtney’s Captain Boomerang, and Idris Elba as Deadshot 2.0. Wait, my bad, Elba is Bloodsport. He just happens to have essentially the same skills as a crack shot with any weapon and character arc as Will Smith’s Deadshot by having an estranged kid that he never sees now that he’s locked up. Except his kid doesn’t like him as much, so it’s totally different. But he still fights on the side of the Squad to win her honor in a way, so are we POSITIVE it’s not just the same character? Either way, he kicks all sorts of Elba ass and his rivalry with Peacemaker for “Best Kill” is easily the film’s highlight, so it works just fine. Moving on.

Standing out among the newbies is John Cena’s Peacemaker, reveling in his take as an oversized Captain America who believes no life is above murdering in the pursuit of freedom. David Dastmalchian’s scene-stealer as Polka-Dot Man, a head case with severe mommy issues who also happens to randomly dispense lethal polka-dots at his leisure. Daniela Melchior’s Ratcatcher, essentially DC’s Willard who can immediately control all of the rodent kingdom. And lastly, King Shark (gleefully voiced by Sylvester Stallone), who manages to make “nom nom” the “I Am Groot” of the DC vernacular.

Those are just the highlights, because James Gunn has overstuffed The Suicide Squad with so many characters, it would easily crumble into a convoluted mess in lesser hands. Thankfully, it seems slapping together massive ensembles and illustrating character traits in miniscule frames of film appears to be Gunn’s specialty. There are characters here who are on screen for mere seconds of screen time who we come to know and understand better than other filmmakers can manage in 90+ minutes. Nor does any other filmmaker utilize such an eclectic collection of songs and musical cues to do so. Say what you will, but nobody pops supporting characters to life quite like James Gunn does.

DC apparently feels the same, as they allowed Gunn to do whatever the hell he wanted, get as gory as he chooses, and kill any damn character he sees fit. This is not a PG-13 safe space. Heads explode, bodies are ripped apart, F-bombs are barbed about, and favorite characters do die horrific deaths. At times, the blood splatter on screen rivals Gunn’s Troma days, with every perceivable artery and muscle tissue getting its own dedicated moment. Overkill? Not really. But there is enough to make even a seasoned filmgoer wince a time or two.

A lot of what’s here works, and there are also a few things that don’t. That wacky narrative structure I mentioned does fit the Squad, but there are moments where it almost seems lost in the woods, as if a series of vignettes and set-pieces had to be tied together to make the film Gunn truly wanted. The climax’s big bad is also so conflicting because to some it will be as though DC’s greatest 60s villain has come roaring to life; to others it will register as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man meets SpongeBob SquarePants of aquatic lunacy, requiring one’s hand to be pressed firmly against their ears to ensure their eyes cannot roll out of their respective skull.

Most notably missing was heart. Sure, specific moments hit and work a bit of that Gunn magic, but it’s nothing like typically expected from James Gunn. Perhaps it is because there is always so much happening on screen or expectations rise with Gunn at the helm, but the character moments meant to pump a little blood through our veins and tears through our ducts do not quite hit the same notes as Groot or Rocket Raccoon. Ratcatcher and King Shark come closest, but the film lacks a tad of that tranquil humanity to truly elevate it into the upper echelons of comic book collaborations.

The Suicide Squad is fluid, the narrative structure is off-kilter and fractured just like its team, and it is often absolutely hilarious in-and-out of the insanity happening in front of us. Ridiculous final bosses aside, James Gunn gives DC’s underbelly the heroes they truly deserve.