One of the biggest problems with current superhero films is that there are no real stakes. When the “snap” happened in Infinity War, it was a certainty that everyone’s favorite heroes would return somehow. The Suicide Squad corrects that ongoing problem in its first few minutes because, well, survival is not assured for these antiheroes. The latest from writer-director James Gunn might be the purest form of his preferred aesthetic: a kooky mix of black comedy, brightly colored horror and bizarre creatures. Comic book movies are inherently childish ― at the least, they appeal to our inner child — and too often this means a tedious veneer of respectability. This one has the good sense to celebrate bad taste, and it is all the better for it.
Rather than go through the motions of explaining the squad’s purpose, Gunn plunges us into the action with Savant (Michael Rooker). In a matter of minutes, the tough-as-nails Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) recruits Savant, implants an explosive device in his brain and soon he is heading to a made-up island nation for a deadly mission. The beachside attack does not go well, and there are only a handful of survivors. Aside from Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) and Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman), who you may recall from the 2016 film Suicide Squad, the most notable entries are the assassin Bloodsport (Idris Elba) and human/shark hybrid voiced by Sylvester Stallone. The details of the mission are not important, and instead serve as an opportunity for gratuitous action and profanity-laced dialogue.
Gunn is at his best when he toys with pattern recognition within the genre. Aside from the aforementioned beachside attack, there is a silly, low-stakes sequence where the squad infiltrate a base of militia members. Since they are not worthy adversaries, Bloodsport and the hyper-patriotic Peacemaker (John Cena) show off their ultraviolent skills, one-upping each other. It unfolds more like “Itchy and Scratchy” than Predator: at one point, Cena casually hacks away at someone’s torso while he’s still asleep, but that is the only is a precursor to a much more subversive payoff. The gore and viscera are much more abundant in The Suicide Squad than in its similarly titled predecessor, to the point where it almost becomes an exploitation film. By abandoning any pretense of respectability, Gunn has found a level of entertainment that often eludes the genre.
All the actors prove to be good sports, leaning into Gunn’s mix of silly ultraviolence and gallows humor. The best example involves Harley, who has a terrific standalone sequence that unfolds like a mini-showcase for the character. It has a terrific payoff: a thoughtful monologue, followed by imagery that is kind of beautiful, in a weird way: as Harley goes her obligatory murder spree, flower petals float into the air and replace gallons of blood. It a strange flourish, one that requires no explanation, because it is such a welcome reversal from the antics that define the rest of the film (experts might know better, but this might be the superhero movie with the highest onscreen body count).
Either way, what makes the sequence sing is how Robbie goes for broke. Almost every actor is given a nice standalone moment, including Polka-Dot Man (David Dastmalchian), a psychopath with a strange power who constantly fantasizes about killing his mother. Some of these character-driven scenes are also the film’s biggest weakness. They veer toward the tedious side because Gunn indulges in backstory and relationship-driven subplots that weighed down David Ayer’s 2016 film. Taika Waititi, for example, appears in pointless flashbacks that add nothing but an opportunity to take a bathroom break.
The Suicide Squad knows exactly what type of movie it wants to be, and it mostly delivers the violent, irreverent goods. Aside from the lack of stakes, another issue with current superhero films is how the climax is frequently dull, a mix of muddled color and perfunctory explosions (e.g. Black Widow). This film actually saves the best sequence for last, in which the Squad face off against a giant, murderous starfish with psychic powers. You may recall Gunn cut his teeth with films like the creature feature Slither, and that background serves him well. The outcome is foregone, but at least the journey tickles the imagination more than you might expect. Actually, scratch that. “Tickles” is too polite a word, so let’s say The Suicide Squad jerks off the imagination instead.
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