The Suicide Squad Review- Revel In A Absurd Body Count, Raunchy Gags, And Unexpected Heroes

James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad is a knowing commitment to unabashed pandering and low-brow raunchiness. What more could you want?

The Suicide Squad is one of the rare examples of a reboot, retool, or sequel being better than the original. Admittedly the predecessor set the bar low. David Ayer’s 2016 version may have had its fans. To be fair, I didn’t hate his version; I just thought it was a wasted opportunity. His misogynistic fanboy offering was successful, but that doesn’t mean it was in any way perfect. James Gunn polished the turd that was handed to him into a work of art. Albeit a raunchy, bloody, disgusting work of ridiculous art, but art nonetheless. The Suicide Squad, which is in theaters and on HBO Max August 6th, is everything the antihero movie should be while still managing to surprise a dedicated fan base.

James Gunn is billed as a director with a horribly beautiful mind. While I’m not sure what exactly about his previous movies warrant such a moniker, it fits for The Suicide Squad. Perhaps it’s a reminder of his ill-advised tweeting once upon a time that almost got him canceled, but like an after-credit hero surprise, he rises unscathed to helm not just the continuing Marvel universe but DC’s The Suicide Squad too.

Maybe an honest admittance of the guy’s inappropriateness makes it more palatable? In any case, The Suicide Squad works because of and in spite of that derision, and for now, all is forgiven. The body count is insanely high, the kills, gorgeously imagined, and the gleeful indifference to even a modicum of good taste make it the movie that DC fans have been begging for. Where DC is traditionally known for brooding superheroes, moody atmospheres, and plodding pacing, Gunn’s addition is fast, loud, repulsive, and snort-inducing.

Gunn has a knack for delivering films with perfectly timed music. As much as I loved Twenty-One Pilots Heathens, it was just one more entirely two angsty step for the beleaguered universe. Gunn’s version uses classics and poppy pleasures to drive the narrative and the bonkers action. The best parts of Suicide Squad were Robbie’s Harley Quinn, and perenially consistent Joel Kinnaman’s Rick Flagg was kept but lightened from their collective burdens.

I get it; it’s tough to have the literal weight of the world on your shoulders. But I’m over the drama. That’s why Margo Robbie’s Harley Quinn was a standout. It isn’t just that she is hotter than the sun, but she enjoys being a crazy beast. Sure, she used those powers for the wrong reasons sometimes, but whatever. At least she knew who she was and was okay with being singularly herself.

It helped tremendously that she was recreated a bit in Birds Of Prey, where she wasn’t tethered to Jared Leto’s Joker like some kind of sexpot Stepford Wife. Under Gunn’s eye, she still has her signature off-kilter glam, but her zeal for life is her own. No man owns her or defines her anymore. Her crimson-lipped badass is a big step forward from the fishnet stocking, booty short wearing Joker-dependent baddie of the last film.

There are still more boob-forward jokes than I would love, but for a fanbase that has cut its teeth on hyper-stylized bodies and gold-plated corsets, I’ll let a few bouncers slide. The absolute abandon with which Gunn made this movie is apparent from the first moment. Every second feels deliriously self-indulgent and unashamedly self-aware. It’s basically the middle finger with a simultaneous fart joke from your best friend. You laugh, cheer, flip the bird right back, and debate how bad it stunk- but in a good way.

You might wonder how powerhouses Viola Davis and Idris Elba can even be in the same cinematic space as this joyful nonsense. Still, the two not only manage to breathe their respective gravitas into their rolls, but they also manage to ground the almost indomitable insanity of Gun’s visuals. They more than earn their paychecks in The Suicide Squad with spit spraying, furrowed brows, and growling stoicism.

Elba as Bloodsport is exactly what you would expect from a reluctant leader; however, his massive screen presence means he isn’t just the one-note poster boy for unexpected heroism. There is a depth that makes him more than just a surly boss. There is something behind his eyes and under his beefy exterior. Foiling his seriousness is John Cena’s signature massive body and growing comedy. Peacemaker(Cena) is sufficiently funny to earn a spin-off series on HBO Max. If he is predictable in his narrative trajectory, the same can not be said for the remainder of our death squad. They are a funny, likable bunch of ne’re-do-wells.

In the first sequence alone, there is a veritable cavalcade of dead bodies, some of which I was shocked and somewhat disappointed to see go. I love some good stunt casting, and The Suicide Squad has a healthy onslaught of comedians, graphic novel nods, namely in Taika Waititi, Pete Davidson, and Sylvester Stallone, who is so perfectly cast as the loveable lunk Shark King I would have paid to see him alone.

It is David Dastmalchian’s Polka Dot Man who steals the show, however. Macgyver’s Murdoc(yes, seriously, that’s the same guy) deadpans his way through a motherlode(pun intended) of tricky jokes and scenarios. If he is the scene-stealing heart of The Suicide Squad, Daniela Melchior’s Ratcatcher 2 and her adorable rat Sebastian are the syrupy souls. This is a lighter cast of villains, and they square off against an equally light foe.

The intergalactic dayglo monster our crew has to battle in the end is impressive and humorous in a rampaging monster sort of way. Unfortunately, his evil scientist handler, the Thinker, played by Dr. Who’s Peter Capaldi, is criminally underdeveloped, but the sheer absurdity of the beast makes you forget a little bit about the superficially of the shoehorned-in evil nazi storyline.

The time-tested formula of gathering malcontents, making them care, making us care, having them run the gauntlet to deliver on some impossible ask, and killing a few along the way so we can cry works for a reason. We love to root for an underdog, and we especially love a redeemed villain. Throw all that into a blender with an eye-popping amount of viscera, and you have The Suicide Squad in a nutshell. Does it save the franchise? Maybe, but at least it doesn’t force the same navel-gazing drivel on a testosterone-driven audience.

The Suicide Squad is in theaters on August 6th, 2021. It is on HBO Max right now. Control your anticipation, though, and see it in theaters. The blood is gooier, the guts wetter, and the action bigger. It is the exception to the rule that less isn’t always more. More is more, and The Suicide Squad does excess like none other!