Suicide Squad Review: The Real Joke's On DC And Jared Leto
"But what about the Joker?" you're probably asking, to which I say "was he even in the movie?" Not just in that his screen-time is incredibly limited, a recurring cameo that even Hannibal Lecter would claim is too brief, but that Jared Leto's performance isn't really the Joker. He's not a prankster and any psychosis could easily be mistaken for deluded eccentricity; in the few scenes he's in he's little more than a manic mob boss, never showing why he's the Prince of Gotham. To cap it off, the only lines he has that sound remotely like what you'd expect of the character are those in the trailers; he's more about high-pitched clucking.
However, it's his part in the plot where things really fall into accidental chaos. He is, essentially, Harley's boy toy, the pair a duo of star-crossed lovers desperate to make it back to each other against all odds. Joker has no drive beyond saving his love, with every step of his criminal dealings made with her in mind. And Harley doesn't fare much better. Margot Robbie's managed to slowly channel her sex appeal into strong roles, yet here she's just an object, with soldiers stopping to gawp and the camera leerily positioned to show off some underwear.
The joke is really on Leto though. Countless stories have been spread about the zany method acting tricks he's pulled to get into Joker's psyche - everything from staying in character between takes to mailing used condoms to his co-stars - and yet the finished product is so unrefined and faux-erratic any shmoe of the street could have done the same job with no prep.
In fact, the whole movie feels that way, as if it's the half-baked product of a first-timer who's always fancied themselves a director but never actually tried to apply them (why is either a result of David Ayer's unfamiliarity with big budget projects or Warners' interference). As such, there's some fairly interesting ideas in here that just get lost in the shuffle. Where's more of Boomerang's hilarious stuffed pink unicorn? Why aren't the interesting-but-slight plot twists built up and delivered with any attempt of gusto? There's a few neat links to the wider universe (the ones not involving The Bat) that really, really work, yet they don't gel with the bigger picture.
Before the screening, David Ayer came on stage along with the cast of the Squad (minus the predictable expendables) and referenced the negative press, saying that as a writer he appreciates the flavoured language already being used to takedown his film and that if any of us there wrote a negative review, we'd have to up our game and claim the entire audience hated it.
Well Dave, I don't have to lie: this audience did not like your movie. Everyone around me, from critics to fans decked in Harley Quinn t-shirts (male, may I add) were groaning as the film lumbered towards its conclusion, laughing at an action scene cut to incomprehensibility culminating in such slow-mo even Zack Snyder must have found excessive.
But I'd wager it'll go further than that. This has the same film-making problems that plagued Dawn Of Justice, but lacks the fan-pleasing iconography that allowed those desperate to like it to claim it an undersung masterpiece: Batman's in the background for no reason; Joker's a misshapen husk; the squad itself is a bunch of average or below performances that don't link. This is bad movie, but beyond that I don't think it's one anyone will actually like either.
Suicide Squad is in cinemas now.