Birds of Prey: the Suicide Squad spin-off we didn’t know we needed

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

The last thing I wanted after watching “Suicide Squad” (2016) was anything related to “Suicide Squad”.

Of all the movies I watched in the last decade, that was the peak example of a major studio movie that was so mind-bogglingly disappointing it bordered on corruption. The best thing about it was a casting decision: having the limitlessly talented Margot Robbie play Harley Quinn, the Joker’s batshit insane girlfriend.

But instead of having her big-screen debut be an empowering display of badassery, the screenplay had her saying terrible one-liners (“We’re bad guys, it’s what we do!”), pining over her abusive boyfriend, and generally being a famous person wearing a sexy cosplay, constantly bending over while her teammates ogle her.

To quickly sum up how seriously she was taken in her first live-action appearance, Batman punches her unconscious and gives her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

When compared to that nightmare, “Birds of Prey” is a miracle and a relentlessly entertaining film in its own right.
Jared Leto’s long, thin drool of snot Joker has been cancelled. All we need to know about him this time around is that he’s broken up with Harley, and she’s spiraling because of this.

Watching her toss-and-turn and binge-drink over the worst Joker of all time is the weakest part of the movie, but once Harley publicly declares that she and Joker are no longer an item by destroying the chemical plant where her psychotic persona was born, the movie kicks into full gear and never lets up.

When Gotham City learns that Quinn is no longer with Joker, a neon red target appears on her head. Everybody she has ever rejected, teased, or mutilated (this is Harley Quinn, after all) is out for their pound of flesh. Intentionally, her nemeses have more in common with misogynistic internet trolls rather than typical goons.

While fighting her way through hordes of people with “grievances” (which are explained by amusing visual touches) like a female John Wick, Quinn becomes involved in a chase to find teenage pickpocket Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco), who has stolen a diamond that the germaphobe crime lord Roman Sionis (Ewan McGregor) will literally cut faces off to procure.

Also embroiled in the chase is the socially awkward assassin, Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, who deserves her own movie at this point); Roman’s reluctant lounge singer Black Canary (a fantastic Jurnee Smollett-Bell); the sadistic Victor Zsasz (a surprisingly chilling Chris Messina), and Renee Montoya, a rogue cop with a penchant for “Miami Vice”-isms (played by Rosie Perez, whose subtle yet clearly affected stoniness results in some of the film’s funniest moments).

There isn’t a slow scene to be found in “Birds of Prey.”

Director Cathy Yan gives every scene an over-caffeinated energy, making everything from the fight scenes (which are beautifully choreographed, looking like dances merged with Mortal Kombat) to conversations vibrate with uncontainable possibility.

Yan’s pace sometimes falters (there’s a music-video scene that is distractingly bad), but what’s ultimately so cool about her vision is that it isn’t really hers: it’s Harley’s. “Birds of Prey '' is the movie Harley Quinn would direct about herself.

Margot Robbie has finally found a comfortable groove for the antihero, relishing Quinn’s endearing lightheartedness as well as her insatiable need to kick ass and take names, always with a creepy yet charming smile on her face.

The most impressive part of screenwriter Christina Hodson’s storytelling is her confident blending of tones: “Birds of Prey” can be shockingly violent, funny, heartwarming, and cartoonish all at the same time. This unapologetic merging of vibes is so rarely seen in studio films, and it makes the experience feel refreshingly unpredictable, especially when held up to movies whose stories pick one mood and never budge.

“Birds of Prey” is a blessedly breezy superhero flick.

Weighing in at just under two hours, it avoids the bloat that even some of the best superhero movies suffer from. It won’t please everyone, and its box office will no doubt be damaged by its hard-R-rating, but any film that strives to defy expectations is bound to leave some viewers wondering what the hell they just watched.

It’s a manic, cotton-candy colored step in the right direction for a company that has, for years, been the laughingstock of the superhero-movie coliseum. If DC keeps taking chances on daring directors and screenwriters with boundlessly imaginative visions for their cinematic universe, Marvel’s next phase is in for some competition.