When the world first met Superman, we were lucky he liked us. Spec ops operator Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) doesn't want to take that chance with the next metahuman. She assembles a special unit of career criminals to work as a last line of defense against supernatural threats, in exchange for shorter prison sentences and other such perks.
But Waller's arrogance works against her when one of the squad, Enchantress (Cara Delevigne), goes rogue and awakens her ancient brother in a bid to make humanity worship her once more.
It's now up to this rag-tag band of misfits to save the very people that ruined their lives. Lurking in the shadows of this simple story is The Joker (Jared Leto), who can't bear to be away from his Harley (Margot Robbie) and will stop at nothing to get her back in his crazy arms.
Director David Ayer (The Fast and the Furious, Fury) is no stranger to ensemble filmmaking, and he's in his comfort zone here. Some characters are more important than others, certainly, but everyone gets their time to shine.
De facto leader Deadshot (Will Smith) is wonderfully fleshed out as a devoted dad/serial killer, who can fire off a round almost as fast as he can shoot off his mouth. Davis is chilling as the callous, unflinching Waller: a woman confident enough to handle things herself, but not too proud to call for "help" if it gets things done faster.
Jay Hernandez is El Diablo, a former West Coast gang member whose inability to keep a cool head - literally - leaves him on the sidelines while his squad-mates do the fighting. Haunted by the sins of his past, Diablo is the cathartic heart of a film you'd otherwise expect to leave such emotional soul-searching at the door.
Robbie's Quinn is more The Animated Series than Arkham series. Her whimsy is matched only by her mean streak, though there are fleeting moments where she displays her last lingering shred of sanity, struggling vainly to break free amongst the madness in her mind.
Leto's Joker is an enigma. Far too psychotic for your average villainous crime lord, yet too cold and calculating for the Clown Prince of Crime. Nonetheless, he makes the role his own.
The greatest pleasure of Suicide Squad comes simply from sitting back and watching each of these characters interact with one another. Indeed, the story is so refreshingly basic that the film demands we make our focus the characters, and how they fit into a world that deserves them, but ultimately doesn't need them.
The entire affair abounds in levity and simplicity, two unchecked boxes that hurt Batman v Superman in a way that ultimately caused irreversible damage. This trim, taut tale told in a touch under two hours – almost unheard of for modern blockbusters – moves briskly without feeling choppy.
The film is let down by a little too much exposition (perhaps necessary for viewers unfamiliar with the characters) and some occasionally schlocky, melodramatic dialogue, but those minor gripes do little to detract from the overall experience.
A long time coming since the disappointing events of BvS, Suicide Squad turns the DC cinematic universe in an entirely new direction: one of joy, excitement and boundless entertainment.
But Waller's arrogance works against her when one of the squad, Enchantress (Cara Delevigne), goes rogue and awakens her ancient brother in a bid to make humanity worship her once more.
It's now up to this rag-tag band of misfits to save the very people that ruined their lives. Lurking in the shadows of this simple story is The Joker (Jared Leto), who can't bear to be away from his Harley (Margot Robbie) and will stop at nothing to get her back in his crazy arms.
Director David Ayer (The Fast and the Furious, Fury) is no stranger to ensemble filmmaking, and he's in his comfort zone here. Some characters are more important than others, certainly, but everyone gets their time to shine.
De facto leader Deadshot (Will Smith) is wonderfully fleshed out as a devoted dad/serial killer, who can fire off a round almost as fast as he can shoot off his mouth. Davis is chilling as the callous, unflinching Waller: a woman confident enough to handle things herself, but not too proud to call for "help" if it gets things done faster.
Jay Hernandez is El Diablo, a former West Coast gang member whose inability to keep a cool head - literally - leaves him on the sidelines while his squad-mates do the fighting. Haunted by the sins of his past, Diablo is the cathartic heart of a film you'd otherwise expect to leave such emotional soul-searching at the door.
Robbie's Quinn is more The Animated Series than Arkham series. Her whimsy is matched only by her mean streak, though there are fleeting moments where she displays her last lingering shred of sanity, struggling vainly to break free amongst the madness in her mind.
Leto's Joker is an enigma. Far too psychotic for your average villainous crime lord, yet too cold and calculating for the Clown Prince of Crime. Nonetheless, he makes the role his own.
The greatest pleasure of Suicide Squad comes simply from sitting back and watching each of these characters interact with one another. Indeed, the story is so refreshingly basic that the film demands we make our focus the characters, and how they fit into a world that deserves them, but ultimately doesn't need them.
The entire affair abounds in levity and simplicity, two unchecked boxes that hurt Batman v Superman in a way that ultimately caused irreversible damage. This trim, taut tale told in a touch under two hours – almost unheard of for modern blockbusters – moves briskly without feeling choppy.
The film is let down by a little too much exposition (perhaps necessary for viewers unfamiliar with the characters) and some occasionally schlocky, melodramatic dialogue, but those minor gripes do little to detract from the overall experience.
A long time coming since the disappointing events of BvS, Suicide Squad turns the DC cinematic universe in an entirely new direction: one of joy, excitement and boundless entertainment.