2020 In Review: Birds of Prey
All Harley wanted was a bacon-egg-&-cheese sandwich, and I felt that.
Also, there’s a scene where Margot Robbie shoots people in the face with a giant confetti gun, and that’s the equivalent of what getting hit by this movie feels like.
* * * * *
Not exaggerating, this is probably the best entry of the DC Extended Universe thus far, but compared to what it’s going up against, Birds of Prey never had much competition to begin with.
To be fair, since the birth of Man of Steel, the DC films have had a bum rap, of course to a fault of the filmmakers and more so of the studio trying to compete with Marvel’s Goliath MCU by pushing a sloppy franchise on us at Barry Allen speed, but the films are not ALL the steaming piles of cow dung that the Marvelites make them out to be. As a collective, the DC films of the post Dark Knight era have been, more so, very warm coals on the residue of a boot that’s stepped in a steaming pile of cow dung. That’s fair, no?
However, if we are going to keep returning to the toasted turds of this franchise, it’s bold of a filmmaker, any filmmaker, to even tread near the Chernobyl disaster that was Suicide Squad, which (all Margot Robbies considered) may very well be the most burnt of the entire flaming poop panini of the DCEU. Even with unscathed heroes of DC’s Mr. Hanky of 2016, such as Jai Courtney’s rowdy Captain Boomerang, Suicide Squad was a showcase for franchise potential at best, but mostly remembered as a noisy, insufferable two hour music video (or a very loud lobotomy) at second best.
Enter director Cathy Yan, nix Jared Leto’s Juggalo Joker, scrape the toxic waste of David Ayer’s neon-CGI-vomit, draft a badass female-driven script by Christina Hodson, and scoop Harley Quinn onto your plate and what you get is Birds of Prey, a sloppy but fun and entertaining flick at worst, and one of the best DC films of the last seven years at best.
To see such a glossy and rowdy product be resurrected from the ashes of schlock such as Suicide Squad is impressive to say the least. But to see Birds of Prey genuinely succeed on its own two roller blades is a goddamn saving grace for the entire DC cinematic universe.
Sure Harley Quinn arguably can’t hold an entire film, but with Yan’s direction, what Robbie does with her character is like watching a female Deadpool, and when it works she fucking nails it. Between Quinn’s self aware narration as the unreliable narrator, and the fusion of hot chicks breaking the legs of rapey male crime bosses is satisfying in ways that can’t quite be put into words.
When the violence and vulgarity hit, they hit like a steel bat to the nuts, the hard-R completely justified in a way which feels like the antithesis to Suicide Squad coming off like the edited version of an R-rated film. Even the way in which Harley constantly reiterates that she and Joker are broken up, and she’s now her own independent spirit is a very meta reminder that BOP, although related to Squad, is very much its own weird cousin that embraces its individual freakish identity, and is all the better for it.
Birds of Prey ultimately works because of its simplicity; a comedy crime plot featuring a scattered narrative, often wrangling four or more characters through interwoven timelines, all boiling down to a pick-pocketing diamond thief in the form of a punk teenage girl. The film is plot driven, but rather than focus on building to, oh let’s say an insufferable CGI sky beam formed by a supernatural witch, the story unfolds in a non-linear thread connecting all these women against an extremely eccentric Ewan McGregor who’s having the time of his goddamn life as the most comically flamboyant, and unabashedly devilish villain this side of comic book movies has ever seen. It’s another genuine reminder that we’re here to have a good time, and Birds wants to do nothing more than to have a good time.
Not unlike Suicide Squad, the film is loud and obnoxious. It’s the visual representation of a trashy nightclub, pulsating with endless noise, both visually and literally. The action scenes are constantly staged to poppy hits, and the cinematography is neon soaked in electric vibrancy. But wherein Squad felt like a chaotic sample for cheap videos airing on the Fuse network, Birds of Prey actually has focus and rhythm between the static, even if it’s only boiling down to very simple and relatable character goals.
For fuck’s sake, the initial driving motivation for Harley is to be able to eat the perfect breakfast sandwich in peace, an attempt hilariously thwarted by those in which she has wronged in her past (a running visual gag of the film depicts Quinn’s enemies in a frozen mugshot with scribbled “grievances” against her). The film is so nonchalantly simplistic that it succeeds most when it’s just being funny, without trying to be extra.
Even the other characters, though out-gunned by Robbie, have their highlights. Jurnee Smollett-Bell brings a rebellious Dinah Lance to her Black Canary, Rosie Perez is a Gotham PD officer but basically playing herself (which you can take it or leave it), and one of the best running gags of the film involves an assassin (played coldly by the incredibly deadpan Mary Elizabeth Winstead) constantly being referred to as “The Crossbow Killer,” rather than her preferred identity, “Huntress.” The characters are fleshed out, if not much, and the girls share a chemistry which fizzles, even if it never truly crackles.
The last half hour kicks a surprising amount of ass, considering DC’s past history of bombarding climaxes, which pins the ladies against a bunch of angry males who look like extras from Sons of Anarchy. It all boils down to a big, girl-power finale against S&M Ewan McGregor, but the fruition of this team-up almost feels like a cocaine-induced union of the female Avengers. Sure it may not conjure up the exact excitement as seeing Bruce Banner become The Hulk for the first time, but once Canary is able to show off, and the gals put their skills together, the film is eventually rewarding.
Birds of Prey doesn’t fly much higher than the average comic book movie, but with its welcoming R rating, cheeky humor, explicit violence, and incredible action sequences (not to mention the female forefront), this may not be the DC movie we all want, but for now, it might be the one we all need. The film is even more of a well deserved spotlight for Robbie who gives Harley Quinn colorful personality in the way that Robert Downey Jr. gives Tony Stark, and Cathy Yan harnesses all the toxicity of Suicide Squad and turns it into a goddamn Tootsie Pop.
Walking out of Birds of Prey feels like walking out of a deafening night club, covered in glitter, after pulling an all-nighter, and for a movie which is driven by the desire for a bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich, that’s far from a bad thing.
*10 points to Robbie
Grade: B+
