0.5 atrociously-cobbled-together-messes-of-a-movie out of 4
David Ayer’s Suicide Squad is an overly edited, poorly cobbled mess that has a dislike for visual sense and order, aural reason, and cinematic vocabulary. It is worse than a poorly made movie, it is a disastrously made movie masquerading as an audio-visual feast for the senses. In short, if Suicide Squad has any redeeming quality, it’s that it will no doubt serve as a lesson on how not to craft film for generations to come.
Suicide Squad is presented as a film with an unclear three-act structure. I say this not to condescend, but because it’s essential to specifically identify the film’s first major fault. Simply put, the film makes no attempt at narrative harmony or flow. Instead, every narrative seam, every piece of character growth, every call-to-action, every character rise, every character fall, and every story beat is a violent mess of bright neon light.
This is not an exaggeration. There’s nary a moment in Suicide Squad where cinematographer Roman Vasyanov does not use a clearly corrected-in-post neon hue to denote, identify, or describe a scene. That is, except for scenes where orange-red explosions and muzzle flashes fill the screen, in which case the neon colour palette is thrown out the window in favour of something more morosely contrived.
To call the film paint-by-numbers is no tongue-in-cheek insult—it’s an apt description of the film’s overall production. When the audience is expected to be happy, colours are neon. When the audience is expected to be wowed by action, colours are orange-red. This formula is repeated throughout every moment of Suicide Squad’s gruelling 123-minute runtime.
Intelligence operative Amanda Waller, played by an almost monastically stoic Viola Davis, believes that America’s interests are best served by assembling a team of comic book supervillains. In the wake of Superman’s death—immediately following the conclusion of the somehow better Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice—Waller arranges for the release of criminals Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Captain Boomerang, Slipknot, El Diablo, and Killer Croc. Waller instructs military operatives Rick Flag and Katana to lead the team in order to prevent the would-be heroes from embarrassing America as much as Suicide Squad embarrasses the definition of the word “film.”
The team’s purpose is to serve as a line of defence against super-powered individuals inclined to act against America. That the team consist of four humans, a very strong person who looks like a crocodile, and a fire demon indicates that Waller gave little thought to the kinds of enemies she hoped her taskforce would fight.
As a relative fan of the film’s main cast, I must insist that no judgment be made on the group’s ability to act. Suicide Squad provides its actors with atrocious material and the inhuman task of starring in a movie clearly made by people who either don’t, can’t, or refuse to understand how humans work.
Having dismissed most of Ayer’s contributions to Suicide Squad, I’d like to briefly change the subject to editor John Gilroy. His editing is swift and choppy, making it unclear whether the events depicted onscreen are orchestrated by humans or blobs of violence. Every kick, punch, gunshot, and cut from scene-to-scene is edited in a manner that inspires frustration, disappointment, and exasperation.
Steven Price’s musical selections are equally frustrating. Like most stories, Suicide Squad’s early moments are dedicated to introducing characters with whom the audience might be otherwise unfamiliar. However, the choice to introduce a new song with every new character often makes Suicide Squad’s first half-hour play out like six or seven extended trailers. If there is anything to be said about the film’s music, it’s that the soundtrack makes it easy to close one’s eyes and ignore everything on-screen.
I conclude by absolving Ayer, Gilroy, and Price. I conclude by absolving every actor involved in this film’s production. I conclude by absolving every makeup artist, every writer, every editor, every stylist, every art director, every set decorator, every costume designer, every sound designer, and every other artist who worked on Suicide Squad.
I have read the reports of studio interference, and I understand that the film’s artists are not to blame for Suicide Squad. I don’t know precisely whose idea it was to take Ayer’s original vision and edit it into a farce that is barely representative of what one might call a “movie,” but I do know this: Warner Bros. seriously need to rethink their interference strategy for both the DC Extended Universe, and all of their future releases.
Photo Courtesy of Warner Bros.