Three stars. Rated R, for relentless profanity and violence, gore and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang
Margot Robbie’s mischievous grin, triple-dog-dare-ya gaze and pugnacious insolence are the main attraction in Birds of Prey, an unapologetically vulgar super-villain romp on par with Marvel’s Deadpool entries.
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| With the odds stacked impossibly against them, Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie, center) persuades her companions — from left, ex-cop Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), Mafia princess Helena Bertinelli (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and nightclub singer Dinah Lance (Jurnee Smollett-Bell) — to band together, in order to protext young Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco, rear). |
Fans of the latter will know precisely what they’re getting, with this similarly outré dip in the DC Comics universe.
During decades of myth-making, both comic book franchises occasionally have introduced villains who — thanks to reader enthusiasm for the character — have “reformed” and become forces of virtue. To a degree.
Sometimes not much of a degree.
It’s hard to imagine Harley Quinn truly abandoning her bad-ass behavior; the best one could expect is that she becomes a lesser scoundrel while pursuing a much more heinous adversary (for her own reasons, of course, as opposed to anything having to do with the greater good).
Harley is, after all, the Joker’s equally homicidal girlfriend: firmly established, cinematically, in 2016’s Suicide Squad. But things change, and — as related during a droll animated prologue in this new film — Harley and her “Puddin’ ” have parted ways. (He threw her out.) Once past the initial heartbreak stage — Robbie camping it up as a pouting, alcohol-hazed, jilted lover — this “emancipation” initially seems like a good thing.
Ah, but absent the Joker’s protective embrace, Harley has become fair game for every thug and plug-ugly she once humiliated.
And that’s mere sidebar to Christina Hodson’s relentlessly snarky script. Robbie’s Harley narrates this saga in aggressively non-linear fashion, frequently backing up to fill in a key detail, and often breaking the fourth wall to address us directly in her delightfully sing-songy, working-class Brooklyn accent. This approach isn’t as confusing as it sounds, because the story isn’t that deep.
The nefariously narcissistic Roman Sionis (Ewan McGregor), mercurial owner of the popular Black Mask nightclub, is a bloodthirsty villain who has set his sights on the Bertinelli Diamond: not for the gem itself, but because it’s encrypted with essential information about that now-deceased Mafia family’s immense financial estate. Backed by such wealth, Sionis could rule Gotham City’s underworld.
The little bauble has been located, and Sionis sends his ghoulish right-hand-man, Victor Zsasz (Chris Messina), to fetch it. Alas, he falls victim to young pickpocket Cassandra “Cass” Cain (Ella Jay Basco), who — bad luck all around — is caught in the act by Gotham City Police Department Detective Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez). Result: One young felon in a GCPD jail cell.
Not wanting the gem to be found, she quite logically swallows it.
Although deeply disappointed, Sionis consoles himself by capturing Harley, and preparing to watch while Zsasz slices off her face with a scalpel. Never less than quick-witted, and having learned just enough to be useful, Harley promises to retrieve the diamond, since she’s intimately acquainted with GCPD headquarters.
Meanwhile…
A black-cloaked, motorcycle-riding assassin (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) has been picking off seemingly random baddies with an expertly wielded crossbow.
And, further meanwhile…
Sionis has drafted his club’s resident chanteuse — Dinah Lance, performing under the stage name Black Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell) — to become his driver, and therefore reluctant witness to his relentlessly bad behavior.
No surprise (since we’ve all seen the poster art): Circumstances will unite these femmes fatale in time for a violently rollicking, third-act climax at the Booby Trap, a dilapidated funhouse at a long-shuttered Gotham City amusement park. It’s a masterful set by production designer K.K. Barrett.
Which isn’t to say that director Cathy Yan stints on melees, skirmishes and all manner of action set-pieces while leading up to this battle royale. Indeed, perky Harley and her oversized amusement park hammer — or, in a pinch, a standard-issue baseball bat — are kept quite busy along the way.
Stunt coordinator Jonathan Eusebio and veteran stuntwoman Renae Moneymaker (Robbie’s stand-in) deliver an escalating series of superbly choreographed scuffles: none better than the water-logged assault of the GCPD cell block, when the fire sprinklers go off. Eusebio’s clever use of this drenched environment is both audacious and visually entertaining.
Most of the film’s mayhem and action sequences have a similarly balletic and cartoonish vibe, where the carnage can’t really be taken seriously. Which makes Yan’s introduction of Sionis and Zsasz somewhat puzzling, as we watch the latter use his scalpel to peel the faces off two suspended — and quite conscious — victims. Mind you, most of this sequence is sound effects and cutaways, but it’s still a level of exploitative gore borrowed from torture-porn entries such as the Saw franchise.
This sets a tone wholly at odds with the rest of the film (aside from an early victim of Harley’s pet hyena, which is dubbed Bruce for the reason you’d expect).
On a similarly puzzling note, Black Canary possesses a rather stupendous ability that doesn’t surface until she uncorks it during the third-act climax (which may have been anticipated by longtime comic book readers, but certainly won’t be expected by casual filmgoers). To which our immediate response is Goodness, my dear, why didn’t you do that several brawls earlier?!?
C’mon, that’s just daft.
Perez channels her tough-talking image as a hard-bitten cop who, having broken the rules far too many times, finds herself an outcast. (As Robbie’s Harley then explains, in voice-over narration, everybody knows that cops only do their best work after they’ve been suspended.) Smollett-Bell is reasonably persuasive as the deeply conflicted Canary: no fan of cops, but perhaps even more frightened of Sionis.
Basco navigates a modest emotional arc — pretty much the only actor who does so — as Cass transforms from sullen orphan to hopeful tag-along (although putting one’s faith in the likes of Harley Quinn probably isn’t a good career move).
McGregor cheerfully chews up the scenery as the wildly unbalanced Sionis, making the guy a posh sociopath whose charm turns into uncontrollable rage, in the blink of an eye. Messina is flat-out terrifying as the scarred and scary Zsasz, who takes great pleasure in his work.
Winstead is a hoot as the enigmatic crossbow killer, who turns out to be — surprise! — sole surviving member of the aforementioned Bertinelli clan, and now seeks long-simmering revenge. Like Harley, she’s far from a team player; the mildly droll running gag is that this gal hasn’t yet figured out how to identify herself, each time she removes her hood before skewering another deserving target. Winstead makes her character socially challenged — single-mindedness having dulled her social skills — and somewhat off-kilter.
This film’s relentless profanity and cheerfully bad-mannered tone clearly aren’t aimed at mainstream tastes, and even its fans must acknowledge that this is guilty-pleasure filmmaking at best. But Warner Bros. clearly expects it to be a hit, and already has announced the sequel — Gotham City Sirens — which is clearly anticipated as this saga concludes.
And you must admit that we live in fascinating times, when a serious, Academy Award-nominated actress is equally comfortable sliding into the wonderfully outlandish garb — 13 different outfits, each crazier than the last — that costume designer Erin Benach has so faithfully re-created for Harley Quinn.
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