Birds of Prey: No deep meaning, just a fun, violent, '60s-Gothamesque commitment to the ridiculous
By Thom Ernst
Rating: B+
It might not seem like we need a Harley Quinn movie. But as long as Hollywood’s dishing out superheroes, then, yes, Harley Quinn. Please. And not just because the super-universe needs a balance of perspective—that much is obvious.
What we need from Harley Quinn is a sheer audacious, comic-book diversion. And for the most part, that’s what Harley Quinn delivers in Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn.
Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, the super-villain as party girl.
Birds of Prey is directed by Cathy Yan and written by Christina Hodson (who also wrote Bumblebee, perhaps the best entry into the Transformer franchise) but the genesis of the film began with Margot Robbie who wanted to do an all-female superhero story.
Robbie reprises her role as Harley Quinn, the troubled but brilliant psychiatrist toppled by love (plus a dip into a toxic vat of chemicals) to become the insane but brilliant supervillain. But this is a different Harley Quinn from the one we met in Suicide Squad (2016).
In Suicide Squad, as filtered through the eyes of the director, David Ayer, Quinn was a nasty bit of psychotic eye-candy, sexualized for the full ultimate bad-girl experience. In Birds of Prey, Quinn is far from anyone’s dangerous fantasy. Here, she’s an unequivocal mess. Robbie ditches Quinn’s form-fitting bodysuits for an unflattering mismatch of discount store knock offs, and she turns in her pouty-seductive leer for grating childlike acts of entitlement. She’s a sloppy, untethered party-girl who drinks too much, talks too loudly, and goes too far. Then again, we’ve got to cut her some slack. She is going through a nasty break-up.
On her own now since first discovering the freedom to act on every vice, Quinn is no longer shielded from retribution from those she harmed—and she has harmed many. Without The Joker to protect her, Quinn has become the target of every villain in Gotham, including Roman Sionis, a petulant, often infantile, face-peeling, power-starved playboy, played to goofy heights by Ewan McGregor. It’s McGregor’s Sionis who brings us into the film long before the movie truly catches afire.
The film is further helped by a cast that informs its characters with an equal amount of tongue-in-cheek self-awareness and absurd extremes. Rosie Perez keeps it tough and dirty as Detective Renee Montoya, Mary Elizabeth Winstead as The Huntress does a comedic turn on the dark-and-moody vigilante bit, and even Chris Messina procures a droll balance in his role as Sionis’ sinister henchman.
After a brief game of animated catch-up that traces Quinn’s story from dejected childhood to asylum psychiatrist, to demented anti-hero, we learn that she has been dumped by The Joker. Even though Joker is only referenced in this film, it’s safe to assume that he is far from the sad, despondent victim we got in Todd Phillips's controversial origin story. We are back in the cartoon world of the ‘60s-era Gotham City, and the view is ridiculously soothing, despite its violence.
Some will question why Birds of Prey doesn’t fall under similar scrutiny as Joker. Both films are violent. Arguably, Birds of Prey might be even more violent—there is at least one cringe-worthy scene that warrants hiding behind closed fingers. So, why demonize one and forgive the other?
Unlike Joker, Birds of Prey is rescued from such controversy by maintaining a clear commitment to the ridiculous: this is not art, it’s not brooding, it doesn’t offer any relevant commentary, it’s not even a refreshingly feminist take on an overtly masculine saturated movie-industry. It’s a loud, sometimes disjointed, mildly convoluted, ultra-violent comic-book adventure that moves at a break-neck speed. And, if you stick with it, it’s loads of fun.
Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn. Directed by Cathy Yan and written by Christina Hodson. Starring Margot Robbie, Ewan McGregor and Rosie Perez. Opens wide, Friday, February 7.