I’m not such a snob that I can’t enjoy the occasional superhero movie, but I do have my limits. More often than not, what turns me off about the ones I dislike has nothing to do with their source material or the ever-growing and, let’s face it, utterly boring and insufferable debate about what is and is not “cinema,” but rather their tendency to lean towards faux-edginess, watered-down, “safe” political stances, and veiled jingoistic military worship. The ones that buck these trends, I tend to like very much, and I very much like The Suicide Squad.
In what I believe is the best ensemble cast ever assembled for a superhero movie (a bold statement, but I stick by it), The Suicide Squad delivers in areas its peers are afraid to even acknowledge exist. While many of the films in both the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the DC Extended Universe depict violence and hinge on the aftermath of violent acts, the savagery of such acts has been sterilized so severely as to lose nearly all meaning. That is to say, it has no bite – no consequence. The good guys and the bad guys fight, property gets destroyed, emotional speeches are made, and maybe – just maybe – someone of minor import will die at just the right time. The Suicide Squad, on the other hand, kills a whole shitload of people right off the bat – and does so with glorious brutality and gore.
Writer and director James Gunn, of course, is no stranger to superhero movies. I would argue, however, that his most famous of the genre (the Guardians of the Galaxy films, which also boast an ensemble cast – albeit of far lesser quality) are not the metric by which to judge his genre credentials. I enjoyed them both as much as one can a harmless popcorn romp through space, but to get into Gunn’s head about The Suicide Squad, you’d be much better off having a look at his 2010 film Super – about a delusional line cook who thinks he’s a superhero. That, combined with a heavy dose of Alex Cox (especially his vastly underrated 1987 masterpiece Walker), is where Gunn’s subversion lies. That’s where The Suicide Squad’s edge comes from.
But, Gunn knows his stuff. So much so that, at nearly every turn, he intentionally and ingeniously turns genre tropes completely on their heads and then leaves them for dead. Answer me this: how is it that a movie about a group of supervillains on a suicide mission in exchange for reduced sentences is a better Kaiju movie than Godzilla vs. Kong? And offers a better critical analysis of U.S. foreign policy and the military-industrial complex than its more than two-dozen predecessors combined? I’ll tell you why. It’s because the best genre films are always about much more than what you see on the screen – the best ones defy and transcend their genre to become something more. Am I reading too much into The Suicide Squad? Perhaps, but I’d rather go all in on a movie that has the guts to take on the establishment than twenty that continuously cave to it.
Mostly though, The Suicide Squad is simply much more fun than your average genre entry. It’s crass, surreal, self-aware, and oh-so comically violent where others are awash in self-righteous philosophizing and awkward attempts at emotion. As a cherry on top, not since Dr. Strangelove have I heard a line so hilariously farcical and pointed as, “I cherish peace with all my heart. I don’t care how many men, women, and children I need to kill to get it.” These brilliantly acerbic words cover a hell of a lot of cinematic and political ground, and should be applied to all past and future viewings of your favorite franchise films.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.