If Americans are so irreverent to European traditions, why do children's cartoons and graphic novels (comic books) introduce us to characters based on commedia dell'arte, a tradition of improvisatory Italian folk theater? The biggest revelation I got from watching Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey is that the main character's name is a parody of "Harlequin." (After all, I only saw bits and pieces of Suicide Squad on television for the past year and never even heard of the Saturday morning cartoon debuting her three decades ago.)
I saw this film on a Thursday afternoon, paid $11, and was the only person in the theater. I had heard it was all but tanking at the box office, so didn't expect much. I had not even researched if I was to be in the DC or Marvel universe (let alone cared that much which).
Other expectations I took with me were that Thanos already showed us you can only blow up the universe a few more times before it gets dull; Scorsese taught us guilt for being curious about these post-cinema comics creations; a retaliating AARP invented new cinema awards for grownups; but Joaquin just won an Oscar for portraying Harley Quinn's ex-boyfriend. That and a couple of routine curses to the Libertarians for exchanging our once promising Star Trek future into a Mad Max one.
So, this slow-cooking razzle-dazzle about fighting chicks who do slow-mo cartwheels accompanied by lots of rock and rap music sneaks into an arid February release slot. In a panic, the studio even truncates the title.
Villain-protagonist Harley Quinn brings us plenty of moral ambiguity. It's Kill Bill territory or even Pulp Fiction's "Fox Force Five," as well as Tarantino's convoluted narrative and skewed timeline.
Margot Robbie herself co-produces this most confident Harley Quinn incarnation, with only a few CGI explosions and a pet hyena as sole CGI creature. Rosie Perez deadpans her way as crusty detective who turns to join forces with fem vigilantes.
Fresh off Dr. Sleep comes a solid supporting role for Ewan McGregor as Roman Sionis, a.k.a. "Black Mask," a sociopathic kingpin, sexually immature, who cruses for bruises and gets them from high-kicking, grenade-tossing girls. Kooky gender warfare.
That leaves seething Mary Elizabeth Winstead (unrecognizable from Death Proof and Die Hard IV) as edgy, crossbow-wielding "Huntress;" Jurnee Smollett-Bell as smooth crooner in tight pants named "Black Canary;" and Ella Jay Basco as pathetic teen pickpocket caught in the middle of it all. Fellow chick Cathy Yan directs only her second feature, first entirely in English, with style and humor.
No need to spoil a plot that is barely necessary anyway. Find your way into this post-reality fun-house of effects that jump into your lap and other colorful surprises and there will be a sense you've been thrilled as you step out of the theater. This genre may be short-lived and shallow, but get yours while the getting is good.
Review of Birds of Prey
