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Suicide Squad (2016)

Screenshot_20160813-120823~2 copy

Stupid Squash

Another example of a movie delivering the exact opposite that what its hype and teasers promised, Suicide Squad is the big 2016 summer letdown, a tentpole crashing under its own weight and an absolute bore. It’s like watching a train wreck, only it’s a toy train carrying action figures instead of characters, like watching the paint dry only it’s pale beige, like watching an hourglass measuring the sad fashion you have elected to waste away two hours of your life. Two hours later you will have gained absolutely nothing and you will wish for ten minutes of quality time with the makers of this beached whale, carrying Harley Quinn’s baseball bat. But you won’t get them.

This thing gives the term “mindless entertainment” a whole new meaning, considering it’s neither one nor the other. It’s far from mindless, as you can hear throughout the wheels of a declining  industry churning to please an audience already saturated by superheroes antics (genius idea: bring in Will Smith!), and not entertaining in the slightest because should have they conceive a torture device for Guantanamo, it would look, sound and feel more or less exactly like this one, in a loop.

What does it say about Hollywood when a movie high concept, “bunch of villains sent against an even worst foe” is treated so cowardly that the result plays like the loosely connected cinematic sequences of a PC game? With most of its avatars on pause, most of them provided with the bare schematics of a character which make eunuchs and no-lifers of them all, with no antagonist to speak of but a fashion model and no threat whatsoever to their little, desperate, insectile life, you bet you understand what it says: here’s you garbage flick of the week, morons; see it in the theater because downloading is evil.

Viola Davies, unable to be bad even she tried real hard (what she does here with her mouth full) carries around a thick top secret portfolio of coloured-by-numbers villains her dream is to assemble in an anti Justice League, because she didn’t have the opportunity to come up with the Justice League idea in the first place. Fortunately for her, a scientist from the Tara Reid school of Like, Serious Archeology mistakes an ancient clay bottle for a can of pop and frees The Enchantress, a goth chick with severe hygiene issues whose brother trapped in the next bottle have like, a mean God complex. Together they wanna build a McGuffin to rule the world and enslave the human race, so it’s time to kick them in the butt real good. Superman is gone, Batman is having a sabbatical, so the next best thing is to flank Willsmith with a quartet of mildy deranged goons, controlled by an explosive device implanted in… oh whatever.

Willsmith was arrested (not branded, natch) by Batman, as was the case for Margotrobbie, so movie can enter the Batman canon as a “Whatever happened to them?” memorial programme. Willsmith is on board with the dual objective to long for his adorable daughter (fortunately not played by his own) and utter the title at some point. Yes, they also did that. Even Batman v. Superman didn’t have Bruce Wayne say “I’ll be damned, is this the dawn of justice?”, right? Right? He’s also a sniper who can’t miss. Nobody does is better, makes me feel sad for the rest. And they are quite a sad bunch.

So, from memory: a mutant Cindy Lauper who only wanna have fun, a latino pyrokinetic, a crocodile man providing infra-bass, an Aussie with a boomerang (too bad he didn’t bring a didgeridoo), a Japanese with a katana (same remark about a koto) team up with Willsmith in order to defeat the Enchantress’ budding reign of terror, under the mild maintenance of a war veteran called Flag. Yep, how’s that for super heroism? Oh, and there is also this guy who almost misses the chopper, crosses the screen and dies. Really scrapping the bottom of the barrel with this one, Viola. One wonders how many such losers were in your thick portfolio of Evil.

Anyway, helicopters are repeatedly taken down, not unlike frappucinos are gulped at your nearest Starbuck’s, the super ordinary dreams of super heroes are revealed by the Enchantress, whose heart is not in it (there, see what just one did? Lol). She nevertheless has the best scene when she accomplishes her transformation and instantly revert to Fashion Week catwalking, Cara Delavinge’s background.

Is one missing something? What? The Joker? One doesn’t know what you are talking about. The Joker is not in this movie.

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