Name: The Suicide Squad
Genre: Action, Comedy, Adventure
Released: 2021-07-28T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Margot Robbie, Idris Elba, John Cena, Joel Kinnaman, Sylvester Stallone

The moment King Shark’s voice booms through the speakers—”I just wanna be friends!”—it’s clear The Suicide Squad isn’t here to play nice. James Gunn’s chaotic, hyper-stylized rewrite of 2016’s dour Suicide Squad is a gory, gleefully irreverent romp that leans hard into its R-rated potential. It’s less a superhero movie than it is a war film for the TikTok era, where the body count is high and the jokes are higher.

Gunn, fresh from his Marvel exile and clearly relishing the freedom of DC’s sandbox, assembles a team of misfits—Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), Bloodsport (Idris Elba), Peacemaker (John Cena), and a roster of lesser-known villains like Polka-Dot Man (David Dastmalchian) and Ratcatcher 2 (Daniela Melchior)—and sends them on a suicide mission to the island of Corto Maltese. The premise is simple: kill a starfish, save the world. The execution is anything but.

What works? Nearly everything Gunn puts in front of the camera. Robbie’s Harley Quinn is the emotional anchor, her manic energy and vulnerability grounding the absurdity. This isn’t the Joker’s plaything from Suicide Squad; this is a woman carving out her own path, and Robbie brings a raw charisma that makes every scene she’s in sing. Cena’s Peacemaker, a walking contradiction wrapped in an American flag, steals every scene he’s in—his monologue about peace while slaughtering civilians is darkly hilarious, a perfect encapsulation of the film’s tonal whiplash.

The action sequences are visceral, shot with a frenetic handheld style that makes each explosion feel immediate. Gunn’s direction here is a far cry from the polished, CGI-heavy spectacle of Guardians of the Galaxy, and it works in the film’s favor. The grittiness lends an air of authenticity to the chaos, making Corto Maltese feel like a real place rather than a generic warzone. And the film’s willingness to kill off major characters mid-mission (no spoilers, but let’s just say Gunn isn’t afraid to pull the trigger) keeps the stakes high.

But it’s not all perfection. The plot, while serviceable, is hardly the point here. This is a movie that thrives on its tonal whiplash—one moment you’re laughing at King Shark’s existential crisis (“I’m a shark! I have no soul!”), the next you’re cringing at the grotesque fate of Polka-Dot Man (spoiler: it involves dots). The pacing stumbles in the third act, where the sheer volume of set pieces starts to feel exhausting rather than exhilarating. And while Viola Davis’s Amanda Waller is a standout, her screen time is frustratingly limited.

Gunn’s direction is a mixed bag. His knack for balancing humor and horror serves him well, but his tendency to linger on gore sometimes feels gratuitous rather than purposeful. The film’s satire of American imperialism (“I cherish peace with all my heart,” Peacemaker declares, moments before gunning down civilians) is sharp but unevenly applied.

The supporting cast shines in their limited screen time. Idris Elba’s Bloodsport brings a quiet intensity to the role, his moral compass slightly askew but still present. Joel Kinnaman’s Colonel Rick Flag is serviceable but forgettable, a far cry from the more nuanced performances around him. Sylvester Stallone’s voice work as King Shark is a highlight, bringing a surprising depth to what could have been a one-note character.

The film’s themes are messy, much like its characters. It’s a critique of militarism and imperialism, but also a love letter to the genre it satirizes. The ending, while satisfying, feels rushed, as if Gunn couldn’t decide whether to wrap up the story or just let the chaos consume itself.

Ultimately, The Suicide Squad succeeds where it should: as a wild, unapologetic ride. It’s not deep, it’s not subtle, and it doesn’t pretend to be.