But after all the mischief she caused with the Joker, she’s in the crosshairs of the police, in particular Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), who is played as a character out of a bad ’80s cop movie (that’s literally the film’s joke about her). Harley, as Robbie plays her, lives for the moment - she’s at her most ecstatic watching her local bodega chef cook her up an egg sandwich. With any luck, that should all translate into a major hit. The women in this movie look badder than those previous heroines did because, for the most part, they just don’t give a f. “Birds of Prey” offers the empowerment of utter irresponsibility. “Wonder Woman” and “Captain Marvel” were female-superhero movies that offered the empowerment of earnest fantasy. Yet it’s still a compellingly novel popcorn extravaganza. “Birds of Prey” is the eighth film in the DC Extended Universe, as well as the first to be rated R, and coming after the stand-alone phenomenon of “Joker,” it’s a comic-book movie that isn’t pretending, in a single moment, to cast a spell of poetic awe. Harley outshone her hellion comrades before, and she does the same thing here - though Mary Elizabeth Winstead, as the crossbow-wielding Huntress, has a fierce, cool, sizing-you-up implacability that’s potent enough to be spinoff-ready. If anything, it’s a tighter film than “Suicide Squad,” but it’s been directed, by Cathy Yan (“Dead Pigs”), with the same sort of in-your-face slapdash aesthetic, ramping up the comics into cheeky overdrive. As a movie, it’s thin, lively, loud, brash, diverting and forgettable. “Birds of Prey” is a superhero-team origin story that tracks how Harley, mostly through sheer happenstance, comes together with a collection of misfits to form a motley crew of kick-ass superheroines. So there was every reason to hope that building an entire movie around her would pay off in a big way. Harley, who made her first DC Comics appearance in 1992, was obviously the best thing about “Suicide Squad,” the ramshackle smash of a 2016 DC movie caper. With her platinum-blonde hair split into tinted pigtails (one pink, one blue), her pasty face bedecked with tattoos of a small black heart and the word “ROTTEN,” and that light-up-the-room-with-insanity grin, she’s a psycho siren who teeters between vengeance and valor, turning one into the other. The inspired spark of Margot Robbie’s performance is that she plays Harley as a party girl who is also a total freak - the ringleader of her own playground. Her face, as much of an emblem as the Joker’s, is a pure fusion of glee and rage, the two melted into a mask of sick fun. (It beats therapy.) Harley talks like a gum-snapping Brooklyn kewpie doll out of a ’40s studio comedy, and it’s part of her possessed quality that she can size up someone’s psychological profile in a rapid-fire heartbeat, spewing the kind of analysis that people pay good money to hear. Early on, she gets closure on her fizzled relationship with the Joker by sending an oil truck speeding into a giant chemical refinery and blowing it sky high.
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A former psychiatrist who tumbled through a cracked looking glass when she fell for the Joker (one of her patients) and joined him in the underworld, she’s a glittering head case who look like a demented punk cheerleader and appears, against all odds, to be in full control of her ongoing mental breakdown. In “Birds of Prey,” Harley Quinn is a screw-loose avenger who suggests Uma Thurman in the “Kill Bill” films crossed with Ryan Reynolds in “Deadpool,” with a nod to Juliette Lewis in “Natural Born Killers” delivering that opening diner ass-thrashing to the sounds of L7’s “S-list.” Harley’s rock ‘n’ roll action moves are fast, loose and out of control, whether she’s snapping limbs in between bullet-time flips or charging through a police station blasting a gun that leaves the men around her collapsed in piles of multi-colored glitter.īut Harley’s mind, too, never stops racing.
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