Last summer, Warner Bros. released the first trailer for Suicide Squad, driven by a creepy cover of the Bee Gees song “I Started a Joke.” With the would-be savior of the DCU blasting into theaters a line from the song is all too appropriate: “Oh if I’d only seen that the joke was on me.”
Arriving amid a flurry of Sno-cone-colored hype — much of it mistakenly centered around Jared Leto’s cranked-to-11 performance as the Joker — Suicide Squad follows “the worst of the worst.”
Unfortunately, that term applies more to director David Ayer’s appalling screenplay than its motley crew of semi-charming antiheroes.
Leading the way are Will Smith’s hitman-with-a-conscience Deadshot and Margot Robbie’s demented ex-shrink Harley Quinn, both of whom are doing hard time at Belle Reve, a beyond-maximum security prison facility containing a handful of metahuman criminals including the fiery-yet-remorseful El Diablo (Jay Hernandez) and a BET-loving cannibalistic creature named Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje).
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