What Are We? Some Kinda [Working Movie Title] | Review - Suicide Squad

Warner Bros.

It's petty, I know. But nonetheless it's an instant mark down for a movie with me and it's quite indicative of the very problems I had with this one. But, as usual, I'm well ahead of myself. Firstly, we should introduce the SQUAD in question. As it did in the film, it will take no less than 30 minutes.

From left to right in the above banner:

The Enchantress (Cara Delevingne)
Ghostbusters villain and part-time evil Sky Witch. She inhabits the body of Dr. June Moone, an archaeologist and possibly Lara Croft in disguise.

El Diablo (Jay Hernandez)
Former LA gang banger and current Human Flamethrower. Has given up his fiery ways for a life of solitude and contemplation after torching his home and his young family. He is the moral center of this movie and is also the Desmond Miles of this movie.

Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney)
Typically The Flash's punching bag now the Squad's resident dirty Aussie. He loves beer, money and pretty pink horses.

Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje)
Scaly, green monster man who resides in the sewers of Gotham. Not to be confused with the one who breathes fire or the one who jumps high.

Deadshot (Will Smith)
The world's deadliest hitman. He can hit any target for the right price: will negotiate on site. Is trying to make a better life for his daughter but is captured before he can complete his Christmas shopping. If we could all be so fortunate.

Colonel Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman)
A special forces commander who has been assigned to watch over this group of villains. He is in a relationship with Dr. Moone that will in no way compromise the mission at hand. Clearly.

Slipknot (Adam Beach)
Native American tracker and expert wall climber who got invited just to have his head blown off. Inclusion!

Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie)
Former Arkham Asylum psychologist and current right hand to The Clown Prince of Crime. Has an affinity for pistols, bubble gum and baseball bats. Would also like you to tell her she's pretty. Would also like you to tell her she's crazy.

Katana (Karen Fukuhara)
Colonel Flag's primary body guard. Not exactly a villain but still extremely skilled with a samurai sword. Her slain husband's soul is trapped in the sword but past that, we're not exactly sure what her motivations are for joining this aforementioned suicide mission. (Something of a regular thing for women in DC's movies. More on that a bit later.)

Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) *not pictured
The mastermind and director of Taskforce X. At no point does she give a decent, logical reason as to why these crazy asshats should be allowed to roam free and at no point do any of her colleagues offer any more than one rebuttal to this insane slo-mo heavy plan. It worked, sorta! So I guess it's cool!

Oh, and there's these guys, but, we don't care about them right now. *wink

A lot of feelings coming out of this one for me. A lot of it confusion. Not anger like after Dawn of Justice but a lot of wondering about choices made. For one, I had to remember why Will Smith was even in the movie and then I realized that I had made a mistake. You see, Deadshot is just one of many assassin roaming the DCEU. There is another marksman of similar wares known as Deathstroke aka Slade Wilson. Not to be confused, of course, with Wade Wilson.

"LOL Auto-correct can be so tricky sometimes!"

But no, Deadshot is his own character. A bit younger than Slade with much less blades. As it were, this movie might have been received better if it had been called The Deadshot Brigade. Starring Will Smith, playing Deadshot...playing Will Smith. A good performance. Surprisingly so. Not because he isn't good, but because of who he was playing. A killer with a heart of gold is a good archetype but not necessarily if they are being driven by pick-a-catch phrase dialogue. Given the odd tonal shifts throughout, his steadiness was welcome.

Mountaintop!

That's about as far as the steadiness goes, however, as he and Flag are really the only two members of the team that get any extended internal view by the audience. The only two besides Diablo, of course, who spends much of the movie in silence and the rest of it on fire. He's one of two here with any sort of moral compass which makes sense as he turned himself in and the others are mostly just bad guys. What doesn't make much sense is why he decided to help in the end. In one scene he is literally standing in a hail of bullets, frowning as he watches his "friends" fend for their lives. One pep talk from Deadshot and suddenly he's ready to go.

He's not nearly the only one. It tough to figure out why anyone does what they do. Sure, Rick wants to save the woman he loves from the Enchantress and Deadshot needs to save the world for his young daughter. What reason do the rest of these evil folks have to go to the center of the Trash Hurricane after the Colonel sets them free? Only one way to find out. And that's through the power of...

Nickelodeon

Zach Synder helped produce this. It is clear that this man loves dream sequences and anything resembling such. Sucker Punch, DoJ and now this are chock full. Acceptable momentarily because we finally get to see Jared Leto's interpretation of perhaps the greatest villain in modern fiction. There wasn't a big enough serving size to decide how good it was. It was interesting and different; both good things. He's less of a sociopath and more of a sleek drug dealer looking for his next score. In this story, that score is his girlfriend, Harley Quinn.

That's fine for a movie about The Joker. We'll be getting one soon enough with this good friend, Bruce. But what does Dr. Harleen Quinzel want? Sure, with 10 minutes left in the movie we find out what she wants but what does she want? As I noted earlier, similar to how Wonder Woman in DoJ was left to play "Hot Lady Staring at Dagger" before her big reveal, there's too much showing and not enough telling. There was plenty of time in this 2-hour epic to tell Harley's story. If only that time wasn't eaten up by cheeky camera angles.

Having had time to reflect on this - bad reviews, good reviews, all in between - I don't like The Enchantress. I don't like her inclusion in this story. Every scene with her and her war god brother are like stepping into a different movie. One much worse than The Deadshot Brigade. Everytime the audience finds themselves bonding more with the titular group of killers they are abruptly cut off to look at more spinning magic bullshit. Who are they? Where do they come from? When did they get here? We are never told! But at least we get Bullet Time!

Fox/Marvel

 I watched this movie with a non-comics reader. Someone who wasn't familiar with the characters or their stories. They had so many more questions than answers as the movie ended. Most of these questions could be deleted if they had chosen a different climax. I know it's a standby - certainly in these movies - but we've seen the Swirling Sky of Doom ending just a bit too much already.

This is not a great example, but you see my point.

What if they had been hired to take down another more powerful supervillain? (Clayface) What if they were tasked with saving Waller from a rogue, disgruntled metahuman? (Deathstroke) What if they had been forced to work with Batman? (To track down Harley's boyfriend: an operation she would clearly sabotage.) We will never know, because instead, they were hired to save Midway City from a giant purple and green tornado. Excitement!

The string of negative review that has ensued has spawned a troubling argument. A maddening one. "Why bother criticizing these comic movies so heavily? Why over-analyze it? We're not looking for high theater here!" I hear you folks. Now hear me.

Maybe these movies at their best will never win any sort of literary award. Maybe they will never be considered high art. But guess what is?

These stories matter. Sure, creative liberties can and must be taken. But that doesn't mean the quality has to suffer as well. You have with these stories a free pass to the gravy train of success. It shouldn't be this hard to get it right. And as fans, we can and should demand their best effort.

All of that being said...I liked this movie. More accurately: I liked parts of this movie.

Yes, it has problems. Glaring ones, in fact. DC and Warner Bros. continue their streak of odd, odd storytelling choices, including letting Zack Snyder tell those stories. Perhaps even the PG-13 rating held it back. But this movie had humor, which is something. It also had Batman, which is a big something. And it had three seconds of Joker, which is better than nothing.

It also had crazy mood swings, cheap deaths and even cheaper baddies. (The faceless smudge monsters work well for Samurai Jack. Not so much for your big budget action movie.) I can't blame anyone who doesn't like Suicide Squad. You could tell me everything that bothers you and I couldn't say you're wrong. I could only say it didn't bother me as much.

I just can't in good conscience give this movie the same rating I gave BvS. So take these 3 stars and don't call me until Diana is back on my screen.

3 Stars out of 5

Hey. Shout-outs to Amanda Waller for erasing the last 15 years of Batman's crime fighting career with this little stunt. Bruce is gonna need some help in his next movie. Maybe he should give this guy a call.

This one's for free Affleck.

Just Gettin' Warmed Up | Review - Captain Amercia: Civil War

The story of Captain America is one that should conceivably speak to many types of people. A scrawny kid from Brooklyn named Steve Rogers with pennies to his name - not even enough for an actual pair of shoes - enlists in the Army in hopes of protecting his country but, more importantly to him, make the world a better place.

Fast-forward about 7 decades or so. There's been an Awakening. (lel) The First Avenger finds himself in a strange and vast and DENSE new world armed only with his shield and sensibilities. But with power comes responsibility: including the responsibility of the dozens (possibly thousands) of innocent deaths at the hands of The Avengers' brand of super-powered justice.

Before the Opening Sequence is even complete one must ask themselves, "When was the last time collateral damage was mentioned in a super hero movie? If ever?" Far too often you see one end of the spectrum or another in regards to this. Transformers' all-too-convenient lack of humanity; Man of Steel's problematic disregard of humanity. Both ends are lazy and unimaginative, but with Civil War we have the complex middle ground. Characters who want to stay true to their duty, but also struggling to reconcile the brutal realities of their work.

One such reality is the ever-expanding reach of Governing Bodies. Not just Uncle Sam. Well over 100 countries around the world have lined up at the UN to help put a leash on The World's Most Powerful Heroes. Understandably, the people are spooked by the prospect of a Super Soldier, a Demigod, a man with a Billion-dollar Battle Suit and a Big Green Monster Man under one roof.

The question then:
Does one sacrifice a bit of their professional pride and privacy to win the hearts and minds of the people, OR does one stay true to the only feelings and convictions they've ever known despite how ugly it looks on paper? This question becomes the engine behind the main conflict between our two main characters: Capt. Steve Rogers and Mr. Tony Stank Stark.


Dawn of Justice was a masterclass...of what happens when you aren't allowed to have fun in a comic book movie. Take for example the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. (Yes. A comic book adaptation.) People have different thoughts about the different versions. Live-action or animated; 90's or 00's. Everyone has their favorite version. You enjoyed yourself. You had fun watching them on that level. I had never been in a comic movie before where there was no fun to be had. Not even an unintentional laugh. No matter where you rank in knowledge or experience you are a fan at the end of the day. It's the reason you are in the theater. Certain movies forget this at times, but thankfully Civil War didn't.

Civil War knows it's own endgame. We've been building up to this showdown between Cap and Iron Man since Iron Man 2.

The disrespect

Even before he was thawed out, there was shade. Tony had to listen to his magnate father go on and on about how he knew Captain America. Speaking about him more as a son than he would to his own son. Imagine having to live up to a legend? A war hero, even. Respect and disdain are not mutually exclusive.

Tony and Steve are associates, but Steve and Bucky are best friends. Yet another hurdle to climb when it comes time to reason with the WWII veteran. It would be one thing if one side or another had the clear idealogical advantage. Unfortunately, the way it works out, both sides make a legitimate and compelling case. "You know what guy, you're totally right! Oh, but you kinda have a really good point, as well. Hmm. This is difficult. Glad I don't have to make a decision."

And how glad I was that the movie didn't cut corners in that regard. We see characters make those tough decisions and, for the most part, stick by them. (Double agents not withstanding.) And indeed there are consequences. Those that were heralded as heroes in the previous adventure are instead arrested as criminals. Which reminds me: there are a lot of heroes in this film.

All the returning Avengers. The Winter Soldier. War Machine. Semi-Retired Hawkeye. Even Ant-Man joins the fun. Conspicuous by their absence are Thor and Hulk, clearly doing something more important than playing footsies with the United Nations. But perhaps the most important attendees are the newest arrivals.

Prince T'Chala - Heir to the Throne of Wakanda - is the man who would be The Black Panther. As the King of his People, Black Panther is responsible for their protection and survival. When it is made to believe that The Winter Soldier has bombed an embassy, resulting in the death of T'Chala's father, the new King sets out on his own mission for justice. It easily could have been hackneyed and retread as most revenge arcs go. However, as the story resolves itself, T'Chala is perhaps one of the few characters to truly glean anything from his adventure. Perhaps the first of many leading roles for Chadwick Boseman.

Oh, and there's this guy.

I know you're not dumb and Marvel Studios knows this as well. So, instead of meeting a punk kid from Queens with little to no remarkable abilities, Tony Stark meets a punk kid from Queens who is six months into his super hero career. He's a good hero and a good person, but he's also 15-years-old and a total greenback. He has potential but he needs time.

He needs a teacher!

Sorry. Wrong cataclysm. What he needs is training. And what better way to train than with other heroes against other heroes that won't actually try to kill him - probably. Due to licensing issues we've never seen Spider-Man interact with even one of these characters before. Making it so very cool when the kid from Queens meets the kid from Brooklyn.

Shout-outs to young Tom Holland for playing a believably young, lovably earnest Peter Parker. I fully support him as my Spidey for the next 5-7 years. And Marisa Tomei is his more reasonably aged Aunt May. So...perhaps there is someone looking out up there. Good work.

Now that the Captain America Trilogy has been completed it seems fair to start thinking about where it ranks with other great movies all-time. I've heard talk already about these movies versus The Dark Knight Trio of films. Civil Wars' theater life has only just begun and it is still a bit early to see how history will look back on The Dark Knight Rises. To speak personally, I really liked this movie. In fact, I liked all of Captain America's movies. There wasn't one that I disliked, which is saying something seeing as the first three Spidey movies weren't even as lucky. Completion. Consistency. Constant improvement. Not unlike Captain Rogers himself. See this film. Then see the first two. Then see this one again. Enjoy the ride while it lasts.

4.5 Stars out of 5

KD Wolf: Spitting Out the Demons

Recently I read a book.

This book to be precise.

[Oh, by the by, some of you might not find this subject matter terribly pleasant. However, in the ever decreasing interest of my ever decreasing sanity I need to get this done, There are other things pulling at my attention that aren't nearly as self-involved.]

It's a book that came along at a peculiar time if only because a previous version of myself might not have understood exactly what this old and foreign book was trying to say. This current version of myself, however, is taken aback as he sees a novel, seemingly, written of his own thoughts and exploits.

This current version realizes - as the protagonist Harry Haller did - that there is little to be found at any advanced age, especially one of independence, that isn't indicative of some form of loss. To think of even just the superficial things that have been lost. Birthdays are a bore. Christmas is a pointless exercise of needless tension and consumption. The very idea of any kind of jewelry or accessory, even a simple watch, seems laughable. For the longest I've pondered and lamented as to how and what could lead to such a temperament. I didn't even know what it was exactly: confusion or general discontent. But in my research I came across this. A passage of explanation from a Mr. Allen Hackworth:

Haller also becomes a symbol of all people who suffer a particular neurosis, a neurosis which "by no means attacks the weak and worthless only but, rather, precisely those who are strongest in spirit and richest in gifts."(24)

This neurosis includes: a sense of despair and chaos, an inability to find meaning in one's life, and inability to solve the riddle of human destiny, an inability to reconcile various opposition including sensuality versus spirituality, time versus eternity, the human versus the divine, self-acceptance versus guilt.

It's not to say that I'm in any way strong or blessed with any gift to speak of. All I can say is this. I believe the people who can describe themselves as truly sane are merely ignoring the very basis and realities of our mortal and human existence.

There's nothing wrong with that, of course. We all have our vices and distractions to get us through the day. Why worry your pretty little head about the possibility of the atmosphere disintegrating and frying under the exposure of a bright and yellow star when you can instead read about the stars of Tinseltown you will likely never meet. Running errands and drinking coffee and picking up their kids just like you!

Another One

What if I told you that the only difference between The Batman and The Joker was a simple chemical imbalance. Both men were unfortunate victims of circumstance. Both men who lost everything they ever held dear. Both men who had the worst day of their life for no apparent or discernible reason. One man dedicated his life to making sure no one else would feel the way he had that day. The other, in turn, dedicated his life to making sure that no one else would live without feeling the way he had that day.

Mental Breaks

If I haven't before, let me explain. Sometimes - when things become too much and I can find no solace in existing in such a brutal and senseless world - I retreat into myself and indulge in what I call brooding days. Brooding days are an odd mix of meditation and loathing. I haven't been clinically depressed in some time but every now and then I require some time to gather myself. It's never more than a day; the one rule I've given myself. I sit quietly either in my room or in nature. Always alone and out of view. I sit and wait silently for some form of understanding or even comfort to come. Sometimes it does. Other times my brooding is simply ended finitely.

And then I see outrage over bombings in Brussels. While seeing no mention of the two car bombings in Turkey. I think of the Syrian woman I spoke with some time ago whose family must live with the anxieties of feeling unwelcome in their own hometown, the pain of seeing their childhood memories reduced to rubble and ruins, and the fear of never again returning to their homeland.

I recoil yet again.

I've been alone for a time now. Sometimes searching, often simply wandering. In my search for understanding I came across the various teachings of fearsome samurai warriors of centuries past. Stories of war and discovery and love and destruction. Similar in ways to our own follies. The more I knew, the less I understood. Until I found something.

According to the Hagakure, inevitable death must be meditated on daily. Death being the only certainty - certainly for the true warrior - one must be prepared to lay down his life for the fief. One must prepare. So I did. One day, as I meditated, I stopped. It wasn't my death that struck me. I looked up and saw the Sun. Bright and everlasting. Except not. The Sun is a star. A star that will one day expend its energy. Considering that the human race doesn't destroy the Earth first or simply destroy themselves, the Sun will implode in on itself, the resulting shockwave ripping through the Solar System and vaporizing the known worlds. Everything that is, was, or will be will have no purpose. So what has brought us to this point? From the molten sludge of creation to the world we know now why has this species - every species - fought so hard for prolonged survival? I stood from my seat and left. Finding the answer to this question was the next step of my journey.

I could never quite understand people who thought of themselves as the center of the picture. Granted, it's 2016 and we've apparently picked up the Round/Flat Earth debate for a redux but is honestly no one else willing to imagine any other possibility than the one in their face? I'll present this. An idea not of my own volition yet no less potent.

The are but two possibilities in our known Universe. Either we are alone, or we aren't. Each outcome is equally terrifying.

Freaky, right?

I know people like to talk all the time about their so-called faith in humans or, perhaps their lack thereof. Me, I never lacked in faith of humans. Not completely. In fact, it's the tenacious drive of humans that partly inspired this piece of introspection. Rather it is life itself I take issue with.

With each passing day and each tragic occurrence and each presidential stump speech a picture becomes clearer in my mind of the Universe pointing and laughing. "Look at the silly creatures!" it exclaims. "Look at them struggle with even the most basic of operations! Look at how much energy they must expend to make through a single day! Why must they bother so?" Why indeed.

Some people worry about how well their lawn is kept. Others like my younger sister simply want the strength to hold her head up to look at her friends when they speak to her. It upsets me because the one thing I've wanted out of life is comfort and knowing I can never truly give that to her pains me more than these puny words can say. There's no sour grapes here, but I'm allowing myself to be upset this once because if I don't these thoughts and feelings will fester into something all too tangible. Did it once already. Not ever again.

What made this so hard to write was the ultimate necessity. Having been in a stupor for several days, I could seldom hope to get anything of consequence done until these specters had been purged. In my darker moments, I wish I didn't have these thoughts at all. How sweet life would be as another mindless drone! To sift through the days and months and years and years with no regard to any purpose. To be seated on the couch like a potted plant, flipping the proverbial Krabby Patty for 40 years until I die.

And yet the moment never comes because of my one rule. Always spit out the demons. My roommate in college was at least vaguely aware of my depression. Unable to give much advice he told me, "Never let yourself get too low." Had I listened, perhaps I could have salvaged some sort of normal millennial experience. But all of that is done. It doesn't matter now.

The Way of the Warrior is to disregard the Past as nonexistent and the Future as irrelevant. The only thing of substance is the here and now. I might not have the answers to why right now, but I do have purpose right now. My co-workers need me. My siblings need me.  My goddaughter needs me. That's enough for right now.

I struggle with that, too. Understanding why people like me or if they like me at all. It's where some of the difficulty with publishing this comes from. Most of you reading these words will never know the person behind the screen that crafted them. All well and good, but even more people will read this that I know personally and even went to school with. Will those that tolerate me find even these thoughts to be too dark and nihilist to sit through? Will those who didn't like me to begin with confirm their suspicions of me being a freak? Will everyone stop reading as soon as they see me piss on Christmas?

Take what you will from this information. It is not my place as an author to say what you should and shouldn't feel. I worked into the morning light with the hope that some of this weight would be lifted. My mind will likely still be racing with ideas and possibilities but if someone else's shadows have been sated I feel I've done my part.

Don't be ashamed of your shadows. Remember that you aren't alone. I have fought your fight. Am fighting your fight. The path to true enlightenment is a journey, not a destination. I may never find mine, but it is my sincere wish that my words can make your Path less tumultuous.

Such is the way of this Steppenwolf.

~KDG

[If you're seeing this, thank you for your time. Feel free to view the sequel here. A journey, not a destination.]