Birds of Prey – Review

Birds of Prey

Directed by: Cathy Yan

Runtime: 109 minutes

If there was an Academy Award for ‘Best Unnecessarily Verbose Film Title,’ I’m fairly confident that Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) would be an absolute shoo-in. In much the same way that Joker (2019) was an exercise in Oscar bait and Scorsese homage masquerading as a comic-book film adaptation, Birds of Prey is essentially a girl-gang break-up film draped in comic-book bling. And before the comment section inevitably flames up in virulent dissent and misplaced mirth, a quick message to those ardent DCEU die-hards out there: R-E-L-A-X—this is one of the good ones.

Following the events of Suicide Squad (2016), Harleen Quinzel aka Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) is dealing with the fallout of her troubled relationship with the villainous Joker. Kicked out on her own, Quinn bounces around aimlessly looking for purpose and drive in all the wrong places before encountering Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco), a young pickpocket who has run afoul of the dangerous Roman Sionis (Ewan McGregor), a Gotham City crime lord known as Black Mask. After Cain steals an encoded diamond from the menacing Victor Zsasz (Chris Messina), a deranged serial killer and Sionis’ main henchman, our anti-heroine is forced first into hunting then protecting Cain, as her antics inadvertently converge on the paths of the titular ‘Birds of Prey’: Helena ‘Huntress’ Bertinelli (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), the orphaned daughter of a Gotham mafioso and a deadly assassin driven solely by vengeance; Dinah ‘Black Canary’ Lance (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), a nightclub lounge singer for one of Sionis’ clubs, gifted with the metahuman ability of hypersonic screams; and Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), a Gotham City detective building the case against Sionis amidst the weight of patriarchal bureaucracy.

At its core, Birds of Prey successfully utilises the real secret weapon of the DC Extended Universe: not taking things too seriously. Considering that the DC brand consists of fictional characters and worlds that have continually evolved from their humble beginnings nearly a century ago, this revelation might seem obvious on the face of it. And yet, for all its attempts at tonal course correction and hasty franchise building, the DCEU has struggled for not-quite a decade to mirror the lofty heights of its rival in the MCU/Disney juggernaut. Man of Steel (2013), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) and Justice League (2017) all suffered from a bewildering mix of Zack Snyder grim-dark, rushed storytelling and incessant studio meddling. Only when the DCEU dared to wade into unknown territory and pass off franchise entries into the capable hands of confident mid-tier directors—the self-assured period drama of Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman (2017); James Wan’s ridiculously bombastic Aquaman (2018); the light-hearted vision of David F. Sandberg’s Shazam! (2019)—has the franchise begun to resonate with diehard fans, critics and newer audiences alike.

Written by Bumblebee (2018) screenwriter Christina Hodson and helmed by Chinese-American director Cathy Yan (Dead Pigs), Birds of Prey is at its best when it cleaves open Quinn’s head and lets the crazy spill out. Robbie (who was the best part of the misfire that was David Ayer’s troubled Suicide Squad) is an absolute delight on-screen, oozing charm and charisma as the frenetic yet lovable anti-heroine. While the team-up moments and lavish set pieces are often enjoyable in terms of group dynamics, Quinn is at her most disarming when she’s presented as all-too vulnerable and human, whether that be dealing with a vicious hangover, questing across Gotham for the best egg & bacon sandwich, or lounging around her shitty apartment with newfound friends, eating cereal and watching cartoons. Contrasted with Quinn’s relatively down to earth plight is the over-the-top decadence and debauchery of Sionis/Black Mask. McGregor’s portrayal here is suitably campy and unhinged, chewing up every single inch of the screen he saunters across. (Side note: there also appears to be some subtle allusions to phallocentric tension brewing between Sionis and Zsasz, which is fascinating to watch in of itself.)

As lead actress and producer, Robbie fought tooth and nail to get the film made, adding in an interview: “It’s not a very serious movie, so we thought the title should reflect that. Like Birds of Prey makes it sound very serious, and that’s [the subtitle] kind of like Harley adding her ‘Hey, don’t worry, I’m in this, too.’” And while the film does touch on serious issues like abandonment, self-worth and liberation, it does so with enough empathy and care that the internal character struggles are both relatable and real, despite their often nefarious and conflicting origins.

However, the film is not without its missteps. The film opens with a flashy expository cartoon sequence that does the admirable job of bridging the events of Birds of Prey to its predecessor. And yet, throughout the first act (and to a lesser extent, continuing throughout the entire film), an over-reliance on Quinn’s voice-over and meta-fictional, fourth-wall-breaking winks to the audience make her less of an unreliable narrator and more of an annoying busy-body. This constant temporal displacement causes the first act to drag considerably, as characters will appear on screen and—before any real characterisation is possible—Quinn will interrupt the narrative to hang shit on them before flashing back to show us what they’ve done to her or how/why they’re important to her story. As a narrative device, this makes some sense and even fits Quinn’s neurotic personality and criminal ontology, but the visual impact on the flow of the film is unnecessarily messy and fragmented. Once the story reaches the second act, dispenses with introductions and pushes characters into their linear story arcs with real wants and goals, things improve dramatically, and momentum rapidly builds to a thrilling and anarchic finale.

The soundtrack choices can also be a little on the nose, with a few eye-rolling needle-drop moments scattered throughout, and weirdly overblown sound mixing that blasts over the top of dialogue or Quinn’s voiceover. In terms of action, the fight scenes with Quinn and Birds of Prey are mostly excellent, except for the gratuitous use of slow-motion in entirely predictable scenes (i.e. a prison fight with fire sprinklers turned on; a “Cool Gals Don’t Look At Explosions” walk off). Additionally, Chad Stahelski of John Wick fame was brought in to the film’s production in late 2019 for several re-shoots, and it shows in the film’s faster-paced moments, with kinetic and visceral hand-to-hand combat and the best use of a baseball bat as a weapon of choice since 2014’s The Raid 2: Berandal.

Overall, Birds of Prey is a loud, colourful and unabashedly fun film, one that bristles with an intense, manic energy while also drawing from an emotional core of heart and feminine solidarity. If nothing else, given that sequels to Wonder Woman, Aquaman and Shazam!, along with new takes on The Batman and The Flash and The Suicide Squad are all on the cards over the next few years, the film gestures towards a slightly more positive future for the DCEU, with space for new voices, new characters and (hopefully) new potentials.