I've spent the better part of the last week driving in one massive f--king circle. I've driven in torrential downpours, immense fog, utterly blinding lightening storms and I damn near killed a dude who was probably playing Pokemon Go (might have done that guy a favor, honestly). Hell, I (knowingly) went the wrong way in a parking garage just to get the f--k out of it.
And, no bullshit here, I swear to you, I almost hit motherf--king Big Bird doing ninety miles an hour on the Massachusetts Turnpike (seriously, somewhere John Hammond is missing a prehistoric gull).
Why would anyone put themselves through that level of aggravation? Why would anyone give up their precious time in the summer to do something they know is going to be an absolute f--king disaster?
You know the answer, but I'll tell you anyway: to see family. Oh, sure, it's basically the same f--king people every year, just different versions of familiar faces. You know how it's going to end, even before you leave your house. But, you go anyway. Because you have to. You'd regret it if you didn't.
But the hardest part about the whole thing? Is getting home to realize you did all that...and only a few of them even made an effort. The rest of them? F--king useless. Shit.
Well, at least I heard a lot of a good songs along the way...
While I would never say it to any member of my family, I have no duduk perkara saying F--k off to David Ayer's latest film, review].
Look, before I really begin, let me just say two things, maybe three. One, outside of a childhood obsession with the Batman movies (Keaton, etc.), I really don't know dick about DC. If you feel the need to enlighten me, go ahead, but know that I'll be painstakingly laying out a massive circle of guns and knives while you do ('cause I'm f--king intense, okay?). Two, I went to this movie wanting to like it, like, like-like it, like, more than a friend. And that was after I heard it was a fistful of shit-covered kryptonite. Three, it's a f--king movie, so if this one means a lot to you, don't take any of this shit seriously, all right? I don't want your mom to have to tape all your Killer Croc posters together again, okay?
Even if the simpulan product had been, say, entirely decipherable, can we talk about the f--king premise for a second? I actually kind of dig the idea that the world needs to get ready for a bad Superman, and the idea of putting together a squad to quell that possibility is all kinds of rad. But this is your squad? Sure, bad guys are ultimately disposable, but guess what else is? A highly-trained army of WILLING soldiers. And if your argument has anything to do with the bad guys having superpowers, well, I've got a crazy girl with a f--king baseball bat I'd like you to meet. Oh, and her friend who looks like a homeless Danny Zuko and his magical boomerang, while we're at it. 'Cause the pissed-off version of the man of steel probably has more trouble taking off Lois Lane's bra (not that he needs to...) than he would with these f--kers. Just a thought.
You know what? Looking at this blog, who am I to bitch about failed premises? Let's move to the biggest turd in the bed, the opposition. Everybody knows the hero's only as good as their villain, and the bad guy/girl/thing in Suicide Squad is f--king terrible. For a minute, maybe two, something known as the Enchantress is on the team and is totally a valuable member. She has this cool power of transforming from the hottest flight attendent ever to some chick who murders you at a rave in the sewer. Awesome. However...
Apparently, this six-thousand year old spirit-thing inhabits some lady that the leader of the military component of the Squad totally has a boner for (he captains the part of the team no one gives a f--k about). But he doesn't really have her heart, though, as it just so happens to reside in an in case of emergency break glass box that sits on a desk next to, hopefully, a vat of Purell. Anyway, the demon passes on Flag's staff and decides she'd rather bring back her dead brother instead...to rule the world...that they're currently destroying.
To do this, she's going to violently dance in place (imagine someone holding in a fart while twirling an invisible hula-hoop around their waist) while he punches random people in the head with his giant, slimy, black tentacles. Wait. Okay, I wrote tentacles, not...anyway, things are apparently going well, as these sick moves have led to a giant pile of garbage spinning around a beacon of light. And if I've learned anything from watching movies, and clearly I haven't, that there is a portal, and f--king bad things are going to happen. Eventually. See, portals are like your boyfriend's or girlfriend's pants. You can't just open and them and immediately expect hairy monsters to just jump right out. You gotta work it around for a little while.
Speaking of horrid visuals, here are the Yays and Boos. Honestly, the list of offenses goes on and on, but like when I was watching this movie, I'm sure you're thinking, okay, asshole, can we just get to the unspectacular conclusion already?
And, no bullshit here, I swear to you, I almost hit motherf--king Big Bird doing ninety miles an hour on the Massachusetts Turnpike (seriously, somewhere John Hammond is missing a prehistoric gull).
Why would anyone put themselves through that level of aggravation? Why would anyone give up their precious time in the summer to do something they know is going to be an absolute f--king disaster?
You know the answer, but I'll tell you anyway: to see family. Oh, sure, it's basically the same f--king people every year, just different versions of familiar faces. You know how it's going to end, even before you leave your house. But, you go anyway. Because you have to. You'd regret it if you didn't.
But the hardest part about the whole thing? Is getting home to realize you did all that...and only a few of them even made an effort. The rest of them? F--king useless. Shit.
Well, at least I heard a lot of a good songs along the way...
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| I hope who ever designed this falls off a mountain. |
Look, before I really begin, let me just say two things, maybe three. One, outside of a childhood obsession with the Batman movies (Keaton, etc.), I really don't know dick about DC. If you feel the need to enlighten me, go ahead, but know that I'll be painstakingly laying out a massive circle of guns and knives while you do ('cause I'm f--king intense, okay?). Two, I went to this movie wanting to like it, like, like-like it, like, more than a friend. And that was after I heard it was a fistful of shit-covered kryptonite. Three, it's a f--king movie, so if this one means a lot to you, don't take any of this shit seriously, all right? I don't want your mom to have to tape all your Killer Croc posters together again, okay?
Even if the simpulan product had been, say, entirely decipherable, can we talk about the f--king premise for a second? I actually kind of dig the idea that the world needs to get ready for a bad Superman, and the idea of putting together a squad to quell that possibility is all kinds of rad. But this is your squad? Sure, bad guys are ultimately disposable, but guess what else is? A highly-trained army of WILLING soldiers. And if your argument has anything to do with the bad guys having superpowers, well, I've got a crazy girl with a f--king baseball bat I'd like you to meet. Oh, and her friend who looks like a homeless Danny Zuko and his magical boomerang, while we're at it. 'Cause the pissed-off version of the man of steel probably has more trouble taking off Lois Lane's bra (not that he needs to...) than he would with these f--kers. Just a thought.
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| This seems like the ideal room to counsel a f--king lunatic in. I guess an out-of-order bathroom in the Batcave was unavailable. (though I can't really complain about the lighting in Arkham, considering the rest of the city) |
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| Those are some totally ominous...sheets? The thread count must be off the f--king charts. |
To do this, she's going to violently dance in place (imagine someone holding in a fart while twirling an invisible hula-hoop around their waist) while he punches random people in the head with his giant, slimy, black tentacles. Wait. Okay, I wrote tentacles, not...anyway, things are apparently going well, as these sick moves have led to a giant pile of garbage spinning around a beacon of light. And if I've learned anything from watching movies, and clearly I haven't, that there is a portal, and f--king bad things are going to happen. Eventually. See, portals are like your boyfriend's or girlfriend's pants. You can't just open and them and immediately expect hairy monsters to just jump right out. You gotta work it around for a little while.
Speaking of horrid visuals, here are the Yays and Boos. Honestly, the list of offenses goes on and on, but like when I was watching this movie, I'm sure you're thinking, okay, asshole, can we just get to the unspectacular conclusion already?
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| Me and my wife this Halloween. I'm sure of it. (And every other douchey-couple, too.) |
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
- Seriously, if this movie had ended thirty minutes in I would have got the film's logo tattooed in tiny letters across my forehead.
- I don't know if I'll ever call him anything other than Jimmy, but I loved what little time I got to spend with Ike Barinholtz in this one. Here, my main man plays Griggs, the a-hole prison guard and gets a few laughs in the process.
- The introductory scenes for each character (at least the cool ones) are f--king top-notch. Yeah, fine, all the songs are the same old songs, but it doesn't make them any less perfect. In fact, they were so good the dude next to me was compelled to sing along with all of them, for f--k's sake. (more on this f--ker later)
- Dude, I don't even like The Flash but I was stoked as Hell to see that f--ker here. Between you and me, I can't wait to hate that movie too!
- Early on, like, before he gave his seventeenth passionate speech, I totally dug Diablo (even if he looks like the Stoic Dad of half my students).
- Will Smith kind of plays, you guessed it, Will Smith, but Deadshot's f--king cool regardless. Yeah, I wish they would have dialed back Conflicted Dad! a bit, but that's just Big Willie's style, I guess. Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-na-nah.
- Joker's crew looks insanely badass. Way better than those jukebox carrying, art-defacing, prone-to-prancing dickwads of Nicholson's crew, though maybe not as cool as Ledger's henchmen.
- Man, when the Joker offers that dude Harley? That. Shit. Was. Tense.
- Like any man [or woman, I suppose] with a (non Leto-esque) penis, it's in my DNA to love a good gear-up scene. Suicide Squad, to its credit, delivers a f--king classic one.
- Even though I f--king hated her, apparently if you want to enlist into Enchantress' dark green Thing-army, all you have to do is let her ram her tongue down your throat. Who needs money for college, when this chick's offering a mouthful of toilet water and a permanently rock hard pecker.
- Suck on that, bitches. I'm pretty sure Deadshot's kafe speech was written for critics. I mean, professional critics. Not me.
- Uh, Diablo's wife? Way hotter than her husband.
- One of my favorite scenes in the movie shows visions of a perfect world. It makes total sense, too, as the Suicide Squad doesn't actually exist in that reality.
- *reads from script into VHS camcorder* Joker is amazing. And handsome. And really funny. *gun nudge in back* And like, sooo deep. If only he would write down his thoughts and put them to music.
- And finally, Margot Robbie almost single-handedly makes this movie worth watching. Almost. Yeah, sometimes she says the dumbest shit ever, but she's still cool as f--k. Fine, it doesn't hurt that Harley Quinn is like the physical embodiment of dirty sex, sure, but Robbie, a truly deft actor, manages to give Harley a surprising amount of humanity, too (that moment when she kind of composed herself was brilliant).
BOOOOOOO...
..OOOOOOOO..
OOOooooOOO!
- What the f--k is Jai Courtney doing here? Someone give me Viola Davis' phone for a second.
- Speaking of, did anyone else get tired of Davis' character showing them her killer app? Look, we get it. You can blow them up. Please press it and end this all or shut the f--k up about it for twenty seconds.
- The Joker laughs his wicked laugh and that dude just sits there. Really? I figure Mr. J is like your boss, you know? No matter what he does you act like it's the coolest thing ever. Or, you know, he might throw you in a vat of toxic waste and not make out with you after.
- Oh, and speaking of that green-haired bastard, what the f--k was with all the purring and growling shit? I thought he was going to scamper across the ceiling for a second there...
- So...you're in a life-or-death situation and the hospital leaves your bra on?
Let themBreathe, dammit! - And that's why I'll never help anybody who passes out in the subway. Or just people in general.
- Speaking of people I never want to help, the guy next to me was a real f--king weirdo. He got, in his assigned seat, and demanded that I watch his seat for him when he went to get a soda. What is this, the f--king school bus? Then, during the movie, he asked me if he could get to the bathroom if he went that way? It's a f--king movie theater, man. All roads lead to the pisser, I'm sure of it.
- Worst day of my life. Oh, f--k off Bride Lady. You were just in Suicide Squad, not at it.
- I'm all for Sexy Asian Ladies being added to just about everything (especially those who can handle the shaft), but what the f--k is Kitana's deal? Does she have that bomb thing in her head, too, or do they just trust her to be a huge f--king killjoy the whole time?
- Man, Midway City goes to shit in record time. Like, that f--ker's deserted, on fire and totally overrun by machine gun toting rock-monsters in less time than it takes to write a nonsensical script creating such a scenario.
- There are two pretty awesome fight scenes in this flick. No, really. Top notch stuff. At least I think there are, as they're utterly impossible to f--king see/understand. Not only does it look like everyone is fighting inside a sandstorm on a moonless night, but the whole thing is cobbled together with the grace of a skill of a blind guy jackhammering the sidewalk in an earthquake,
- I need to get another degree, I think, this time in psychiatry. Though the requisite thirty-five credits in martial arts are going to a real bitch to pass.
- The Joker kind of sounds like that guy from Home Alone when he gets all rampagey. Angels with Filthy Souls, indeed.
- Good God did I f--king hate Killer Croc. How is this guy a valuable member of the team? Was there a chance the bad guy was composed entirely of dead goldfish? Give this guy his B.E.T and tell him to E.A.T a big bag of dicks.
- Deadshot, with his precious daughter's life in the balance...plays pendekar to some crazy chick he just met? Huh? What's next, the whole team becomes a family or something? I half-expected them to all write in their journals about magical jeans that fit each of them perfectly.
- I swear, the next film that has a massive folder with TOP SECRET written on it in giant red letters, I'm going to lose it and throw my f--king soda at the screen. Oh, you don't believe that about me? Check my file. And if you don't have time, ask Deadshot, he can read the whole thing in thirty seconds.
- Somehow this movie even f--ks up the cool pendekar march toward the camera. For whatever reason, there's all this garbage on the sides and all the characters are squeezed in haphazardly. Oh, wait. This shot is f--king perfect, isn't it?
- Let's talk about the finale, shall we?
- The plan to close the portal is beyond f--king stupid. Seriously. If portals can be closed if we get someone to stand OVER THERE, please, just let the world end.
- Not only can bullets close portals, but they can also close clouds, too. That dramatic rainstorm ended rather quickly, no?
- The simpulan explosion isn't all that impressive...for a f--king ScyFy movie. I know WB made some cuts, but I didn't think corners were on that list.
- Somehow, if I remember correctly, the fate of the world comes down to a sword fight? Really? I guess the Suicide Squad actually needed Inigo Montoya instead of someone like Captain Vegemite. But the role of overly emotional Latin Guy was already taken, wasn't it? Drats.
- Join me or die? I'll let you guess what I'm picking.
- You don't have the balls. Is that any way for a six-thousand year-old demon to talk? Oh, it's on bitch.
- And finally, yeah, while I still have a little hate in me, let me resoundingly Boo the f--king Joker. Maybe it's not even Leto's fault, but his character represents all that's wrong with this film. He's all spectacle and no substance, and is essentially a glorified cameo barely even registering in what little story we have. I truly believed that he, like this film as a whole, was going to be something different, something really f--king cool. Instead, it's just a dude in a costume doing some shit I really couldn't care about. Again. For the 900th summer in a row.
You know when you're in the middle of a bad trip and you say aloud, Never again. I'm never doing this shit again. I was at that moment in the car, and at that moment in the theater.
But then you finally get home, finally shit in your own bathroom, and it hits you. That wasn't so bad, I actually really enjoyed parts of it. You know what? Next summer, maybe even the summer after that? You know what we should do?
We should totally do that again.
(but maybe we should cut out a few parts)