Fun

Is there a difference between art and commercial product in cinema? What is it? In the 1950s when the auteur theory emerged, from Sarris to the Cahiers du cinéma group, aren’t most of the directors they’d singled out essentially mainstream? 

     I can’t even say that my personal experiences connecting with high art through film excludes superhero movies because of Ichi the Killer (2001, Takashi Miike), arguably the finest example of the crime genre I’ve found in any movie. And I realize it might be a stretch to call Ichi the Killer a superhero movie, but that seems to be the standard label used in terms of genre, even though I find comic book (or manga) more accurate.

     In my last post I attempted to express my view of a subcategory of films I group by their shared tone I deemed “depression.” Here I will now add “fun,” again, as a tone, not necessarily a genre. Coincidentally most of the movies I can think of that spring from my connotation of fun are based on a comic book. Most of the movies in the Marvel ECU, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010, Edgar Wright), Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (2017, Luc Besson), and Alita: Battle Angel (2019, Robert Rodriguez). Then there are the Burton films, not based on comics: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), Alice in Wonderland (2010), and Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (2016). 

     But this brings up a point about year of release. All the movies I can think of were released in the 2000s. See, I’ll add all of the Star Wars movies made after the original trilogy. For me these fun movies are about not really having to think, being colorful, simple, imaginative. Yet the films in the original Star Wars trilogy really do make me think, they’re impressive; or maybe the distinction is that GOUT is too good for me to consider cult or kitsch.

     Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn (2020, Cathy Yan) is an R-rated action crime superhero comic book movie that delivers heavy on the action and combines traditional Hollywood formulas with a non-linear narrative on Adderall full of subjective devices like VO and on-screen titles, text (and emojis), to keep up its excessive pace. And I loved it. Gotham hasn't been this fun and colorful since Schumacher.

     Hollywood formulas are clichés that probably avoid the risks of alienating broad audiences. Cazart, maybe that’s the difference between an art film and commercial product! But what I’m alluding to here is HARLEY QUINN (Margot Robbie) begins the film having to escape every underworld character in every crime syndicate in Gotham, and the police, and then a bounty on her own head; but also rescues an orphan, and that most typical of all Hollywood formulae: grows and becomes a better (or “less terrible”) person while experiencing a life affirming catharsis in the end.

     So why do I love it? Because of the character Harley Quinn. In Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn, beyond an opening introduction outlining her dark past, “my dad traded me for a six-pack,” throughout the movie she’s treated like “an asshole and that’s why nobody likes you.” That’s when the movie won me. It’s this outsider, independent, strong, smart, coolness of her. 

     Robbie can cry and project vulnerability, pain, and emotions in a consistently believable manner. That’s tough. And I never get tired of that Brooklyn accent. Harley is fun. Also I’ve been on the set of The Suicide Squad (2021, James Gunn) since September 2019 and obviously I signed an NDA, but I will hint that one of the biggest things I’m looking forward to is hearing some of the music that will be in the finished work.

     The music in Birds of Prey: And the Emancipation of One Harley Quinn goes a long way in creating its feel. It’s manic eclectic blend of female artists like Halsey and Ke$ha are beside mostly electronic and rock adrenaline soliciting tracks from the score. Maybe the highlight of the movie is a fight scene where a pallet stacked high with cocaine in an evidence locker is shot with machine guns that Harley snorts, then goes on an aluminum baseball bat spree to a techno remix of “Black Betty.” 

     While I try to avoid commenting on political undertones, Birds of Prey: And the Emancipation of One Harley Quinn is overtly feminist, which is awesome. So, it’s great to have women directing, writing, producing, and starring in this. It’s empowering to see female characters bonding, working together, standing up for themselves, finding themselves, and enjoying life to its fullest. They’re cool. They kick ass.

     I’m just making an observation here about the current climate of acceptable values. Having an ensemble of ethnically diverse women, one of whom happens to be a lesbian (or bi, not that there’s anything wrong with that), and none of whom appear to be in a relationship with a man, all spend the duration of the running time assaulting men is what we all want to see. 

     Hurting women and children is bad. So is racism and homophobia. Throw in intolerance of those with physical disabilities and you’ll win an Oscar, i.e. The Shape of Water (2017, Guillermo del Toro). It’s time for more movies with a panethnic, pansexual, pangender gang going on a killing spree against evil white heterosexual men.
     But back to Birds of Prey: And the Emancipation of One Harley Quinn, I rooted for the anti-heroes. It’s a worthy entry in the crime genre. It’s cool. It’s fun. And the film wisely bookends its most elaborate set pieces, namely the amazingly choreographed opening party scene and Harley's roller-skate chase/fight sequence that caps the Booby Trap. And spoiler alert, the post-credit gag is Harley dishing that Batman fucks bats.