Review: "Birds of Prey" Gives Harley (and the Audience) What They Need

Scene from Birds of Prey (2020)
There is a point early on in director Cathy Yan's Birds of Prey where a recently separated Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) describes what a harlequin is. She is a woman who serves men, and to Harley, that was The Joker. Without him, what is she? She's gotten drinks off of everyone in the bar, barfed into a purse, and has given into the impulsive lifestyle of an insecure woman unsure of how to move forward (she's even bought a hyena). She starts the film a trainwreck, becoming loathsome as she blows up old spots that bring her bad memories. As her name suggests: without a man, what is she? Even with a Ph.D. in psychology, she is unable to break the grasp of her own mental prison that would free her.
That is where the story starts, but where it goes from there is one of the most breakneck clever comic book adaptations in many years. It's a story that finds her not looking for love, but the meaning in a life free of a man's grasp, taking on the patriarchy with the most capital-M Misogynistic villain in existence in Black Mask (Ewan McGregor). While Yan can be accused of lacking subtlety in this female empowerment anthem slapped with a gorgeous yet macabre make-up pallet, it features some of the wildest action beats rich with personality and humor as she takes on a world she has wronged. It's also the comic book equivalent of singing Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" at a bar with your gal pals, finding the confidence to stand on one's own as the prisons of everything from the male gaze to self-worth gets explored in ways that show how far blockbuster cinema has come in the past few years. It may still be insane, but its deeper intent makes it a rock-solid experience.
Some may find the technique used to tell Harley's story a bit overplayed, even reminiscent of the fourth-wall breaking hit Deadpool, but it's essential to understand her psychology. Following a perverse montage filling in the first half of her life as colorful cartoons fill the screen, the story cuts to her sitting on the couch of her apartment, downing a can of Cheez-Whiz as she uses her ink pen to add janky tattoos to her leg. She is a wreck, and the voice-over can be seen as such. For the first half-hour, it is almost difficult to get a straight answer out of Harley as she controls the entire film itself. Whole sequences are presented out of order and she often contradicts details that the viewer is seeing. At points, the film even reels backward. This isn't simply a means to make a cool D.C. film. Every choice that exists outside the frame is something existing in Harley's mind, whose scattershot understanding of her current life makes total sense. She bedazzles her eyebrow and constantly confronts a public judging her. She used to be in the star relationship of Gotham, and now she's nothing. How does one live with that?
Every central character in Birds of Prey shares Harley's sense of inferiority at the start of their story. Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez) is a police officer who didn't receive a promotion after solving an important case that her partner took credit for. The Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) seeks revenge against the men who murdered her family. Black Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell) works for Black Mask in demeaning positions. Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco) is a pickpocket whose home life is abusive. Together these are the tropes that cinema has given to female characters to reflect their helplessness. They are oppressed, finding their own journeys starting with the same cast out vibe that Harley starts hers with. They all deal with the insecurity differently, as The Huntress acts out, Black Canary and Montoya hold it in, and Harley tries to evade her haters for one more day. 
Even with the original title alluding more to the people in Harley's life than herself, most of the story is told from her perspective as she finds a new deal that could stave off conflict for a while. If she can return a diamond to Black Mask, she stands to win a half-million bounty. This is her attempt to replace The Joker (not seen in the film, save for a brief flashback to Suicide Squad which even then only features the side of his face) with a man who may as well be The Joker, but with many more connections, including henchman Victor Zsasz. Need a better reason to follow his orders? Well, he is so rich that he can buy armies if somebody so much as scratches his car. The man's not afraid to reflect the power of men at their worst, objectifying women both through one uncomfortable scene of undressing and by appropriating other cultures by stealing their artifacts because he could. He is comically overblown, but in some ways needs to be to reflect a 2020 view on misogyny, where there are men with a connection to armies who will hurt women who stand up for their rights, ripping them open if they don't go along with their sadistic plans. 
That is why the film is packed full of this funhouse view both in costume and set design of women's place in American society. The most apparent comes in the wardrobe of Harley. Whereas one can argue that she dressed for others in Suicide Squad, she's now empowered by more comforting, feminine outfits. She's no less attractive (contrary to what the Twitter bots claim). She looks like she's having more fun and her slow progression throughout the film shows something that comes with having a woman direct this type of movie. The bizarre clothing choices make sense, telling the audience something deeper about Harley's pain and growth. She is trying to have confidence in herself. The same can be said for every character who all have these moments of doubt that show characters not as perfect beings, but vulnerable and prone to mistakes. Harley is a train wreck, albeit an entertaining one. In an era where films like Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel promote perfection and leadership, Birds of Prey is the perfect anarchic substitute, even if she's a villain who was questionable anyway.
The set design shows the divides between how men see women and how women see themselves. In a late scene where characters are dropped into a carnival maze of twisted colors and lights, the walls are lined with portraits of women, presented in exaggerated styles all showing signs of distress. The antiques that Black Mask has in his cavernous layer also feel like they're more to ogle at. Even the choice to incoherently parody Marilyn Monroe's famous "Diamonds Are  Girl's Best Friend" moment from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is itself commenting on the stereotype of women in media. Monroe was seen as a sex object, though those with a good nose for film study will recognize Monroe was always secretly in charge of the room by playing dumb. It raises questions as to how Harley sees herself, or if she just gives in to this submissive notion that she adores materialism and will do anything. If anything, seeing women dressed stylishly as themselves is too rebellious for these scenes, where even a jailbreak full of sprinklers doesn't end with a wet t-shirt exposing what's beneath. No, it's the start of a dizzying, delightful sequence of comedic action at its finest.
The story may have its fair share of inconsistencies and outright dumb moments, but it's easily the most shameless comic book movie in several years. Yes, it's the story about female empowerment, but for once everything is allowed to be silly without feeling tied down by dark and gritty trends or bogged down in serious speeches establishing a theme. No, this is just a movie where a bad guy breaks into the prison using a beanbag gun and a cannon that shoots sparklers before doing backflips to take down brute men. Even if this is one of the more grounded comic book movies to an extent, it's allowed to get away with so much silliness, and Yan exploits that to a delightful degree. It's a story where women interrupt their fights to compliment each other, keeping up morale by discussing their post-violence plans like going out for pizza. It's stark and refreshing while also creating this deeper understanding of what the film has been building to: women learning that they don't need men to be happy and that they're stronger together than apart. 
This is the coming out party that people wanted for Harley Quinn, and the film works literally as such. One doesn't have to see Suicide Squad to understand this film, though it helps if one wants to see the difference between the male and female gaze, with the latter exploring more of a defense tactic, proving that women are strong and not just hot in short-shorts. In fact, there's something more attractive about their strength, their charm as they come together with this sole revelation by the end. Not only have they defeated what is one of the D.C. Extended Universe's (unfortunately) few memorable and theme-significant villains, but Harley's inner monologue has finally course-corrected itself. The way that the voice-over works in the film shows personal growth, that she's literally able to think for herself outside of the context of men. As Kesha's banger "Woman" ends the picture, it feels like the audience got something that's become rare in this influx of comic book culture: a downright fun movie. This is the type of cinema that Harley was made for, not the dreary bro-tastic nonsense of Suicide Squad. Hopefully there will be more of it, because it's one of the most addictive theatrical experiences of 2020 so far. 

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