'Birds of Prey' reminds me why I am not missing superhero movies

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) is a particularly frustrating sort of movie because it's almost really good, quite frequently in fact, but it also suffers from almost all of the same deficiencies that can often make superhero films forgettable at best and deadening at worst.

Say what you will about last year's Joker -- and I remain a defensive but ardent defender -- it was different than most so-called comic book movies. Now, many will argue that that film was unjustly lauded for its tonal change and aesthetic (and they may have a point) but I suspect that it was so refreshing for a lot of filmgoers and critics because it came on the heels of a little over a decade of these kinds of blockbusters, most of which don't hue too far from formula.

Joker was a film, at least in my estimation, that I couldn't predict from once scene to the next, which  to me is the hallmark of every good to excellent modern superhero movie. Birds of Prey pulls off that same dichotomy for a bit, invigorating slow, before collapsing back in on itself.

At its center is the committed and charismatic presence of Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn. Her debut at the character in Suicide Squad barely registered for me, I think in part because I despised that film so much that I couldn't get past the trees for the forest.

When she pops up here -- with a clumsy, convoluted plot device of her "breaking up with the Joker" to excuse his lack of a presence here -- it's jarring at first. She is leaning hard into an exaggerated Long Island-esque voice and she has Jim Carrey-esque gainly physicality which is disarming. But once you settle in with her and embrace the idea that she really playing the character as a cartoon, someone popping off the pages of a comic book, rather than a grounded human being -- it works.

In fact, the openly chunk of Harley Quinn reminded me a bit of Tim Burton's Batman films (with the notable exception of some unnecessary four letter words). It's campy without being too cynical, colorful without looking tacky.

And she's backed up by some incredibly lovable character actresses -- the always reliable Mary Elizabeth Winstead, the ageless and alluring Jurnee Smollett, and also ageless an alluring Rosie Perez (plus a child actress who isn't that great, although I appreciate that she's Asian, rounding out a pretty diverse cast). They each play badass pieces of the puzzle, and while the movie isn't subtle with it's rah rah feminism messaging, I didn't care because not only do I agree with it in principle and practice, but the movie is almost always fun about its fundamentals.

So far, so good right? That's where Ewan McGregor comes in. I like Ewan McGregor and he's a god actor -- but he's just not a villain. No matter how hard he tries -- and boy does he -- he is just one of those actors who can't be menacing, even when he tries. He seems unsure if he wants to play the bad guy here as a comic figure or a terrifying one. His character's trademark is literally cutting off peoples' faces -- and yet he feels like a completely inconsequential opponent. Literally, he admits that he's operating only because the Joker has allowed him to.

My point is movies like these sink or swim depending on the adversary. Why? Because the antagonist creates conflict and therefore gives us something to care about. And there's little to care about here. This film has too many subplots, too many characters (even though as I mentioned earlier, I quite like some of them) and too many fight scenes -- although the ones here are distinctly brutal and well choreographed.

This is a movie that doesn't have the patience and trust in its audience to slow things down just a little bit. I'm all for a fast paced movie, but this film has ADD. Somewhere around the halfway mark I lost thread and surrendered the film's knowing, winking asides. It's not as smug as the Deadpool films, but clearly this film wants to both be taken seriously and not be taken seriously.

When it was over I didn't regret watching it but I also felt like I couldn't in good conscience recommend it. Besides a halfway decent attempt to inject a girl power ethos into the proceedings, this is a movie about nothing that doesn't really go anywhere. I imagine had it been a bigger success it could have spawned more sequels and an expanded universe, but do we need it?

There's so much of this out there it's hard to get past the cynicism involved. At its best, Birds of Prey helps you put it out of your mind for a while, but then you find yourself wondering if the Joker or Batman will show up and want to slap yourself on the wrist for even imagining it.

As much I miss new movies right now. I am not sure I need more of these.