“The Suicide Squad” (M) Stars? Wot stars?

I SPENT close to an hour watching writer/director James Gunn’s movie before it got too much for me to bear. Then, overcome by boredom, I walked.

“The Suicide Squad” has been around in one form or other since 1935. This is its third modern iteration. There’s an innate tragic element in the notion of supervillains who aren’t even that good at being bad. 

This one is based on a DC Comics title and the tenth film in the DC Extended Universe. 

In its 132 minutes, supervillains Harley Quinn, Bloodsport, Peacemaker and a collection of nutty cons at Belle Reve prison join the super-secret, super-shady Task Force X as they are dropped off at the remote, enemy-infused island of Corto Maltese.

It’s notable for its prolific use of That Word, sprinkling the dialogue without adding to the film’s humour, tensions, conflicts or any other attribute. There’s no reason why women shouldn’t use it. Nor why they should. 

I suggest that, unless you are illiterate, you keep clear of this hyper-silly cinematic substitute for what might once upon a time have been the only entertainment that illiterates could understand. In their day, they were called comic books. At their best, in their day, they were neither, as Dr Fredric Wertham observed in “Seduction of the Innocent” (1954), asserting that comic books caused youth to become delinquents.

At Dendy