In an age of superhero movies with a Feige-approved tone, Birds of Prey is a breath of fresh air. It swings for the fences. Is it always a home run? No, but it hits more than it misses. The action is on point and clear, with a crisp line of sight and progression. The characterization is solid, particularly with Winstead's Huntress, McGregor's Black Mask, and Robbie's Harley. Winstead owns every scene she's in, alternating between badass and endearingly awkward with so much ease she begs for more screen time. McGregor is both entertaining while being a complete dirtbag, his misogyny all too true to life but never glorified or sexualized for the audience. And Robbie does an admirable job of anchoring the film.
The film falters somewhat in rarely being as funny as it wants to be, outside of Huntress, but the tone is fun enough and the action and visuals distinctive enough to make it a blast anyway. For mostly the better, every shot feels like Cathy Yan's vision, and the entire project bleeds her, the writer's, and Robbie's passion, something too lacking in hero movies these days.
What stuck out most to me was one scene of Black Mask's cruelty. Where most films would've lingered on it, the camera gratifying as much as it condemns, Yan keeps the focus strictly on the pettiness of Mask, the reaction of his victim, and the horror of the witnesses. It doesn't linger, but it doesn't make light. It's true to life but it's not gratuitous trauma porn. It serves a purpose, and it is so rare to see in any movie. That's the feeling that makes Birds of Prey most worth seeing. For a fun time through a distinctive lens, it's more than worth your time.
