Diamond in the Rough: Batman: Assault on Arkham

In which I review an obscure, must-see film.

You're probably going to see a lot of posts like this popping up in the future: new article series that will both debut and be developed as they're needed (basically whenever I happen to watch something that fits their criteria).  The main three (Date Night, From the Vault and Unreality Companion) will still be just that: my main, go-to article series.  Just expect to see more versatilely-themed and differently-focussed posts in the coming weeks.

                    

Sometimes I feel like a bad nerd.  If you would have asked me about Batman: Assault on Arkham a week ago, I would have guessed that it was a video game.  If you would have asked me who Deadshot, Captain Boomerang, Black Spider, King Shark, Killer Frost  and KGBeast were, I would have guessed that they were carnies.  If you would have asked me who The Suicide Squad was, I would have guessed it was an off-shoot of Al Qaeda.

Batman: Assault on Arkham, an adaptation of DC's Suicide Squad comics, follows a government-run team of incarcerated C and D-list supervillains that are used as deniable assets in high-risk black ops missions in exchange for commuted prison sentences.  While Batman tears Gotham apart looking for where the Joker hid a dirty bomb, government operative Amanda Waller recruits a new Suicide Squad roster with the mission of breaking into Arkham Asylum and recovering stolen, top secret data hidden inside of the Riddler's cane.  To ensure compliance, each member of the Squad  has a bomb surgically implanted into the base of his or her neck, which Waller can remotely detonate at her discretion.  Everything isn't as simple as it seems, however: as tempers flare on the team and Harley Quinn comes face-to-face with her old ex, Waller gives Killer Frost her own, tangental mission to assassinate the Riddler.

                     

Like Guardians of the Galaxy, Assault on Arkham seems to exist solely to prove that an obscure property composed of obscure characters (with only a few A-lister cameos) can be successful at a time when any comic book property is pretty much fair game.  And, in that respect, the film is a resounding success.  Despite a rocky start, a mere fleeting connection with the Batman franchise and Harley Quinn as the only Suicide Squad member that anybody comes in caring about (and probably have ever heard of before), Assault on Arkham's pitch-perfect execution proves why DC is pretty much the only name in animated comic book films these days (despite Marvel's best efforts to prove otherwise).

Assault on Arkham is ultimately successful for the exact same reason that The Avengers was: as an excuse for throwing together a rough-shod cast of flawed characters who have absolutely no reason to like nor trust one another on a mission and see what happens.  And, just like The Avengers, that actually turned out to be all that was needed for a great movie.  Harley Quinn is equal parts unsettling lunatic and hilarious comic-relief as she nostalgically strolls through her old stomping grounds. Killer Frost's and King Shark's nacent feelings for one another is surprisingly touching to watch develop and makes future team-ups between the two not just convincing, but compelling.  Deadshot and Captain Boomerang's rivalry for command of the Suicide Squad is as hotheaded as it is amusing to watch.  And Black Spider, an assassin of criminals, provides a chilling reminder of the even darker path that Bruce Wayne could have taken as Batman.

Harley Quinn, Black Spider, Deadshot, King Shark, Killer Frost and Captain
Boomerang: The Suicide Squad.

In what actually turns out to be the most pleasant surprise of the film, the Joker's Inclusion as Assault on Arkham's true villain doesn't feel like a cop-out to provide it with greater name recognition.  His appearance organically flows from the film's plot and never leaves us questioning his narrative necessity.  Troy Baker plays the Joker as a proper Victorian gentleman gone mad: somewhere between a sadistic wife-beater and Hannibal Lector.  His savage treatment of Harley - coupled with dismissive dialog like "women: can't live with 'em, can't throw 'em out of a moving car" - is an unsettling portrayal of real-world violence.  If not for Heath Ledger's iconic performance in The Dark Knight, this would be my favorite film portrayal of the character.

Assault on Arkham's only real downfalls are its brisk seventy-five minute run-time and its PG-13 rating.  While we get all of the fun that the Suicide Squad has to offer, we don't get much of the depth.  Killer Frost's and King Shark's relationship was another one or two moments away from being truely memorable while Deadshot and Harley's relationship barely managed to scratch its surface.  Another fifteen or twenty minutes could have fleshed these characters out in ways that would have made the Squad's interactions - as well as Harley's decision to leave Deadshot for the Joker - that much more dynamic.  Bumping its rating up to R would have made Harley and Deadshot's night of passion more than just a quicky as seen from outside of their hotel and given the Joker room to flex his New 52 muscles: skinning a security guard and wearing his skin like Leatherface.

                     

More than anything else, Batman: Assault on Arkham proves that straight-to-video films can be just as well-made and entertaining as theatrically released ones (or better, when you consider previous Batman outings).  It succeeds at skillfully threading together multiple parallel plotlines where other films fail to convincingly present just one.  Overall, I would give the film a high 8 out of ten: a definite must-see for fans of DC and action films alike.