Harley Motherf***ing Quinn

[Warning: adult language and situations. No spoilers, though.]

Harley Quinn, voice supplied by "The Big Bang Theory's"
Kaley Cuoco. So less of the insane Brooklynite attitude from
previous iterations, more of a scary SoCal girl.

I don’t review TV shows that often, animation almost never, and I’m not a comic book fanboy. But I chanced upon a review on io9 that was so intriguing I had to check it out— and I was not disappointed.

“Harley Quinn” is a comedic adult animated web-based show now streaming on DC Universe, behind an $8-a-month paywall. It tells the story of Harley Quinn, the Joker’s lover and sidekick, as she dumps him and tries to invent herself as an independent person and supervillain in her own right. She does this with the help of her best friend / roommate Poison Ivy (Lake Bell, a wonderfully dry voice performance), and her crew of minor villains who I would know if I actually read comic books.

Harley and Poison Ivy, roommates. These two characters
may be the most 'shipped couple on the internet. So far
they are depicted a just close friends, but the season
is not over yet.

The dynamic between Harley Quinn and Joker has been well-documented, and they’re even going to make it big deal out of it in the Margot Robbie-starring live-action film coming out next month. Her character has been described as suffering from dependent personality disorder: in her former life she became so obsessed with Joker while treating him in Arkham Asylum she abandoned everything to become his often-abused sidekick. As a super villain origin stories go it may be the most mundane one ever: Harley was a victim of abusive, manipulating partner, a trauma untold thousands of people are suffering every day in the real world. It has given her character a special resonance with fans: even though Harley is a supervillain, her personal emotional issues have a human scale and her efforts to break free of her abusive partner make her even more relatable. The show does not shy away from this unhealthy dynamic, and in fact it casts most of her personal growth as an anodyne to Joker, her romantic obsession transformed into professional competition. Harley a fun character, given considerable depth: she is "a bad guy, but not a bad person," and her story arc probably has her headed to antihero status.

The creators of “Harley Quinn” made a strange but ultimately transformative decision: As it is not a broadcast show there are no real restrictions to language and content, so they decided to make a show for adults. It's a bit of a shock. To give a feel for the dialog:


Harley (to Joker, in a subconscious confrontation): “You think you created me, but no one did. My fucked-up parents didn’t create me. Neither did Jessica Sarner when she lied to the whole fucking camp and said I lost my virginity to a horse! A HORSE!” (applies baseball bat to Joker’s crotch: he doubles over) “Neither did those cops who questioned me for hours about what happened to Jessica Sarner! And YOU sure as hell didn’t fucking create me, Puddin’!”

And the sexual innuendo is of the single-entendre variety:


Bane (to Joker on phone): “Harley is at Penguin’s nephew’s Bar Mitzvah.”
Joker: “She crashed the stupid thing?”

Bane: “Yeah. Seems like she’s doing pretty well. Brought a tiger. Pretty cool!”
Joker: “What? Anyone can buy a tiger. You know she has HPV, right?”
Bane: “Most sexually active adults do.”
Joker: “Shut up!”

Dr. Psycho, after the second time he called someone a c**t.

Yeah, the filter is off and this makes it for fairly exhilarating viewing. There are some limits: no female nudity (yet*), but lots of pixelated male crotches. The show even has a line, and one character crosses it: Dr. Psycho, one of Wonder Woman’s nemeses, is blackballed out of the Legion of Doom for calling her, in the heat of battle, a c**t. (it’s the only profane utterance bleeped on the entire show.)

I know adult-oriented animated series are not exactly a new phenomenon: “South Park” is 20+ years old, seriously raunchy, and the movie was legendary in that regard. Every episode of the immensely popular Adult Swim series “Rick and Morty” is filled end-to-end with bleeps and blurred-out genitalia.

What makes “Harley Quinn” exceedingly unusual is the fact it is camped dead center in the DC Universe. It is not a sidecar, like the way Deadpool— the foul-mouthed, violent antihero from Marvel— is a sidecar, peripheral to the X-Men universe (several X-Men make an appearance in the sequel) and completely walled off from the big-money Avengers universe. Deadpool will never crack dick jokes with Captain America. (Professor X, maybe.)

In her show Harley regularly interacts with the big hitters, Batman and Superman and the like. The iconic superheroes they spend hundreds of millions of dollars to make movies about. And by “interact,” I mean when Harley meets The Batman in the first episode, she adamantly insists he is called that because he fucks bats.

Wonder Woman, eating her own brand of breakfast cereal,
realizing all the ground rules have changed.

This juxtaposition turns an amusing series into a surreal one. What we have is a series which has IP-critical superhero guest cameos— and they basically stand in inhibited silence while a collection of supervillains dance around them, calling them out with ripe curses and sexual innuendo. The decision by DC and Warner Bros. to execute this vision is mystifying.

The other exhilaration that comes from ”Harley Quinn” is how this adult theme remakes every character anew. All the profanity and frank sex talk draws attention to the eroticism that rushes like a deep undercurrent under all superhero stories.The supervillans and superheroes depicted in the blockbuster movies are (mostly) extensions of their juvenile, sexless origins as juvenile, sexless comic-book characters, still hewing to a long-gone 70-year-old Comics Code. Not on “Harley Quinn:” on that show, everyone depicted are People Who Fuck.

People Who Fuck are all around us: it is the normal state of the human race. The great majority of DC and Marvel movies and TV shows still depict their intellectual property as non-existent from the waist down, like Muppets. This is my biggest peeve with the MCU: missing the normalizing dimension as People Who Fuck, for all the significant kisses and long, lingering gazes they’re all just cardboard simulations of real people.

This is the liberating synthesis of “Harley Quinn,” the result of the thesis of comic book characters mixed with the antithesis of real-world People who Fuck. Even though they are set in an unbelievable, unrealistic universe of magic and superpowers, the characters depicted within seem more real than any version of them that came before.

*One of the most confounding things about Adult or R-rated entertainment of late: no problem with profanity and verbally describing sexual situations-- but nudity is increasingly rare. I think, in the case of this show, the influence of the internet is the major deciding factor. If the showrunners ever decided to show Harley Quinn running around with her tits out, every fanboy image server on earth would promptly explode. So that will never happen.

Wonder Woman: Fury Road

Diana, Princess of Themyscera, getting ready to stab some guy.

The thesis of DC’s Cinematic Universe (and the Marvel Universe, as well) is it’s grinding, dark authoritarian streak. Superman wrestles with his god-like powers: he can do anything, even rule the earth, but he chooses to spend a lot of his time brooding over the loss of his planet and his inherent outsider status. Batman is the nearly omnipotent paladin alter ego of a billionaire who uses his immense wealth to endlessly right the wrong done to his parents and holds himself as a force above the law. They are damaged, self-regarding, nearly schizophrenic men, fighting through childhood trauma, allowing their losses to define everything about them.

What if we had a superhero who has none of these issues? What if she was here because she chose to be here and is here to do good— not to psychologically play out some personal loss, but because it was simply the right thing to do?

Now we have the antithesis to the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel. Finally, after a nine-year development cycle and a dizzying number of deals, we have Wonder Woman, directed by Patty (2003's Monster) Jenkins. The title character is played by Israeli actor Gal Gadot, absolutely majestic in the role of Diana, Princess of Themyscera. (nobody in the film calls her “Wonder Woman.”) Jenkins has rendered a marvelous superhero tale, a breezy, often thoughtful film that is centered on a fascinating hero both capable and naïve, loving and fierce, a warrior for peace. It is not a perfect film— but as an entry into the superhero genre it is way above average.  Go see!

Diana going "over the top" into No Man's Land. This sequence is
incredibly great, indescribably thrilling and unexpected, worth the
price of admission, even.

The basic story: Diana is a princess of a mystical island, made invisible by the intervention of the god Zeus, inhabited by immortal Amazon warriors. Into this idyllic world flies Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) a WWI allied spy on a mission to stop the Germans, lead by General Eric Ludendorff (A real historical figure!) from developing a new and extremely deadly form of mustard gas. When Steve describes the war (via the magic lasso of truth) Diana is so outraged that she sets out with him to end the conflict, which she believes could only be the work of Ares, the God of War, who is influencing men to fight. On the way they visit London and wide-eyed and innocent Diana learns the ways of early 20th century western society. Undeterred, with the help of Trevor and the blessing of a rogue British War Secretary (David Thewlis) they assemble a small cadre of (what can only be described as) helpers and Diane sets off to end the First World War…

A few notes:

• The film’s setting— Europe in 1918, the final months of The Great War— was a marvelous decision on several levels. There is a genuine surprise in the opening act— set on a timeless island magically protected from the outside world— when the lovely azure sky is literally pierced by a German Fokker monoplane. The film then fixes on World War I, the description of that war’s terrible scale and carnage motivates Diana to leave her idyllic home and end the conflict. The setting of the war— the muddy trenches, the damaged Belgian villages, smoky, bustling London— are rendered with incredible detail.

The decision set the film in 1918 follows a smart precedent: Captain America: the First Avenger (2011). That film was set mostly in the Second World War, which—while accurate to comic-book origin— was an unusual choice, not entirely necessary. Same goes with Wonder Woman, the WWI setting of which was an even more of a whole-cloth invention, as the comic book was first published in 1941. Both of these movies could have started in media res, set in our contemporary time, like the majority of comic-book movies are (Spider-Man started in 1962: in the movies he never saved John Kennedy, not even once) but instead chose to introduce our heroes in historical contexts.

Why? Because it effectively de-contextualizes the conflicts that informed their origins. We get to see heroes fight the Hun and Nazis, and the wrecked and ambiguous current state of geo-politics has nothing to do with it. There are no satellite phones or pocket nukes or stealth anything. The battles were more intimate and close those days, and they required guts and battlefield valor, not pinpoint drone missile targeting. It makes our heroes seem all that more pure.

Furiousa takes charge, defending the war rig from the forces of the malignant
patriarch Immortan Joe. Max Rocketanski (Tom Hardy) helps as best he can.

• Guys: I hate to say it, but Wonder Woman proves the jig is up. This film had a singular precedent, and it wasn’t Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016), even though Diana’s late appearance saved the finale and maybe the battle. No, it’s the purely male action movie paradigm that is showing signs of being played out. That’s been evident since the phenomenal success of Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). George Miller’s action masterpiece proved that audiences are thrilled by strong female leads, and in Fury Road the film series' namesake takes a backseat to Imperator Furiosa (Charleze Theron). It also proved that feminism-- in this film, this means the exposure of the destructive nature of patriarchy-- can be the underlying philosophy of an all-out action spectacle, and this new emphasis just makes the story that much better. (This was followed by the last two Star Wars movies, also notable for having strong female leads, and again: it just seems to improve everything about them.)

It also advances a worldview unheard of in major action films: that maybe patriarchy is a system that causes most of the destruction in the world. Maybe having men run things is a recipe for violence and war and climate destruction. It may even be bad for men in a patriarchy, who tend to define themselves in ways that limit the human potential of everyone in it, including themselves. Violence may be the ultimate catharsis, the red blood that powers action films, but the time may have come when the pleasure of violent catharsis can be questioned and challenged.

Wonder Woman advances this strong feminist theme. Diana comes from an island with no men, and when she leaves it she sees the world in all it’s sexist extremes. Naturally, she is outraged by this, and takes it upon herself to set things right. All her male cohorts can do is follow along as best they can. Steve Trevor, who in any other movie would be the stoic, capable lead character, is quickly reduced to a “feminist ally:” Her agenda becomes his agenda and all he can do is educate Diana on the complexities of modern warfare and social morés. Diana’s motivation is moral outrage against the Great War that men have started and wage without mercy against each other-- and the innocents caught in it’s grasp. The nature of evil itself is held up to question in Wonder Woman— is it an innate thing, part of human nature, or is violence a tragic flaw of the male psyche, or is it caused by something else entirely?

It’s not a perfect feminist manifesto: Wonder Woman definitely tries to have it both ways in places. These are plenty of scenes where Diana is ogled, and her presence as the most beautiful and capable person in the room eases over from admiration to voyeurism. This manifesto suffers especially with the big battle finale (no spoilers) which is more in common with the other titanic, lengthy CGI battles at the end of other DC and Marvel movies than this particular tale. It’s a well-crafted spectacle, a clash of immensely powerful super-powered beings, but after the real-world ethical dilemmas exposed and discussed the film before the finale hits I felt a little disappointed. Punches are being pulled a little, I think. If the film had ended a little earlier, with Diana realizing that war (especially THAT war) was nothing more than a form of nationalistic madness brought on by the belligerence and pride of the interconnected patriarchal royal houses of Europe, I think she would have discovered a deeper truth, and the audience would have left the auditorium wiser and maybe a little outraged, but outraged in a good way.

*Program note: there is NO easter egg tag at the end of Wonder Woman. Feel free to leave when the credits scroll starts.