Producers: Sue Kroll, Margot Robbie and Bryan Unkeless   Director: Cathy Yan   Screenplay: Christina Hodson   Cast: Margot Robbie, Mary Elisabeth Winstead, Jurnee Smollett-Bell, Rosie Perez, Chris Messina, Ella Jay Bosco, Ali Wong and Ewan McGregor   Distributor:  Warner Bros. Pictures

Grade:  D

There’s a pervasive air of desperation to this female-centric would-be comic-book action blockbuster, which flails about for nearly two hours trying to be edgy and snarky in “Deadpool” mode but fails miserably on all counts.

The character of Harley Quinn, the wacky, wild and definitely dangerous right-hand woman of the Joker for whom a baseball bat is the weapon of choice, first appeared in comics in the late nineties and made her inauspicious big-screen debut in David Ayer’s abominable “Suicide Squad” in 2016.  Despite being introduced in that debacle—which nonetheless became a big success at the box office—she gets a second chance, again in the person of Margot Robbie, in Cathy Yan’s cumbersomely titled picture, which is a sequel to “Squad” only in the most tenuous narrative sense (though in quality terms, it’s about on the same level).

 In addition, it’s a sort of origin movie for the titular trio of female crime-fighters that made a separate debut in a comic series, also in the late nineties.  (An unrelated WB TV “Birds of Prey” series bombed in 2002-03.)  They’re Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), a veteran cop constantly dissed by her male colleagues; Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a crossbow-wielding vigilante out for revenge against the mobsters who slaughtered her family; and Dinah Lance (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), a nightclub chanteuse, aka Black Canary, who proves to have a supernatural power—a scream that can devastate people and property in the surrounding area.

These three are accidentally brought together with Quinn, who’s been dumped by Joker and is hell-bent on making it on her own, to save Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco), an annoying young pickpocket from the wrath of the city’s current crime lord Roman Sionis (Ewan McGregor) and his sadistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz (Chris Messina).  Cassandra has purloined a diamond belonging to Sionis, with which he’d planned to finance his takeover of the city, and he’s anxious to get it back.  Quinn is among those trying to earn the bounty he’s put on the kid, until she changes tack and decides to save her instead.  It’s their shared defense of the irritating girl—and their common detestation of Sionis—who’s also known as Black Mask for his occasional habit of wearing one—that forces them to join forces in a big final confrontation against Roman as his army of thugs. 

The Birds, however, get relatively short shrift in the chaotic script by Christina Hodson, in which the anarchic Quinn seizes center stage from the very start, in an animated sequence in which she recounts her life.  She also dominates via continuous narration in a shrill, irritating accent and even periodic moments when the character breaks the fourth wall by addressing us directly.  Harley’s supposed to come across as endearing by reason of her sassiness and take-no-prisoners mentality, but actually she’s one of the most obnoxious characters you’re ever likely to encounter.  At one point the evil Sionis shuts up the motor-mouth by slugging her and saying, “You’re so tiresome.”  He’s so right.

Robbie nonetheless seems to relish the character’s excesses of wardrobe, diction and action, and flings herself into the part with enthusiasm; a pity her enjoyment isn’t shared by viewers.  Of the trio of Birds, Winstead comes off best simply because she underplays, and Smollett-Bell has a pleasing presence; but Perez comes off as simply tired.  (Incidentally, Quinn mentions both Joker and Batman in the course of her constant ramblings, but neither actually appears in the movie.  They’re sorely missed.) 

McGregor, looking fit and trim, preens and prances gleefully and handles the occasional bursts of the villain’s rage well enough, but Sionis isn’t a terribly interesting figure, and his homoerotic relationship with Messina’s Zsasz is treated so cautiously that it stands out as one of the few aspects of the movie that seems relatively subdued.  Basco comes across as amateurish as the kid in distress, and the heavy dose of scatological humor associated with her character merely adds to the picture’s unpleasant raunchiness. 

That’s an element of the screenplay that director Yan, working on her first major project, doesn’t quite seem to have a handle on and the same can be said of the frequent fight sequences, which are certainly busy but feel rather flaccid and clumsily staged, a problem that even the hectic editing by Jay Cassidy and Evan Schiff can’t correct (the frequent employment of stunt doubles is all too obvious).  Matthew Libatique’s cinematography is so glaring that much of the picture is an eyesore, a problem accentuated by Erin Benach’s costumes, while Daniel Pemberton’s score is predictably overbearing.

In a move that’s becoming increasingly common, “Birds of Prey” deliberately pushes the envelope to secure an “R” rating from the MPAA—apparently a badge of distinction in today’s world, likely to increase ticket-buying.  Unhappily, in this case “R” doesn’t mean “restricted” so much as “rotten.”  

Producers: Joe Roth, Jeff Kirschenbaum and Susan Downey   Director: Stephen Gaghan   Screenplay: Stephen Gaghan, Dan Gregor and Doug Mand   Cast: Robert Downey Jr., Antonio Banderas, Michael Sheen, Jim Broadbent, Jessie Buckley, Harry Collett, Emma Thompson, Rami Malek, John Cena, Kumail Nanjiani, Octavia Spencer, Tom Holland, Craig Robinson, Ralph Fiennes, Selena Gomez, Marion Cotillard, Kasia Smutniak, Ralph Ineson, Carmel Laniado, Frances de la Tour, Jason Mantzoukas and Joanna Page   Distributor: Universal Pictures

Grade:  D

Even the animated prologue is mediocre in this latest effort to devise a likable family film from Hugh Lofting’s century-old stories about the doctor who could talk to animals.  The initial attempt, Richard Fleischer’s elephantine 1967 musical starring Rex Harrison, was a monumental disaster (which nonetheless was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including best picture—go figure), and though the two slapsticky modernizations starring Eddie Murphy fared a bit better, they were certainly no classics.  The third time around is, amazingly enough, the worst of the bunch, a chaotic, thoroughly charmless trashing of a once-beloved character.

Stephen Gaghan and his cohorts were inspired—though that word hardly applies in this context—by the second in Lofting’s series, the 1922 “Voyages of Doctor Dolittle,” but to call their adaptation loose would be a severe understatement.  After the prologue, which sketches Dolittle’s (Robert Downey Jr.) marriage to the lovely Lily (Kasia Smutniak), we are informed that she has perished on a voyage to find the mysterious island where a miraculous tree is reported to exist.  He becomes a total recluse, cloistered on the estate given him by the queen, where he lives with his menagerie of animals led by the redoubtable macaw Polynesia (voiced by Emma Thompson).

His serenity is shattered when two outsiders appear.  One is Tommy Stubbins (Harry Collett), a soft-hearted local lad who brings a squirrel he accidently shot in for treatment and begs to become Dolittle’s apprentice, and Lady Rose (Carmel Laniado), who informs him that the queen (Jessie Buckley), who had given Dolittle his estate, is gravely ill and requires his ministrations.  Since his possession of the estate is contingent on the queen’s survival, he reluctantly speeds to her beside, and Tommy—as well as the stable of animals—tags along.

Dolittle quickly determines that the queen requires medicine from that miraculous tree sought by his late wife, and is off on a voyage to find the island that houses it; Tommy, of course, will stow away on the ship, and most of the animals will take to the sea as well.  But there will be two major problems.  One is that Dolittle’s vessel is being pursued by a British warship captained by his great rival Dr. Blair Müdfly (Michael Sheen, apparently attempting to emulate Terry-Thomas at his most frantic), who is in the employ of the nefarious Lord Badgley (Jim Broadbent, utterly wasted and looking uncomfortable in his stiff uniform).  The other is that to secure his wife’s journal, Dolittle will have to penetrate the castle of Rassouli (Antonio Banderas), his father-in-law, who hates him for taking away his daughter and wants to feed him to a ravenous tiger named Barry (Ralph Fiennes), whose treatment for family issues the doctor broke off years before.

The episodic tale ends, of course, at the mysterious isle where Dolittle and his crew are confronted not only by Müdfly but by a fire-breathing dragon (Frances de la Tour), who threatens to devour our heroes until Dolittle solves a medical problem she’s suffering from.

Much of the purported amusement in the movie, especially for children, comes from Dolittle’s stable of yammering critters which, in addition to Thompson’s Polynesia, includes a dog (Tom Holland) who stays behind to guard the queen, and those that go off with him—a gorilla (Rami Malek), a polar bear (John Cena), an ostrich (Kumail Nanjiani), a duck (Octavia Spencer), a giraffe (Selena Gomez), a fox (Marion Cotillard) and a lioness (Carmen Ejogo).  They’re joined in Rassouli’s kingdom by a motor-mouthed dragonfly (Jason Mantzoukas).  But any charm this overstuffed bunch of beasties might have had is snuffed out by the chaotic action and overlapping dialogue, as well as a surfeit of the potty humor endemic to kids’ movies nowadays.

Nor do the humans compensate.  Downey’s attempt to accentuate Dolittle’s eccentricity misfires badly.  Employing a weird accent that seems dubbed in post-production and mumbling most of his lines sotto voce, while flailing about physically, he’s not dull, but more exhausting than engaging.  Banderas growls and grumbles wearing a beard that suggests he’d prefer not to be recognized (understandable, under the circumstances).  Collett is a pleasant lad who smiles a lot, but is otherwise a fairly colorless juvenile lead.  Both Buckley and Laniado prove to have what amount to throwaway roles. 

This would seem to be a pretty expensive production, but it looks terrible.  The animal effects are fine, but Dominic Watkins’ production design is messy, and Guillermo Navarro’s cinematography subpar; their less than stellar appearance is exacerbated by Craig Alpert’s scattershot editing.  Things aren’t helped by a bloated score from Danny Elfman, who can usually be relied on to add a touch of magical whimsy to such material but fails signally to do so here.           

The result makes you wonder whether this kind of material was just out of the wheelhouse of writer-director Stephen Gaghan, whose previous work as writer of “Traffic” and director of “Syriana” and “Gold” suggests he’s more at home with grittier stuff.  But even so he could have exercised more discipline over the project, though to be honest it might have been difficult for anybody to control a large-scale endeavor in which a star as mercurial as Downey was serving as an executive producer (and his wife as one of the producers).  In any event, this “Dolittle” goes far to reflect its title, since it offers virtually nothing to enjoy.