The new Suicide Squad was poised to offer the DC Extended Universe a much-needed lifeline. And given the colossal disappointment that was Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice earlier this year, there really seemed nowhere to go except up. But while Squad, written and directed by David Ayer (End of Watch, Fury) based on DC characters, is certainly more enjoyable than that last misfire, it’s only by a very, very small margin. Although pitched as the sort of hip attempt at fashionably subverting the superhero formula in proffering non-conventional heroes, played by a starry cast, the film simply can’t find its footing. The irreverence turns out to be purely cosmetic, the script shockingly low on plot, and the action derivative and murky. To be honest, Squad functions only as an extended introduction to a long list of characters who are destined to star in spin-offs and sequels and reboots and prequels enough to keep us occupied for a good decade or so. While there are a few promising tangents plugged in, it’s a shame the makers couldn’t have tried just that teensy bit harder to disguise their grabby intentions and throw us some crumbs by way of narrative, or a few genuinely warm or funny moments between the characters at the very least. What we have, instead, is a muddle of a production that preens and poses with the best of them, but makes very little sense—not just in terms of the script, but also the necessity of the film in its entirety.

Squad opens in the aftermath of the happenings of Batman v Superman. Taking her cue from the near-catastrophes of that film, scary-stern government agent Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) has determined that the US needs a contingency plan in case the next Superman happens to be less-than-benevolent. The best approach, she figures, is to put together a task force of the “worst of the worst”, the most dangerous people on the planet, who, even if they should die in battle, wouldn’t be missed too much.

And so, our titular squad is assembled: there’s Dr June Moone (Cara Delevingne), an archaeologist routinely possessed by an ancient spirit called the Enchantress; Deadshot (Will Smith), the hit-man with killer aim; former-psychiatrist, now-certifiable-herself Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) known primarily for her “romantic” liaisons with the Joker (Jared Leto); fire-conjuring gang-banger El Diablo (Jay Hernandez); Aussie-twang-wielding robber Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney); the scaly, sewer-dwelling Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje); and Slipknot (Adam Beach), who is good with… uh… tying stuff? Leading them is upright military-man Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) and sidekick Katana (Karen Fukuhara), who boasts some serious sword skills. Those skills, and that of all the others, are about to be put to the test soon: Ms Moone’s alter ego has gone rogue, ticked off at mankind for some non-specific reason, and is now, to exactly no one’s surprise, threatening to end the world as we know it. Teaming up to defeat her is the only chance most squad members will ever get at redeeming themselves. Should they still prove uncooperative, however, there’s always the little explosive devices Waller has had installed in their necks to serve as incentive.

The problem starts with Squad’s basic premise: the idea of setting free such a bunch of loose canons and trusting them to stick to a plan is a bit, well, silly, and Waller’s surprise at the unruliness of her wards is ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that the main threat our antiheroes are assigned to deal with would technically have not even existed if the team hadn’t been formed in the first place. The antihero tack is definitely in vogue at present, and for good reason too—these guys tend to be a lot more intriguing and entertaining as compared to your standard square-jawed, law-abiding crusader. Squad, however, squanders that potential: for one, the villains here are far too sympathetic—sure, they keep telling us they’re “bad”, and scowl a lot, but they come around too easily to the good side and the ambiguity and grey areas that make these kinds of stories interesting is missing. Secondly, too much time is spent on establishing the players—via a long introductory reel that presents their back stories and traits one by one, and a variety of flashbacks that frequently intrude on the action—that there is precious little left over for anything else. So when the Big Mission kicks off, the characters haven’t had a chance to bond or even just interact—they don’t get to do much of that during the mission either—making their eventual proclamations about feeling like a “family” difficult to swallow.

To their credit, the actors do try, but the script is beyond rescue. Smith, for instance, is dependable enough, although, costume aside, he’s played the kindly, put-upon father many times before. Beach, Hernandez, Akinnuoye-Agbaje and Courtney barely get any screen time to register. And Leto, who was plastered over all the promos, hasn’t been given much to do either, although the actor does manage to make an impression even in the briefest of appearances. Davis, meanwhile, puts up an understated performance that truly stands out amid all the flash and noise, whereas Delevingne’s portrayal of an otherworldly entity is unfortunately unintentionally funny.

It is Robbie’s character, however, that proves the most problematic: despite the actress’ efforts, there’s no getting away from the fact that Quinn’s present-day manic, perky, hyper-sexual persona is actually the result of years of physical and psychological abuse, snippets of which we’re shown. Strangely, though, there’s a distinctly romantic filter applied to these images; rather than exploring the complexities of her relationship with her green-haired abuser, which could’ve given the film a leg to stand on, Squad almost idealises that deranged union in much the same delusional manner in which it celebrates Quinn as a badass. Just because she’s been given all the quips, and can do damage with a baseball bat, doesn’t mean she’s empowered or justify what’s been done to her. Especially not when the camera is happy to leer at her body, in that too-tight T-shirt and underwear, every chance it gets.

It’s usually the case that if nothing else, there’s at least something good to be said about the visuals in films like these. Unfortunately, Squad falters there as well. Although bits of the first half do hint at a bold, lively and colourfully quirky aesthetic, it’s not sustained throughout. Much of the action unfolds in dimly-lit settings, the 3D cloudy to the point where I had to take off the glasses to see what was going on. And the CGI isn’t up to snuff either: the Enchantress and the swirling mass of trash and energy that she is whipping up is given particular short shrift, and there are a few places where the special effects are actually reminiscent of The Scorpion King. Speaking of tacky, there’s also the soundtrack that tries to pull a Guardians of the Galaxy by inserting a mishmash of familiar musical cues into the proceedings to evoke a sense of nostalgia and clever irony, no doubt, but is used so often and so thoughtlessly that the effect quickly wears thin.

Marvel’s largely successful bid to create an ever-expanding crisscrossing network of characters and storylines on film and TV has no doubt pushed DC into panic mode, forced to come up with its own version of such a “universe”. Fair enough, but so far, it appears to be missing the trees for the forest. If each instalment in the franchise exists solely to usher in the next, but can’t measure up as a standalone, world-building is occurring on shaky ground. Delayed gratification has its place, but this is taking it just a little too far.