If you were to ask anyone five years ago to explain the D.C. character Harley Quinn, there is a good chance that terms like submissive and sidekick would come to mind. While she’s a wildcard capable of this manic chaos, she was ultimately the sidekick of The Joker, doing everything to please her “Puddin’” with each act being more sadistic than the last. It’s the context by which she was created for Batman: The Animated Series, and it’s something that held true up through Suicide Squad (2016) her live-action debut that only doubled down on her eccentric, nouveau street style and mentality. Basically, she was seen as a very surface-level and somewhat problematic character.
Which makes 2020 a rather exciting time to be alive if you’re a fan of the Batman villain. We’re living in a time of great reconstruction for the character, where she’s allowed to have her own agency. On the big screen with Birds of Prey (2020), she is given an agency as she recovers from a nasty break-up with some of the most electric and manic action beats of the year. It’s the type of film that finds ways to recontextualize every character and give them back the power that men robbed them of. It’s a journey of independence and one that has been met with divisive opinions. After all, this isn’t the Harley we know. I’d argue she’s much, much better.
To be honest, if you think that Birds of Prey has a radical take on the character, then your head will be smashed into a bloody pulp by the D.C. Universe (soon to be part of HBOMax) series Harley Quinn. This is her first series as lead, and one of the great things about it is how it’s not tethered to a Gotham we now. It’s not the one compromised by a PG-13 rating, where the dismemberment happens off-screen. This is a carnival of madness, where everything is a brazen, vulgar mess set to loud guitars and fast-moving action. It’s a series that makes Kick-Ass (2010) look tame, pushing boundaries on every front and creating a new context. This is Gotham through the eyes of Harley. Considering that Batman thinks she’s trash, it’s the only proper perspective for this story.
If Harley Quinn was just vulgar and juvenile, there’s a good chance that this show wouldn’t even matter. It would just be another [adult swim] knock-off that eventually goes the way of Animation Domination High-Def. While this is a strong selling point of the series and a delightful part of this bargain, there is so much more to the character and it’s to the writers’ credit that what they have created is a madhouse character study, barely holding on with this dark, depressing core.
Much like Birds of Prey, a large portion of the story centers around the personal divide of the exes. Where season one focused on Harley trying to be seen as her own entity, capable of being a supervillain without the help of The Joker, season two becomes something more compelling. The Joker is mad with power, the league of baddies (The Injustice League) has run rampant, and Harley is still an outsider. What does she have to do to gain the respect of her peers?
Gotham is now not part of the United States, and crime is pretty much the new normal. This is the substance that defines the first part of the season, and it’s here that Harley goes on a mission to take down The Joker while taking on a lot of the more familiar names. Figures like Mr. Freeze, Catwoman, and The Riddler have designed traps to protect The Joker, reflecting patriarchy that is impossible to penetrate but at its core is fragile. The only way to take it down is to dive head in. Harley and her cast of friends, notably gal pal Poison Ivy, may seem to be at a great disadvantage, but their scrappiness helps them to get by.
Again, it would be awesome if this was all that Harley Quinn was wanting to be. However, the writers have created a labyrinth of concepts that only become more exciting as this world is torn apart. By treating these villains as flawed humans, their mystique is zapped in place of raging egos, the funniest of which is the over-analytical Bane. And yet they still get the respect, they’re the ones that are feared. As police officer Jim Gordon struggles with his own inadequacy issues, the world crumbles in part because of people’s own emotional flaws, crumbling under pressure.
It’s a feeling that has often been applied to Batman, but rarely has it been allowed to be as crucial to his supporting cast. Along with Gordon, every significant lead has some form of inadequacy throughout the season. For Poison Ivy, it’s an impending marriage to Kite Man. If you think that Harley Quinn has found a way to make Kite Man cool… they haven’t. He’s helpless. He’s a dude who flies around with a kite. That’s it. His whole point on the show is to be the good intentions loser that your friends will always make fun of you for marrying.
That is what makes the show at times reaching for brilliance. Be demystifying these characters, it causes the audience to question the value of their actions, if they’re really as cool as they think. Have they dedicated their lives to a pathetic lie, never capable of receiving the respect of the A+ villains that your grandma knows? Kite Man has definitely wasted his life, and that is the struggle of Poison Ivy, whose marriage risks dropping her into obscurity.
On the flip side, her relationship with Harley is one that has been fodder for decades now. Fans of Batman: The Animated Series probably will enjoy this more adult take on the characters, where a bachelorette party finds Poison Ivy dropping some clever curses as she grows depressed. This situation makes Harley more empathetic, capable of seeing outside of herself, and in a lot of ways fulfills aspects of the Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy dynamic that some have been fan fictioning for a while now. Following one flirty kiss, they begin to question their deeper love. The season ends with them accepting each other, running from the law with the ones they love most.
The world of Harley Quinn is chaotic, and there is something endearing about the show’s ability to explore these characters’ search for love. When the world is ready to destroy them, they turn to each other for guidance. Sure some characters, like the egocentric Dr. Psycho, will curse you out for needing help, but everyone comes around in the end, understanding the value of friendship and support. When compared to The Joker’s more impersonal concoction of supervillains, it shines a light on how powerful the less impressive King Shark and Clayface are as a team.
It’s also a show that knows how to use self-awareness to its full advantage. If you’re anyone who has been on the internet, you will be aware of underlying misogyny in the comic book world. Considering the backlash that Captain Marvel (2019) received, it’s easy to see a series about an even more dangerous and harmful character like Harley receiving worse criticism. On a surface level, it was the premise of season one. By season two, D.C. Universe breaks the fourth wall and has a literal depiction of fans watching the show and commenting on everything wrong with the show. Even the choice to bring back familiar iconography helps to add layers.
You could see it as a gimmick, but that is to ignore how layered this exploration is. Following the demise of The Joker, the superheroes begin to show up, taking credit for the action. They’re the lazy bums who were too scared to enter the crime-infested city, making one wonder what separates the good from evil. Once again, Harley is being criticized. The series knows everyone is judging her for trying to have any character development, and it’s interesting to see how the show handles people rewriting these narratives because that how these conventions play. Much like she was known for dating The Joker, Harley was a bad guy. To expect any better would be disgraceful.
Over the course of 13 episodes, the series does plenty to reinvent Harley’s image with a creative force much stronger than even Birds of Prey. For the first time, there is a series that features her being a complicated figure, suggesting that bad people can be redeemed. What makes us have these preconceived notions about these characters? It’s the animated superhero version of You’re the Worst: a series that initially existed as a satire of genre before unraveling the lingering impacts of depression and reputation from social understanding. It’s not always written as densely, but the fact that this world of ribald violence and flagrant profanity can have time for moments of genuine adult sadness shows a complexity that no cartoon series in the Batman universe would think to capture.
It’s far from perfect, but what it does is rather innovative and endearing. The average episode isn’t a crime of the week exploration, but one of character growth that asks us to look at them and see them as human. Why do they act out the way that they do? By the end of season two, Harley’s desire for a good bat-wielding seems more subdued, reflecting someone who has been through a wringer, even as the world around her grows more absurd. It’s a place where escapism won’t allow you to escape enough. It’s where you have to accept that you’re a man who flies around with a kite for a living. You could’ve been so much more, and yet you’re just Kite Man.
I hope that since D.C. Universe is now kaput, the shift to HBOMax allows audiences to find this show and appreciate it for what it is. Rarely has a Batman foe received a character study this engrossing, managing to be just as dazzling as it is daunting. It’s a journey of self-worth and accepting your place in a world that doesn’t take you seriously. The show is much more than giving a character an overdue platform. It’s one that gives her new meaning and purpose and does so without losing a single piece of this wild world’s charm. While I personally like the focus of Birds of Prey just a bit more, Harley Quinn work as these 22-minute bursts of stimulus and thought that leave you with more than filler entertainment. If anything, it’s a nice respite from the less interesting bravado of its TV peers.
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