This year has been...a lot. Let's go with a lot. A Lot. But one beautiful, shining, glorious egg sandwich of a movie has easily been its best moment, and that is Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn. It burst into our lives like Harley Quinn into a police station shooting non-lethal glitter bombs at men, making them do backflips.
If you haven't seen it yet, and what are you doing with your life if not, that's literally a thing that happens. It's great. It's awesome. IT'S FUN GUN.
So. Harley Quinn shows up at the police station in a head scarf, hat, sunglasses, and accent straight out of ye olde Hollywood. "I'm here to report a terrible crime," she says, ingenue-ily. Which crime? THIS ONE.
THEN. She busts out this DIY-af bean bag gun filled with glitter and pink and blue dust clouds (now THIS is a gender reveal party idea and my baby's gender would be THE GLITTER) and knocks every man in the station on his ass, over his ass, generally ass-wards. Then she just casually asks if anyone has seen Cassandra Cain.
Waiting in line: long, tedious, boring.
Exploding men with glitter: effective, quick, clearly a better system.
Harley Quinn: our most efficient anti-hero.