About “Suicide Squad” in a few words:

Suicide Squad is a 2016 American superhero film based on the DC Comics antihero team of the same name. The movie features a group of imprisoned supervillains who are recruited by the government for a dangerous mission in exchange for reduced sentences. Led by tough-as-nails Colonel Rick Flag and the unpredictable Harley Quinn, the team must face an ancient and powerful entity known as the Enchantress. The movie received mixed reviews from critics but was a box office success, grossing over $746 million worldwide.

Meet the characters from Suicide Squad

Captain Boomerang

Oh man, Captain Boomerang is that gloriously unreliable Aussie rogue who always has a trick boomerang up his sleeve and a mouth to match. He’s a loud, scrappy presence who will snipe at authority and then somehow charm his way out of trouble — or not, depending on his timing (which is terrible, he’s always late). Loves a drink, hates losing, and secretly keeps a tiny trophy shelf of weird little pilfered things (no one knows why a rubber duck is there). He says he doesn’t care about loyalty but then bails someone out at the last minute and acts like it was nothing — classic.

Rick Flag

Rick is all military posture and tight jaw, the kind of guy who plans contingencies like they’re bedtime stories; also, he will stare at you until you understand hierarchy. Stoic, guilt-ridden, borderline obsessed with mission success, but there’s this weird soft spot for old jazz records he keeps in his bunker — don’t ask, it’s his thing. He gives orders like a drill sergeant but, plot twist, can get unexpectedly sentimental about sacrifice and duty (which makes him both admirable and tragic). He’s the stable center when everything else is a circus, though he secretly enjoys a good sarcastic quip now and then.

El Diablo

El Diablo is quiet, heavy with regret, and literally carries flames in his hands — but he’s not showy about it; he’s more like “please don’t make me hurt anyone.” There’s a calm, almost monk-like presence to him, punctuated by these terrifying, sudden bursts of fire-power when he’s pushed too far, and it’s heartbreaking and awesome at once. He hums to himself sometimes while cooking (yes, cooking — who knew?) and his tattoos feel like they have their own stories, flickering like embers when he’s upset. He’s like a slumbering volcano with a soft spot for stray cats and a very complicated moral compass.

Killer Croc

Killer Croc is this hulking, primal force — part monster, part tragic loner — and he moves like he owns the shadows even when he’s just trying to find a decent meal. Gruff and terrifying on the surface, but also oddly sentimental (he keeps a battered action figure on a shelf in his lair and will sneak it a little smile, don’t tell anyone). He’s stubborn, territorial, and occasionally surprisingly civilized — like, he once read a whole book because he liked one sentence (true-ish). Honestly, he’s equal parts menace and hidden vulnerability, a walking contradiction you can’t help but watch.

Harley Quinn

Harley is pure chaotic candy — loud, brilliant, dangerously funny, and emotionally complicated in the sweetest most messed-up way. She swings a baseball bat like an orchestra conductor and makes terrible puns at the worst possible times, but she also keeps meticulous little journals and planners (yes, really) because someone’s gotta organize the chaos. She’s fiercely loyal to the people she loves, which makes her unpredictable but also heartbreakingly human, and don’t be surprised if she giggles and then gives you a dissertation on self-worth five minutes later. Honestly, she’s a walking sugar rush with a razor edge and an inexplicably soft spot for animals and glitter.

Deadshot

Deadshot is cold, clinical precision incarnate — every shot is math, every plan calculated, and his eyes are always on the target (literally). He talks like he’s got nothing to lose, but there’s this whole cracked-soft center (kid drama, parental guilt — you know the trope) that explains why he’s always half focused. He cleans his weapons like a ritual but will leave his room a mess; loves classical music when he’s vibing and terrible pop songs when he’s not — duality much? Basically, lethal professional by day, unexpectedly sentimental dad-by-memory by night.

Slipknot

Slipknot is the rope-and-climb specialist who seems annoyingly confident until things go sideways, at which point he either improvises like a pro or panics spectacularly — no in-between. He’s cocky, quick-tongued, and kind of underrated, the kind of guy who brags about a rappel he almost didn’t survive and tells the story with far too much flair. There’s this jittery energy about him, like he’s constantly proving he’s useful, and he collects weird carabiners like trophies (somewhere between practical and hoarder). He’s not deep, usually, but he’s fun in a chaotic way and you never quite know whether to trust him — and that’s kind of his whole vibe.

The Joker

Oh man, The Joker is the theatrical chaos engine who treats cruelty like a philosophy, a literal walking performance with a smile that won’t quit. He’s manic, poetic, and utterly unpredictable — one minute he’s telling a joke, the next you realize the joke was a trap and you’re in the punchline forever. He hates rules but loves elaborate plans (which is the kind of contradiction that gives you whiplash), and for all his madness there’s this weird artistry to the destruction — he’s almost proud of how chaotic he can be. Also, he collects smiles? Or coins? Or memories — depends who you ask and whether you survive the conversation.

Enchantress

Enchantress is ancient-energy-in-a-human-shell, spooky and magnetic, like someone reading an eldritch poetry book while destroying a city very casually. She’s half mystic whisper and half raw power, shifting between eerie calm and terrifying fury in the span of a heartbeat, which keeps everyone on edge (and rightfully so). There’s an unsettling elegance to her — she might offer you tea and then hex your shoes because… reasons — and she has moods like weather, usually stormy. Also, she hums old lullabies that no one else recognizes; it’s creepy and oddly tender at the same time.

Amanda Waller

Amanda Waller is the cold, brilliant puppetmaster who organizes chaos like it’s a spreadsheet and people are just messy variables to be managed. She’s ruthless, pragmatic, and terrifyingly principled — loyal to her version of the greater good, even if that means cutting corners and people off without blinking. She wears no-nonsense suits and maybe has a tiny secret fetish for crossword puzzles (focus, strategy — same energy), and she is absolutely not the type to apologize, even when she should. Honestly, she’s the kind of person who will save the world and then explain why you’re a necessary casualty, with a smile that’s more ice than warmth.