Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.
Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.

Skrillex, Rick Ross, Jared Leto, exhaustion team up for Suicide Squad video

Illustration for article titled Skrillex, Rick Ross, Jared Leto, exhaustion team up for iSuicide Squad/i video

It’s hard to believe Suicide Squad is only opening today after a grueling, months-long publicity rollout and this week’s equally loud critical backlash, a constant eye-storm of used condoms and disappointed think-pieces that has felt as enervating and pointless as staging a protest inside the Gathering of the Juggalos. We understand if you’re tired of hating Suicide Squad, or of hating why others hate Suicide Squad, or of just thinking about Suicide Squad in general. It’s a movie that seems specifically designed to provoke the sticky-mouthed nausea of a Sparks hangover, so it’s completely reasonable to not have any neon bile left to dry heave about it.

But not so fast, say the similarly sinister alliance of Skrillex, Rick Ross, and Jared Leto. Lift your weary head from off the porcelain and do a shot of “Purple Lamborghini,” the latest video from the Suicide Squad soundtrack that feels like the music equivalent of stumbling, totally drained, out of a trash-strewn EDM festival at 4 a.m., then getting picked up by an Uber driver who refuses to turn down the radio. Please, Mssrs. Ross and Skrillex, we’ve had a long night. Can’t you at least put on some nice, soft Drake or something? What about Will Smith? Couldn’t he give the nice people one of his fun movie raps that everyone can get jiggy to? “Here come the Suicide Squad, no you don’t want to step to this / Amanda Waller got my name on a government list / Sayin’ we the bad guys, but who am I? / Deadshot, keep it hot, you know I never miss / Here are some other people and things that appear in the movie…” etc.

FUCK NO, “Purple Lamborghini” screams, in between non-sequitur Killer Croc name-drops and Ross’ usual free association from his “Drug Kingpin” magnetic poetry kit. Meanwhile, Jared Leto turns up in full Joker make-up and a tuxedo to wander about Ross’ VIP suite at the strip club, screaming at people and letting his mouth hang open like he just got done at the orthodontist, until at last he comes face to face with Ross himself. The Joker’s clearly impressed with Ross’ cigar-chomping swagger, and now they’re friends! Hooray! Everyone takes a fun convertible ride together! And after lots of pointing of guns, finger- and otherwise, the trio boards a speedboat, where they prove their badass credentials by standing on its prow—way too damaged and insane in the membrane to practice nautical safety. Finally, they disembark on Slow-Motion Island, swaggering off into the darkness of narrative holes.


Hey, does it matter that, at no point, does anyone actually drive—or even stand on—a purple Lamborghini? Does it matter that the Joker’s car is, according to research I grudgingly conducted, actually an Infiniti G35 Coupe modified with a Vaydor fiberglass body? Does any of this matter anymore? FUCK NO. The video is loud and dumb and garish, and it’s destined to be praised by people who describe things as “lit.” They will enjoy it; they can have it. We’re going to take a nap.

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