I went to the cinema this afternoon to see Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of one Harley Quinn) expecting to come back and write one of my ‘Uncollected Thoughts’ about it. But I won’t. Don’t go to this film expecting a stiory because it deliberately rejects the idea of story, preferring to racket around in explosions and slow-motion violence that is colourful and cartoony Two of its pricipal five characters bear little or no resemblance to their comic book originals and the film drops a considerable number of F-Bombs and MotherF-Bombs (there’s one of the latter on the soundtrack). Sure, it’s vigorous, and you can liberally scatter the Z-word all over it (zany, you numbskulls) and a lot of people will enjoy its complete rejection of conventional story-telling. I’m not telling you too not go to see it, just to not blame me if you do.