Creature Commandos is touted as the first official chapter in James Gunn's DC multimedia universe (with co-chair Peter Safran), which feels exciting despite superhero fatigue now being a diagnosable malady. It's also packed with astonishing violence, a catchy jukebox soundtrack, and irrepressible horniness, so there's no mistaking it for anything but a byproduct of Gunn's horror/junk/sleaze-addled mind. This, along with its eye-grabbing animation and subtle battery of DC deep cuts, is likely why casuals and ardent comic-heads alike will forgive this Max animated series for feeling a bit old hat.
Because while there's novelty in watching a Frankentrix and mythic sorceress scrap to Gogol Bordello's "Start Wearing Purple,” we've seen this version of the supervillain team-up before. Gunn, who wrote all seven episodes of Commandos, charts a parallel course as The Suicide Squad (itself a reboot of David Ayer's 2016 Suicide Squad) with a typically baleful mission briefing from A.R.G.U.S. head Amanda Waller (Viola Davis), who is now forbidden from using humans for her mercenary operations after the finale of Peacemaker. Cherry-picking soldiers from the Non-Human Internment Division at the Belle Reve supermax, she updates Rick Flag Sr. (Frank Grillo) on how to best cool the latest geopolitical hot potato with her deployment of chatty mercenaries. (They're designated "Task Force M" for "Monster.") Creature Commandos isn't exactly fresh, but at least it's fun.
The Commandos are an eclectic bunch. There's the glow-in-the-dark Doctor Phosphorous (Alan Tudyk), WWII mech-veteran G.I. Robot, and the purported child slayer Weasel (both voiced wonderfully by Sean Gunn). There's also the kindly fish-woman Nina Mazursky (Zoë Chao) and The Bride (Indira Varma), as in "Of Frankenstein," a towering patchwork corpse infused with centuries of snark and agony who emerges as the team's boozy warrior-philosopher. ("Birth is always horrible; god's gift to humans is he lets you forget it," she says at one point. "Science isn't so forgiving.”) The Bride is a standout with her gothy Marge Simpson hair, withering retorts (Varma's line readings are clutch), and treatment of Frankenstein (David Harbour), who doesn't resemble the DC iteration of Mary Shelley's creation so much as Pepé Le Pew with bolts in his neck.
At first blush, the mission for which Waller has assembled this motley crew feels low-stakes compared to The Suicide Squad's: The sorceress Circe (Anya Chalotra) has recruited an army of incel militia types dubbed "the Sons of Themyscira" (that should go over well with Wonder Woman fans) to assassinate Ilana Rostovic (Maria Bakalova), princess of the fictional East European nation of Pokolistan. The first episode sees the Commandos take up residence in Rostovic's palace as the princess' reluctant bodyguards—they get a remote electric shock from Waller should any member go AWOL—while Circe forms her assault. Things take a chaotic turn for Flag and his team once Circe's motives come to light and the true function of the Commandos takes shape.
Gunn, ever adept at pulling compelling beats from the most absurd characters, made the Guardians of the Galaxy a household name simply by giving space aliens motivations we understood, which is also why Creature Commandos works as well as it does. What motivates a supervillain is only a cliché if the writer lets it be, and Gunn is too canny a storyteller, too fascinated by the make and psychology of these esoteric freaks and geeks to let their stories be generic. So, Gunn takes detours from the series' pandemonium to explore the Commandos' origins, painting a vivid picture of who these oddballs are and why they're so willing to march to Waller's drum. (For most, it's redemption by hellfire.) Even Tudyk's cackling radioactive man gets a tragic backstory that explains why he's so picky about when, where, and how he uses those melting powers of his. He may have a permanent rictus grin, but he ain't smiling.
Overall, the animation from Paris studio Bobbypills is a happy marriage of Peter Chung and Invincible, a frenzied gallery of expertly storyboarded choreography and engaging character business that only dips in quality once the dust settles. And while Commando's gnarly violence will surely be compared to Invincible, its action sequences strike a more nimble balance between mayhem and whimsy than that Prime Video series, inventively and viscerally deploying a varied array of superpowers attuned to the moods of the folks who wield them.
There are moments in Creature Commandos when Gunn steers all this bedlam and depravity too far afield, and his sweetly calibrated emotional beats clash with the carnage. At seven half-hour episodes, the series can also feel overstuffed with information (it lays more track for the DCU than you might think), and character details are sometimes jammed in seconds before they matter to the story at hand. But even with all these messy feelings and messier body parts flying around, Gunn’s monster mash achieves the level of gravitas it so often seeks. (Steel yourself for the Weasel episode, which will forever change how you look at sleeping pets.) Even when he’s running in circles, the guy still knows how to deliver cheap thrills.
Creature Commandos premieres December 5 on Max
