Deadpool and Wolverine review
Director: Shawn Levy
Writer: Ryan Reynolds, Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick, Zeb Wells and Shawn Levy
Stars: Ryan Reynolds, Hugh Jackman, Emma Corrin, and Morena Baccarin
Running Time: 128 minutes
Please note there may be spoilers below.
There was a time when breaking the forth wall was just that: an act of rebellion, a technique to upset the traditionalists. But like many things in 2024, breaking the forth wall has actually become an established trope, one that relies on the accumulated knowledge of fandom. When Deadpool released in 2016, it launched as a mid-budget risk from 20th Century Fox, who where hoping to upset the dominant Marvel machine and their brand of hero glorification. It was a punk-rock movie as keen to mock its predecessors as it was to undermine its own name. In the landscape of Captain America and sincerity, the irony felt refreshing.
Now with the release of the $200 million blockbuster Deadpool and Wolverine, it seems a franchise that’s supposed to make fun of the Hollywood machine has become it’s headline act. It’s an uncomfortable fit for a character that works best at the edges of the mainstream. Here Deadpool is a superhero so steeped and entrenched in the memeification of popular Hollywood culture that it devolves into a shallow pool of cameos, callbacks, and fan-service. It’s impressive how little of it matters.
The opening act proves the news stories of real-life Hollywood power-broking has become more interesting than the actual movies they make. Since Disney bought 20th Century Fox in 2019, the open act of Deadpool and Wolverine mocks its amalgamation into the larger Disney universe. In storytelling terms, this is achieved through the most annoying of methods – the dreaded multiverse, a now established trope whereby the logic of infinite universes renders death as an inconsequential act. The film spends a lengthy time providing dull exposition through Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) speaking to Mr Paradox, a rogue employee of the Time Variance Authority. The rules are explained at length – there’s something about a device called a Time Ripper; there’s something else about ‘anchor beings’ and ‘scared timelines’ – and it’s possible this could be thrilling lore, but the filmmakers seem to forget than when you are here to mock the rules, the rules simply have no weight.
Reynolds aptly supplies his long-established brand of ironic quips and insults. It’s almost a comfort blanket for him to supply a performance always at odds with the plot – if everything is silly, nothing matters. In the first Deadpool, when he speaks coarsely with Leslie Uggams about cocaine, it’s funny because, honestly, who would dare do this? By the third movie, the joke is tired. It’s literally become the trope rather than the exception.
In a film so dedicated to fan service, the return of Hugh Jackman as Wolverine feels more of an act of commercial bean-counting than a justified eventuality. Nevertheless Jackman remains perfect for the role, in one scene summoning the kind of angst and vein-popping rage that deserves to be in a better movie. The title suggests this should be something of a buddy cop movie, but the result is more a collection of loosely tethered comedy sketches. Our characters are joined by host of multiverse generated cameos, gratuitous to the point where the only reason I feel we continue to watch is simply to see which legacy actor appears next. I don’t deny the fun in this – there’s something warm and cosy about seeing an actor reprise an iconic role some 20 years later, a type of instinctive nostalgia that is hard to resist for any cinefile.
But the shocking part is how little of it matters. A villain is introduced almost an hour into the proceedings, and by then we are already drowning in ironic commentary. In one early scene, Deadpool and Wolverine (two ostensibly immortal beings) stab and slash each other aimlessly until the next cameo appears (who will it be?!), all in front of a crumbing 20th Century Fox logo (get it?) and all located in an unimaginative Mad Max-style wasteland. When Deadpool actually mentions ‘Mad Max,’ it seems it’s the characters can’t just be ironic, the locations must be too.
The third act recalls a much better film – Spider-man: Across the Spiderverse (and it’s predecessor) make excellent use out of a multiverse concept, but crucially it never loses sight of it’s lead character’s meaningful dilemma. Deadpool and Wolverine, in a typically unimaginative sequence, fight an army of Deadpool variations, including a Welshpool (a nod to Ryan Reynolds’ celebrity football owner status) and a Lady Deadpool (a nod to Ryan Reynolds’ celebrity couple status). It’s shot on a flat looking studio lot and provides the type of outlandish violence we now expect. At times, I laughed at the chaos. It’s obscene, has some good puns, but its underpinned by such a shallow reason to exist that it never rises above the level of flashy colours and bloody spectacle. I couldn’t help but feel the ironic levee break. Suddenly the party was over and for a moment self-referential pop culture became more important than actual culture.
It’s interesting that the bare-bones plot of Deadpool and Wolverine is as generic as any other superhero affair, even ending with a plot point that feels like a script page found on the floor of the Marvel writer’s room. In the act of deconstructing superhero conventions, the movie can’t help but simultaneously accept them. By the end the contradictions were overwhelming. Here is a $200 million dollar studio movie making fun of $200 million studio movies that is also a love letter to $200 million studio movies. Hollywood is a dream machine; sometimes it spends too much time dreaming of itself.
