The third (and God-willing last) installment of the Deadpool film series had made waves far before it's arrival as the proclaimed savior of the cinematic universe that has been routinely striking out in recent years. But if Deadpool & Wolverine is our indicator of the future of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, perhaps it should have gracefully bowed out with Avengers: Endgame.
Deadpool & Wolverine posits the titular character (Ryan Reynolds) in the cliched "bottomed out" trope—he's lost his girlfriend, works a terrible job as a used car salesman, and suffers from a crippling lack of self-worth. All of this contrasts jarringly with how we last saw Wade, and all of this reeks of familiarity when constructing a sequel that desperately seeks direction from its inception. Star Wars: The Force Awakens did it with Han and Leia. Scream (2022) did it with Dewey and Gale. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny did it with Indy and Marion. Regardless, this conveniently propels Wade onto his journey for purpose.
This journey links Deadpool and a variant of Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) from another universe, on a mission to save Deadpool's home universe when it is marked for destruction by Time Variance Authority operative, Paradox (Matthew Macfayden). Along the way, the two are thrown into the trash heap of the multiverse, the Void, and clash blades with the Mutant sociopathic villainess, Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin).
Obviously nobody comes to a Deadpool movie for the plot, and the increasingly irritating meta-jokes are evidence that the movie itself knows that. That doesn't change the fact that what we are given is paper thin and flimsy. Deadpool and Wolverine spend much of the movie wandering around the empty third act of The Flash (2023) with little to actually do but bicker in ways the movie thinks is funnier than it actually is. Their relationship can generally be understood as Deadpool being Deadpool, and Wolverine telling him to shut up. Over, and over.
The emotional beats are there... for the sake of at least having emotional beats. I didn't care for Deadpool's journey for self-worth and to save his family that we barely spent time with. I didn't care that Laura Kinney (Dafne Keen) returned to awkwardly reference Logan in a semi-respectable fashion. I didn't care that Wolverine lost a family we never even got to actually see in the movie. It's because I'm told to care, and not shown or offered any real reason to do so. Hugh Jackman gets a gold star for trying his hardest to tug at slack heartstrings, but I just didn't care that the universe is going to be destroyed for the 48th time. And I don't think the architects of this film really cared either.
For what I didn't really get character-wise from the two main characters, I reaped ten-fold from the villain. Emma Corrin kills it as Cassandra Nova, which speaks volume considering what little they are given to work with. Nova oozes with grandeur wickedness. Every moment they are on screen is a little treat in a sea of mundanity. As a cherry on top, Nova likely has one of the coolest (and creepiest) manifestations of telepathy we've seen yet.
There's enough gory action to keep you awake throughout the entire ordeal. I will note I found that as one of the movie's stronger points. The action sequences are usually entertaining and dynamic. I especially appreciated the opening sequence, even though having Deadpool play with the bones of Logan from Logan (2017) is a bit on the nose when it comes to joking about the desecration of storytelling and intellectual property. And I don't even care about Logan that much. The action at times can be overwhelming, jarring, and sloppy though, particularly when we get to the bigger set pieces that have more moving actors and pieces. Regardless, most fans will get their money's worth just by seeing Deadpool and Wolverine go at each other.
If the action isn't enough, the slew of familiar faces and meta-jokes should be enough to please the upper echelon of Marvel fans. The fans who liked Edward Norton's Hulk or still think about 2017's Inhumans series. It's a smaller bunch than the bulk of MCU fans, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps moving forward, with a cinematic universe that has grown this bloated and unwieldly, it is best to specifically cater to the group of mega-fans who can manage to stay afloat. To the other, more casual moviegoers, these faces won't resonate and the jokes won't land, but they can still ooh and ahh with everyone else, then watch breakdown videos on Youtube as they wait for the post-credits scene to hit.
The jokes are in Deadpool fashion: brazen, off-kilter, raunchy, and most of all meta. But also a bit drowsy and expected? The in-house jokes making fun of Disney for being creatively sterile or bankrupt can only be funny up to a point, right? Afterwards, it's like laughing at a dog pissing on itself. Humor turns to disturbed pity, real fast. Look, I'm not here to shit on the humor, because I know it's not for me. But I wonder who are the jokes for? When Deadpool treats any homosexual attraction or act as a punchline, who's that joke for? When he pokes fun at the "woke mob" and Gen Z, who's that joke for? When Deadpool laughs at how stupid Disney is for greenlighting this movie (which will likely hit a billion in the box office), who's that joke for?
At the end of the day, Deadpool & Wolverine is fun. It's chaotic. It's entertaining. And it will be well-liked for at least six months. But it reinforces the same understanding that we got a taste of with Jon Watts’ Spider-Man: No Way Home and Sam Raimi's Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (the latter of which at least had the guts to attempt at maintaining its own voice and its own heart). The MCU can only jack itself off with what remains of its steam to please an increasingly monolithic fanbase, riding on the coattails of more successful years and more fonder memories.
Rating: 2/5
Deadpool & Wolverine is now playing in theaters everywhere.
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