Deadpool 2 is a triumph of cinema. A marriage of dizzying humour and raw sadness, that come together to….
Are the people who only read the first few lines of a review and then tweet out the article gone?
Cool, now I can tell you the truth.
Deadpool 2 isn’t that great.
Hold off on writing me hatemail (in what I hope is crayon and not bodily fluids) – I didn’t say it was rubbish. The movie is good. It’s a solid, superhero redemption arc with fists full of action, oozing with wit and innuendo. It’s a film that cares.
And that’s the problem. If I wanted to see a movie that cared enough to give me character development, there’s hundreds of Marvel movies like that already with different guys called Chris starring in most of them.
There’s a rhythm to Deadpool in the comics that’s kind of like a cottonbud in the ear: sure, you can poke around the edges, but you know the real satisfaction comes from the uncomfortable moment you go a little too far and you feel sick with the horrifying feeling that you’re prodding your own brain meat. Then you press a little further.
Deadpool is the comic book patron saint of hating yourself while hating everyone else a little bit more. He’s a chaos loop of self-loathing and massive ego. He’s someone who knows what it’s like to want to hide away because you’re ugly (inside and out), while also needing to be part of the world that you know will reject you. He’s the ever-loser, the eternal screw-up, the guy who will only ever catch the ledge of a break long enough for it to soften the inevitable fall.
That’s why if I’m watching a Deadpool movie, I’m not here for a superhero getting a happy ending. I’m here for an anti-hero barely scraping his way to the end. I need it to be three knuckles deep in action and innuendo, with unicorns, rainbows and blood fountains to make Tarantino wince.
But Deadpool 2 feels constricted (not in the fun way either) – and the saddest part is that it didn’t need to because it’s obvious this team has what fan needs.
Ryan Reynolds was born to play this role. We’re ready for him to give maximum effort, so he needs to know he can just let loose with it.
The script is genius and the easter eggs are delicious. The nods to comic book fans truly warm the icy chasm where my heart would be (I mean, Black Tom? And the feet joke? Sploosh). So give us more of that.
Zazie Beetz is perfect as the effortless badass Domino – she’s perfectly suited to be DP’s equal in rapid fire quips but never gets the chance.
Julian Dennison as Russell pulls enough heartstrings that we didn’t need Morena Baccarin to return as Vanessa only to become little more than a sentient fridge shelf stuffer.
Oh, and Brolin’s a good Cable, even if he is only 5’11.
The real problem – aside from woeful lack of lines and agency for the lady characters – is ratios. A Deadpool movie is meant to be self-aware in the “break the fourth wall like it’s the gender binary” kind of way, not in the “Everyone is looking at me, I hope they like me and I’m dying under the weight of their gaze” kind of way – and the eager-to-please sequel was a little too much the latter.
In other words, stop giving us just the tip. We want the full chimichanga.