Deadpool

Many comedians have spoken about “going blue.” Comics are deft at navigating that humor (Louis C.K., Patton Oswalt, Kevin Hart, Chris Rock, etc.) and find depth and humanity in the hysterically foul. Others simply don’t go there (Jerry Seinfeld, Jim Gaffigan, Brian Regan) and find just as much success. Some think blue humor is easier, that it requires less forethought to toss in a timely f-bomb. I suppose for an amateur that’s true but when you hit the pinnacle of the profession the lines aren’t so easily drawn. Which is why I was legitimately excited for Deadpool – a movie nearly 6-years in the making from the most reliable entertainment factory in Hollywood – Marvel Studios.

No other studio has found the successful formula to bleed the public dry quite like Marvel in the last decade. They know what clicks, even if said formula is tired and wheezing. That has to be why they’ve chosen to go blue with Deadpool – a film so hell bent to win you over with sex, cursing and ultra-violence that, god damnit it nearly did.

Then why didn’t this brash, filthy joke-machine not quite work for me? I think it’s precisely the familiarity with Marvel. At this point, what do they have left to say? Beneath some great performances from Ryan Reynolds, T.J. Miller and Morena Baccarin is the same old story of a superhero rising from extraordinary circumstances.

That’s not to say formula can’t work (I’ll watch a romantic comedy with you any day, girl) and often Deadpool revels in it to great effect. Ryan Reynolds is Wade – a former special operative turned mercenary who now mostly does odd jobs beating the shit out of people for money. It’s not great work but at least he gets to hang out in dingy bars and stuff. One day Wade meets a girl, Vanessa (Morena Baccarin) and is immediately smitten. The two are inseparable (in one of the film’s more inspired montages they are LITERALLY inseparable) and find little time to do much other than gallivant around the city and each other.

One seemingly random day Wade collapses only to find out he has terminal cancer. Fearing hurting Vanessa he quickly retreats, leaving her swiftly in the night. In his desperation he turns to a program that promises the potential to cure his cancer. Wade soon realizes this program may be a tad different when a real a-hole name Ajax (Ed Skrien) begins to torture him daily – his “intent” being he must trigger a mutation under intense stress. Eventually this happens while severely deforming Wade (melty skin, ewww) but leaving him with the ability to heal from nearly any wound (he also knows karate which I assume he already knew.) Now Wade must disguise his melt face to hunt down the evil Ajax, win back his girl and have wisecrack-off’s with his favorite bartender Weasel (T.J. Miller.)

And honestly for much of the runtime Deadpool just works. It’s a ball of grimy, hysterical energy that never lets its foot off the gas. This is Marvel as an 8^th grade boy nearing puberty on his 5^th Red Bull. This was Ryan Reynolds baby and he tries his damndest to get us to forget about his first go-round as Pool, Dead in the abysmal Wolverine. The film’s tone is extremely meta as he constantly breaks the 4^th wall to remind the audience of the awful career choices that came before him (Green Lantern ring a bell?) It’s a quirky device that’s used just sparingly enough to not be annoying. His chemistry with Miller and Baccarin carry its slight story further than I expected.

So, is Deadpool the lambasting of the genre it hopes to be? Not even close – but what it does do is revel with glee in the best and worst of Marvel’s cannon. It doesn’t have to hang the end of the world over our heads to create tension and has a blast messing with convention…even while it can’t help but acquiesce to it. Deadpool may be lauded as original for going blue and become a hit but it’s truly Marvel who’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.

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