“I don’t wanna be a one-trick pony,” Wade Wilson announces to one of the (many) major cameos of the third Deadpool installment, a slaughter-buddy (well, they’re not cops, that’s the best I can come up with) comedy starring the team-up Deadpool has been pulling for since his big-screen debut—the big guy (who should be much smaller) with the big claws who couldn’t stay dead for long in a Disney-owned universe, Wolverine. Sorry, that sentence got away from me. Much like this movie entirely gets away from its writers, actors, and director any time it opens its mouth.
And it’s a Deadpool movie, so it opens its mouth a lot.
This is not to say that there isn’t anything enjoyable about the film because there are still plenty of jokes told at blazing speed, a literal font of cameo fodder (if that’s your thing—for my money, they overdo it), and a general lack of the dour seriousness that has unfortunately become a hallmark of the MCU when they’re in the middle of their phase “arcs.” Those moments when the film gives itself some time to breathe, to pause, to bask in its own absurdity, are truly the most precious it has. To whit, the gory opening fight sequence is set to a turn-of-the-century boy band classic, complete with choreo that Deadpool tackles like he’s desperate to be added to the reunion tour.
The problem is that Deadpool is a character of meta-fiction—but knowing when to use meta to its greatest effect is a skill, and one that should be used at least a little thoughtfully. Deadpool & Wolverine, on the other hand, has never met a meta joke, conceit, or framing that it didn’t like and has decided to use all of them at once. (Deadpool 2 seemed to reach the maximum allotment for this, but tripling down is the watch phrase of this threequel.) It makes for confusing viewing—not necessarily in the moment, but after the fact. The audience can follow along well enough, but once you leave the theater, there’s a bit of yarn caught in the door, and the whole thing unravels behind you.
As far as the MCU’s precious continuity is concerned, not only did they decide it was moot for this jaunt—the powers that be also decided that Fox’s X-Men era continuity can guzzle bleach, too. The most obvious wrench is this: Apparently 2017’s Logan happens in Deadpool’s timeline. (Someone out there is saying “It always did!” but one of the strengths of the X-verse was their unwillingness to directly state that every piece of their timeline synced up movie to movie. We were never sure if Deadpool operated in the central X-Men film timeline, or some very close alternate. The same goes for the future Logan offered up.) We know this because it turns out that Logan is the Deadpool-verse’s “anchor being,” and according to the TVA—an organization you’ll only know about if you’ve watched Loki on Disney+—his death means their branch of the multiverse is also dying. This leads Wade to believe that the only way he can save his loved ones is to find a replacement anchor; i.e. another Wolverine.
The fact that Logan is technically set in the future (2029 to be precise)? Irrelevant. The fact that this means that the mutants in Deadpool’s universe should be aware and concerned about the lack of mutant births in the past couple decades? Not a thing. The fact that Charles Xavier should currently, in their timeline, be showing signs of the deterioration that will eventually lead to his exile? Look, just don’t remember Logan too carefully, and it’s all fine. Don’t think about it too hard.
Please, don’t think too hard.
We’re here to have fun! And an ample piece of that fun is queerbaiting the audience for two whole hours. Which is only happening because the film wants to make it clear that Wade Wilson says he would happily get fucked by a man, but is not currently doing so, and will not ever even so much as kiss one on the cheek on screen. He talks a big game, but for all that he’s getting off on saturating Disney’s landscape with profanity, body parts, and innuendo, he can only show desire through bodily desecration aimed in Wolverine’s direction. By which I mean, there is a great deal of horniness expressed in this film, but only in moments when its two leading men are up to their elbows in each other’s blood and viscera.
And you know what? That could have worked. The best action scene in the entire film is a fight that Logan and Wade have inside a Honda Odyssey, set to a famed musical finale where the (straight) leads finally get together. It’s basically “screwing in the minivan” with all the knives. If Deadpool & Wolverine had wanted to make a central theme of their film something to the tune of “Men would literally rather rip out and stare at each other’s intestines than admit they’d like to bang,” that could’ve been hilarious, and more importantly new and different for both Deadpool movies and the MCU. But because that premise would require making a certain segment of fans decidedly uncomfortable, the film backs away from that bright and shining thought every time it gets too close. (Is there even a moment in this film that suggests this version of Logan might be gay? Oh yes. But only if you squint at it upside-down under a black light.)
The problem with Deadpool & Wolverine is that there are several different movies inside of it, all vying for their moment in the spotlight. A lot of movies are dealing with that problem these days, but none can match this one for the way it was treated as a staging ground for literally anything Marvel Studios could think to pitch or revive. They make jokes about how Deadpool has arrived at a “low point” for the MCU, but the movie is incapable of clawing its way toward anything better because they keep saddling it with more nonsensical plot and more characters than a film can reasonably hold on to. As a result, many of the cameos fall flat, and many of the slyer jokes feel a whole lot meaner: Who cares if no one likes the latest Ant-Man? This movie will make his giant corpse into a fashionable hideout for our villains, just in case you were wondering if the C-suite noticed fandom’s ire.
As for those major cameos, the worst among them is tragically Jennifer Garner’s return as Elektra. She gets one perfect joke, and then nothing but a sloppy action sequence that doesn’t begin to cover her well-known stunt prowess. The few cameos that do work (and there are certainly a few that deserve that distinction—you’ll know who they are when you see them) are given no time to marinate. And that’s a bigger problem than it sounds like because the entire team helping Deadpool and Wolverine return from the TVA’s void to Wade’s timeline are a set of heroes who never got proper “finales” to their tenures (or ever really launched at all). This crew is in no way central to the story, so their pumped up send-off falls flat. It’s puzzling because Reynolds said in an interview that he believed the audience wouldn’t take Deadpool’s journey as seriously due to the character’s meta aspect and being an unreliable narrator; his hope was that all these extra characters would give the audience something to latch onto emotionally… but the only place they really pull this off is with Logan.
And more’s the pity because Wade’s story does need a lot more consideration than it gets on screen. What he’s going through is so confusing—timeline-wise, character progression-wise, place in the MCU-wise—and the only thing we truly know for sure is that he wants to keep his timeline branch going for the people he loves. And that one of those people is Vanessa (Morena Baccarin), who, in this film, is pointedly his ex-fiancée.
We’ve got language around female characters who are murdered for the sake of male character’s emotions and plot advancement. But it seems to me that we’re now in need of new terminology for female characters who are conveniently and carefully omitted from the on-screen narrative for the sake of male character’s emotions and plot advancement because none of the (male) writers have any interest in her humanity whatsoever. Deadpool 2 fridges Vanessa—in an astonishing move made by screenwriters who had apparently never even heard of the term—only to bring her back to life in an end credits sequence. Deadpool & Wolverine does much the same, albeit to a different tune: This time they’re broken up, so all of Wade’s actions can be about winning her over again. Why are they broken up? It’s extremely unclear, particularly if you’re hoping for a simple timeline of events (but it does involve trying to join the Avengers for emotional reasons that don’t make any sense if you account for the character development Deadpool underwent in Deadpool 2). If you’ve got so little interest in Vanessa as a person, let the relationship be over! Wade Wilson still has plenty of folks he cares about—and it would be nice to spend more time with them too, in fact.
At least Pepper Potts got to do cool things while Tony was futzing around with his super friends. So did Jane Foster for that matter, just living her very important scientist life no matter what Thor was doing nearby. Aunt May and MJ are both fascinating women, who are vibrant and active on their own terms. Your audience can tell when certain characters are only fodder for another character’s motivation. It rarely makes for enjoyable viewing.
Though the rest of the film’s action sequences are muddy and underwhelming, there are high points that plenty of fans will enjoy. Wolverine’s cowl is somehow genuinely worth the hype—the design is flawless and Jackman deliberately layers on the comics-style physicality in his fight scenes. His voice is pitched a bit closer to the cartoon version, giving this iteration of Wolverine a lot of layers to enjoy. Emma Corrin’s turn as Cassandra Nova is also a high point, particularly where the script gives them room to menace. Dogpool is also an absolute delight, and readily sets up a few of the film’s best jokes.
One hopes that the MCU will finally remember how to tell a single story within a film (or even a TV show), but Deadpool & Wolverine was sadly not the place where they felt comfortable trying that out. As a button on the Fox-era X-Men timeline, the sweetest part of the send-off is seeing Logan receive one (if only one) ending where he might find a little contentment. That and a lovely compilation of interviews and behind-the-scenes footage in lieu on the mid-credits sequence was a lovely way to say goodbye to a set of films that helped define superhero movies for the 21st century. As for Deadpool? Perhaps Marvel (and Reynolds) will remember that under all the mile-a-minute banter, there’s a character powering these misadventures. And he can do a lot more than simply break the fourth wall.
