Deadpool & Wolverine is a frustrating ode to glibness

★★ | With friends like these

I like sincerity, especially when it comes to comic book adaptations. These are, after all, movies for children. They need to be sincere for the fairy tale aspect to hold any power. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of adults in costumes making fun of that which is making them rich.

The comic book films of the early 2000s suffered from that glibness. The studios and actors all felt like they were above the material and, as a result, the films came off as awkward. Everyone felt uncomfortable being there; especially the audience, who had to suffer second-hand embarrassment over the likes of Daredevil and Electra.

Beyond that, sincerity matters because the alternative is so mean and ugly. If you’re not going to care about the subject, regardless of how silly it is, it feels like you’re here to make fun of everyone who does enjoy this stuff. That doesn’t mean the material is deadly serious — it really isn’t — but putting yourself above the enjoyment of others is small and petty.

That’s always been my issue with Deadpool. At least the Ryan Reynolds version, which has flirted with mean-spirited comedy over the past decade. Deadpool knows he’s in a movie, and he isn’t afraid of making fun of the fact. The second film, easily the best in the franchise, played around with the opening credits by calling out directors and producers for lazy plot development and tropes. It was the ultimate exercise in having it both ways: The film didn’t need to write a more inspired script, since they acknowledged it was a problem. Clearly, that is enough.

Part 2 did something else right: It made Deadpool the butt of nearly every joke. He is a clown, even when he’s doing something right. It made the constant snark palatable, especially when Reynolds was allowed to riff endlessly with his trademark patter.

In Deadpool & Wolverine, that dynamic is gone. Deadpool might still be a clown, but this is his (and Ryan’s) show, and you can sense how something has shifted. Yes, Deadpool still gets tossed around like he’s in a Warner Bros. cartoon; and yes, Wolverine calls him out on his bullshit. But with five writers, including Reynolds, in the mix, the jokes are more malicious and acerbic than before. Everyone is fair game, from Gen Z and cancel culture to necrophilia and beyond. If there’s a line in the sand, Deadpool hurtles over with a trebuchet.

Sometimes mindless bad taste is fun. Just ask Peter Jackson, who built his career on some of the best puerile humor out there. But it needs balance. It needs sincerity to work. If everything is a joke and none of it really matters, then why should the audience care? Deadpool and Wolverine makes it clear from the start that this is less a movie than it is a victory lap for Reynolds, and there’s something about it that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Worse yet is how the film calls attention to that smugness. Not a single joke goes by that Deadpool doesn’t spell out for the audience. Like when a recognizable logo peeks out in the background of a desolate wasteland. “Rest in pieces”, Deadpool helpfully calls out. “Welcome to the MCU, Logan, you’re joining it at a low point.” It has the same dreary undermining of the audience’s ability to understand a joke that used to be the sole domain of Family Guy.

The threadbare plot is built around this excess. Deadpool is recruited by the Time Variance Authority — as seen in Loki — to help out with the sacred timeline. “I am Marvel Jesus!” Deadpool exclaims in one of the tamest meta moments. From there, it’s a parade of singular gags and throwbacks for fans, each vignette bringing to mind one of Reynolds’ cellphone ads instead of a coherent film.

Compare the structure to classics like Top Secret or Airplane!, and Deadpool & Wolverine just feels lazy. Like it’s not even trying because it knows the audience isn’t here for anything resembling maximum effort. When it does focus on the convoluted plot, it almost feels like an obligation. As if director Shawn Levy was Paul Rudd’s character from Wet Hot American Summer, dramatically acting out when he’s forced to clean up after himself. Which is painful, especially after Levy’s stellar outing in the heartfelt throwback The Adam Project. (A film so sincere it is almost painful.)

The only standout is Emma Corrin, who gleefully delivers a genuinely fun performance that is wasted on such dire material. If only we could have gotten her in a film that cared.

Even the cameos fall flat, and the film acknowledges the fact. Like this is all who was left after Reynolds made the calls around town. The joke is that these are characters nobody likes — or even knows they existed. Therefore, it’s funny if they do something worthwhile. In theory, it’s a novel idea: What to do with a roster of Z-grade heroes who know they’re screw-ups? It worked for Mystery Men, a film about losers that sincerely cared about its heroes, even as it mocked them.

A couple of cameo surprises elicit laughs, but that’s about it. Mostly because they’re people who it must have taken a comically large bag of money for them to don the tights again. There’s a horribly awkward moment halfway through the film where everything slows down for what can only be an applause break. The problem is that none of the cameos really deserve it. One even limply references an internet favorite meme, and it has all the energy of a boomer attempting to infiltrate a party of twenty-something’s.

It doesn’t just feel like it’s going through the motions; it feels sad. Like a high school reunion where everyone showed up wearing what they did twenty years ago.

The film is supposed to feel breezy and carefree, but instead it comes off as inconsequential. Why even pretend to emotionally invest into this when the film doesn’t give any reasons to do so? Even as it builds off the fertile ground that Logan left behind, Deadpool & Wolverine can’t help but sour any attempts at genuine emotion.

So when Deadpool quips to a passerby: “Disney brought Wolverine back to life, they’re going to make him do these films until he’s 90!”, it actually feels soul-crushing. Like we’re not allowed to say goodbye to anything, even when it’s universally acknowledged that it was time to part ways.

That is Deadpool & Wolverine in a nutshell: Mandatory fun. You’re going to enjoy this, because this is what we joked about all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that maybe we missed our moment in the long shuffle between movies. We finally have it all: Wolverine in his original yellow suit, Deadpool in the MCU. What more could you ask for?

A better film, for a start, and maybe some heart. Even if it’s just for a moment.