'Deadpool' Subversive and Self-Aware

“Deadpool” is very much a Marvel film. It contains the same barely subverted damsel-in-distress trope, poorly developed villain, and barest skeleton of a plot that have always characterized the superhero movie cookie cutter. Whereas in an “Avengers” film these elements would account for a good three quarters of the movie, in “Deadpool,” they are refreshingly insignificant in the face of the film’s overwhelming focus: Deadpool himself. Cut out every frame of the film that does not feature Deadpool (perhaps T. J. Miller’s Weasel and Leslie Uggams’s Blind Al should also be given passes), and what remains, over 90% of the movie, is much nearer the quality of “Daredevil” or “Jessica Jones” than any other Marvel film has been—witty, gritty, and incredibly inventive.

The lion’s share of the credit goes to Ryan Reynolds. Not only did he fight to grant the film an R rating—without which “Deadpool” would have lost a great deal of its appeal—but in a role as the titular character, he sheds his heartthrob reputation and proves himself a genuinely good actor with impressive comic delivery. His dialogue is a constant stream of sarcastic jokes and fourth wall-breaking, but nevertheless Reynolds does an impressive job of modulating the tone and emotional valence of his delivery. This versatility is most evident while Wade Wilson is undergoing torture in order to awaken the supernatural abilities that will ultimately enable him to become Deadpool. He never stops poking fun at his torturer, but his delivery and expressions reveal how affected he is when he hears another victim wheeled away, presumably to his death. Deadpool is inherently a sympathetic character because of the way in which he lampoons his genre and establishes camaraderie with his audience, but Reynolds elevates that connection to an entirely different plane.

Nor is this lampooning itself inconsequential—when Deadpool lampshades the trappings of the superhero genre, he is making the film’s worst qualities almost bearable. Particularly disappointing is Ajax, the “big bad”: He is impressively one-dimensional, and his motivations are entirely inscrutable. Each time Deadpool teases Ajax for his real name, Francis, and the absurdity of his chosen alias (“He got Ajax off a dishwashing liquid!”), Ajax himself becomes markedly less groan-worthy. Similarly, the stereotypical romance included in the film is trite and boring from a storytelling perspective, but the interactions between Wade and his girlfriend, Vanessa, are actually quite refreshing. An entertaining and memorable sequence early in the film shows Wade and Vanessa having sex on various holidays and culminates in a role reversal that is infrequently shown in movies—“Happy International Women’s Day,” says Vanessa. Though admittedly crude, the moment shows willingness to transcend the traditional boundaries of superhero films. The frequent references made to Reynolds’s prior appearances in Marvel films, too, work well and reward comic fans for enduring the horrible “Green Lantern” and “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” to arrive at a film as well executed as “Deadpool.”

Granted, the average superhero movie is fun, but it is also rather far from good cinema in every aspect. “Deadpool” is certainly not a universally fantastic movie in the same way “Jessica Jones” is a universally fantastic show, as the film too heavily relies on standard action tropes––the threatened romance, the cartoonish villain––to tell its story. Luckily, with its innovative storytelling techniques and enthusiastic leads, “Deadpool” far surpasses all of Marvel’s other silver screen attempts. While Deadpool’s creators are primarily responsible for his originality and unique appeal, Ryan Reynolds and director Tim Miller deserve acknowledgement for their faithful representation of the character and successful execution of the ever-tricky page-to-film adaptation.

Staff writer Grace E. Huckins can be reached at grace.huckins@thecrimson.com.