Movie Review: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE 

• Marvel Studios
• Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman in Deadpool & Wolverine

The eternal psychoanalysis of perpetually wise-cracking pop-culture characters is that, deep down, they just want to be loved. Like Chandler from Friends, we're told, they're made up of deep reservoirs of hurt covered up by sedimentary layers of quips, bon mots and snappy ripostes as defense mechanisms, and ways of gaining acceptance. So every time Ryan Reynolds' Wade Wilson/Deadpool tosses off a snarky, foul-mouthed aside, it's really a plea for understanding.

That seems to be the story, anyway.

The surprise success of Reynolds' Deadpool franchise has been a strange outlier in the superhero-mad cinematic ecosystem, made up of movies that tried to play it super-cool about being above it all, and in on the tropes and tricks of the genre. Now, with Deadpool & Wolverine—the biggest swing the series has taken, in bringing back Hugh Jackman's iconic clawed mutant from the X-Men movie series—there's an attempt at being totally chill about finally being invited to the MCU's popular-kids party while also being utterly sincere about, like, emotions and trauma and stuff. And it's kinda weird.

The specific plot machinations that manage to unite Deadpool and Wolverine, who died a noble death in 2017's Logan—as Deadpool himself would certainly be quick to say—don't particularly matter, given the flexibility of mortality in comic-book circles. Suffice it to say that the multiverse is involved—specifically, the Time Variance Authority introduced in the Loki Disney+ series, with Matthew Macfadyen having a blast as a TVA executive—and that Deadpool is on a quest to save his particular universe by pulling Wolverine into it.

Along the way, there are many nods to both the print and cinematic history of Marvel Comics characters, particularly once our protagonists find their way into The Void, an out-of-time universe controlled by the telepathic villain Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin), who is the sister of ... well, if you know, you know. It's here that the screenwriting team and director Shawn Levy—who previously collaborated with Reynolds on Free Guy—commit to playing in a very specific corner of the Marvel sandbox, one that definitely plays into the Deadpool sensibility of being outcast and unappreciated. Those references provide the expected temporary adrenaline hit, and even feel kind of earnest in their way about providing a reminder that even blockbusters full of costumed characters were made (or, occasionally, never made) by real people who might have feelings about it all.

And make no mistake, Deadpool & Wolverine wants to have its feelings and mock them, too. The filmmakers frame the story as one about Deadpool seeking a sense of purpose and being part of something bigger than himself—up to and including applying to be in The Avengers—while this multiverse variant of Wolverine/Logan has his own need for redemption. Reynolds and Jackman play the scenes in which they reveal these motivations dead straight, and it's actually a little bit disconcerting. While their banter and the bloody one-on-one battles between the two nigh-immortals go for broke with a sense of anarchic, anything-goes fun, they keep stopping to reassure us that, deep-down, they're the crying-on-the-inside kind of clowns—Pagliacci in a spandex mask rather than pancake makeup.

Deadpool & Wolverine is still destined to make a kajillion dollars at the box office, since the nerdy crowd is going to adore being in on all the jokes about corporate mergers, the creative stagnation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the personal lives of the actors involved, all wrapped up in an R-rated shower of viscera and f-bombs. That stuff is still kind of fun, as far as it goes, especially since Reynolds has never found a more perfect distillation of his screen persona, and his gags remain entertaining whenever they can be heard above the sound mix. It's just slightly off to see that same material treated as though it's also part of the literal fate of the universe, and the ironic need for psychological healing in two guys whose physical bodies heal quite easily. Maybe all the geek-out material and gleeful carnage is enough. Or maybe it's unnecessary to have all that fourth-wall-breaking framed as a way of asking for the comforting walls of a great big hug.