Summary
The Merc with a Mouth returns to break down barriers, hold up a mirror to society, and make an industry accountable. Just with dick jokes and ultraviolence.
As far as sequels to Deadpool go, DEADPOOL 2 has to be one of the best. The fourth-wall breaking character is one of the most difficult to write, as the bits between the violent mayhem often require some knowledge of the extended world around him. So David Leitch’s film takes aim not just as the comics but the bombastic world of superhero cinema, and the result is one of the more carefree movies in recent memory.
Following a successful spate of global mayhem, Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) returns home to his beloved Vanessa (Morena Baccarin). Yet when tragedy strikes, the hard-to-kill Deadpool is suicidal. At least until the time travelling mutant soldier Cable (Josh Brolin) makes a beeline for the young Russell Collins/Firefist (Julian Dennison).
There’s a certain not-giving-a-fuckness to the screenplay, one that’s credited to Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick, and Reynolds. Taking the meta commentary of the first film and cranking it up to somewhere beyond eleven, there are times when the references serve as a substitute for any semblance of an actual plot. Still, it’s hard to argue with a film that opens with an impaled action figure of Hugh Jackman’s Logan, and follows it with a glorious James Bond credit parody that should win Best Short Film in all the awards. All of them.
Yet DEADPOOL 2 doesn’t hit its stride right out of the gate. The first act is slightly mean-spirited, a seemingly impossible label for a film that gleefully revels in bloodletting and comedy (not to mention comedic bloodletting). A gag about dubstep is run into the ground, and a scene involving baby legs (or “shirt cocking”) is just uncomfortable. Nevertheless, as it swings from references to Passion of the Christ‘s box office numbers through to digs at the DC Universe, it’s a movie that mostly knows its audience.
Reynolds is in his bliss as the titular hero, his distinctive voice shining through the head-to-toe coverings he wears for most of the film. Yet it’s Zazie Beetz as Domino, the mutant with the power of being lucky, who steals every scene she’s in. If she doesn’t lead her own film soon, or co-lead X-Force, there’s no justice in the world. Speaking of which, there’s a spectacular bloody debut of the team somewhere in the middle act, and this alone may be worth the ticket price.
Dennison, outside of the specific confines of Taika Waititi’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople, doesn’t fare quite as well. When the dialogue is on point, he’s on solid ground, but some of his impromptu screaming matches are just cringeworthy. More often than not, he’s actually lost in a sea of cameos and surprise mutant appearances, and it was always going to be a challenge playing across Reynolds and Brolin.
The last 30 minutes are ridiculously fun, bringing Leitch’s action chops (Atomic Blonde, John Wick) to the fore and marrying them with the franchise’s distinctive irreverence. Will it stand up to repeat viewing? It’s possible, although once the initial shock value wears off there’s a certain repetition to the whole thing. That said, the mandatory end credits are some of the best ever seen in the genre, totally paying fan-service to dedicated audiences, even if they negate much of the film we’ve just seen.
