‘Deadpool’
› Rating: R for strong violence and language throughout, sexual content and graphic nudity.› Running time: 1 hour, 48 minutes.
Every so often a movie comes along that’s so bad it seems like the future. “Deadpool” is one of those movies.
It’s a disturbing film, in that all the things we might normally attribute to ineptitude – the fractured narrative, the confusing visuals, the repugnant lead character – seem intentional, possibly the harbinger of a new aesthetic. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore that we know what’s blowing up, so long as something is blowing up and at regular intervals. Maybe it doesn’t matter that we’re not made to dislike the characters we see getting killed, so long as some violent death is depicted on screen, which is maybe all audiences want – and all they ever secretly wanted.
“Deadpool” is based on the Marvel Comics character of the same name, created in the 1990s as a sort of postmodern superhero. Unlike other superheroes, he is aware of the superhero genre and his place within it. On screen, he seems to know that he is a fictional character, or at least that he is starring in a movie. Frequently, he looks directly into the camera and talks. In one scene, he even moves the camera himself.
These are distancing strategies, and they make for a cold piece, though one with the occasional laugh. The opening credits are a self-aware spoof of credits, identifying the usual types found in these movies. But at the heart of the film and overarching everything is a creepy assumption, all the more creepy in that it might be true: Audiences will root for the most repellent of characters, so long as that character is identified as the protagonist.