Will the Real Alfred Hitchcock Please Stand Up?

It's Alfred Hitchcock's birthday today—he would have been 125. And there was a day last year, when I suddenly became besieged with a lot of Hitchcock documentaries, all purporting to use his words to get at the mystery behind the director of so many mysteries and thrillers. Even the names of the documentaries were creepily similar, confusingly so, which would have made the old guy sniff at the lack of originality, rather than chuckle.

But, the name is the thing. The name "Alfred Hitchcock" was a brand and more people knew his name and the type of entertainment he made than any other director. Like an irony in one of his movies, it was both a blessing...and a curse.

I Am Alfred Hitchcock (John Ashton McCarthy, 2021) A career overview, the type you're likely to see if someone has no real access to the subject and merely a large collection of clips to cull from. Think of it as an "Entertainment Tonight" career overview...with a little bit of speculation about what made Hitch "tick." But, not much.

 

And it's extensive: from home movies to his interviews—both filmed and merely audio as well as with some confederates, old and new—starting from Hitchcock's childhood, including (invaluably) his time in early British silents and German studios. And a lot of unseen talking heads. A couple of snatches of past Spielberg interviews are included, but most of the comments are from Eli Roth (for some reason), William Friedkin, Edgar Wright, and John Landis. Ben Mankiewicz weighs in. Much mention is made of Joan Harrison (as it probably should be, given the work she did for him in his American transition and on his television shows) and there is a lot of nice footage from the AFI salute to the man, including his extensive tribute to his secret weapon, wife Alma Reville. There are nice touches throughout, and it's quite entertainingly put together. But, as an exploration of the man, his movies, and how they all relate, it's pretty basic stuff.

 

 

My Name is Alfred Hitchcock (Mark Cousins, 2023) The iconoclastic Irish documentarian (he made The Story of Film: An Odyssey and The Eyes of Orson Welles) makes his look at Hitchcock (for his first film's 100th anniversary) with a conceit that he's used in some of his lesser-known films, as a conversation between the filmmaker and the director-subject (voiced by Alistair McGowan and quite convincingly). Oh, some of the things that McGowan-Hitchcock says in the film are a matter of record, but Cousins uses this conversational version of "Alfred Hitchcock Explains It All To You" to build on themes that might have gotten lost in the chases and cameos, the Blondes and the wrong men and the usual accoutrements of a Hitchcock film—"the core of things" (as the faux-Hitchcock states). These are Cousins' personal thoughts and observances being seduced and manipulated by Hitchcock, who used the mechanics of cinema, the psychology of photography, and his own neuroses to dredge up our fears, raise our blood-pressures, and ponder our natures (while pandering to them, as well).

And so, though they're Cousins' observations through the voice of Hitchcock, one could hardly help thinking that Hitchcock is being misinterpreted ("You do know that movies are lies, don't you?" says the faux-Hitchcock at one point) as he was one of the most obvious of directors—what he intended he put on the screen. It's just that nobody had done things quite like that before, made movies like that before, thought thoughts like that and confessed them so nakedly like that before.

Cousins is generous with clips as he focuses on six themes that thematically run through the director's films: Escape, Desire, Loneliness, Time, Fulfillment, and Height. Just reading that list, one can tick off random instances from Hitchcock films that will prove the point, but that they run consistently through his work, even fleetingly more than proves Cousins' point.

 

At the same time, Cousins' Hitchcock has a marketer's point of view on making films. This version emphasizes "stars and glamour" as the motivator for attracting audiences, as they already have a sympathetic, empathetic view of the actors, doing a lot of the leg-work to get them on "their side." To the point where Cousins' Hitchcock avatar never mentions character's names in his movies, only the thespians. "When Cary Grant" does this or "when Grace Kelly does that."

 

Double Take (Johan Grimonprez, 2009) 

"You think all the way through that cinema is going to be killed by television or television is going to kill cinema or America is going to kill Russia or Russia is going to kill America. But at the end, it’s the third one, the new one, the younger one, the YouTube version, that comes along and kills them all."

Jose Luis Borges' initial short story August 25, 1983 

 

"They say that if you meet your double, you should kill him. Or, that he will kill you. I can't remember which, but...the gist of it is...that two of you is one too many. By the end of the script, one of you must die."

 

The wildest of the Hitchcock documentaries, Double Take is a "found-footage" documentary using even the very grain of the image to tell the story. Based on a Jose Luis Borges short story, "August 25, 1983" and expanded from Grimonperez's* earlier short Looking for Alfred, it is a long story, narrated by another Hitchcock sound-alike, Mark Perry, of an encounter a fictitious Hitchcock has in 1963 with himself from 1980. It's a shaggy-dog story, recreated with a Hitchcock lookalike, and a lot of editing between Hitchcock footage...from "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and other sources, interspersed with news coverage of geo-political events and Instant Folgers commercials (which turn bad coffee into domestic drama). It's a bit of a satire about the new replacing the old, but not changing much for the transition. It doesn't precisely nail its thesis, events being difficult to bend to one's advantage. But, there are moments of wit and some lost opportunities.

 

Becoming Hitchcock: The Legacy of Blackmail (Laurent Bouzereau, 2024) Writer-director Bouzereau has made a career out of directing films in support of other films; watch any DVD of any "important" film of the last 30 years and Bouzereau has directed or produced it, even producing anniversary-soundtrack expansions of some film scores. His work has given him a rolodex of contacts and access to some of the great directors and the archives of many a film. His style is breezy, entertaining and imaginative—when he wants to get to the bottom of a story, he'll get there and make it as memorable as its subject. And when doing a documentary of, say, Mark Harris' Five Came Back, he'll shed the customary upbeat promotional stance required to gloss up the subject to a glittering press-release, and risk being too revelatory, even to the subject's disadvantage, in order to drive home his point and make it the definitive word on the subject. He's good. Very good. It's no wonder so many high-profile directors and producers trust him telling the story of their work.

And in his film for StudioCanal and TCM, Becoming Hitchcock, he also tries to get to the depths of what made Hitchcock not only unique but "a brand."  His thesis being that Hitchcock's 1929 film Blackmail was the first of what one could call "a Hitchcock film" with the tropes of wronged people, distinctive weapons, arresting blondes, landmark chases, eroticism, food fetishes and such being firmly in place as they would be for the rest of Hitchcock's career (what, no mothers or enclosed places?)

It's true to a certain extent, even considering there is some cherry-picking going on. But, if one is looking for "the" first "Hitchcock" film, Blackmail is the most likely suspect (the only reason it doesn't loom larger in peoples' memories is it was in his British period, on the cusp of the sound era, and—being in the public domain—it seems less valued as a marketable property than his other films (which is a bit ironic).

 

But, some elements that are discussed—the tropes—are in his earlier films, because what made Hitchcock Hitchcock were his obsessions and his neuroses, which were there in little sparks at the beginning with even his first film, his vulnerabilities only growing full-flower when he had more confidence in the control of his films (how's that for irony?).

But, sure, say it was Blackmail because of the chase through the British Museum (all done in studio, by the way). But, the film is also notable for being the director's first sound film—he did another version for silent cinemas that were not speaker-wired-up while making this one, sometimes shooting alternate footage for scenes where title cards needed to do the talking. There are, frankly, radical transitions using only sound, showing how freakishly ingenious Hitchcock could be playing with new toys. 

 

And how's this for radical? Hitchcock's "blonde" for this one was a Czech actress named Anny Ondra whose English was so heavily-accented that she was directed to just mouth the words while actress Joan Barry performed the vocal part out of sight of the camera. The illusion is almost flawless, noticeable only if you're looking (and listening for it). You come away from Bouzereau's film maybe not so assured that Blackmail set the template for what was "Hitchcockian" in the future, but certainly convinces that the man was a genius for figuring out ways for telling stories pictorially, psychologically...but also sonically.

But, then...we already knew that.

* Grimonperez was nominated for the "Best Documentary Feature" Oscar last year for his documentary Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat

 

The Detective (1954)

The Detective (aka Father Brown)(Robert Hamer, 1954) It's quite the scandal when Father Brown (Alec Guinness) is arrested by the local constabulary when he is caught in the act of "burglarious purposes" in front of an open safe. At police headquarters, the humble English vicker tries to explain that he was only trying to return the "swag" ("I believe that's what it's called—'swag'") for one of his parishioners (he admonishes him for being "an incompetent thief...clearly incapable of earning a dishonest living") whom he had convinced to forego a life of petty thievery and, in return, Brown would return the stolen good to the rightful place. That's when the police arrived.

 

A night in the hoosegow (which he finds "most interesting" and thanks the police for their "hospitality") and he's identified by the church authorities and sprung. So, of course, when he's hauled before the Bishop, he assumes it's for the arrest—he having a reputation in the diocese as "an odd one". But, it's of another matter entirely: it's seems that the Eucharistic Congress is soon to be held in Rome. And the Bishop has decided to send the Holy Cross of St. Augustine, which is twelve centuries old and currently resides in Father Brown's parish church. Father Brown considers the cross "not valuable...priceless," so he's alarmed when informed by a local Inspector than an "imminent criminal is intent to intercept the cross en route." The criminal's name is Gustav Flambeau* (Peter Finch) and Father Brown is only too aware of the master-thief's reputation—"a human chameleon" such an expert of disguise that no one knows what he looks like.

When Brown is informed of the precautions, the father-detective goes into a sort of distracted trance—in his mind, he's figured out three different way that the cross could be stolen. "So, if I, an amateur, can steal the cross in three ways , one can only think what Flambeau will do!" Brown volunteers to take the cross himself—"one priest indistinguishable from hundreds carrying one cross undetectable from hundreds" But, the inspector and the Bishop are in agreement: they will have undercover men make their way to Rome in the hopes of intercepting the wiley thief. To Brown, this is "lunacy!" He makes his own arrangements to carry out his conception of a plan.

Now, as a recovering Catholic, I must confess that the closest I get to religion these days is through Father Brown, the sleuthing priest created by author G.K.Chesterton in 1910 (predating Agatha Christie's sleuths by a decade). I've watched the Mark Williams series, having seen nearly every episode, and read a few of the stories and have always found a kind of solace in the character's rock-solid faith and his unorthodox application of it when dealing with the near-occasion of sinners. He does not judge, believing not that people are good or evil, but merely people, and those that have strayed can always be moved on to the better path. He is not naive, or a cross-eyed optimist, but will argue that his faith is even more pertinent in a world where virtue is challenged. At one point in The Detective, he says: "My son, you think that you are a man of the world and that I am not. But I assure you, my 'innocent' ears encounter every day stories of a horror that would make your sophisticated hair stand on end. Although I wear funny clothes, and have taken certain vows, I live far more in the world than you do." It's a world where his ability to pick locks, or judo-wrestle are useful tools, particularly when employed for good. He'll even pick a pocket (but only to prove a point when he returns the "swag").

When I found that there was a "Father Brown" movie, particularly to my delight that Alec Guinness played the part, I began an exhaustive search to find it. It took years, but it can now be found** And it exceeded my expectations. I've never been disappointed by a Guinness performance*** and his Brown is very much a sheep in wolfs clothing. He's as sharp as they come, if a bit idiosyncratic, and when called upon Guinness overplays the "twee" nature of Brown, his awkwardness hiding a quick-wittedness—although his humility will never allow him to admit it.

The Detective also has two of my favorite British performers: the ever-beguiling Joan Greenwood, (who'd starred with Guinness in a couple of his comedies) as one of Father Brown's more well-off parishioners and confidantes; and Bernard Lee (who would go on to play MI6 head "M" in the first 16 films of the Bond series) as an undercover police officer doggedly pursuing Flambeau, and who finds Brown's deft interference almost in itself criminal.

But, the surprise is Peter Finch as master-thief Flambeau. Up to this point, Finch could be rather stiff in his roles, but, here, he's light-hearted and charming, pulling off the character-work in disguise, and, when unmasked, giving off the air of a bon-vivant, quite happy in his mis-deeds. Guinness and he have a lot of dialog together and they spar winningly.

Based rather loosely on Chesterton's first Father Brown story "The Blue Cross," It's absolutely delightful and was well worth the wait.

* Interesting that they call him "Gustav" Flambeau as Chesterton gave him the christian name of "Hercule"—perhaps to not confuse him with Christie's Poirot, who debuted 10 years later—and the character is supposed to be French, and Gustav is considered a Swedish or German name.

 

** On the streaming service Tubi, but the Lord only knows how long it will remain there. 

*** Okay, there is one. It is Hitler: The Last Ten Days where I found his performance as The Führer rather dull. Time Magazine's critic said it was only useful in showing "the banality of evil." Curiously, IMDB says it's the only performance Guinness was completely happy with, having campaigned actively to play it.

Dave Stevens: Drawn to Perfection

Dave Stevens: Drawn to Perfection (Kelvin Mao, 2022) I knew this movie was around, but I'd never gotten to see it until recently. Comic artist Dave Stevens was a favorite of mine, first becoming aware of his work writing and drawing with his own self-owned project "The Rocketeer". Even if you didn't know Stevens' comic, you might have heard of or even seen the movie based on it. As this documentary of his life-story mostly concerns his graphics output, it's going to be a bit "in the weeds." Cinematically, the doc is a labor of love, so it's not that impressive, other than the detail of the conversation of the talking heads (who are artists and thus regularly holed up in their studios) and models and of Stevens' family and friends. It's all laid out chronologically from his boyhood to his too-early death at 53, due to leukemia.

 

There were a lot of things about Stevens' work that spoke for itself. Number one, it was beautiful—the draftsmanship was nonpareil, with a detail that was rarely seen in comics, but then (2) it looked like the old Hal Foster strips combined with Will Eisner's sensibilities, with a pulpy, cartoon-y edge and an obvious love for 30's-40's design and architecture. It was nostalgic, but for a past that never existed but you kind of wish had. There was an odd comfort to it, like a nice, greasy lunch at an ancient deco-diner (where the milkshakes are served in the mixer).

Stevens' company logo

But, Stevens could be frustrating. He was a perfectionist with his art—and it showed!—which would mean he would blow past deadlines to finish it and cause delays in publishing. You anticipated a new "Rocketeer" chapter...and it wouldn't show up—like, for a year. But, when it DID show up, you devoured it, studied it, and carefully put it in a mylar sleeve for preservation. They were special enough to take care of. Once the series became popular, Stevens became more diligent and more demanding of himself.

He'd been working for Jack Kirby ("The King"), did some work on the "Star Wars" newspaper strip, as well as commercial art, before being offered the chance to do a back-up series for the "Starslayer" comic being done by Mike Grell for the newly started Pacific Comics. Grell's first story was originally to appear as a DC comic, got dropped, and with the page-count being a little low, Stevens was offered to do a fill-in series. With a wide-range of interests and reference material, Stevens created a Commando Cody-like character, "The Rocketeer". With its Gee Bee Racer, landmarks like the Chaplin Aerodrome and the Bulldog Cafe, winkingly-anonymous references to pulp-heroes like Doc Savage and The Shadow and characters based on the images of pin-up girl Bettie Page (as the hero's girlfriend) and "Jonny Quest" co-creator Doug Wildey (as a mechanic pal) and with Rocketeer Cliff Secord based on himself, Stevens had his down-on-his luck pilot discover a mysterious advanced jet-pack that would allow him to fly solo through the skies, and getting himself into all sorts of troublesome adventures.

 

"The Rocketeer" feature became quite popular—probably to the detriment of Stevens' career—and the series, when it appeared, was always a best-seller, outlasting two of the comics companies that distributed it (probably a case of putting all your eggs in one basket, as companies would see the money roll in, but in a limited capacity as Stevens' perfectionism wreaked havoc on publishing schedules and those companies expanded their out-put with properties that didn't sell well, and eventually finances collapsed). Hollywood grabbed at the character—specifically Disney—as an "Indiana Jones"-style knock-off, and, for a time, Stevens was heavily involved with that. Plus, there were lawsuits because the property generated cash and the other way for comics companies to make money was gambling on litigation. "The Rocketeer" was Stevens' baby, and any parent will tell you how that complicates your life, overtakes your life, and becomes an obsession.

And Stevens' work became something of its own brand; he'd make art-prints (usually of the character based on Bettie Page) and "good-girl art" (as it's called) was one of his obsessions, plus he was in high demand for doing covers for other projects...because good covers sold comic books. And Stevens always drew good, striking covers...the kind fan-boys like. "Hmph".

 

One of the interesting things after his success was the re-emergence of Bettie Page, who had fallen on hard times and had no idea that Stevens had almost single-handedly revised interest in her and made her something of an icon. Once Page's whereabouts were discovered, Stevens immediately began arrangements to compensate her for the use of her past image (she refused to be photographed in her later years thinking she'd gained too much weight) and became something of an unofficial caretaker for her. I found that part of the story quite uncharacteristic of the industry and rather touching. Then, Stevens was diagnosed with leukemia and decided after a couple of decades of pencil and ink drawing that he would try and perfect his brush-work painting, something that he never felt he mastered to his exacting standards.

He finally succumbed to his leukemia March 11, 2008. In December of the same year, Page died. No coincidence to that. Stevens just died young.

But, he never lost his fans. Tribute issues of "The Rocketeer" and his other works have been going at a continuous rate by those in the comics industry who were friends or, at least, were influenced by his work and keep the flame alive.

The documentary is full of those friends like Jim Silke, Bruce Timm (who created the Batman: The Animated Series), William Stout, Mark Evanier, and scores of others he crossed paths with, be they comics professionals, models...even Rocketeer star Billy Campbell and director Joe Johnston weigh in. Their stories are varied, funny, ribald, exasperated (but in a good, laughing way) and always fond. Very fond, in point of fact.

I "met" him once and I may have mentioned this story before. He had family in Portland and he'd occasionally show up at the Rose City Comics Convention to do panels, run a table, sign things for fans and, one year, I was one those. I brought a promotional poster he'd done for The Rocketeer and I waited, a surprisingly short time, for him to sign it for me. And yes, he was even meticulous about that, taking minutes to sign his name "just so" and telling me (in deadly earnest) "Now...make sure you wait a little bit because the paper has a high gloss finish and you should allow the ink to dry before it touches anything because it's kind of nappy right now and it'll smudge..." I assured him I would and immediately took it to my car to lay it out flat so it would dry the way he wanted it to. That poster hung in the studio I worked in for many years, and one day I did a voice-over session with John Corbett, who was quite the "break-out star" on the TV series Northern Exposure. He was studying his script, looked up and got a little wistful when he saw the poster. "I was this close to getting that role" he said. Then, went back to the script with a laconic "Aw, but Billy did a great job!" Nice.

 

One wonders what Stevens would have made of the documentary. One imagines that, with his discriminating perfectionist hand in it, it wouldn't have been released yet. As it is, you can find it with a simple search on You Tube.

One thing's for sure. Stevens would have hated—absolutely hated—the poster for the film.*

Stevens (in the flying suit next to "Hitler) filming his cameo for The Rocketeer.

He played a volunteer for a German rocket-pack prototype...which ends up exploding. 

* Of course, for attracting a larger audience, it had to have "The Rocketeer" and Dave's Bettie on it. But I would have preferred, and up until a few minutes ago I was using for the poster image, something like the image below (which has neither). But it's "pure Dave".

Deadline at Dawn

Deadline At Dawn (Harold Clurman, William Cameron Menzies , 1946) One of those movies that, I'm sure, grows on you over time, once all the shocks have worn off.

 

But, if you're peeping at it in for the first time...well, all I can say, pally, is it's a lot to take in. Oh, it's got a lot of familiar tropes of the noir-type: everything takes place at night, shadows seem to be the popular decor, there's good people and bad people, good people get accused of doing bad things, there are a couple of desperate chases between desperate people, and it's entirely black-and-white, the only color being the complications along the way which are, more times than not, red herrings. And if you can't follow it too well, that's understandable because it starts getting confusing with in the first ten minutes. Watching it drunk or sober won't help you with the film's terrain—you're going to be bumping into walls either way. Oh, and don't get attached to characters because most of them will disappear before the sun comes up. It's not that they die or anything, it's just that they have their fifteen seconds in what passes for a spotlight in a film-noir and then they just go away, never to be seen again. That's life in the big city.

Enough with the opening narration (there isn't any, that would be too helpful). A sailor-boy (Bill Williams) is gonna be shipped off to his next hell-hole and he spends the eve of it getting black-out drunk. He wakes up at a newsie's where he's been sleeping it off with no idea where he's been or what he's been doing. All he knows is that he's got $1400 bucks he didn't know he had. "Found money" is always a nice surprise, but not when there's four hours to kill and you're a possiible target. What better thing to do than hide in the arms of a frail (you could always use her for cover!), so he goes to a dance club and ends up with a handful of a hostess named June Goffe (Susan Hayward) who's dead-on-her-feet and doesn't get interested until sailor-boy shows her his $1400 wad. Naturally, she invites him over to her place for a sobering sandwich and the story of how he got it...if he can remember.

Pretty soon, things start going "Hayward". The sailor isn't as much of a shoe-cruncher as she thought he was but insists on thinking of him as "a baby." But, he had managed to crawl to a drinks-provided poker game (not sure if that's a euphemism or not) at the apartment of Edna Bartelli (Lola Lane), who, with her brother (Joseph Calleia) regularly ran a scam of luring rubes off the street and then robbing them of their wits and their bankroll. Somehow, he'd gotten the better end of the deal with more money than he could spend in four hours. But, he's "a baby" and he wants to return the money because it's the right thing to do (even to people who'd rolled you) and he doesn't want to spend his last four hours of furlough looking over his duffel bag to see if the cops are looking to pick him up for theft. He is in uniform, after all.

Yeah, well, no good deed goes unpunished and sometimes you get exactly what you're trying to avoid, especially in noir movies. June and Alex ('the baby") go over to the address and instead of finding the woman dead-drunk (like he left her), they find her just plain old dead. Like he left her? Well, that's the question. Either June's running around with a killer or there's a killer somewhere else running around after them. That's the question. And they only have a shrinking four hours before Alex gets deployed.

"I hear a whistle blowing" says June, metaphorically

...or is that "Odetically"?

It has the simple par-boiled "jeopardy" plot one comes to associate with its original author Cornell Woolrich (he wrote the original stories for Rear Window, The Bride Wore Black, The Window, Mississippi Mermaid and Phantom Lady) where "trust" (or lack of it) is the one thing drum-soloing through the characters' minds as they try to unravel the plot. But, Deadline at Dawn doesn't so much provoke a sense of associative paranoia as "what in the black-and-blue-blazes are you talking about?" It's scripted by Clifford Odets, who wrote it as a favor to his old Group Theater pal, director Harold Clurman, and it is Odets at his Fink-iest, feeding lines to the cast that are all starch and pepper. Odets took theater out of the drawing-room and into the tenements—and a lot of Deadline at Dawn takes place on the streets and back-alleys of early-hours New York.

Oh, it begins interestingly enough, as we watch a blind ex-husband (Marvin Miller) of future murder-victim Edna Bartelli hammer on her door to collect the $1400 she promised she had for him (the very money the sailor-boy had made off with)—and our introduction to her is properly sordid for the "Code" days where she's so stinking drunk that a fly is pirouetting around on her face. The ex is blind-mad: "You'll never change, Edna. You're bad. I loved you very much. But you're bad." 

But, once we leave the place for the murder to happen, "Golly, the misery that walks around in this pretty, quiet night." Everybody's kvetching, philosophizing, giving you their dime's worth when all you wanted was a nickel. And complaining about the heat even though nobody's sweating much. Everybody's an overripe wise-guy even the cabbie (Paul Lukas) who hears June's "misery" comment replies with "the logic you are looking for... the logic is that there is no logic. The horror and terror you feel, my dear, comes from being alive. Die, and there is no trouble. Live, and you struggle." I don't know that she was searching for any "logic" there, just making idle conversation. But, everybody's over-explaining in Odets-burg, like when another cabbie bleats "Listen, I don't wanna get in no trouble. I work. I'm just a parasite on parasites." TMI, buddy! Especially with a paying customer in your hack.

Deadline at Dawn is filled with such distractions and so many blind-alleys that you can get lost very easily, but despite the density of the population on display, the solution returns you to the same bubble-world that feels a little too neat for all the obfuscation of the community-building going on. Maybe that was to enrich the plot, but it does nothing to ramp up the tension or unease one usually finds from Woolrich. One shouldn't substitute "overwritten" for "overwrought."

Deadpool & Wolverine

Despite Claws and Swords, Not Much of a Point

or

"Get Your Special Sock Out, Nerds — This is Going to Be Good."

It was as inevitable as the title "When Titans Clash" showing up in any Marvel comic. 

 

Around the time that X-men Origins: Wolverine was being conceived, Ryan Reynolds lobbied hard to play the character Deadpool—"The Merc with a Mouth"—a comic super-powered mercenary with regenerative powers and a meta-influenced line of snarky patter that quickly made him a fan favorite from "The House of Ideas." It would have been a nice break-through role for Reynolds (as the man can be funny...and irreverent...as hell), but, for some reason the character was revised for the movie—his mouth was fused together, therefore couldn't speak. 

 

Well, what fun was that? They wouldn't even let him make guttural sounds—which would have been funny if they'd had him trying to say words like he was perpetually eating peanut butter—But, no, "they" wouldn't even allow that. It was Wolverine's movie, Wolverine was—and always was, even in the comics—the breakout character in the "X-men" series, so Deadpool was muted, lest he actually upstage the titular character of the film.*

Ryan Reynolds on "Mute" during X-men Origins: Wolverine.

X-men Origins: Wolverine did okay at the box-office—but not enough to generate any more "X-men Origins" movies. It did generate some animus with Reynolds, who'd been trying to get a "Deadpool" movie into production** and thought X-MO:W killed it and killed it dead. Silly man. Deadpool, after all, has regenerative powers—shoot him and the bullet will work its way out, cut his arm off and it'll grow back—so after having a proposed budget slashed and a rather kicking "sizzle" reel made, the film was made and did blockbuster box-office. It also slightly regenerated the "superhero" genre of films which, at the time, was starting to lose its buy-back value.

Deadpool had no shame in its humor, lampooning superheroes, superhero movies, Marvel, DC, Reynolds, and 20th Century Fox, but seemed to take particular hyena-glee when making fun of Hugh Jackman and X-men Origins: Wolverine, setting my movie-blogger sense tingling about a possible collaboration between the two. It seemed inevitable.

Happily, it's happened in Deadpool & Wolverine, which, after a rather moribund effort with Deadpool 2, has revived the series a few deep-cut notches above its predecessor. The (this time unfunnily not written by Reynolds) synopsis goes like this:

"A listless Wade Wilson toils away in civilian life with his days as the morally flexible mercenary, Deadpool, behind him. But when his home-world faces an existential threat, Wade must reluctantly suit-up again with an even more reluctant Wolverine."

Um. Sure. That's sounds..."listless", but serviceable. But, it doesn't really talk about what's happened since the last movie, of which the most important event is that Disney bought 20th Century Fox, home of the X-men franchise, as well as Marvel Studios, which has everybody else, so that The House of Mouse can claim all things Marvel and wait for the money-truck to drive up to the receiving dock. The movie is rife with opportunity to make all sorts of in-jokes on that subject including using the old corporate logo in a Cosmic Garbage Dump called "The Void".

"Welcome to the MCU," Deadpool says at one point. "You're joining at a bit of a low point."

 

(Now, bear in mind this will be confusing) What happens is that Deadpool has been using the time-dimensional device of the Marvel mercenary Cable*** to go back in time and try to fix things to get his girlfriend (Morena Baccarin) back, right? Well, things aren't going too well on that front, so he goes to another Marvel Earth ("The Sacred Timeline" one) to join the Avengers (with just the first of many cameo's), but he's turned down...flat. But, his time-hopping has attracted the attention of the TVA (the Time Variance Authority), and its agent Mr. Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen), who informs Deadpool that his timeline is starting to unravel owing to the fact that its "anchor being", Wolverine has died (because of Logan). Paradox makes Deadpool the opportunity to be put in "The Sacred Timeline" to spare his life and help with future events.

Wade, wanting to spare his ex and friends from extinction decides he'll do something else (naturally). He transports himself to the spot where the Wolverine died, digs up his grave and finds...a metallic corpse. Not very useful to preserving the timeline, but the parts come in handy in a fight when TVA troops arrive to try and stop him. So, the next step is to find another Wolverine...a "live" one this time...so he goes multiverse-hopping to find a suitable Wolverine—there are some lovely variants, including a comics-accurate version (funny!) and one cameo by a super-hero actor in need a of a job (blink and you'll miss him), until, finally, he finds a "suitable" Wolverine.

Taking him back to the TVA, he discovers that not all adamantium-encrusted Canadian super-heroes are alike, and is told he's brought back "the worst" Wolverine (owing to a failure in his past), Paradox whisks them off to "The Void" (from the Disney series "Loki")—the place at the end of time where discarded super-heroes go to await disposal. Lots of interesting cameo's here (see the picture below for some), but the place is lorded over by Charles Xavier's twin sister Cassandra Nova (played—and quite entertainingly—by Emma Corrin) who has her brother's head-messing-with powers and is (to put it kindly) "resentful."

Just some of the "discarded" heroes in "The Void"

There are so many "in-jokes" and references to past Marvel movies "before they were popular" that some audience-members may get lost in the mix. One merely has to "go with it" as Deadpool's running snarkiness will be providing references and laughs all along the way. Besides, there are so many variants of characters in the Void—there's a "Dogpool" portrayed by Peggy, the recently crowned "Britain's Ugliest Dog"—that details really don't matter, as something funny will be said in the next 30 seconds, anyway.

This, of course, is the film's strength—along with the R-rated "evisceration humor" exhibited in the fights (nobody gets hurt with these regenerative powers, so they're as impactful as injuries in a "Looney Tunes" cartoon)—so much so that the story really doesn't matter. At all. It's all played for laughs, and if the film twists itself in gordian knots trying to generate plot-points, it's going to become a punch-line anyway—maybe because of the lengths the writers have to go through to get there. The Deadpool series has its own wall of incredulity to run interference on "the Plausibles" in the audience trying to see plot-holes in the movie as that's the character of Deadpool himself. He's a one-man "Mystery Science Theater," poking holes (often literally) in everything.

Cassandra Nova's "headquarters" is the corpse of Ant-Man/Giant-Man

Deadpool's comment: "Huh. Paul Rudd finally aged..." 

I guess the poor box-office of Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania had ramifications.

But, then, nobody really cared what happened to Hope and Crosby after each "Road" movie, or to the Marx Brothers, or Laurel and Hardy. People just came for the laughs. So let it be with Deadpool. And if things in the movie end merely to the default state at the beginning, at least it insures that another one will come along after awhile, that's okay, too. That's entertainment. Sometimes you have to let go of the continuity consciousness and not expect transformative story-lines and major changes to the characters, as long as they're having a good time and taking us along with them.

 

Now, that's a real regenerative power.

* Never mind that the scenario might have spawned another movie tent-pole series with Deadpool—a pretty good bet in hindsight because that is exactly what happened, due to Ryan Reynolds' persistence.

 

** Reynolds loved the comic, especially when it described Wade Wilson as looking like "a cross between Ryan Reynolds and a Shar Pei." 

 

*** Cable was in Deadpool 2...you know...played by Josh Brolin (No, not Thanos...the other...*siiigh*...(this is going to take a long time...) Look, just go with it, okay? You probably don't believe in multi-verses anyway! ("Did you know Dr. Dre's "Nothing but a 'G' Thang" has the most verses?") That's NOT what I'm talkin....just keep reading, okay? No more questions.