I’m Wolverine

The last time we saw Hugh Jackman was back in March when he was singing and dancing his way into our hearts as the host of the Academy Awards.  What a magical night it was.  The highlight was the capper on his opening number.  As he climbed onto a pedestal embodying Mickey Rourke’s Randy the Ram in The Wrestler, Jackman sang triumphantly:

These are the Oscars!
And this is my dream!
I am a Slumdog!
I am a Wrestler!
I’ll rent The Reader!

Then, joyfully proclaiming his Hollywood identity to the world with, as one usually does when expressing themselves through song, overwhelming earnestness, Jackman declares:

I’m Wolveriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

And so he is.

Obviously this delightful singing and dancing side of Hugh was going to be no where in sight for 20th Century Fox’s summer tentpole X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Obviously Wolverine, the baddass-iest of all superheros, is no powder puff.  He has facial hair.  Smokes cigars.  Has a baaaaaad attitude (but, naturally, a heart of gold).  He fights in wars.  And not just any war.  All of them!  He unleashes his uncontainable rage by throwing his head back opening his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs.  At one point they (I am referring the makers of this film as “they” because rather than being a collaboration of director, writer, designer, producer and studio, it feels like someone typed Wolverine, CGI  and summer movie into a machine and this formulaic, cliche-ridden calculation popped out) even made Wolverine a lumberjack, with axes and saws.  And big trees falling, making big noises.  There’s so much manly testosterone manliness going on this comes to mind.

But how can Hugh Jack-Man be both a singing virtuoso and a brooding superhero?  Sounds confusing to me.  I bet the inside of his head looks like this:

I’m Wolverine!

I’m Wolverine!

I’m Wolveriiiiiiiiiiiiine!

IIIIIIIII’MMMMM WOOOOOOOOLVERIIIIIIIIIINE!

Did somebody say lumberjack?

Make the voices stop!  You can’t have it both ways Hugh.  How are guys supposed to know whether to have “platonic” crushes on you or to be homophobic?

As for the actual film, there’s not much to say.  The origin story is the big thing right now in Hollywood.  At first, in films like Batman Begins and Casino Royale, it provided at much needed detour from the sequel formula.  Now that we have every franchise “rebooting” with a prequel of their own they’re beginning to feel like what they actually are, fourth sequels without a number in the title. The biggest problem with prequels of course is that they are, by definition, exposition.  So the trick is making the story something that the audience cares about so they’re not just looking ahead.  On this front Wolverine fails miserably.  They cover so much ground so fast it feels like a filmed outline.

Another problem is that Marvel was clearly trying to capitalize on The Dark Knight’s success by showcasing their own intense, angry superhero.  The difference is The Dark Knight had substance.  And since they went the dark dramatic path the film is devoid of any sense of fun. There are literally a skinny jeans pocket-full of enjoyable moments.  Ryan Reynolds has about ten lines towards the beginning of the film that serve as brief comic relief.  The rest of the time, between the displays of unmotivated computer animators, we get scenes like Wolverine’s girlfriend telling a story about the Moon and some Indians that (somehow) ends up being the genesis of Wolvy’s eventual namesake.  The scene is so cover-your-eyes-embarrassingly-painful they (everyone involved, including the caterer) should be ashamed of themselves.

Basically the movie’s bad.  Don’t see it.  Wait until it’s on TNT in a year so you don’t have to squelch in your snarky outbursts like it did.

Before I close the book on Wolverine, a movie I saw four days ago and barely remember, I’d like to share the parting moment of my Wolverine experience, one I will not soon forget.  After the credits rolled there was a coda, as is the trend these days.  But instead of being a cool hint at a sequel, it was hilariously pointless.  As my friend and I got up to leave, overflowing with contempt, a guy sitting in front of us turned around and said something like “Really guys? You’re going to complain about a comic book movie?”  And before we had a chance to respond he was already walking away.  Alone.  First of all, interrupting people is just rude.  But second of all, you just walk away?  Ok, here’s my response to you Mr. I-go-to-comic-book-movies-at-midnight-by myself.  You are the reason dreck like this keeps coming out.  You keep shelling out cash for these movies and when they’re crap just shrug your shoulders and say “Hey, it’s a comic book movie.”  Maybe if you had some kind of standards and stopped seeing movies that are obviously garbage then Hollywood would start making better ones.  And as soon as I acquire the ability to resist trailers with pounding soundtracks and bad CGI that’s exactly what I’m going to do!