It’s tough to derive any meaningful lessons, political or otherwise from Deadpool. By design it is meant to be irreverent and fun. Any statements it has to make are of the clever cynicism/pop culture skewer variety. That being said, there is, and will be until we Caped Persuaders figure out that whole “making money for writing” thing, a wealth of topics that are, shall we say…less than fresh. So, in the interest of breaking up the long train of posts about stuff you were really into a few months ago, and taking full advantage of the fact that my awesome wife was looking forward to Deadpool as much as I was and was more than cool with it being our Valentine’s Day outing, I will now attempt the arduous–NAY, rationally dubious–task of extracting political substance from what is likely to be the most intentionally frivolous movie of the year. As any poser whose knowledge of Deadpool extends only to what he’s learned since the outcry after X-Men Origins: Wolverine knows, the Merc with a Mouth (that’s what he’s called right?) is known for breaking the fourth wall. As a tribute to this metalisciousness, my commentary will focus less on the movie itself than on the struggle that brought it to the big screen in all its glory.

Recounting the legal wrangling between film studios over comic book properties doesn’t require an extended superhero metaphor to spell out the relevance to government. After all it is the legal branch of government that rules which characters go with which acquisition. It is the executive branch of government that would extract damages from a studio found to be in violation of set boundaries. No, a superhero metaphor won’t do, but I’m not above making the obvious dysfunctional family metaphor. Like a separated couple fighting over kids in divorce court, studios have carted the film production rights for Marvel characters off to different houses: mutants and the first family at Fox; Spidey with Sony, with visitation at the MCU; Hulk, Punisher, and Daredevil, prodigal sons who found their way back home after a misspent and troubled youth. Okay, so maybe the metaphor doesn’t exactly hold up, but the point is that to whatever extent Marvel comics had a unified artistic direction, the prospects of seeing it in it’s entirety translated to the screen went out the window when shortsighted deals auctioned professional LARPing rights off to the highest bidder.

I had in mind to extend the broken home metaphor to the subtle nuances of each studio’s attempts to bring their respective stables of characters to life–something clever about different parenting strategies–but the longer I thought on it the more apparent it became that, for all their fractured production and distribution rights, the studios took remarkably similar approaches. They all approached the undertaking as they would a traditional adaptation, trying to round out the quirks of the original work in hopes that the finished product could reach a broader audience. They framed it as taking the properties seriously, treating them like serious works of fiction rather than throwaway children’s magazines. They felt that by lifting some concepts that resonated as weighty or respectable, they could leave behind the chaff of complex character origins or outlandish costumes.

In their defense, the parceling did prohibit truer renderings of the source material to some extent. You couldn’t very well have Punisher introduced as a Spiderman villain, for example. But if legalities were the only thing standing in their way, why haven’t we seen the Fantastic Four share the screen with the X-Men even to this day? The more likely culprit is that the broader world, that unified artistic vision that sees the Dr. Doom teaming up with Dr. Octopus, was, until the runaway success of the MCU, seen by the studios as among the chaff. This goes beyond the legalities of who owns what, but speaks to the larger point of studio interference with the creative process. Though it’s not entirely unjustified for the people putting up the money to have some say, film adaptations of any literary work evince a hubris or sorts on the part of the producers–the vain belief that the business know how that sustains a multi-million dollar enterprise is a proper substitute for artistry and creativity, that stories and characters can be reduced to props and copy in what amount to extended commercials.

Usually studios try to focus group Frankenstein versions of their properties to the screen. Take a dash of backstory from this character and a sprinkle of powers from that character. The ostensible reasoning is to make the stories more palatable for the general audiences or more suited to the contained nature of a one off movie. While there is some truth to the notion that recounting a character’s canonical backstory can often sound more convoluted than a rundown of a year on One Life to Live, Fox took this to new heights with the aforementioned Wolverine flick, literally creating a hodgepodge villain and slapping the name Deadpool on him. This was the money men’s version of fan service: name dropping, dead end cameos, and hollow Easter eggs.

But the MCU changed the game in 2008 with the one-two punch of Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk. The second Robert Downy Jr.’s Tony Stark walked into that bar to gloat over William Hurt’s despondent General Ross, fans began to realize how short changed they’d been. They started to see the scraps they’d been served of their beloved heroes for the paltry servings that they were, and were all the more incensed that execs expected them to be grateful and excited about them. By the time X-Men Origins: Wolverine made it to theaters (or bootlegged on their laptops) the next year, they had their hopes inflated that Fox was following suit, building a wider sandbox for their characters to play in by doing solo offerings to expand the canon, only to have them dashed by The Merc without a Mouth. The backlash was substantial, effectively killing the studio’s plans for future X-Men Origins outings and sending the planned Magneto movie spiraling into a reboot of sorts with First Class.

But even as Fox executives tried to salvage what was left of their franchise, the groundswell had begun for a redemption the likes of which popular culture has never seen. As Fox set about expanding their Silver Linings Mystique showcase, Ryan Reynolds and Viewers Like You set about campaigning for perhaps the truest adaptation of any source material ever. I won’t lie and say I have always been a Deadpool fan, or that I know what is and isn’t accurate about the movie, but from what I understand from people in the know, they hit all the notes they were supposed to. More impressive even than practically frame for frame visual translations from page to screen like Watchmen or Sin City, Fox’s Deadpool, managed to capture the essence of the character, casting him in a new, original story with only minimal disservice to his canonical origins and simultaneously introducing a rather niche character to a much broader audience.

Hard to believe, but the very same meddlers who managed to derail what could have been the biggest gravy train of them all, who managed to make Wolverine lame, who were shoved so far up Hugh Jackman’s and Jennifer Lawrence’s asses that they can’t seem to make a X-Men movie without one or both of them front and center, who had such little regard for continuity that we got two quasi-reboots in the span of one trilogy, were the ones who put up the money for the masterpiece that we were blessed with on February 12th. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t begrudge executives for looking after their investments and seeing things in terms of dollars and cents. If it weren’t for their appetite for wealth, we wouldn’t have any movies, let alone the golden era of superhero movies we’re currently soaring through. I merely am surprised and frustrated that it’s taken them this long to realize how lucrative true fan service can be, how a property worth acquiring is worth keeping intact with what brought it to the dance. Most of all, I’m hopeful that Deadpool is the gift that keeps on giving, that the more cash it rakes in, the more Fox and other studios will realize that placating and patronizing fans of source material is far less fulfilling than actually getting their rocks off. And that, my friends, would be the happiest ending of all.

P.S.

Happy Belated International Women’s Day! 😉