7.5/10. Deadpool is at its best when it's making fun of superhero movies. The film feels like a counter-reaction to the prominence and seriousness of comic book films in pop culture, and in that vein, it's a success. When it fills the opening credits with a description of its actors rather than their actual names (e.g. "Moody Teen", "British Villain"), features knowing winks to its star's emerald-tinged prior efforts as a cape, and plays "Angel of the Morning" behind its freeze-framed mayhem, it's a statement of purpose, an indication from the very beginning that this is not going to be your standard superhero flick, and the movie is very much in on the joke.
And yet the movie is at its weakest when it gives into that seriousness, when it hits the usual beats of a standard good guy origin story, including a bland baddie and lost love. The film does its best to throw in a comedic riff on these moments, with playful quips directed at the film's villain, even as he cycles through the requisite bad guy threats and intimidation routine, and ribald remarks permeating the tragic backstory and romance. It's a firm attempt to try to take some of the edge off of bland baddie Ajax (Ed Skrein) and his wooden, generic henchman Angel Dust (Gina Carano), who are the most standard-issue characters in the film. But at its core, Deadpool can't completely run away from the typical superhero movie rhythms it employs, even as it's trying to make fun of them, and that drags it down in the moments where the film tries to be a little more conventional or serious.
Thankfully, the lead character provides plenty of comedic juice, both in the suit and outside of it. Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) is effectively a murderous Bugs Bunny, causing mayhem that looks like some cross between Kill Bill and Tex Avery. Reynolds nails the characters charming irreverence, and the script belies any attempts to show a true heart of gold beneath the barrage of bullets and sarcastic asides.
If anything, Deadpool goes too far in the other direction, having its lead repeatedly affirm that he is not, in fact, a hero -- that he is, instead, just a bad guy who goes after people who are worse. That's a great premise for a character, and the fact that the film doesn't shy away from its R-rating or from showing Deadpool plying his trade with little care or concern for Truth, Justice, and The American Way. But having him vocalize that point repeatedly makes Deadpool himself feel more like the rebellious teenager who makes a point to constantly remind you that he doesn't care.
Despite that, in the moments where Deadpool avoids the pitfalls of backstory fatigue and rescue mission malaise, it is a delightfully breezy, eminently enjoyable film. Director Tim Miller perfectly captures the screwball, irreverent tone necessary for the piece to work, from his main character's looney mayhem, to the comedic exchanges between Deadpool and his wife Vanessa (Morena Baccarin), buddy (T.J. Miller), and roommate (Leslie Uggams), all of which have their own distinct flavor and weird, off-color charms.
Make no mistake, Deadpool is a film that wears its raunchiness on its sleeve. Reynolds' history as Van Wilder served him well for the movie's puerile sensibilities, culminating in a parade of horribles game of oneupsmanship that serves as both his and Vanessa's meetcute and their reconciliation. The movie is not above making jokes about sex, masturbation, and genitalia in general. To that end, the script has the feel of the standard X-Men outing grafted into a Robot Chicken sketch. I'm certainly not too classy to enjoy the film's thoroughly juvenile charms, and the unabashed way it embraces its sophomoric, self-mocking tone keeps things light and fun.
The film also preserves Deadpool's fourth wall-breaking asides. It's a delicate balance, and staying on the right side of the Ferris Bueler line is no small feet. But when Deadpool talks to the audience about who he had to pleasure to get his own movie, or cautions that his suit shouldn't be green or animated, or complains about his confusion as to which actor is playing Professor X at this point in the timeline, it's another sign that the film is having fun with the excesses of the genre and his X-men Universe stablemates. Too much of that post-modern take on comedy can be grating, but Miller parcels out just enough to make it a treat instead of a gimmick.
In many ways, Deadpool feels like the raunchier cousin of Guardians of the Galaxy. Both films feature a less-than-savory protagonist; both trade in classic tunes played over silly action scenes; and both attempt to undercut any necessary serious moments with a joke and subvert the big comic book ending just enough to add-in an enjoyable twist that tells the audience what kind of a franchise this is and what kind of a "hero" they're dealing with. Guardians is a bit more earnest in the effort, and certainly tamer by comparison, but both films prove that you can make a superhero movie that is as much of a comedy as it is an action-adventure tale, regardless of where the humor is pitched.
Deadpool does revel in its sense of subversion. The main character pushes back at Colossus's moralizing about becoming a hero (and ribs his teenage sidekick for her sullen silences and sharp remarks in one of the film's funniest bits). And just when it seems like he's about to give in and spare his enemy, Deadpool shoots the guy point blank, right in the middle of the metal man's speech. That type of attitude, that eschews the usual tropes of crime-fighting stories and throws in a ribald quip for good measure, makes Deadpool a refreshing, often hilarious enterprise that knows what it wants to be and doesn't hold back. If only it could sustain that energy and aim throughout the film, rather than devolving, at times, into damsels in distress and a typical revenge tale with a checkered past tacked on for good measure, it would succeed unequivocally. Instead, Deadpool is a tremendously funny film with a delightful comedic verve that sustains it from beginning to end, even if, occasionally, it can't quite escape the baggage of its super suit-wearing brethren.