"THE WOLVERINE" LACKS THE PASSION OF ITS PREDACESSORS
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson
Above: Ken Yamamura and Hugh Jackman run in a scene from the film
As I began writing this review
of “The Wolverine,” I realized something—I have been anticipating the film’s
release for nearly four years. In fact
since the opening of its predecessor (2009’s “X-Men Origins: Wolverine”), I
have followed every announcement regarding the sequel’s agonizing growing
pains, from director Darren Aronofsky’s untimely defection from the project in
2011 to August 2012, when principal photography finally began. Indeed, production seemed to be one episode
of zesty turmoil after another, which begs the question—was it worth the wait? In a word, mostly. “The Wolverine” may be a milder, sillier
breed of blockbuster, but it is a mostly agreeable adventure. The storytelling may be slight, but as I
watched the film, I began to feel that even if it wasn’t worthy of its
predecessors, it was at least a satisfying supplement.
Still, at the beginning of the movie those precursors
have been left far behind. After a quick
flashback to the bombing of Nagasaki in World War II, the film leaps vaguely
into the future where the legendary warrior Logan, AKA Wolverine (Hugh Jackman)
is brooding high in the mountains. It
seems that the former superhero has lost his way—burdened by grief and
loneliness, he no longer uses his powers to fight for the greater good. Instead, he mopes, using his famed metal
claws mostly for slashing trees and putting dying bears out of their misery. And while Logan does attempt to discipline some
lawbreaking hunters in a bar, his attack is cruel and clumsy. Clearly, he needs someone to give a reason to
keep living.
That someone turns out to be Yukio (Rila Fukushima), a
sharp-witted, redheaded warrior who summons Logan to Tokyo. At first, the invitation seems
harmless—Yukio’s sole objective it to reunite Logan with Yashida, a dying
corporate titan who owes our hero a debt.
Alas, there are other players in the game, including mobsters, ninjas
(if this movie and “Batman Begins” are to be believed, nearly every
twenty-first century human is secretly a ninja), and most importantly, Mariko
(Tao Okamoto), Yashida’s granddaughter and intended heir to his empire. Because she’s about to become the most
powerful woman in Japan, Mariko becomes the target of various scheming sectors,
all of whom have uniquely convoluted motives for assassinating her. Luckily for her, Logan is on hand to find off
these sinister assailants and, to put it mildly, “comfort” her (even though the
movie’s best romantic sparks are between Mr. Jackman and Ms. Fukushima, who
conveys an electric mixture of both toughness and amusement).
To say the least, I can see how inserting Logan into this
scenario might have appealed to director James Mangold and the film’s writers
(Mark Bomback and Scott Frank, who rewrote an earlier draft by Christopher
McQuarrie). Of course, the fracturing of
the Yashida dynasty provides the potential for physically deft action, but the
prospect Logan being drawn into a world foreign to him is more compelling by
far. For all his travels, Logan never
visited Asia in previous films and sending him to Japan suggests some
interesting possibilities. How is a man
shaped when he enters a world so different from his own? Time and time again, movies and real life
have shown that such a journey can be transformative.
Alas, Mr. Mangold does not appear interested in
transformation. That gloomy opening of
the mountains is about the only scene that gives us a tangible sense of Logan’s
inner life—once he lands in Tokyo, the film turns its attentions from emotional
anguish to the intrigue in the Yashida clan a series of action scenes that are
never particularly exhilarating. Initially,
the question of what secrets this mysterious and violent family might be hiding
in its smooth wooden residences is intriguing, but none of the answers
satisfy. It turns out that nearly every character
in the family are motivated by a one-dimensional quest for power so by the end,
the allure of mystery is almost completely deflated.
This is a shame because there are moments when “The
Wolverine” threatens to become something more touching and emotional. In the Nagasaki flashbacks, for instance, we
see Logan saving Yashida’s life by shoving him into a deep pit when the atomic
bomb is detonated. Then later, both men
clamber to the surface to behold the horrific destruction—a whole city, turned
to a cloud of smoke and dust. It is in
this moment that the film seems to hint at some sort of powerful post-war
commentary because it ties neatly into Logan’s early declaration to “never hurt
anyone, ever again.” After seeing a
whole city destroyed, how could he say anything else? At the climax of a lifetime of violence, the
horror of war and death has struck him in the face, never more present the when
he returns to Nagasaki and beholds its restored buildings as they gleam under
the sun. In that moment it looks
beautiful but also fragile, because the tragedy of its destruction lingers
still.
If this scene were explored further, it could have helped
“The Wolverine” develop an anti-war message in conjunction with Logan’s
emotional journey. But this never happens
because rather than questioning Logan’s violent actions, the film sponges them
clean—he slashes his enemies so fast that we never get a look at their wounds. Only when Logan himself is wounded are we
allowed to see some blood because apparently, it’s permissible to view the hero
as vulnerable and human, just not his opponents. In some films, such chaste violence can be a relief
from gratuitous gore, but found this brand of sanitized violence at once
dehumanizing and uninteresting. We’re
are never meant to understand Logan’s enemies as being anything other than
soulless, stupid thugs who exist only to be tossed from hotel windows and
hurled at top speed from the bullet train.
If Mr. Mangold had taken the time to make us sympathize with the Yashida
clan’s many minions, it could granted the film not only a conscience, but a
powerfully dramatic narrative. But
instead, he lets the characters’ personalities fade like melted butter, until
they become as thin and flat as Ross Emery’s bright, weightless cinematography.
In the end, these offenses make “The Wolverine” one of
Logan’s weaker adventures (when not going solo, he’s a regular fixture in the
wonderful “X-Men” movies). Yet it is
still superior to most of the other 2013 summer blockbusters. Rather than emulating the hectic jumpiness that’s
become commonplace in superhero extravaganzas like “Iron Man 3” and “Man of
Steel,” Mr. Mangold and editor Michael McCusker instill the film with a slow
pace that allows suspense to burn gradually within the sleek halls of the
Yashida residence. Indeed, “The
Wolverine” never feels hyperactive or overblown—for every wild, convoluted
street fight, there’s a quiet or even comedic moment to counter it, like the
scene where Logan and Mariko hide out in a “Mission to Mars” themed hotel
room. The film may not develop its
characters fully, but it gives us a taste of the tragedy that haunts them all,
enough so that you care about the outcome of the madness.
So “The Wolverine” is not an utter failure. But even if it were, I think I would have
left the theater happy. Why? Because there, at the end of the film, is a
teaser for Logan’s next adventure (“X-Men: Days of Future Past,” which opens
May 23RD of next year)—a deliciously alluring scene in which Mr.
Jackman trades rough words with a magnificent Ian McKellen, who enters the film
looking slick in a black overcoat and fedora.
And in that moment “The Wolverine,” with all its pleasures and
disappointments, evaporates before your eyes because suddenly, only one thing
matters.
That once more, the best is yet to come.
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