Above: Hugh Jackman as Logan
In the opening scene of Gavin
Hood’s “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” we see two young brothers, Logan and Victor,
running away from home, racing through a shadowy forest. “Keep running,” Victor calls out. “Don’t look back.” And as if to seal the momentousness of the
moment, Harry Gregson-Williams’ score rises on the soundtrack, a crescendo of
violent drums, grating cellos, and anguished voices, crying through the trees.
Thus,
the terms are set—not only for Logan and Victor’s friendship, but for one of
the greatest action films of all time. An
unpopular perspective? Of course;
“Wolverine” is one of the worst-reviewed blockbusters in recent memory. But like Mr. Hood’s recent masterpiece, “Ender’s
Game,” this movie is rough, crude, violent, soap operatic, and outraged—in
other words, irrevocably and exhilaratingly alive.
At the core of this cinematic maelstrom is a battle
between compassion and savagery. “That’s
enough!” a grown-up Logan (Hugh Jackman) roars as Victor (now played by Liev
Schreiber) takes aim at a swath of soldiers.
But for Victor, it’s never enough—he’s an actual natural-born killer, a
man whose life depends on constantly feeding his bloodlust.
And so Logan and Victor find themselves hunted and hated. They are, after all, mutants—super-powered beings
(both have the ability to heal rapidly and pop wolf-like claws out of their hands)
who are considered freaks by society.
But to the svelte military scientist William Stryker (Danny Huston), Logan
and Victor’s freakishness is a weapon made to be used, a perfect addition to
his private (and illegal) strike force.
In Campellian terms, the moment when the
sunglasses-wearing Stryker appears in Logan and Victor’s prison cell is a “call
to adventure.” Yet “Wolverine” is not a
traditional hero’s journey—instead of being beckoned to join a glorious quest, Logan
is asked to aid a man who is an immoral government renegade. That’s why the movie ruptures into a duel of
instincts, with Logan fighting to curb his desire to hunt and kill and Stryker
attempting to use those very qualities to his own advantage.
A grim storyline, to say the least. But that’s why I love “Wolverine.” As a moviegoer, I’ve grown sick of aggressively
one-dimensional fun—far too many twenty-first century blockbusters exist solely
to charm and pander (rather than actually move or entertain). By contrast, “Wolverine” is a determinedly
brutal and tragic epic that spans as many agonized emotional outbursts as it
does continents (Logan’s journey takes him to Canada, Nigeria, and, finally,
the infamous Three Mile Island).
There’s
also Mr. Hood, whose finesse as a visual storyteller ensures that the death and
destruction endured (and sometimes caused) by Logan don’t suffocate the movie’s
visceral joys. Indeed, Mr. Hood summons
forth scenes of vicious beauty, from a graceful sojourn in the Rocky Mountains
to a gravity-defying battle on the streets of New Orleans that is equal parts
vulnerable rage and gloriously macho theatrics.
Much of those come from Mr. Jackman and his uncanny
ability to be at once tender and feral. Which
is perfect, because Logan is more than just a man and “Wolverine” is more than
just a film—it’s a prequel to the “X-Men” series, in which Logan joins a more-noble
super team.
And
yet in one of the last scenes of “Wolverine,” Logan’s heroism does take root, when
he sees rows of cages where Stryker has imprisoned countless mutant children. Transfixed by the sight of these frightening
and helpless kids, Logan stares for a moment…but only a moment, one that’s
broken when he unsheathes his claws and Mr. Gregson-Williams’ music revs up
again, barreling forward as a growling Logan shatters the locks to the cells,
freeing the captive children.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw that scene. I was amazed that in this dark world, there
could be hope, that Logan could somehow save the innocent victims of Stryker’s
cruelty, giving them a chance to run free as he once did. So yes, the world of “Wolverine” is a dark
one. But it is punctured by small acts
of goodness that blaze like the light of Mr. Jackman’s eyes, staring out into
dark summer theaters.
No comments:
Post a Comment