Any film that has you laughing out loud in the first ten seconds of runtime – and by laughing I mean howling – has fulfilled its promise of entertainment. Any film that ends with you laughing out loud – and by this time I mean snickering – has schooled you in how to please an audience. Deadpool is that film.
I was born in Memphis, raised in Southern Baptist country, reading the Bible and Marvel Comics at the same time, I am a Bronze Age baby, who grew up with Wyle E. Coyote, Bugs Bunny and Vietnam in the rear view mirror.
To understand my point of view, of a graphic designer geek turned pastor and Bible teacher, and no one is more surprised than me, you can believe when I say I laughed every minute of this wondrously profane romantic adventure that proved, once again, that there is a God, He has a sense of humor, and He created the gorgeous Morena Baccarin so we could believe that Wade Wilson, a disgracefully charming mercenary with perfect comedic timing, would go through Hell to stay with her.
It is hard to tell this to the inexperienced [clueless] geek [fanboy with a large taste for naked women], but Deadpool is first, and foremost, what it is supposed to be: a romance of heroic – nay, superheroic – proportions.
There is no snark left unsaid by this red-suited bon vivant who [minor spoiler] had to go through hades to become an unkillable, irrepressible soldier of fortune with machine-gun delivery – and free two-for-one kills on Tuesday [ladies, take note]. At every single opportunity, Ryan Reynolds serves up some 4th-Wall shattering commentary that made you love him and his character more and more.
Deadpool works because of this central truth we see played out graphically on-screen: for the ones we love we will go through Hell itself.
G. K. Chesterton said that marriage is really a forging between two different types of human beings. Men and women essentially dislike the other’s ways, so they must be forged together as hot as possible so they will stick together when things cool off. Let me say it this way: the “forging” of Wade Wilson with his girlfriend is really, really hot. And since every single time I see an image of Morena Baccarin [Dr. Leslie Tompkins from Gotham], I am reminded I am a man, I’ll have to submit that Deadpool is indeed a love story of believable yet epic proportions.
I absolutely agree that Deadpool is not for children to see, nor the whitish souls who seek to remain pure of all erotic imagery. I absolutely respect that [I did avert my eyes]. That has been my choice for several years, since my family has a real hard time saying “No” to things we like that are bad for us.
Deadpool is a movie for those who have been run over by life and by the world. It is a movie for anyone who wishes they could have one more day with the person they loved. It’s for people who have been permanently scarred and have only one reason to go on, and it is a duty to a person. That’s pretty heavy, ain’t it? Deadpool is a heavy movie, when you remove the humor. Like Forest Gump, the themes we are playing with will either make you laugh or cry.
Wade Wilson has chosen to laugh at the universe. We who have seen what it cost him would not laugh in any other film – but here is the genius of Deadpool: Wade is the one making all the jokes.
He starts the jokes. He runs the jokes. He is the joke. He refuses to let you sit there and watch him make a total fool of himself without you joining in. He’s been abused, killed, mistreated and betrayed and he’s still moving on.
In the end, the theater was not laughing at Deadpool.
The theater was laughing with Deadpool – and with Ryan Reynolds.
That is why it was such a great film to see, especially for us pastors.