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Deadpool 2: a review

The movie is about protecting youth, yet "youthfulness," being vulnerable and showing unabashed enthusiasm -- making fully evident your needfulness -- is set up for gross punishment in this film, by our hero. The group of individuals that are degraded by having to go through an audition where two enthroned nerds (one of whom was already telling a hopeful young man that heroism comes in being servile to tasks which, in actually delivering on doing them, by common parlance means accepting you exist for nothing further than, as only ever to be degraded) gauge your applicability for what proves a show-group -- the longest trial involves a young woman, being perhaps encouraged to surrender her pride and resort to begging, for ostensibly possessing no talent at all (she succeeds owing to "luck," which in showbusiness is usually synonymous for a good-looking but otherwise undistinguished talent succeeding through the homophone of "luck," "f*ck"ing... she's the protected good lay) -- are "accidently" each mutilated, reduced to gore, before they've had a chance to perform at all. Show you have the desire and/or the right to be recognized, and bad things happen to you. The incident where an assembled and hopeful team gets destroyed before doing anything comes from MacGruber, and in a movie where so many movie referents are explicitly recognized we notice that the one film that actually had some deserving moments but which has never had acclaim, is encouraged to continue to know the shame. Though the substance for the key comedic part of the film, no recogniton... Deadpool 2 claims for itself all the prize-bits, but is glad that some will notice, and hopefully be discouraged by, the blatant stealing and shortchanging we have all agreed not to notice and indeed deem impossible to occur, in a movie so evidently unpretentious, un-making claims for itself, it's encyclopedic in its acknowledging its every inspiration. We also notice that Terry Crews, the actor who tried but failed to open up the #MeToo movement so that it delineated crimes against men as well, is further left hanging here, as he's the "superhero" who emerges into a new aerial atmosphere with pride, only for purposes of suffering quite a terrible and traumatic crash-landing down to earth, the only moment in the film where you're likely to genuinely flinch... continue to further know the shame, earthbound b*itch. (The novelist Juan Diaz seemed to be up to the same thing about a month ago with his NewYorker reveal of past abuse, but has become more someone who only made a play there against accusations against him as himself a predator that he knew were forthcoming, seemingly by society a safer spot to be in for a man, the preferred position to be "caught out" in, than to admit some man made sexual use of you and just have it stand... at that. Being ALSO a bit of a Weinstein, is the only way to administer, to re-cast, your only now being a Terry Crews, because with the addition of that somehow your masculinity still stands, is where society seems to be at.)

Finding yourself amongst those who actually want to be nice to you, that would take you into an environment different from what you've ever known, where adults would be alert to you, all your subterfuges, but also accepting and kind, is completely closed off in this film: the film wants you to swim amongst people who MIGHT be kind, but might not be... these are the people to work out your troubles with. Being within this area is almost like being in a squalid form of "safe zone" where no one who can be made to seem natural to this environment, as not seemingly naturally extraneous to it, is not put in the position where they have any real right to hold anyone to any certain standards... they're never the child who wouldn't to some extent buckle to the authority who told you you didn't actually see, feel, think something. Deadpool can kill someone simply because he looks like a sexual predator, and it's because this particular individual seems natural to this environment where the temerity to insist that rules apply to all, does not exist. Colossus ultimately fails to leave this "universe" and belong to the one next door, the X-Men one, that he seemingly could wholly belong to, in his reproach and rejection of Deadpool over this, because Colossus, too, has been adjudged of insufficient stature to qualify as a person belonging outside this frame; probably his desire to be so interested in helping Deadpool reform himself, as it seems an over-investment in something his subject never needs subject himself to -- a comic, blasphemous ignorance of the environment in which he is making his appeal in -- seals his fate as not-past-the-threshold... a child would know what you do not (Professor X would have sized the situation up and said, no, I will entangle myself with you only on different turf, and would have vanished and never returned until Deadpool was in a X-Men movie.)

If you like the Deadpool universe you are admitting to the world that if an authoritarian regime came in, you would agree to miss where the real crimes are being committed, and therefore execute your performance of heroic fidelity for the weak and vulnerable only in venues where it wouldn't challenge the crimes of the state, where crimes of this sort are occurring in abundance, only keep the public thinking of themselves in the way we've decided everyone good must... God, we all hate child molesters oh so much.

The brown taxi-cab driver who's developing a taste for blood, using his car to run over people, as well as the brown boy, who's becoming his own version of Saddam Hussein, someone who's only a step or two away from drinking the blood of his victims as everything around him becomes an emulsified hump of, to-him, glorious red gore, are not safe in this movie from being mentally switched from "our side" to "wrong side." In appearance, accentuating a good representation, but perhaps only to deepen and extend associations of the non-good we already hold. The taxi-driver is further compromised in the sense that his killing the headmaster reveals a mindset that is so mostly intent on acquiring approval, so dead-focused on this, that any sensitivity for whether actually being the one who deals out the death would put you in the category of the "unclean" yourself, is disarmed. The heroes had gained equipoise, a removed, stately, settled status, in dispatching off of him and letting him live, and here "you're" still in eager-beaver, rage-lust mode, and fully on top of him. In movies that showcase this compromised posturing, usually it's your fate to share your victims', as all that can be categorized as ongoing dirty-business when the main protagonists have resolved themselves as done-with-that and unto other affairs, is cleaned off. Not quite directly applicable in this case, but it's resonance is: You're the one who actually involved himself in killing the king, not simply doing the sordid business of perhaps agreeing to its necessity... their dirt has spread onto you, and so you too must go.

The headmaster is short and beakish, and commands an army of homosexual pedophiles. This is Hollywood, as the alt-right sees it... I'm not sure we only saw the Catholic hierarchy, as the movie pretends it only meant to represent, that is, an innocuous, accepted category of "villain," that if still political at all tips a hat only to progressive concerns/causes, not new, fresh and more dangerous ones, that the alt-right has as an industry been putting together in a fervour.


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