AndrewBloom
CONTAINS SPOILERS8/10 7 years ago
[7.8/10] *(Note: this is a review of the Extended Edition of the film.)* The blessing and curse of eternal life is a familiar one in fiction. What it means to be free from the specter of death, whether it would be liberating, or simply chain a person to this mortal coil, is a notion almost as old as storytelling itself. That’s because it’s a thematically fruitful one -- a tack that allows the creator to examine the value of a human life, fated to be finite, through the lens of the infinite.
*The Wolverine* is at its best when it takes this concept and applies it to the X-Men universe cigar-chomping, bad guy-clawing, brooder. Other movies have hinted at how Logan’s healing factor has led him to fight after fight, stretching back hundreds of years(most notably the execrable *X-men Origins: Wolverine*) but none has explored how that would leave him so empty and so in pain. This film treats Wolverine as a world-weary immortal, haunted by the things he’s seen, and the things he’s done, for so long.
The film’s premise is fairly straightforward for a superhero flick. After going into seclusion someplace cold and remote after the events of *X-Men: The Last Stand*, Logan is approached by Yukio, a sword-wielding badass whose mutant power is being able to foresee others’ deaths. She brings Logan to Tokyo to see Yashida, a dying old man whom Logan saved from the bomb at Nagasaki. Naturally, Wolverine gets lost in Yashida’s family drama, clashing with Yashida’s heir apparent son Shingen, and ends up protecting Yashida’s granddaughter Mariko from Yakuza thugs, black-clad ninjas, and other evil forces both natural and supernatural.
But what recommends *The Wolverine* is not its plot mechanics or the semi-convenient fashion in which Logan becomes embroiled in them. Instead, it’s the way these plot points all center around that same idea of whether eternal life is something to be grateful for, or something to lament. There’s some dimestore ruminations here and there, but the film gains strength from the way in which everything in its runtime lingers on this idea. From Japanese soldier who face the nuclear bomb and commit seppuku, to the symbolism of an unsavory hunter wounding and poisoning a bear without putting it out of his misery, to Yashida offering Logan death as a gift -- something to free him from the bonds of the living and the inescapable ghosts of his past.
It’s here that it becomes apparent what a boon it was for the original X-Men film to have cast Hugh Jackman as Logan. While *Origins* reduced him to spitting generic action movie one-liners (something that this film is admittedly not above), *The Wolverine* gives him more space to act, to show the damage the character is carrying with him, and the regret, memories, and hope that give his brooding weight. Jackman is excellent at conveying those conflicting sides of Wolverine -- the one that cannot help but step in to lend a hand to those in need, and the one that is so tired of having to fight, so beleaguered by all that he’s been through, that he just wants to leave it all behind and retreat into his own misery.
That misery is founded, at least in part, on director James Mangold and writers Mark Bomback and Scott Frank taking the endgame and aftermath of the regrettable *X-Men: The Last Stand* seriously. Many of the most affecting scenes in the film are those in which Logan sees apparitions of Jean Grey. In those moments, he is forced not only to relive the act of killing someone he loves dearly, but he is forced to confront the separation of that, the fact that he is destined to walk the earth, never to be able to join her in whatever comes next. Whether intended as literal or not, Jean represents the way in which such an end would be a release for Logan, a way for him not to have to carry the weight of catastrophic weapons and lost friends and blood on his hands any longer.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a mainstream superhero movie if there were not more blood to come. In that, Mangold stages some incredible and inventive action set pieces for the film, albeit ones that occasionally feel deposited into the narrative by fiat rather than natural developments. A scuffle with the Yakuza on a bullet train seems to defy the laws of physics, but creates a novel setting in which to set Wolverine to his bloody task. The way he and his foes leap and dodge support beams and each other creates a high-stakes bit of combat Similarly, a claustrophobic sword fight set in what amounts to a hospital room, with a prone patient lying in the bed, makes creative use of the space and the need for defense livens the scuffle with an object to the fight beyond “beat the bad guy.” If every comic book film needs to meet a certain action quota, Mangold does well to make it visually interesting.
To that end, *The Wolverine* is also a surprisingly beautiful film. Director of photography Ross Emery fills the frame with rich colors and scenes of natural beauty. Though the film does indulge in bits of seemingly questionable Eastern exoticism that I am not qualified to judge, it also serves as something of a tourist board video for Japan, showing the scenic beauty of the country in both its modern and classic guises.
*The Wolverine* works best when it moves like an art film, full of quiet ruminations on life and death, sumptuous visions of its main characters put into relief by their surroundings, and slow images of its protagonist moving with and against those around him. [spoiler]That’s why it mostly falls apart in the third act, when the film ceases to be this arty meditation with the occasional well-done fight scene, and becomes a bond movie, replete with a bunker and a sexy bad girl adversary named Viper to confront. It’s there that Wolverine fights an unconvincing transformer, and the film devolves into cliches and paint by numbers action movie tropes.[/spoiler]
Still, while the last part of the film drags it down, up to that point it is a surprisingly sensitive portrait of a man contending with all that he’s been through, and whether it’s worth it to continue, knowing that those he love will die, more blood will be shed, and he may not be able to escape from that cycle. Mangold and especially Jackman find the meaning in that struggle, meaning that occasionally gets bogged down in plot twists and fist-fights, but which stands out for exploring how a man who cannot die would envy the one thing we all cannot help but fear.
