‘Logan’ Is The Wolverine We Deserve | Film Review

In 2000, Hugh Jackman exploded into the zeitgeist and established himself as the greatest thrasher in the Marvel universe, Wolverine. 17 years later, after cementing his stature as the rightful and definitive heir to this iconic role, he returns for his swan song in Logan, an R-rated trip through profanity and gore destined to shock more than a parent or two with its sheer brutality. This is not the cartoon version of the X-Men character, not even a little bit. These claws don’t clang or miss major arteries with every swipe, one attack here and you’re liable to return home sans an arm or two.

Reuniting with The Wolverine director, James Mangold, became a risky venture for Jackman. This is not a by-the-numbers comic book flick, stuffed with groaning asides like “You know what happens when a toad gets struck by lightning?” No, Logan is attempting something deeper, perhaps even prolific. There is a nuance behind Hugh Jackman’s eyes this go-round, a glimmer into the soul of a caged beast, too fatigued to take on a fight anymore. Too isolated to even care. Logan is no longer a reluctant hero, he’s a man waiting for fate’s cruel hand. Much like the actor himself, Logan is finally prepared to put his entire journey behind him.

Walking into Logan, momentum has become a Cherokee drum, beating the back of our heads every day with the marketing messages that this is a masterful final stroke for Jackman’s Wolverine. This build-up is a double-edged sword, as now expectations are swelling. With every breath of hype that this is pound-for-pound the bloodiest superhero film in ages, my inner voice became my own worst enemy. See, I’m a critic yes, but more importantly: I’m a fan.

Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine has been my most cherished embodiment of a beloved comic book character (Ryan Reynolds, give me a few more movies and we’ll talk). Even in films that were devoid of structure or sense, and even when he was called upon for mere seconds of screen time, Jackman has poured every ounce of his very soul into every iteration of this character. As Wolverine, he has given life to a daunting challenge on the page. As an actor, he has respected and charmed his fans like few artists in history. In case I’m losing my point, I walked in with the heaviest of expectations, the dreaded cloud of “hype”.

So how did Logan fare?

If you walk in expecting another glossy comic book flick, something “fun”, prepare for disappointment. This is not the Wolverine of X-Men: Origins, or even Mangold’s The Wolverine, tonally this is more akin to Hell or High Water. The year is 2029, mutants have been all but annihilated, and Logan – formerly known as James Howlett – has become disillusioned with the entirety of his existence. After spending his days chauffeuring around tourists to stockpile enough funds to buy a ship and sail away from the human race, he returns to a remote hideout of sorts to care for an unstable Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart), a beautiful yet dangerous mind to have unbalanced. This despondent lifestyle comes crashing down on Logan’s scruffy head when Laura (Dafne Keen) – a mysterious young mutant with a similar pathos – arrives in his life, bringing with her a military assault led by the sadistic Pierce (Boyd Holbrook, evoking a worthy adversary.).

Instead of fueling a carbon copy of every other comic-inspired film, stuffed to the gills with bright colors and ludicrous set-pieces, the story here serves more as a vessel for defining Logan’s personal journey. For almost two centuries now, he has wandered the Earth fighting the good fight, only to arrive at the realization that it might all be for naught. His legacy is relegated to legends recaptured in comics and retellings of past exploits by strangers. His healing power is diminishing, his friends are all gone or dying, simply put: Logan has nothing left to live for. Even as he confronts himself in every sense of the word, Laura repeatedly tosses the possibility of redemption in Logan’s lap. As he and Charles set out to deliver Laura to Eden, a seemingly mythical land of safe harbor, their journey soon rivals our own.

Yes, the R rating affords the film an ability to expand the dialogue with profanity laced epiphanies around every corner. There is a childlike giggle that hit me the first time Stewart’s Professor X drops the F-bomb on us, similar to your grandpa cussing out your dad at Sunday brunch. It allows the narrative to explore themes while flowing with a more grounded and mature element that no X-Men film has even sniffed in comparison.

Also thanks to the rating change, Mangold is able to ratchet up the violence, even affording Keen’s Laura the opportunity to pounce on foes with the ferociousness of a depraved spider-monkey. And if you ever wanted to finally see the visceral savagery Wolverine and his adamantium claws could exact on loose flesh, prepare to bounce in your seat with sadistic glee. Every slash and gash seized my body with intensity, for the first time I felt the harsh realities and helplessness of a Wolverine attack. So many claws puncture eye sockets and detach limbs, Logan could open his own bowling alley made solely from human skulls by the film’s end.

As excited as I was to finally see the utter destruction of extremities at his claws, nothing prepared me for the humanity of the performances. This is the end of the road for Jackman’s Wolverine, and it’s a harsh ride. Keen’s Laura spends much of the film an untamed child, giving Logan the opportunity to peer into his own contempt for this world, while eventually understanding its potential. There are aspects of the film that were of little surprise to me, but the riffing and sheer emotional gut punch Jackman and Stewart left me with definitely was. For too long, I’ve personally taken these talented thespians for granted as I sat casually on the side, chugging down popcorn and nodding my head with approval at their adventures. Logan broke that down with a straight upper cut to my anticipations, while Hugh Jackman held my beating heart firmly in his hands throughout the proceedings. For his exquisite performance alone, I say thank you, Hugh.

Stark. Bleak. Honest. Fulfilling. These are the words I would use to describe James Mangold’s Oscar-worthy Logan. I came for a symphony of carnage and a fond farewell, and every expectation was exceeded with poetic symmetry. Hugh Jackman has beautifully honored his promise to leave audiences with a fitting send-off to his beloved character, crafting a tale of familial purpose and redemption, and has done so with stunning humility and grace.

Logan is the Wolverine we deserve.