The opening credits of Deadpool 2, like its prequel, spell out the kind of subversive hammering you’re about to receive. In this portion, barring the film’s title, nothing else plays straight. The film is “written by” “The Real Villains”, “in association with” “I don’t understand”, “directed by” “One of the guys who killed the dog in John Wick” – the last bit is true, David Leitch, Deadpool 2’s filmmaker, was an uncredited director for the Keanu Reeves gun fu. In the firmament of superhero films, Deadpool was a delightful aberration, an exercise in course correction, marked by silly, self-deprecating humour that called out the exaggerations of the genre and its numerous preoccupations. In the swirl of super-serious superheroes, Deadpool stood out – the bumbling, swearing, fourth-wall breaking mutant who wasn’t obsessed with the right amount of menace or machismo. But every trick has a shelf value; every stunt – no matter how smart – runs the risk of being jaded with each subsequent performance. So yes, Deadpool was sharp, inventive and funny – even though its humour seemed to be overdone at times. But Deadpool 2, sharing some vital traits of its predecessor, had to answer a simple question reserved for almost all sequels, more so for a piece originating from an inordinately self-aware film: What’s new?And if you, like me, see the dubbed version of the film in Hindi (thanks to the press show in Delhi) then the answer is straightforward: Ranveer Singh. If Ryan Reynolds – playing the role of Wade Wilson, a mercenary turned mutant, the film’s anti-hero – was acerbic and funny in Deadpool, then Ranveer aptly adapts that aural eccentricity and restlessness in the sequel of its Hindi counterpart. Watching a dubbed version is often a jarring and watered-down experience, but the writing here is loyal to the language, throwing local pop cultural references that not just ring true in general, but are also in-sync with Deadpool’s humour – gags that are smart, sassy and self-aware.Before the opening credits roll, Ranveer’s Wade calls Deadpool 2 a “parivarik (family)” film, referencing his own Ram-Leela and Bajirao Mastani, saying they all fulfil a basic criterion of the genre: the presence of a dead body in the first few minutes. Blind Al (Leslie Uggams), Wade’s blind, elderly roommate from the first film, is called “Nainsukh” (it’s one of those old, lame jokes that never gets old). When she consoles Wade about his wife’s death, holding forth on the uncertainties of life, Singh says, “Arre Gulzaar saahab, aap kab aaiye?” The film then rattles off a series of Bollywood references, ranging from Jolly LLB to Singham to Dangal to a delicious dig at Bombay Velvet. Not just that, the film also drops funny and silly political references, including a line that goes, “At least someone will see achhe din”, and later, Wade asks an X-Force applicant to link his Aadhar card to be eligible for an audition. But bucking the formula can be a formula, too, and even a subversive rendition needs a story. In Deadpool 2, that story struggles to intrigue. After the death of his wife, Wade, now “an X-Men trainee”, is on a mission to save a mutant boy, Russell Collins (Julian Dennison), from Cable (Josh Brolin), a time travelling cybernetic mutant. Wade cobbles a team up comprising motley members who, to no one’s surprise, encompass different genders and ethnicities. But with the exception of one potentially fascinating character, Peter (Rob Delaney), an utterly ordinary guy in the sea of superheroes, the rest fail to light our imagination, let us see this film in new ways. The Deadpool series is up against a formidable challenge. It is a superhero film that, while revelling in the elements of the genre, has to make fun of its brethren – a franchise film that has to make fun of the franchise itself. It is never easy. Deadpool succeeded to a large extent (although its overblown praise was probably an indication of how jaded the superhero shtick had become). Deadpool 2, which needs more convincing reasons to exist than its prequel, turns tedious when its jokes, clinging hard to their template, and gets stale. The irony here is too big to go unnoticed, but one that is unlikely to cause deep disenchantment.
