The first scene in the unabashedly R-rated Deadpool freezes the gun-toting, spandex-clad hero inside an out-of-control SUV, as it tumbles in super slo-mo. Deadpool, it seems, is a multi-tasker; he gouges out a bad guy's eyes, stuffs a cigarette lighter down another's throat, and watches a just-fired bullet plow through a third goon's skull. But just when you think this might seem gratuitous, the opening credits roll: "Starring God's Perfect Idiot!", "Produced by Asshats!", "Directed by an Overpaid Tool!"
This movie is not taking itself seriously. But should you?
Deadpool, starring Ryan Reynolds as a loudmouthed mercenary, is intoxicated by excess and determined to pleasure the niche audience that loves the character from Marvel Comics. And I do mean loves. My theater was packed with men and women dressed in their finest Deadpool-branded threads. They laughed at every joke and cackled at every kill. These are people who love Deadpool. I'm agnostic. You're probably the same way.