X-Men

If you're looking for modern American fiction that depicts dynamic characters grappling with positive moral decisions, as opposed to dysfunctional suburbanites babbling about how neither marriage nor adultery seem to have succeeded in making them happy, your most reliable course of action, frankly, is to head to your local comic book rack. One pulp fiction you might want to pick up is X-Men, which mixes an extended parable about the nature of human identity and the problems and paradoxes of arbitrary racial classification with the obligatory super weapons and gigantic-breasted heroines.

Now the X-Men have emerged on the big screen — normally the place where subtleties come to die, especially in summer. Surprisingly and commendably, director Brian Singer and his filmmaking cronies address weighty issues from the comic book while simultaneously serving up enough supernatural action scenes to satisfy even the most mindless summer moviegoer. Introducing an entire mythology is a tall order for one movie, and Singer has to play traffic cop for an uninspiring while in this film, but overall "X-Men" delivers the goods both morally and viscerally.

Of course, Singer wouldn't have had it any other way. A man who directs films like "The Usual Suspects" and "Apt Pupil" is not going to settle for an average blast-em-up. Indeed, "X-Men" opens with an understated and powerful scene from a Jewish ghetto towards the end of World War II that eventually becomes perhaps the most moving depiction of the discovery of super powers ever in cinema. As it becomes increasingly apparent that Americans, for some reason, feel apprehensive about mutants who can beat normal people up with very little effort, Singer brings us into the film by showing how future X-es Rogue and Wolverine eventually acknowledge their mutanthood and put it to good use in fighting bad mutants.

Anna Paquin as Rogue has an expressively pretty face, but her acting, even when she discovers her super powers, is merely adequate. However, newcomer Hugh Jackman steals the show as Wolverine. Wolverine gets the most screen time of anyone in "X-Men," and Jackman makes the most of it. He projects an understated charisma, a world-weariness that yet does not descend into crippling cynicism, a dangerous yet humorous manly presence, and of course adamantium claws, when appropriate. When Paquin asks if it hurts when the claws emerge from his hands and Jackman says, "Every time," he manages to convey a lifetime of pain in those two words. Jackman may well be one of the people action filmmakers cast in action films when everyone realizes that Arnold, Mel and Bruce have all grown long in the tooth, and that would be an unquestionably good thing.

Eventually, of course, the movie sheds the mystery that has provided so much of its atmosphere and gets into a long, long exposition. Singer makes this as taut and sprightly as it can be, injecting welcome humor into the dialogue and placing essentially random action scenes smack in the middle of the explanatory material. But Singer simply can't deliver the sheer volume of information one might need to fully comprehend this universe and make an entertaining (i.e., not overlong) film at the same time, and so Singer wisely errs on the side of entertainment. While an X-Men novice will still enjoy this film, said novice will also be left wondering why a lot of stuff happens.

Singer also can't do full justice to his cast, many of whom get lost in the shuffle; Patrick Stewart, for example, plays his predictable, small role well enough that you want to see more of him. Of course, some of the cast shouldn't be done justice; Halle Berry, as fun as she is for males to look at, does not belong in this movie, as she does not project the sheer physical authority we ideally associate with Storm. This becomes apparent in the final third of the movie, in which Berry looks foolish as she battles the bad mutants.

Otherwise, "X-Men"'s finale is superstrong comic book filmmaking, featuring gasp-inducing moves that appear to defy only the more esoteric laws of physics, a beautiful fight between Wolverine and Rebecca Romijn-Stamos (and associated computer graphics) as Mystique, and authentically punny comic-book repartee. (Yes, there are a whole lot of attractive people in this film, no matter which gender strikes your fancy.) Singer directs with a sure hand, and these final action sequences manage the difficult trick of being impossible and believable at the same time. By the end of the film, you'll be totally ready for the sequel which the final dialogue so obviously portends. Perhaps the expository section of the film reeks a bit of useless pulp, but otherwise "X-Men" packs in the summer film goodies while staying true to its source material, and in this case there can be few higher compliments.

HEY, KID! YOUR MUTANT POWER MUST BE PRETERNATURAL STUPIDITY

...and I would like it to be known that I reviewed this movie fairly even though there was this annoying 12-year-old with whom I was playing Armrest Wars throughout the entire film. For those of you who do not fly on airplanes or go to movies a lot, "Armrest Wars" is what happens when two people attempt to utilize one armrest. Except this kid was like letting his elbow come into my seat and jab me, which is out of line, as we say. Then during the climactic fight scene he freaking drives his knee right into my leg for some reason. And I don't think this kid would have been there if the movie screening had been, let's say, "French People Talking." The only good thing about the whole experience was that it was at MPAA and now I know that Desson Howe is reviewing this film for the Washington Post. Expect it to "disappoint."

[Nevertheless,] It was so like totally worth skipping work to see this movie. In fact, I'll go farther: If anyone has anything cool to do that involves me skipping work, please tell me about it right now. I'll do it and love you forever. (Hmmm..maybe that's not the best inducement.) I'll pay you a quarter.

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