X-Men is less exciting than getting murdered

by Ben

Comic book adaptations have come a long way since 2000, and the production value gap is more noticeable in X-Men than anywhere else. Quite honestly, I was shocked at how awful the shelf life of this film really is; it used to be one of my favourites “back in the day,” and now, nine years later, it looks and feels as cheap as a quick kick to the nuts. From “special” effects to acting to embarrassingly-offensive exchanges between characters, X-Men is a nine-year-old hunk of shit which needed to be put out to pasture long ago.


Ghost Rider, Catwoman, Daredevil, and Fantastic Four have come and gone in the last nine years, as well as a Hulk reboot and the beginnings of two megafranchises (Iron Man, Batman) -yet X-Men is commonly considered the originator of the modern era of live-action comic-to-film translations. As I watched through its entire 100 minutes [in agony], I attempted desperately again and again to grasp at what made this such a gem. I dare say it was not the special effects; I have seen more realism from a cheaply-crafted dildo than any of the colourful-yet-so-bad-you-want-to-laugh sequences contained within.

Likewise, the acting is assuredly not what attracted viewers in 2000. James Mardsen’s presentation of Cyclops is somewhere between Crow T. Robot and the direction Adam Sandler’s career has been going since, well, Happy Gilmore. Halle Berry as Storm makes controlling the weather about as exciting as sticking a sharpened steel stake through my balls. Even the veteran actors, Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, deliver very yawn-worthy performances. The one and only believably competent acting job in the entirety of the film is accomplished by none other than Australia’s Hugh Jackman as Wolverfuckinine, the manliest X-Man since Bill Romanowski handed J.J. Stokes a new face in 1997. And Rebecca Romijin as a “supposedly-sexy” life-size smurf? Is that really the best 2000’s Hollywood has to offer?

Furthermore, the words exiting these actor’s mouths combine to form such brilliant lines as “Do you know what happens to a toad when it is struck by lightning? The same thing that happens to everything else.” Actually, every technical aspect of X-Men is a relative disaster. Bryan Singer’s directing talent is on par with Ethan Albright’s skills as 53-overall Madden player, or for non-sports fans (gently slap yourself in the face), he is as adept at directing motion pictures as George Wallace is at acceptance speechgiving. The sets all have a cheap, fake look about them, and the editing is mixed up so out of sequence it’s as if a brand-new off-the-shelf baby crawled around in the film room and jammed bits and pieces together and screamed “this good! This oscar! Me hungry!”

X-Men really has no 2009 value as a film, which, in all honestly, is very disappointing. I have X2 and The Last Stand sitting by on top of my to-watch DVD pile, so I hope 2003 and 2006 were far better years for comic book films. Then again, up is the only direction from here.

Conclusion: If Helen Keller wrote and directed a superhero film, it would be superior to X-Men

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