Hugh Jackman was recently named People’s Sexiest Man Alive. I personally find him to be dull as dishwater, if nice and smiley with it. His Wolverine, though, is the coolest creature to wear a pair of jeans since James Dean (must be the sideburns). He was everyone’s favourite in the X-Men films, so a stand-alone adventure makes complete commercial sense. Whether it would make artistic sense was not so clear.
Luckily, I can report that this account of Wolverine’s life before taking residence in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters stands up well against the modern Marvel pantheon of film adaptations: not as great as the first few Spider-Man or X-Men films, but it beats hands down the lower tier of Hulk, Ghost Rider and Electra.
Jackman is brilliant, wandering around like the cock of the walk. His romance with Lynn Collins is quite sweet, and Liev Schreiber is enjoyably jowly and moody as half-brother Sabretooth.
While this could have been improved with a bigger canvas and more ambition, you get what you need for a Wolverine film: a storyline that actually makes sense within its own universe, deadpan one liners, thrilling fights, and lots of adamantium claws. Job done.
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