This review may contain minor spoilers.
Fittingly, ‘X-Men: Apocalypse’ is a film that relies heavily on gene-splicing. Bryan Singer’s second mutant trilogy conclusion plays out like the original three films on a comeback tour: we have the the heavy-handed Holocaust memorial of the first film; the snowy locations and Jean Grey sub-plots of ‘X2’, and the CGI-reliant, inconsequential deaths of ‘The Last Stand’. The latter film is openly mocked in one scene, as one of the X-Kids, after seeing ‘Return of the Jedi’, claims that the ‘third film is always the worst’. Thank En Sabeh Nur, then, that ‘Apocalypse’ just about avoids this seemingly inevitable doom.
If ‘Deadpool’ were an emoji, it would be a winky lick. It’s your sexy, bitchy millennial friend who you see once a year to distract yourself from the fact that you, the sensible one, put on a tie and joined the system. It tells you to ‘shut the fuck up’ in an affectionate way; it never passes the opportunity for an willy gag; it concludes its sentences with ‘#LOL’. And yet, after a while, your occasional, disbelieving belly laughs make way for polite titters as you realise how exhausting it is to be with someone so predictably unpredictable.
The holiday season is all about giving. While for most of us, this means a clumsily-worded Moonpig and a hastily-purchased gift card, in MovieLand it means trailers: sackfuls of them.