Writer: Skottie Young / Artist: Scott Hepburn / Marvel
Oh Wow, Drag Me
Oh wow, I felt so dragged while reading this comic. Deadpool is your favorite clown in an existential crisis and I don’t think I could have this any other way. My emotions about this unlimited series keeps flip-flopping towards love, and reluctant enjoyment. But honestly, this issue hit me in so many places, because yo, are we going to talk about passive-aggressive suicidal tendencies or nah? Deadpool is as “Chaotic Neutral” as you can get; hands down. Chaotic neutral Deadpool, is having a healing factor so strong it practically makes you invincible* and you still present yourself in clear and present danger to get killed.
When your purpose feels as if it is not being fulfilled, there’s this dry, consistent loop you might feel placed in. Essentially just waking up, and existing, but not having any experience worthwhile pursuing. Immortality plus failure is one of my favorite DP comedy equations, and yet a metaphor for my life. The inability to die* makes reality much harder to soak in. I feel watched. I felt the most empathy or Deadpool when I realized death was the most exciting thing he could have experienced. Young gave me enough feels to make me guilty cackle and that’s all I need for today.
Quick, Hold My Existential Crisis Juice!
Now let me tell you ’bout our good artist and savior Scott Hepburn. I don’t think the darkness would fit DP as smoothly without him. There was this jaunting vibe that I couldn’t lift. I was both enamored and heartbroken by the color scales. Of course, that color popping contrast is always important as a “light at the end of the tunnel” metaphor. Nah. Scott was like we going to give you these dull colors, but we goin’ make it pop because depression is like that. Poppin’ ass sadness. Sometimes the shapes felt out of place, which I feel like it elevated the piece even more.
Sometimes sadness is jaunting, at times it feels out of place. Maybe the light does not always reflect the possibilities after sadness. It felt like what was going on right here, right now. Nothing else mattered but this illusion of being caged even in open spaces. Give me Deadpool in all of his existential crisis. In pain, without the dick jokes. In prime chaotic neutral. Give me Deadpool, even when Deadpool doesn’t want to be Deadpool.