X-tol? X-coriate? X-tenuate?

You know the problem with the X-Men movie franchise? The problem with the X-Men movie franchise is not the tragic departure of Bryan Singer; or the casting of the GOM of the British acting establishment, whose ability to actually act turns all other participants into wooden dolls; or the sheer bulk of comic-book narrative history, any departure from which causes fanboys in the audience to gasp and faint at regular intervals. The problem with the X-Men movie franchise isn't even Wolverine's silly haircut, although I have to admit it's pretty silly. No, the problem with the X-Men franchise is the X, which means I spent ten minutes with a dictionary setting up that subject line. Now I feel sillier than Wolverine's haircut.

However, I am also pleased to relate that X3, which I witnessed this morning in the pleasant company of jo and khoi-boi, isn't nearly as bad as approximately 50% of the internet would have me believe. On the other hand, it isn't as good as the other 50% of the internet maintain, either.

Things I Liked About X-Men:

• It's a superhero movie, and I get all fangirly and breathless about superhero movies. In fact, given the mutant rationale, it's possibly the superhero movie, with limitless potential to keep on adding new and cool mutant powers to the mix. I rather fell for the Beast, particularly when he's flying through the air with all four feet bunched for action, like a giant mutant kitten pouncing on an unsuspecting gerbil.
• It's a pretty enjoyable actionfest, which I think makes more use of the inherent spectacle of masses of mutants fighting each other (or simply posing strikingly) than the first two did. Jo certainly emerged all excited and hyper, to the point where I had to ask suspiciously if she'd been at the coffee and sugar, or possibly the PCP, for several days.
• It clocks in at under two hours, which makes it pleasantly retro in this age of what, despite the fact that I heart Peter Jackson, I have to call the Swollen Tentacular Cthulhoid Blockbuster of 3-Hour Doom, whose only real benefit is its ability to inculcate bladder control in the hapless viewer.
• As the surprisingly positive Pajiba review suggests, Brett Ratner, while clearly annoying and unworthy, is not that bad a cinematic technician, and has made a reasonable stab at superficially reproducing the feel and focus of the first two films, without any of his own actual, annoyingly personalised ability to get in the way.
• The opening sequence. Giant robots, too cool.
• It features, among other eye-candy, Wolverine having his shirt disintegrated by psychic psychos. Mmmm, muscles.

Things I Didn't Like About X-Men:

• The above-mentioned superficiality. There were gestures at the psychological motivations and political issues which distinguished the first two films, but no real depth or finesse. Many of the character plots felt rushed and superficial.
• It killed, removed or otherwise shafted some of my favourite characters. I still haven't recovered from Joss doing this to us in Serenity, so I'm smarting rather.
• Waste, as in waste of good character possibilities. As d_hofryn points out, Magneto does some silly things in this film, including some unconvincing rabble-rousing. He was a deeply convincing villain in X2. Here, not so much. Phoenix is really under-utilised, her main purpose seems to be to wear a cool outfit and channel Evil Willow From Season 6. Angel, while an enormously interesting potential for oedipal angst, is simply silly, possibly even more so than Wolverine's haircut.
• The psycho psychic managed to remove all of Wolverine's clothing except the remnants of his trousers, in the inevitable Incredible Hulk-Pants effect. So difficult to get really good evil psychics these days. No follow-through.

In other news, my desk is submerged beneath four separate piles of marking, with a curious mix of vampires, medieval romance, and misguided students attempting to find parallels between Gladiator and Chaucer's Wife of Bath. I distracted myself from this suitably for most of the day not only with X-cursions, but with a visit from the wolverine_nun-spawn and her mother. (The former spent several minutes chewing a plate, although I hadn't thought she was onto solids just yet. Perhaps she's a mutant baby with titanium teeth and a desperate digestive need for ceramics). As a result of all this distraction, I will now perform my characteristic disappearance into the pile of marking, with a muffled, despairing squeak. Dispatches from the front may follow. Or not.