The X-Men franchise holds an unusual place in superhero movie history. Like Blade and Spider-Man, it was a pivotal moment in making them mainstream, as it was unafraid to take both its audience and source material seriously. On the other hand, parts of it feel dated, especially given the strides superhero films have made since. Then there’s its major voice having skeletons in his closet. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
With Deadpool & Wolverine debuting next month, I figured now was a good time to revisit these movies. In particular, I rewatched the first two entries from Bryan Singer. I know there’ve been more entries since, even from Singer, but the original two remain an interesting snapshot of the early-2000’s. They not only helped rehabilitate the image of the superhero, they signalled a new wave of features willing to be deep and dark simultaneously. More than enough about them also holds up in 2024.
Let’s start with the obvious: the X-Men IP was always “woke”. Even in the 1960’s, when they made their debut, superheroes born with powers being shunned and marginalized was an apt metaphor for racism. It makes sense, as they came out during The Civil Rights Movement. Since then, the characters have tackled all kinds of societal injustices, including making one of their antagonists, Magneto, a Jewish Holocaust survivor. This hasn’t been subtle.
It's no surprise that Singer, an openly bisexual man, took interest in these characters after watching X-Men: The Animated Series. He was never big on the campier elements, something the films threw shade at, but the grounded drama spoke personally. It made sense, therefore, that he’d fuse his experiences as a queer male with the X-Men’s race allegory, using them to comment on homophobia in The US. (Remember that gay marriage wasn’t legal when X-Men debuted in 2000.)
The movies capitalize on this. The first one introduces “The Mutant Registration Act”, a callback to the homophobia of The FBI and The CIA during the 60’s and 70’s, and uses it as a springboard for “the outsider” with Senator Kelly. Kelly, an anti-mutant politician, lobbies heavily for this act, until he’s turned into a mutant by Magneto and dies. It’s possible to read this transformation as an allegory for HIV, and there’s a parallel with how he’s treated before and after. Even in death, Mystique takes on his persona, showing how little agency gay people were allowed at the time.
Queer coding also shows through how the different mutants interact with one another and society. Rogue, the MacGuffin of the first movie, can’t touch people without hurting them, even putting her boyfriend into a coma. Mystique, the shapeshifter, is a metaphor for masking, something she does frequently, yet feels she shouldn’t have to do. Bobby, who can freeze everything, is asked by his mother if he’s ever tried not being a mutant. Even Magneto, the extremist, behaves the way he does out of anger and resentment. His experience as a Holocaust survivor has reinforced his ideology, and he feels as though humanity’s inferior to mutants.
The movies capitalize on this. The first one introduces “The Mutant Registration Act”, a callback to the homophobia of The FBI and The CIA during the 60’s and 70’s, and uses it as a springboard for “the outsider” with Senator Kelly. Kelly, an anti-mutant politician, lobbies heavily for this act, until he’s turned into a mutant by Magneto and dies. It’s possible to read this transformation as an allegory for HIV, and there’s a parallel with how he’s treated before and after. Even in death, Mystique takes on his persona, showing how little agency gay people were allowed at the time.
Queer coding also shows through how the different mutants interact with one another and society. Rogue, the MacGuffin of the first movie, can’t touch people without hurting them, even putting her boyfriend into a coma. Mystique, the shapeshifter, is a metaphor for masking, something she does frequently, yet feels she shouldn’t have to do. Bobby, who can freeze everything, is asked by his mother if he’s ever tried not being a mutant. Even Magneto, the extremist, behaves the way he does out of anger and resentment. His experience as a Holocaust survivor has reinforced his ideology, and he feels as though humanity’s inferior to mutants.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect is the casting. Ian McKellen and Alan Cumming are gay in real life, and they bring their life experiences to Magneto and Nightcrawler. Ignore the extremism of Magneto and look at how he interacts with Professor Xavier: doesn’t their relationship scream homoerotic subtext? And Nightcrawler being a devout Christian isn’t unlike people who grapple with the uneasy marriage between faith and sexuality. It’s possible other cast members are gay too, but these are some of the more inspired ones.
Speaking of which, the casting is often spot-on. Much has been made of Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, but some of the others deserve shoutouts. Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, who are friends in real life, as Magneto and Professor Xavier means their chemistry feels like an extension of reality. They’re Shakespearean-level thespians, yet their subdued performances heighten their characters and bring them to life. Not every other character gets to shine, but they do.
It makes sense. Singer, fresh off of The Usual Suspects, is a character director. He struggles with whimsy, but he’s at his best with the grounded and personal. That’s why Magneto and Stryker as the main antagonists works so well, as they feel like real threats. Never mind that Magneto’s one of Marvel Comics’ greatest antagonists, which says a lot given Spider-Man’s rogues gallery!
Speaking of which, the casting is often spot-on. Much has been made of Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, but some of the others deserve shoutouts. Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, who are friends in real life, as Magneto and Professor Xavier means their chemistry feels like an extension of reality. They’re Shakespearean-level thespians, yet their subdued performances heighten their characters and bring them to life. Not every other character gets to shine, but they do.
It makes sense. Singer, fresh off of The Usual Suspects, is a character director. He struggles with whimsy, but he’s at his best with the grounded and personal. That’s why Magneto and Stryker as the main antagonists works so well, as they feel like real threats. Never mind that Magneto’s one of Marvel Comics’ greatest antagonists, which says a lot given Spider-Man’s rogues gallery!
All the more unfortunate that Singer’s skeletons make enjoying his films difficult in hindsight. His interactions with his cast has soured people’s reception, with attempts to discredit his impact. I find this unfair, as not all great artists are good people. Singer’s X-Men tenure helped many gay superhero fans feel seen, and rewriting that is as much of a slap in the face as claiming the Harry Potter books weren’t influential because of JK Rowling’s politics. You can appreciate something while recognizing that its creator’s an awful person...
Besides, the X-Men movies are at their most consistent under Singer. Ignoring X-Men: Apocalypse, which had its moments, he seemed best-suited for these movies because he cared about them. You see this with the noticeable dip in quality when he left, as well as how he managed to resurrect the franchise via X-Men: Days of Future Past. Singer may have not liked the campiness of the material, but he nailed the drama. Which is why it sucks that he’s a vile man.
Like Sam Raimi and the Spider-Man films, Singer cared. And like Raimi, he was talented. But while Raimi fully-embraced the camp of Spider-Man, Singer tried to avoid it. It’s unfortunate, but these movies weren’t bad. Nor does it mean that they didn’t leave their impact.
Besides, the X-Men movies are at their most consistent under Singer. Ignoring X-Men: Apocalypse, which had its moments, he seemed best-suited for these movies because he cared about them. You see this with the noticeable dip in quality when he left, as well as how he managed to resurrect the franchise via X-Men: Days of Future Past. Singer may have not liked the campiness of the material, but he nailed the drama. Which is why it sucks that he’s a vile man.
Like Sam Raimi and the Spider-Man films, Singer cared. And like Raimi, he was talented. But while Raimi fully-embraced the camp of Spider-Man, Singer tried to avoid it. It’s unfortunate, but these movies weren’t bad. Nor does it mean that they didn’t leave their impact.
It’s hard to reconcile Singer’s behaviour with his vision for the X-Men property, but he definitely left his mark. His movies aren’t perfect-in an attempt to veer from camp, sometimes his work is campier than the comics-but they’re fun. And they speak to the human condition in a way that only a visionary can. So while I don’t begrudge people for taking issue with his oeuvre, I think these movies are better than people give credit. They at least deserve praise for what they did right!
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