Please Stop Talking About Hugh Jackman's Abs

One crucial way that Deadpool and Wolverine failed to deliver on its hotshot dissident promises.

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Since its release two weeks ago (and even prior to that, due to a seemingly limitless pool of PR work), Deadpool and Wolverine has been the name on everyone's lips. But there's one thing in particular that audiences are wanting their lips on: Hugh Jackman's sculpted, rock-hard abs.

Looking at the surge of thirst sweeping social media right now, you'd think Wolverine's abs were first billed on the poster... Ryan Reynolds who??? What is this movie even about????? Sorry, I couldn't hear anything over the sound of Hugh Jackman's shirt conveniently shredding off.

And yet: amidst all the noise, no one seems interested in discussing the total and complete lack of substance present in this glamour-muscle-mania.

It would be hard to argue that body positivity (or even neutrality) has reached the superhero genre yet. We've had some false starts- Robert Pattinson claiming he didn't bother dieting for The Batman, before rescinding those statements later while describing his boiled fish and rice cake regimen- but on the whole our superheroes have remained jacked, toned, and oiled up. Our movie stars are still risking cardiac arrest for their six-packs. Our tabloids are still sensationalizing the lethal risks actors like Christian Bale and Matthew McConaughey take to "get into character".

But as revolting and frustrating as the Crash Diet Cultural Movement is in general, it somehow feels even more contemptible coming from Deadpool and Wolverine. For a movie almost onanistically smug about its own subversiveness, Deadpool and Wolverine utterly fails to deliver on its main premise.

Deadpool can wink at the camera and joke that pegging is new to Disney but not new to him. The characters can curse, break the fourth wall, be silly, be unserious, be tongue in cheek, be vulgar, be shocking. But a superhero with a realistic body (or, god forbid, a dad bod!)? Simply unthinkable. How dare you. Yuck.

This film has been heralded by everyone and their agent as the ostentatious, uncensored antidote to pop culture's rising boredom with all-American patriots and caped Boy(s) Next Door, and it's the truth of that statement that makes the fetishization of Hugh Jackman's body such a display of hypocrisy. It's the ultimate sell-out; a marked reminder that these movies are- above all else- a bid to get as many tickets sold as possible. And audiences will eat it up no matter what.

This summer, Deadpool had a perfect opportunity to live up to its scandal-inducing ambitions by changing its approach to the cult-like microcosm of celebrity starvation diets. By pushing back against one of Hollywood's most stubborn (and asinine) edicts. By declaring "fuck this noise", taking a chill pill, and giving Hugh Jackman a slice of pizza and a beer.

It- disappointingly but unsurprisingly- chose to do the opposite. Instead, Jackman purportedly ate 6000 calories worth of (seemingly unseasoned, based on pictures from his Instagram) tilapia and green beans daily for months to prepare for this role. He claims it was "worth it", but I can't help but disagree.

In the wake of this cultural hysteria surrounding Wolverine's "perfect physique", we have to think critically: why is Hollywood so allergic to celebrating natural aging and natural bodies? Why isn't Hugh Jackman's everyday, healthy appearance good enough? And why are so many millions of people reinforcing the dangerous messages that diet culture sends by swan-diving gleefully into the objectification of Deadpool's co-lead? The answer- as it usually is- seems to be a love affair with diet culture rooted so deep that even the Merc with a Mouth himself can't challenge it.

There's little we can do to convince our superhero action stars to skip leg day and eat a meal that doesn't look like prison food (except maybe DM Hugh Jackman a couple articles about set point theory or something). And diet culture can't be burned down in one day (god, I wish). But we have to keep thinking for ourselves. For a movie so obsessed with breaking the rules, why did Deadpool chicken out of showing us something even sexier than rippling abs: the authentic and real body of a healthy, attractive, 55-year-old man?

And finally: how long are we as audience members willing to settle for the trite, gutless attempts at radicalism that the film industry keeps feeding us?

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