Deadpool & Wolverine review: This time, the MCU is the villain


Being a Deadpool defender can be difficult. In just about any media where he appears, the character is exactly what his strongest critics think he is: an anti-hero with a strong affinity for irreverent violence, and a juvenile, obnoxious vessel for meta asides and a bushel of dick jokes. (“A bushel of dicks” would be a pretty solid Deadpool-ism.) I wouldn’t begrudge anyone for finding all that off-putting, because it is. But there’s also more to the character. Deadpool comes with a deep pathos. When that’s used effectively, it’s resulted in endearingly odd stories about those who are deemed (or feel) unlovable. That’s a potent emotional space for a summer blockbuster to inhabit. Deadpool & Wolverine — the third movie in Ryan Reynolds’ Deadpool trilogy, and the first under the Disney banner — pays lots of lip service to that pathos. Then it punts it out of our multiverse, to Alioth-knows-where.

Look at that, I made a reference! Just like Deadpool! I can swear like him, too.

Deadpool & Wolverine has been billed as a Marvel Cinematic Universe story, but it isn’t, really. Apart from a brief gag scene early in the film, Deadpool never sets foot in the MCU’s Earth-616 for any Deadpool-y derring-do. Instead, the film is just MCU-aware — the mainline MCU is one more subject for Deadpool to joke about and pine for while he has a characteristically vulgar adventure somewhere else. In some ways, the MCU is more of a villain than the film’s actual villains.

But before all that, the story starts in Deadpool’s pre-existing corner of the multiverse, which is dying. Abducted by the Time Variance Authority from Loki, Wade Wilson/Deadpool (Reynolds) learns his universe is slowly fading away, due to Wolverine’s death at the end of 2017’s Logan. That’s because the former X-Man is an “anchor being” — someone so significant that their timeline falls apart without their presence. But TVA agent Mr. Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen) says his superiors have deemed Deadpool as special, and worth rescuing from his decaying timeline and bringing over to the MCU. Trouble is, the invite doesn’t extend to the found family Wade has built up (and time-traveled to resurrect) across his previous two films.

Wolverine pops his claws with his arms across his chest as Deadpool looks on sword in hand in a scene from Deadpool & Wolverine

Photo: Jay Maidment/20th Century Studios/Marvel Studios

This is Deadpool & Wolverine’s first problem: It arrives on screens already extremely pre-complicated and full of narrative baggage. This isn’t necessarily a problem if director/co-writer Shawn Levy and his script team just want to take the piss out of overly complex superhero films. But it is a problem when setting up that pathos that is also key to Deadpool as a character. It doesn’t particularly matter to me that I do not fully understand the mechanics of time and/or multiverse travel in this movie, or the chain of cause-and-effect that drives its plot. Frankly, I’m not sure the film’s five credited writers — Levy, Reynolds, returning Deadpool movie scribes Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, and comics and TV writer Zeb Wells — care that much about those things either.

I do care, however, when that confusion extends to the film’s emotional stakes. Deadpool & Wolverine spends so little time establishing where Wade is in relation to his friends and relationships (for some barely explained reason, he’s on the outs with ex-girlfriend Vanessa, played by Morena Baccarin) that his driving need to do something that “matters” feels rootless. He’s static, not terribly different at the end of the film’s two hours and seven minutes than he was at the beginning.

Perhaps that’s because the film offloads much of its emotional weight to Wade’s co-star. Logan (Hugh Jackman) enters Deadpool & Wolverine as a part of Wade’s hairbrained scheme to save his universe. If Logan is his timeline’s anchor being, Wade’s logic goes, he’ll just scour other universes until he finds a new one. The Logan he winds up grabbing is even more damaged than the one we’ve seen in the X-movies, and a lot of the film’s non-joke runtime is devoted to unpacking that. This seems like a poor use of Wade’s time, and ours. Logan’s whole deal has gotten plenty of exposure in past X-movies, and while his presence here has lots of fun moments, his contribution to the film’s emotional arc feels a lot like stolen franchise valor à la Spider-Man: No Way Home.

Cassandra Nova lounges in a leather duster, khakis, and hunting boots in a scene from Deadpool & Wolverine.

Photo: Jay Maidment/20th Century Studios/Marvel Studios

It’s hard to take any of this seriously though, because Deadpool & Wolverine is much more interested in focusing on Deadpool’s relationship with the MCU. From the very first second of the film, Disney, Marvel, and Kevin Feige are established as the thematic butts of the film’s comedy. There is no need for character work to anchor any of the jokes here, because the MCU is that anchor. All that swearing and violence? It’s in a Disney movie, baby! Remember that time Wade got pegged in the first Deadpool movie? Mickey Mouse paid for a movie about a guy who gets pegged! Oh, and the film’s on-screen bad guys? All a result of Marvel’s corporate dominance.

This last bit is where Deadpool & Wolverine almost gets at something interesting. The bulk of the film takes place in The Void, a Mad-Max-style limbo where the TVA sends troublesome people they can’t really erase. Ruled by the powerful telepath (and evil twin sister of X-Men leader Charles Xavier) Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin), The Void is an island of misfit toys full of heroes and villains from other movie studios, disposed of by the MCU powers-that-be after Disney bought up 20th Century Fox. If you’ve heard about Deadpool & Wolverine’s many cameos and guest appearances, this is where they come from: corporate consolidation spun as fodder for jokes.

In Logan and Wade’s struggle to defeat Cassandra and escape The Void, the pair are also trying to escape the ruins of, for example, the 20th Century Fox X-Men universe. Unfortunately, this plot, and the gags around it, only undercut Deadpool and the very narrow lane of pathos that makes him tick. Because as much as he constantly makes fun of the MCU, he can’t stop defining himself in relationship to it, calling himself “Marvel Jesus” throughout this movie. Regardless of the fate of his home universe, Wade wants to matter — which is a way of saying he wants to join the mainline MCU universe, and that it is the only thing in this continuum that does matter.

That’s more or less the ball game. It’s hard to buy this movie as a love letter to anything but Marvel Studios’ corporate conquests. That’s one of the fundamental miscalculations behind the film. Wade is worth getting behind because he’s an underdog. But in Deadpool & Wolverine, he isn’t representing the unloved or speaking truth to power: He’s sucking up to the undisputed champ of the box office, even though that champ has earned the potshots Deadpool throws its way. The Void is what Marvel has done to pop culture. It’s the call coming from in the house, the big fucking smoke dragon that assimilates everything into its morass of multiversal bullshit or relegates it to oblivion, stripped for parts. And in this movie, Deadpool doesn’t just love it, he wants with all of his being to be part of it.

Deadpool & Wolverine has made its hero the worst kind of comic-book character: one who doesn’t stand for anything. It’s a terrible irony. Fans worried that Disney’s corporate control and the MCU’s rigid narrative oversight would leech away Deadpool’s edge, the swearing, jocular violence. Turns out that part was fine. Instead, the MCU just took his fuckin’ heart.

I told you I could swear like that cheeky bastard.

Deadpool & Wolverine debuts in theaters July 25.

Asus ROG Ally X Review: More Battery and Storage, Same Windows Problems


I was harsh on the original Asus ROG Ally. Maybe a little too harsh, since many of the problems I had with it are inherent to the very concept of a Windows-based handheld gaming console. So, when I got my hands on the new ROG Ally X, I tried to be a bit more open-minded. It wasn’t hard, because the newer model is a substantial improvement. But some hurdles just can’t be overcome.

The ROG Ally X looks almost identical to its predecessor, save for a new coat of black paint. There are subtle differences, like rounded-out grips that are more comfortable to hold, slightly elevated ABXY buttons, and an eight-direction D-pad that handles diagonal movements a bit better. If you didn’t look too closely though, you’d be forgiven for thinking little has changed.

But under the hood, Asus has made some massive improvements. Most notably, the battery size has doubled. The original ROG Ally had a 40-Wh battery, roughly comparable to the original Steam Deck. The ROG Ally X, on the other hand, somehow packs a massive 80-Wh battery. That’s larger than the battery in Asus’s Zephyrus G14 gaming laptop, which I loved for its lengthy battery life. Despite this massive increase, the Ally X is only about 70 grams heavier.

Asus also beefed up the storage capacity—it now comes with a 1-terabyte SSD instead of 512 GB—and 8 more gigabytes of DDR5 RAM. The company also swapped out the XG Mobile port that’s only really useful for Asus’ external GPUs for a USB4 port that can reach speeds up to 40 Gbps, making it ideal for connecting to external docking stations. But specs can’t tell the whole story.

Black handheld gaming device with knobs and buttons on either side of a wide screen

Photograph: Eric Ravenscraft

The Insurmountable Wall of Windows

Windows isn’t designed to be run on a handheld. That’s just a simple, unavoidable truth. Microsoft expects you to come to its operating system with a mouse and keyboard, or at least a large touch screen. Trying to navigate the OS with a controller is always going to be an exercise in frustration. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to escape the basic problem of trying to interact with things on the screen.

One prominent example of this is the Xbox app. Asus has made some solid strides with its Armoury Crate SE app that’s meant to be the bridge between all the other game libraries on your system. Armoury Crate launches at startup, there’s a dedicated button next to the right control stick to open it when you need it, and it has shortcuts to apps like Steam (which launches in the controller-friendly Big Picture mode) or Xbox so you can access any game you own.

Back of a black handheld gaming device showing the ports

Photograph: Eric Ravenscraft

Tropf-Blumat Watering System Review: Key to My Gardening Success


A couple summers ago, I started to have a plant problem on my roof deck. Specifically, I had no reliable way to water my herb garden for an extended period of time. Yes, I could ask my neighbors to do it once in a while, but I’m gone a lot and didn’t want to blow all of my goodwill credit in one place.

My setup posed problems, too. It’s a garden in pots, troughs, and planters—known as a container garden—that follows the periphery of my 10- by 17-foot deck. A sprinkler on a timer wouldn’t work, because I didn’t want to soak my entire deck and waste water, and watering spikes or globes wouldn’t last long enough. Plus, I had a variety of sizes of pots and planters, ranging from four 20-liter galvanized tubs to a pair of 100-gallon troughs, along with a 1-cubic-foot ceramic pot that isolates my mint, and a mini trough for my sage.

Altogether, it’s a nice little setup, but everything has different watering needs. Talking to people in garden centers confirmed there weren’t many options for the kind of automated watering I wanted to do.

Drip Drop

Ludicrous amounts of research later, I zeroed in on a solution. An Austrian company named Blumat has a system that uses a spike-shaped sensor (called a “carrot,” more colloquially) that has a ceramic cone under a sealed water chamber. The whole thing is capped with a diaphragm that’s connected to a tiny valve at the very top, making it like an autonomous, fancy, sealed, freestanding valve that controls flow through a 3-millimeter drip tube. When the soil around the cone becomes dry, osmosis through the ceramic pulls down a diaphragm at the top, gradually opening the valve and allowing water to flow through the tube. When the soil is moist, the diaphragm rises and the valve closes.

Hand holding a coneshaped valve

Photograph: Tropf Blumat

There are lots of specialized Blumat kits and parts, and figuring out exactly what I needed was daunting, so I called Sustainable Village, a Blumat dealer in Colorado, for help. It’s possible to wing it, but you will likely benefit from doing the same.

This meant I needed several different parts of what they call the Tropf-Blumat system (“tropf” is German for “drip”), including the sensors; stuff called “drip tape,” which is like a soaker hose; and little strings of “drippers” that connect to the sensor and distribute water around medium-size pots. There was also a “flow reducer” that connects to the spigot and regulates the pressure, a pencil-thick rubber feeder tube, and a roll of 3-millimeter drip tubing that connected the feeder line to the sensor in each pot.

The Blumat site recommends the Tropf setup for “plants on balconies, patios, in greenhouses, and raised beds.” The representative guided me toward a pair of kits and a couple of individual items.

Two boxes and accessories for a plant watering system including tubing and valves

Photograph: Tropf Blumat

Some Assembly Required

When everything arrived, there were enough bits and bobs that it reminded me of an adult Lego set, complicated enough that I cleared the table and chairs out of my dining room, made cardboard cutouts of my pots and troughs, and laid out all of my new material. This was extra work, but it allowed me to get organized, since every installation is essentially custom. My 20-liter tubs and sage trough would each have one sensor to control the flow to a string of drippers to distribute water evenly. The hundred-gallon troughs each got an extra-large sensor that controlled flow to the drip tape that zigzagged across the surface of the soil.

After a couple of hours setting up, I turned on the spigot and held my breath. Some of the drippers began dripping very slowly, and some did not. Nothing visible happened in the big troughs for a while, as it took some time for the drip tape to start sweating out drops of water. Soon it became clear that by having one sensor per container, the flow to each could be customized. A plant that was particularly thirsty or sun-drenched got more water, while a slow-sippin’ succulent in the shade got less. Over the next few days, I checked the soil in each pot and used the valve on top of each sensor to adjust the flow.

Olive Union Olive Max Hearing Aids: For Mild Hearing Loss


You don’t have to be nearly deaf to use a hearing aid. Many doctors urge patients to get started with the devices early, before hearing loss becomes critical. Olive Union’s Olive Max is the first hearing aid I’ve encountered designed for this specific purpose, built for users with “mild to moderate” hearing loss, which the company defines as 26 to 55 decibels of loss. That’s right in line with my diagnosis, so I figured I’d be a perfect candidate for these new devices.

Out of the box, you’re likely to say what I—and everyone I’ve been around—immediately said when I first laid eyes on the Olive Max: They sure are big. Like, really big. Each looks like a Bluetooth headset from the early 2000s, except you have to wear two. At least the units, in a two-tone white and gray design, look sporty, including a wrap-around ear hook that helps keep them in place. They also carry an IPX7 water-resistance rating. But at more than 12 grams each, they’re a solid four or five times the weight of a typical over-the-counter hearing aid. A total of eight different ear tips, in three different styles, are included in the kit to ensure you get a good fit.

Two white and black overtheear hearing aids floating side by side

Photograph: Olive Union

As hearing aids, the Olive Max units work roughly as advertised, and casual users can pop them out of the box and into their ears to get started with minimal fuss, though getting them hooked over your ear properly can be tricky, especially if you wear glasses. Controls on the back of each aid handle volume (independently for each ear) and let you select one of four environmental modes (TV, Meeting Room, Outdoor, or Restaurant). You can also use the buttons to toggle “Hear-Thru mode,” which lets you turn off environmental audio processing altogether if you simply want to use the Olive Max as Bluetooth earbuds.

You can fine-tune your listening experience in the My Olive app—though, bizarrely, the hearing aid manual does not mention that an app exists, or even that you can use the hearing aids as Bluetooth earbuds. (You want the My Olive app (Android, iOS), not the incompatible Olive Smart Ear app.) The app allows you to make the same adjustments as the physical controls, but it also offers a noise-reduction and feedback-cancellation feature (pro tip: max out both of these), and it includes a more detailed graphic equalizer that lets you fine-tune frequency response further.

You can’t test your hearing directly within the app, although a short questionnaire will hook you up with various “AI-recommended presets” based on your age and a few other basic inputs. If you want anything more refined, you’ll need to delve into the equalizer by hand, but this is mostly a trial-and-error situation. It’s also worth noting that the My Olive app includes an audio therapy system designed to help people with tinnitus. I don’t suffer from tinnitus so I wasn’t qualified to test this feature.

2 overtheear hearing aids floating beside a mobile device with a screen showing adjustment settings for the hearing aids

Photograph: Olive Union