Deadpool is gay

In the realm of cinema, few productions possess a higher sense of self-satisfaction than Deadpool. Considering the smug aura permeating this Marvel comic adaptation, you'd be forgiven for thinking it pioneered the art of breaking the fourth wall or showcased a morally ambiguous and foul-mouthed protagonist for the first time. Nevertheless, in a different sense, it may have rightfully earned its self-admiration; it manages to explore relatively new terrain concerning the sexual orientation of its central character. Within the comic books that provided the source material for the film, Deadpool identifies as pansexual - demonstrating no preference towards any particular gender or gender identity when it comes to choosing romantic partners. For Deadpool, the descriptor "bisexual" falls short, as he has been known to flirt with Thor, make advances on Spider-Man, and would apparently not dismiss the possibility of a romantic encounter with, say, unicorns. Unlike a pendulum, which is limited to two directions, his sexuality more closely resembles a dynamic swingball.

Within popular culture, such representation remains relatively rare, which explains why we should not be overly critical of those Deadpool enthusiasts who've sought a more explicit clarification from Fabian Nicieza, a co-creator of the character. 'I've been incessantly bombarded with inquiries regarding DP's sexuality for many years,' he expressed on Twitter. 'It has become somewhat tiresome. He embodies both the absence of sex and the totality of sexes. He belongs to you and everyone else." Nicieza described him as 'the quintessential inclusive figure' and asserted: 'He is capable of being gay in one moment, heterosexual in the next, and so on. All orientations hold validity.' The film's dedication to faithfully representing this facet of Deadpool's character received substantial attention leading up to its premiere. According to the director, Tim Miller, he would be "pansexual. I want that stated clearly. Pansexual Deadpool." Ryan Reynolds, the actor portraying Deadpool, mentioned via tweet the previous year that the movie would be given an R-rating (15 or greater within the UK) due to scenes featuring "graphic, expertly illuminated French unicorn sex."

The reality proves to be simultaneously less sensational and more compelling. The film's singular depiction of interspecies romance is restricted to the animated closing sequence, wherein Deadpool can be seen fondling a unicorn's horn until the creature orgasms rainbows. Although conventional pansexuality definitions typically exclude socially unacceptable forms of desire (such as necrophilia or paedophilia), whether or not animated relations involving a mythical animal would be classified as bestiality remains to be conclusively determined. Beyond this specific element, this portrayal of Deadpool aligns verbally, though not necessarily behaviorally, with pansexuality's defining traits. His attraction seems unconstrained; all adults are viewed as fair game for his advances. However, showcasing him engaging in intimate relations with someone other than his girlfriend, Vanessa (played by Morena Baccarin), might lend greater validity to his claims. Granted, their amorous activities are anything but ordinary - during Halloween, he uses plastic vampire teeth while performing oral sex, and Vanessa is permitted to go beyond the point on his anatomy where Kanye West would object.

From the very outset, when Deadpool prompts viewers to guess who he needed to pleasure in order to get his own movie made (the answer being Wolverine, who allegedly possesses "a nice pair of smooth criminals down under"), his dialogue is consistently peppered with homoerotic allusions. He jokingly solicits a male bartender for fellatio, though it emerges that Blowjob is actually the name of a cream-based cocktail. He praises a male cab driver for being "pretty damn cute", and then collides crotch-first into an opponent's face, accompanied by the unconventional battle cry "Teabagged!" He contemplates the dynamics between various superheroes ("I'm pretty sure Robin loves Batman"), and responds to inquiries regarding the existence of his "on-switch" by quipping: "It's located right next to the prostate. Or maybe that is the on-switch?'

Within the realm of ostensibly heterosexual men preoccupied with scrutinizing other men's bodies, Deadpool is only rivaled by the Jackass crew. Nonetheless, the degree of sincerity underpinning his inclinations remains ambiguous. The film deliberately avoids resolving this issue by refraining from depicting him entering into romantic or sexual relationships with other men. During its entire length of one hundred and seven minutes, the film dedicates space for just a solitary male-on-male kiss, taking the form of Deadpool planting a light kiss on the cheek of an individual he had recently threatened to sexually assault.

Based on the film's existing evidence, he gives the impression of being (borrowing a famous statement from Brett Anderson of Suede) a pansexual individual who has never partaken in a non-heterosexual encounter. Or, mirroring Robbie Williams, it's plausible that he wants to channel a daring, sassy facet of homosexuality without fully embracing the lifestyle. 'I consider myself 49% homosexual, occasionally reaching as high as 50%," Williams declared during 2013. "However, that might imply that I derive pleasure from engaging in specific activities, which is not the case.' Actions carry greater significance than mere pronouncements; the film offers no verifiable evidence that Deadpool is any more prepared than Williams to follow up his words with actions and dabble in those particular activities.

The movie's hesitation to completely honor its protagonist's proclaimed pansexuality should not diminish the significance of the courageous instances, the delicate advancements, that have ultimately made it to the screen. When considering a medium typically dominated by the male perspective, it is somewhat revolutionary to incorporate an extended close-up of a man's appealing buttocks, particularly in the event the shot doesn't supply heterosexual male viewers with the justification of mirroring a female perspective: rather, everyone, irrespective of gender, is simply invited to relish the image according to its individual attributes.

A parallel undermining of male identification develops later in the movie, during one of Deadpool's characteristic fourth-wall-shattering monologues, where he specifically addresses audience members who have been compelled to attend the superhero film by their male partners. The presumption of a predominantly male and heterosexual audience is, yet again, questioned and subverted. (In contrast, consider a more recent production like "The Big Short," in which scantily-clad women serve as a tool to make complicated topics comprehensible to an audience the director presumes to be predominantly male and straight.) When Deadpool speaks beyond the comprehension of the men present in the audience, it mirrors, almost perfectly, that unforgettable moment in "The Opposite of Sex" when Christina Ricci cautions female viewers that their partners' discomfort during the homosexual scenes might indicate repressed homosexual tendencies.

While one might lament that Deadpool, both as a character and as a film, does not stray beyond the realm of heterosexual activity, it still possesses the fundamental ingredients needed to develop into an intriguing example of queer superhero cinema, a genre so small that its practitioners hardly reach double-digit numbers. The X-Men franchise (with which the Deadpool storyline has a short overlap) skillfully employs the concept of the mutant as a symbolic representation of both variance and queerness. Within X-Men 2, viewers are presented with an interpretation of the traditional coming-out sequence, where the character Bobby (played by Shawn Ashmore), confesses to being a mutant. 'We continue to love you,' his mother remarks, but then asks: 'Have you attempted to not be a mutant?'

However, to identify a genuine predecessor to Deadpool's pansexuality, one would have to journey all the way back to Tank Girl, the 1995 adaptation of Jamie Hewlett's and Alan Martin's comic series. The film's distinct weaknesses (evident by the usage of animated insertions as replacements for scenes that were not actually filmed) fail to detract from the refreshing quirkiness of a film that outright rejects conventional movie-hero standards of conduct. Tank Girl (played by Lori Petty) commences the story with a boyfriend; in fact, it is his death that ignites her quest for vengeance. But, truthfully, he fades from memory quickly, and she soon finds herself feigning romantic affection for Jet Girl (portrayed by Naomi Watts) while befriending the Rippers, a collection of kangaroo-human hybrid mutants exhibiting clear beatnik characteristics. A scene displaying Tank Girl reclined in bed with Booga (depicted by Jeff Kober), the gentlest of the Rippers, who is affectionately caressing her head using his ear, is simultaneously humorous and groundbreaking. It comes as no surprise that the film faltered at the box office, given its demand that viewers support a protagonist incapable of restricting her affection to members of her own species.

An individual lacking explicitly defined sexual boundaries is perceived by society as dangerous and erratic, primarily due to the inherent difficulties in monetizing them. By selecting predefined categories such as "gay" or "straight," "single" or "married," individuals effectively categorize themselves, therefore making them easier to target as potential consumers. Inconsistent consumers are essentially worthless from an economic perspective, on account of their limited loyalty. They might show favor toward cornflakes, extreme sports, and the Twilight saga this week, only to suddenly shift their interests to scrambled eggs, philately, and bondage the following week. Traditional loyalty programs are wasted on such individuals. Characters like Deadpool and Tank Girl, with their unpredictable desires, are the cinematic equivalent of this concept, which elucidates their overall scarcity. Most cinema audiences find comfort in familiarity, whereas unpredictability can incite unease, especially with regards to sexual preferences.

Consequently, while credible arguments exist suggesting the version of James Bond depicted in Ian Fleming's novels could conceivably be construed as sexually ambiguous, such an attribute has only been hinted at just once throughout the Bond film franchise. That instance occurs within the brief scene featured in Skyfall, wherein Silva (portrayed by Javier Bardem) openly flirts with Bond (Daniel Craig), prompting the latter to make reference to previous sexual encounters he had had with men. ('What gives you the idea this is my first time?' he playfully asks.) When approached about this electrifying exchange, Craig remained both evasive and refreshingly pragmatic. 'I refrain from perceiving the world through the lens of sexual divisions," he remarked. This is spoken like a true pansexual individual.

Typically, the most effective portrayals of non-heterosexual personas are those in which no extraordinary attempts were made to expressly accommodate their sexuality. Consider the character within the stop-motion animation film ParaNorman, whose homosexuality is revealed at the film's conclusion: nothing within the story changes aside from our own preconceived expectations. Alternatively, there is the private investigator portrayed by Val Kilmer in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Despite initially approving the screenplay, Kilmer argued that it could be made even better with increased tension between his character and the thief-turned-actor played by Robert Downey Jr. 'I suggested, ‘We ought to inject some colour into this. We've got to amplify the tension. I believe I should be gay. I think I should kiss Robert Downey at some point during the film. Potentially even sooner, perhaps several times.'' (Kilmer furthermore noted, knowingly, that 'perhaps this wasn't actually my inaugural gay role. Maybe that distinction goes to Top Gun.')

However, only one character throughout cinematic history has genuinely embraced the pansexual ideal without compromise: the indomitable Bugs Bunny. None have followed their impulses so completely and with such determination. No other cinematic hero has traversed traditional gender boundaries so casually, thus rendering said differences negligible, and hardly any others have managed to look so flattering in makeup. He has presented himself clad in female garments on upwards of forty instances spanning 1939 to 1996 (most notably within "The Wabbit Who Came to Supper," where he sported lingerie, and as Brunnhilde, complete with blonde pigtails, in "What's Opera, Doc?"). Additionally, he never hesitated to bestow a generous kiss upon the lips of Yosemite Sam or Elmer Fudd. In that vein, Bugs was effectively dismantling the fourth wall well before Deadpool first acquired a Lego set. The latest movie emphasizes its unrestrained protagonist. For those who were raised on the pansexual exploits of Bugs Bunny, this risks evoking a sense of déjà vu.

Deadpool is currently available for viewing.