Why I Love Meta Movies

Scene from Deadpool

There are few genres that I like as much as the meta comedy. That isn't to say that I will settle for just any interpretation of it. Take for example two recent releases: Hail, Caesar! and Deadpool. While they appear to be very different takes on comedy (one a period piece, the other being a superhero romp), they both appear to be striving for the same general goal: to lovingly lampoon the rich culture that they exist in. With Hail, Caesar! currently the second highest grossing film of this past weekend, Deadpool is getting mixed reviews ahead of its Friday release for being a film that makes fun of origin stories while being one. It could still be good (I haven't seen it yet), but something has me worried that it's yet another studio comedy that doesn't get the point of what meta means.

A few years back, directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller released the films 21 Jump Street and its sequel 22 Jump Street. They were immediately praised for being unexpectedly smart for an unnecessary reboot. True, a more traditional take would've stunk up the box office. However, the praise for the films seemed a little bizarre for one reason: it wasn't smart. It was dumb comedy being dumb without any grander subtext. While the first film skirted by on "old teenager" trope, the sequel felt less essential by pointing out just how pointless sequels were. 22 Jump Street makes nonstop references to its familiarity in ways that Wes Craven had done better in the 90's with the Scream franchise. Yet the model has since been adopted and Lord and Miller have gotten an unnecessary amount of credit for revolutionizing the studio comedy. Yes, even the recent reboot of Vacation has a moment where a cast member said "the original vacation was better," which is supposed to point out its own inferiority while itself being among the least essential reboots of 2015. 

I  know that humor is subjective, but I am also one who finds great conflict with how meta humor is treated. It was a tool that has been used in the best of cinema. If you go back to Sunset Blvd., cameos by Cecil B. DeMille and Buster Keaton spoke volumes despite being meta gags. Mel Brooks' Silent Movie featured an entirely silent film where only Marcel Marceau spoke. Even recently Birdman served as a commentary on superhero culture and lead actor Michael Keaton's career. To varying extents, these were all meta films that used the construct to an inventive degree. 

What is so special about meta commentary then? The language of film is one that most people can understand instinctively. The structure of beginning-middle-end is something that we all understand. It takes a lot to reinvent something so basic. However, if that is the language of film, then meta commentary is the interaction of audience and film. One of the prime examples of this comes in the TV series Community where character Abed Nadir compares every episode's challenges to a piece of pop culture. While he grows to be a fleshed out character, he remains insistent on pointing out how one thing influences another. While he isn't the only person to do so in the series, he serves as a the mouthpiece for the audience, who wish to see something besides the conventional structure. As a result, he has become both one of the series' most endearing characters as well as a bit one note.

For what it's worth, movies that talk to the audience (or: "breaking the fourth wall") remains a delightful treat when done correctly. Some people, such as Ingmar Bergman, use this technique to implicitly give off the sensibility that the person staring at the camera is talking directly to us. Films are by nature a piece of escapism; entertainment meant to explore something more abstract than any textbook can deliver. Meta commentary allows for it to be spoken in a more accessible way, free of any pretension. Even when meta is applied to direct references (see: Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back), there's a sense of interaction, as if the filmmaker is sitting next to you and asking you personally what you'd want to see. It doesn't always work, but a slight reference goes a long way.

For what it's worth, Deadpool deserves credit for its impressive, exhaustive marketing. Its choice to integrate the character into various fake feuds and sports events is a clever twist on the familiar two minute advertisement. In itself, it's a meta commentary on how dull these ads usually are. This does bode confidence for the film's ability to take chances and be something more than the average superhero joint. I am unsure if it will deliver, but its desire to be meta does stand a chance of being something greater. Of course, one can already turn to James Gunn's Super or Matthew Vaughn's Kick-Ass to see similar molds for what meta superhero films already look like. Still, considering that Deadpool's placement in comic lore is that of the all purpose joker (though not THE Joker) means that there's plenty to work with, even if Ryan Reynolds doesn't have the best movie track record (see: X-Men:: Origins - Wolverine and The Green Lantern).

Is there any great example of recent meta commentary on film then? While a little uneven, Hail, Caesar! is arguably one of The Coen Brothers' most meta entries ever. It's a film about making films in which every genre available to the 50's studio system is given at least five minutes of tonal screen time. Even the low ceiling angles (which feel reminiscent of Citizen Kane) play a part in showing the seams. How does this differ from a, say, 22 Jump Street? Simple. The joke isn't just that movies are fictitious, but that there's a desire to believe in the medium. 22 Jump Street was too obsessed with simply making fun of things. Hail, Caesar! is a little higher concept and while not entirely successful, it manages to capture some essence of what film is supposed to have. 

Meta movies will always be hit and miss. However, I still will defend those who understand what makes them work, solely because there is no experience like it. It may even be the closest that we get to telepathy. I know that there are those that don't like it (intellectuals mostly), who feel that it is pandering to audiences. Maybe most of the bad ones are. However, the good ones provide a deeper insight into the artist and to our understanding of how we enjoy film. I am hoping that Deadpool strikes some balance, though there's an off chance that it won't. Still, I think that meta movies are just as important as serious movies and to lose either is to lose the great complexities of art's ability to tell us something.