The Wisdom of Logan

 

Logan is probably not a film that will be remembered forever by historians as a profound exposition of the human condition with deep philosophical and anthropological implications.

But that’s a good description of it.  What I just wrote is not a spoiler, but much of what follows is in fact, a spoiler for those who have not seen the Wolverine films or read a detailed synopsis of the plot.  So if you’re concerned about spoilers, avert your eyes already.

In the film X-Men Origins: Wolverine, it’s revealed that Logan (birth name James Howlett) chose to accept the Weapon X project’s offer to make him indestructible, which they accomplished by bonding adamantium to his skeleton.  He accepted this offer in order to get revenge on the man who killed his lover.

One of the things we learn in Logan, which is loosely based on the Old Man Logan comic series, is that Logan suspects that he knows why his healing factor is starting to fail him.  His theory (a very plausible one) is that the metal bonded to his skeleton is poisoning him from the inside.  Perhaps his famous healing factor is overwhelmed by the task of constantly healing from the huge amount of internal toxins.

This touches on a deeper truth of the human experience, that when we take actions with permanent consequences in the pursuit of vengeance, it generally poisons our lives.  Whether we kill someone, or merely ruin their reputation, or simply hold on to our grudge against another person for a lifetime, we inevitably drink a poison for our hearts, and one that leaves us with a bitter taste for as long we have committed to drinking it.

Whatever the explanation, emotional or medical, Logan is increasingly susceptible to dying.  And, just as in The Wolverine, Logan seems to want to die.  He’s had enough.  His heart is worn out after a couple hundred years of violence and emotional trauma.  And who can blame him for his world-weariness?

I was world-weary and wanting to die after only 20 years, so I certainly can’t cast any stones at Logan for the same desire after over 200 years.

Another spot of wisdom in the film is the protagonist Laura (X-23), who is genetically the daughter of Logan.  Like all daughters, she needs and wants more from him than biological paternity, more even than mere protection from physical dangers, though he provides that reluctantly.

His reluctance to do this stems from his long experience with death, specifically, that those who are close to him often die violently.  This long experience with death has given him a kind of wisdom, the wisdom to know that to grow close to people is to suffer a broken heart, in one way or another.

This is part of what makes Logan reluctant to stay very long with the family of farmers who offered them dinner in return for helping them recover their horses.  He knows that every moment that they spend with the family, the more likely it is that the violence following him and Laura will catch up to these kind-hearted folks and kill them.

Charles Xavier’s wisdom is of a different kind.  He encourages Logan to relish the moment of serenity with newfound friends, the simple beauty of the communal meal and the pastoral environs.  He knows that life is made worth living by experiencing these beautiful moments as fully as possible, by allowing ourselves to connect with others profoundly through those moments.

Both, of course, are right.  Logan’s worries are well-founded, as we learn when the Transigen Project‘s strike force shows up in the night when all should be calm.  This strike force is headed up by a clone of Logan, a younger man with the healing powers of Logan’s youth and his adamantium claws as well.  The clone kills Charles Xavier in his bed, captures Laura, and then begins killing the family.

In the films, Logan has often seemed to be haunted by the constant deaths of those he loves and the many people who just happened to be nearby him.  He is a constant danger to everyone around him, and he knows it to his pain.

Any man who is a living weapon, as many of us are, knows something of this pain.  My own greatest fear in life is that I become a constant danger to those around me, that my strength and my cunning would somehow be lost from my control and put in the service of chaotic evil, that I would become the instrument of destruction for all those I love.

This is a terrible fear for me, but it is a reality for the Logan of this film.  The Transigen project’s emissaries have successfully manipulated Logan into leading them to those he fears will die because of him, to those he wishes to care for, to those he sometimes succeeds in caring for.

What’s worse, they have made his clone their executioner, using his DNA to bring into being his younger self, and point this living weapon at everyone he holds dear.  My greatest fear is here combined with fears common to many men, the fear of being bested by men who are like us, but younger and stronger, and the fear of the weakening that comes with age.

Though I’m only 32 years old, I already feel it.  My knees ache, my shoulder won’t stay in the proper alignment, and I don’t heal quite so quickly anymore.  My workout schedule and active life, along with my healthy diet, cannot stop the march of aging as it advances on my body.

Nor, it seems, can Logan’s healing factor stop the march of aging completely.  He aches.  His scars no longer heal quickly.  He is much more easily winded, and much more easily wounded.  This has become apparent throughout the film, and reaches a climax near the end when he is trying to keep Transigen’s strike force from killing or capturing all the young mutants seeking refuge via crossing into Canada.

Even with advanced chemical assistance and incredible persistence, he is not up to the task of facing the strike force and defeating his clone.  Nonetheless, the advanced chemical assistance does allow him to experience something close to the powers of his youth for a short time, the powers of reckless rage that we who have high testosterone levels and an adrenaline rush know from experience.

As always, reckless rage and the powers of youth are not enough to conquer all challenges, and Logan is left reeling, relying on his cunning to help him stave off his clone as long as possible, hoping that he can save his daughter’s life this day.  His daughter takes the life of his clone, but not before the clone has mortally wounded Logan.

Laura will be as Logan was: fatherless.  Had Logan been willing to step outside of his tough guy loner mode of operating and developed a relationship with Laura, as well as worked with the other mutants, not to mention being willing to hope in Eden, things may well have turned out better.

But he died for her without ever having loved her as a daughter, without having given her the gift of knowing a father’s love through many years of trials.  Like all fathers, he gave the gift of life, and like many fathers, he spent his life so that hers could continue.  And yet there was so much more he could have given, but instead he withheld it.

And is this not a poignant allegory?  How many men have made the mistake of operating like tough loners, thinking that it made them strong, when it fact they would have been much stronger had they opened their hearts to love, to trust, and to hope?

How many men have missed out on many deeply fulfilling life experiences in the quest to have a lesser strength rooted in reckless rage?  How many men have given the lesser gift of laying down their lives without fully loving rather than the greater gift of laying down their lives by fully loving?

I have.  Many men still do.  Our wisdom is not enough to free us completely of the chains of our reliance on our own strength, our insistence that we must bear the burden alone, that we must pick up the heavy, killing yoke rather than the easy and light burden of those who practice love and compassion.

Like all of us, Logan’s wisdom was not enough to keep him alive and thriving despite the struggles he faced.  And yet the wisdom he received from Charles Xavier, his ailing father-figure, was enough to allow him to die well, to finally reach out in love and receive joy and peace from doing so in his last moments.

Perhaps the final bit of wisdom in Logan is that, like all literary figures which are fully-formed and interesting, he is a mirror in which many of us can see our own flaws, our own struggles, our own virtues, and our own potential greatness.

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