X-Men II is perhaps the film in the franchise most impacted by revelations about Bryan Singer. It’s harder to separate Singer from X-Men II than other X-Men films, as it’s both the one most about young men and most explicit in its metaphors about sexuality.

Which is a shame, because X-Men II is comfortably one of the best three films in the franchise, and the best of the opening trilogy. And one of the best superhero movies ever made. It’s a staggeringly confident piece of work, and one that feels much more sure of what it is than the original X-Men. While the original X-Men felt like a twenty-first century blockbuster waiting for the future to arrive, X-Men II understands that the future is now. It’s much more confident, much more comfortable, much more assured than its predecessor. It looks and feels a lot more like a modern blockbuster than the original film, without collapsing into a black hole like its sequel. The budget has been bulked up, the runtime is now a muscular (and soon to be standard for these films) two-hours-plus-change, the cast has been expanded, the action has been escalated. X-Men II feels like a model more confidently built to the blueprint that the original X-Men established.

To pick one immediate and obvious example, that opening scene with Nightcrawler in the White House is an all-timer, immediately escalating both the scale and the stakes of X-Men II. It’s dynamic, exciting, thrilling. It prefigures a lot of the franchise’s later effective visualisations of superpowers, such as the great Time in a Bottle sequence or the Blink action beats from Days of Future Past. In its original context, Nightcrawler’s attack on the White House is a reminder of the under-acknowledged influence of The Matrix on the form of modern superhero blockbusters.

Similarly, the mansion attack remains one of the genre’s great set pieces. It’s visceral, atmospheric, emotive and effective. It still works today. Like the opening action beat, it also speaks to how Singer was transitioning between a more old-fashioned blockbuster and something newer. The reunion between Logan and Stryker during the mansion attack is positively Spielbergian in execution; an estranged, confused son confronted with a bad, absent dad. It’s surprisingly emotionally powerful. It’s much more evocative than anything in Infinity War or Endgame, to pick two more recent examples from the genre. Then Singer pivots again; the film takes a sharp turn into pure pulpy exploitation; the surprisingly brutal “too much iron in your blood” sequence. It’s weird, macabre, goofy. And it is arguably more comic booky than anything in the majority of Marvel Cinematic Universe films.

In terms of other obvious older influences on X-Men II, the film’s structure owes a lot to The Empire Strikes Back; notably, the creative choice to break the team into smaller groups before reuniting them at the climax. This structure allows X-Men II to expand the scope of its story, having multiple things happening simultaneously to different sets of characters. It makes X-Men II feel much bigger than X-Men did. It is notable that Apocalypse attempts to repeat this trick, but it doesn’t work because there’s no single tether holding the disparate threads together. This expanded scope also means (paradoxically) X-Men II does a much better job with its characters than X-Men, despite having a much larger cast. Alan Cumming’s Nightcrawler is great, despite his small role. Although it still seems like the films have no idea what to do with Storm.

This expansion applies in thematic terms as well as simple narrative or spectacle. X-Men II pushes beyond the simple Xavier/Magneto dichotomy of X-Men, adding a third spoke to the franchise wheel. Stryker is a human mirror to Magneto, a human supremacist willing to wage a war against what he perceives as an existential threat to his species. In doing so, X-Men II places Charles between the two extremes. However, the film also literally signposts Stryker as a foil to Xavier; the opening twenty minutes feature shots contrasting the plaques on the gates of the Xavier Institute and on Alkali Lake, establishing them as thematically linked. Alkali Lake is the twisted mirror of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youth; Stryker can literally move Cerebro from the school to the base and corrupt it. Stryker’s invasion of the school in the second act sets up the infiltration of the base in the third act.

The parallels run through the film. Most notably, Wolverine was condemned at Alkali Lake, but redeemed by Xavier; Stryker labotomises and exploits his son, while Xavier guides and trains his surrogate children. Stryker’s conscription/enslavement of Lady Deathstrike is another point of comparison with Xavier’s redemption of Wolverine. (Magneto even helpfully articulates the contrast by comparing Xavier’s attempted redemption of Wolverine to his failure with Jason Stryker.)

In terms of Stryker, casting goes a long way. Brian Cox never went away, but one of the many things that modern cinema owes to X-Men II is the reintroduction of Cox to a contemporary audience. He’s amazing here, understanding his function perfectly. And he’s also exceptionally well-cast; as a gruff no-nonsense Scot, he makes an effective working-class contrast to the more refined English Stewart and McKellen.

It should be acknowledged that X-Men and X-Men II have little idea what to do with Xavier, narratively. Each of the first two films incapacitate Charles for extended chunks of the plot; the third even goes so far as to kill him off. However calculated and cynical this might be, it works thematically. It demonstrates that Xavier has trained his children to succeed without him. He has succeeded as a parent. This is probably the best unambiguously heroic portrayal you can offer of Charles Xavier, who is a deeply complicated figure if you stop to think about him at all. I much prefer the approach that First Class takes to Charles Xavier, that’s for another time. (Of course, there’s something awkward in the way that X-Men and X-Men II present the old dude training a bunch of young kids into a paramilitary fighting force as a monument to his own ego as “unambiguously heroic.” Again, Singer casts an uncomfortably long shadow over the films.)

X-Men II reintroduces the eponymous team at a museum discussing themes like extinction and evolution; another way in which the film feels a lot like a modern superhero blockbuster. The story is built around allegory, theme and metaphor. To a certain extent, this is a result of the science-fiction aesthetic carries over from the original X-Men, but it still feels of a piece with - to pick an arbitrary example - the approach that Christopher Nolan would take to Batman Begins only two years later.

“Mister Stryker, do you really want to turn this into some kind of war?
“I was piloting black ops missions in Vietnam while you were sucking on your mama's tit at Woodstock. Don't lecture me about war. This already is a war.”

Despite coming out in July 2000, the original X-Men felt like a template for the modern “War in Terror” blockbuster. It just felt uncanny, as if arriving before popular culture was ready. So it’s no surprise that X-Men II feels in step with the mood of the moment, down to casting Stryker as an embodiment of the military-industrial complex run wild and unchecked. 

In terms of X-Men II as a twenty-first century blockbuster, it’s notable how the film chooses to adapt the character of William Stryker. In the comic that inspired the film - God Loves, Man Kills - Stryker was a preacher; he existed in the context of the then-ascendant religious right preaching hate through their condemnation of “sins” like homosexuality. It’s certainly a valid approach to the character; if X-Men II hadn’t had such a huge impact, maybe that approach could work again today. But in the context of 2003, it made sense to cast Stryker as a soldier.

“These lights represent every living person on the planet. These white lights are the humans and these are the mutants. Through Cerebro I'm connected to them, and they to me. You see, Logan? We're not as alone as you think.”

Interestingly, X-Men II plays Xavier as a hangover of sixties liberalism. Xavier is an idealist, a man with pacifist ideals who lacks the cynicism necessary to protect the people closest to him; he is very easily lured into an ambush by Stryker, which leaves his students vulnerable and his innovations open to exploitation. X-Men II seems to suggest that even an idealist like Xavier needs an army of soldiers, and the claws of the Wolverine.

To a certain extent, this itself feels like something carried over from nineties blockbusters; the decade isn’t entirely gone by this point, the long nineties linger in the cultural memory. The nineties were haunted by popular anxieties concerning the legacy of sixties liberalism. Forest Gump is perhaps the most explicit example, comparing Jenny’s nightmarish trek through the sixties counterculture to Forrest’s more linear journey through the culture. However, that fear even informed the Lewinsky Scandal, with Clinton’s infidelity treated (in conservative circles) as an expression of the moral rot enabled by sixties liberalism.

In that context, X-Men II explicitly frames the “War In Terror” as the latest cultural battle between the military industrial complex embodied by Stryker and classic idealistic liberalism embodied by Xavier; the hawks and the doves are still fighting, even in the popular imagination. All of this is just a new science-fiction-inflected expression of a deeper conflict at the heart of American identity.

“We love what you’ve done with your hair.”

Independent of narrative function, catty Magneto is brilliant. Indeed, McKellen spends an extended stretch in the middle of X-Men II just being sassy and condescending to the rest of the cast. It’s fantastic.

However, even beyond that, the “enemy mine” plot in the second half of  X-Men II is a shrewd narrative choice. It allows for some tonal variation without unbalancing the movie, casting Magneto and Mystique as showy, snarky and vampy foils to the more earnest heroes and villains.

More fundamentally, Magneto’s betrayal in the third act cleverly rebalances the film. It initially appears like X-Men II is setting Stryker up as an opposite to Xavier. However, as he rewires Cerebro to suit his own purposes, the climax reveals Magneto as the true opposite of Stryker. Magneto also wants genocide, just of a different sort. This positions Xavier as the balance between the two extremes of Stryker and Magneto, earnestly believing in the possibility of peaceful coexistence between man and mutant rather than dominance of one over other. It’s the franchise’a purest argument for Xavier’s heroism; again, it exists in marked contrast to the way that First Class approaches his character.

Have you ever tried... not being a mutant?

Any fantasy metaphor for race or sexual orientation will inevitably be clumsy and awkward - at the very least, literally “othering.” That said, X-Men II makes a strong argument for the franchise working better as a metaphor for sexuality than for race.

That said, the sequence in which dull white dude Ronny Drake calls the cops (who respond hyper-aggressively) about some mutants just chatting in his house suggests that the racial metaphor of the X-Men may have (tragically) aged better than anyone could have anticipated in 2003.

As with the original X-Men, there’s something very melodramatic and heightened in how X-Men II approaches its emotional storytelling. It’s a lot more earnest than contemporary blockbusters, a lot more transparently emotional and a lot less cynically ironic. This is perhaps most notable in Bobby’s departure from his house, turning around to catch (the rest of) his family looking out at him with horror and confusion. It’s nakedly overwrought, and there’s nothing wrong with this. Superhero stories are arguably “soap operas for boys” and it’s disappointing how many modern comic book films are ashamed of that.

“Why not stay in disguise all the time?”
“Because we shouldn’t have to.”

Despite how complicated the plot to X-Men II becomes, it cannily remains focused on its core thematic dynamics; a strength that it shares with Days of Future Past. It never loses sight of its core ideas, which keeps it steady despite its increased scope.

“We've got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

At the very end, X-Men II is willing to put its heroes in the Oval Office, threatening the sitting President of the United States. Black Panther would have been a better film if it had been that brave.

“We're here to stay, Mr President. The next move is yours.”
“We'll be watching.”

It’s strange to see the X-Men movies had a much stronger political conscience less than two years after 9/11, than the Marvel Cinematic Universe has had two years into the Trump Administration.

On that note, it’s amazing how much of the X-Men franchise flows from X-Men II. It is very much the franchise’s ur-text, much more than the original X-Men. Which makes sense, as it’s much more successful at what it’s doing. X-Men III is obviously a direct sequel, picking up from the cliffhanger. X-Men: Origins - Wolverine extends a few disjointed flashbacks from X-Men II into a feature film, which means Deadpool owes just as much to X-Men II. First Class retains the homo sapien history lesson, just shifting the emphasis so as to become a direct response. Days of Future Past involves Stryker, and even Apocalypse returns to Alkali Lake. It might be argued that the success of X-Men II tainted the franchise, introducing ideas that became albatrosses around the franchise’s neck: the need to include Magneto in every X-Men movie, the centring of the mythology on Logan, the need for every film to be about mutant/human prejudice.

This is similar to how Goldfinger, while brilliant of itself, codified a number of tropes and conventions that came to overwhelm a lot of later entries in the James Bond franchise. Just because things are good ideas in particular cases doesn’t mean they’re always good ideas.