In case you didn’t know, the likely not-long-for-this-world Georgia Viaduct was closed to traffic this week. The reason? Pretty boy movie star Ryan Reynolds is shooting scenes for the upcoming Deadpool. In fact, the $37.5-million film, based on the popular Marvel Comics character, will keep the viaduct closed during key hours until April 18. But so far there hasn’t been too much of an uproar. Either the inconvenience to commuters has been minimal or, as we’re inclined to believe, a handsome movie star playing a super hero in a blockbuster movie does not ruffle people’s feathers as much as other films would.
Think about it. Imagine if the block-long lineup outside Stepho’s Souvlaki Greek Taverna in the West End was turned away on a nightly basis for a week because a film crew was shooting a sequel to My Dinner with Andre. There would be blood and tzatziki in the streets. Incidentally, Blood and Tzatziki in the Streets would be a great name for either an album or a food truck. Just sayin’.
The same goes for Weekend at Bernie’s 3 closing down Kits Beach for a few days in the summer. You can be assured Terry Kiser wouldn’t be the only dead body buried up to his neck in sand if the city allowed that to take place. (Kiser played the deceased Bernie Lomax for the first two Weekend at Bernie’s films, in case you’re not familiar with these fine pieces of cinema, which also starred the underrated comedy duo of Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman.)
Or imagine if the beloved Seawall or Grouse Grind were cordoned off for a few weeks because Atom Egoyan decided to film some brooding, atmospheric drama about unhappy people in unusual occupations navigating separate but interlinked personal tragedies. There would be riots. Albeit well-organized riots where the participants were extremely healthy and wearing some form of breathable fleece active wear. You get the point.
But because Deadpool is a mega-watt film production starring People’s 201o “Sexiest Man Alive,” i.e. Ryan Reynolds, in a superhero costume, all is forgiven. Or at least tolerated. Take over our bridges, our viaducts, our bike lanes. Need to borrow a bridge for a few hours? No problem, Mr. Reynolds. How bout this complimentary pass to turn Vij’s into your own private sex den at the snap of a finger — here you go, Ryan. But politely requesting half an hour at the Roxy to shoot a crucial scene where Bernie’s corpse slow dances with a drunk woman in Weekend at Bernie’s 3 is somehow too much to ask for? For shame, Vancouver. For shame. We thought you were more “real” than that.
