It has been a while since a movie where every actor spends the whole movie trying to kill every other actor, but only after delivering an incredibly long soliloquy which, under any other circumstance, would offer the intended victim time not only to escape, but to escape to Starbucks for a Venti Caramel Latte, a scone, and a leisurely read of the Sunday New York Times.

And if you thought that sentence was long, wait until someone is about to kill you in The Wolverine.

We begin at the close of WWII in Nagasaki about two inches from nuclear ground zero. Fortunately, the Wolverine can’t be stopped by a nuclear blast unless the blast takes out every international box office first.

“I’m blast-proof,” says Wolverine, “much like the ongoing cultural relevance of Jenny McCarthy, who sticks to the limelight like a piece of Charmin to my shoe.”

Watch your dreams, Wolverine!

He’s prone to nightmares embedded in other nightmares. And no, I am not only referring to X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

Every time he sleeps, Wolverine dreams of a foreboding message from the late Famke Janssen.

“Famke, why do you come to me with so many facial lines removed by CG?”

“I’m auditioning for PIXAR.”

Cut to: Tokyo! There, the Wolverine is disguised as the star of Les Miserables, with scruffy hair, full beard, and an uncanny numbness to the sanctimonious histrionics of Anne Hathaway. Here, the only thing made of the indestructible metal Adamantium is the refrigerator box he calls home.

Fortunately, two old Japanese ladies are schooled in the quirky Wolverine haircut and facial trim. Because one needs to be cleaned up good before meeting his host’s supermodel oncologist.

“If you were as sick as I am,” said the old Japanese man propped up on a bed of hydraulic pistons, “your oncologist would be a supermodel too – in a school-girl costume with braids and in need of a spanking!” And with that, he programmed his sleep number into his hydraulic piston bed and settled in for a needle-nosed nap.

You know you’re in the presence of Ninjas when guys in black do somersaults not because they need to, but just because they can. For this movie, Wolverine needs a sidekick, ideally a young Japanese Ninja-type girl with eyes so far apart she refers to her good side as “the one with the eye.”

Now keep that eye on the oncologist, because her long tongue can stick a spider down your throat to surround your heart and sap your supernatural abilities! “Normally it takes a live performance from CeeLo Green to do that!” exclaims Wolverine.

Cue the beginning of a story with no end:

“When I was 5….”

Uh oh, here it comes. Time for me to fly cross-country for a few hours. I’ll be back before you wrap it up.

With a Venti Caramel Latte and a scone.

“Did you know I studied biology in college….”

Uh oh, here comes another one. I know Wolverine is eternal, but the rest of us are spinning around on this blue dot for only a short time and we’d like to spend a few moments with our families before we go.

Ah, Wolverine! What woman doesn’t love a man whose fists have built-in landscaping tools, and who knows every tune in the Rodgers & Hammerstein songbook?!

Cut to: Samurai Robot!

Because every cinematic extravaganza can be improved by robots. Just ask anyone who has played opposite Jennifer Aniston.

Lo and behold, the supermodel oncologist is also a super-villain oncologist – she’ll kill you if the long delay in her waiting room doesn’t do it first. They call her “Viper” because she sheds one peculiar facial mole to reveal another peculiar facial mole.

“I am immune to the toxin that is man,” she says, “but I’ll watch every episode of the toxin that is The Real Housewives of Orange County.”

The final sequence is so over-the-top your eyes will be rolling out of your head, through the exit, and into the back alley where they will share a smoke, pack hobo bags, hop a train, learn the harmonica, and climb into an ASPCA cage with Sarah McLaughlin.

The Wolverine wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible either.

Now let me go spring my eyes from that cage.