The seven minutes of X-Men 3 that they wanted me to see, along with those few minutes that made it into youtube for a while last week, have reinforced grave concerns. Not Darfur grave, but enough to make me drag those comics boxes back under the futon for a while and respond to all Kelsey Grammer-related questions with, “X-what? No, I like sports. I play the basket-ball.”

“They’ve developed an antibody to cure the mutant x-gene.” “I don’t care if I fail my biology final; I’m gonna be a screenwriter one day. From the fifties. You’ll see!”

So, you have no problem with the notion that a protein in Halle Berry’s DNA allows her to make it snow as long as she doesn’t talk like an idiot? Yes, that is the proverbial size of it, my friend. The key to my heart is the most outlandish premise possible combined with the most serious, thoughtful examination of its implications. As opposed to, say, the Invisible Jessica Alba approach or the “omnipotent immortal alien vs. Gene Hackman and Ned Beatty” approach.

How much happier I would be if I had never Googled “x-men script +’six day draft’”.

I did smile at the sight of the Angel, who always had one of my favorite X-man backstories (rich, WASPy bigot whose prep school jacket secretly hides a six-foot wingspan; any character who can combine the concept of “passing” with fluffy Big Bird wings is okay by me). I do get the distinct impression that they are going to cram the story with characters instead of with… quality. Grave concerns.

I’m going to need some important thumbs up for this one before I calm down. From critics with those elbow patches on their coats.