What I’ve always enjoyed most about the X-Men is the way teamwork on the battlefield translates into comradery and close friendships back at Xavier’s mansion. Where Spider-Man and Batman titles revolve primarily around the individual hero’s exploits and challenges, the X-books delve into the relational challenges (and blessings) that accompany the individual’s decision to work together within a profoundly interdependent group. Significant differences in age, personality, race, religion, and superpowers somehow make way for community-building, powerful surrogate sibling bonds, parent-like counseling relationships, and, sometimes, a little bit o’ lovin’. The most interesting relationships usually pop up where you least expect them. A bull-headed loner who prefers to settle disputes with brute force (Logan, aka “Wolverine”) befriends and mentors a feisty young computer whiz who can phase through walls (Kitty Pryde, aka “Shadowcat”), while a passionate but necessarily non-physical romance arises between a Southern belle who hurts those whose skin touches her own (Anna Marie, aka “Rogue”) and a womanizing thief whose own touch can blow things up (Remy LeBeau, aka “Gambit”). My favorite issues always contained skillfully constructed, stand-alone storylines that wove together all the characters’ interpersonal concerns so that the mindless action which provided the issue with its apparent raison d’être could find ballast—and heart—in a consideration of this closely knit family’s own issues.

Thankfully, the trilogy of X-Men films has successfully transplanted both the skillful cooperation that made this team of mutant superheroes such an effective fighting force, and the emotional undercurrent that made their adventures really matter. Oh, they’ve changed things around a bit—Rogue, for instance, is now protégé to Wolverine and unhappy lover to Iceman—but they’ve not lost that imaginative pulse which so resonates with readers worldwide, that bit of real relational stuff that invites us to really care about these far-fetched characters.

Brett Ratner’s X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) is no exception.

The second movie ended with a death in the family, a loss that crushed everyone on the X-Men team. My favorite scene from that movie (from the entire trilogy, I can now say) is of rivals Wolverine and Cyclops grabbing one another in a desperate, tearful hug after the woman they both loved has sacrificed herself to save the rest of the team.

Suffice it to say that in the third movie, there’s a lot more mourning—and it draws the team more closely together, both as a family and as a fighting unit. As their numbers dwindle, they’re forced to suck it up and push boldly ahead, to more judiciously plan and more consciously employ the very specific temperaments and abilities possessed by each of their members. Yes, we finally do get to see Colossus hurl Wolverine straight at the enemy (called a “fastball special” in the comics), and Kitty’s ability to phase others through solid objects proves very handy in a few crucial moments. Storm finally flies (!), and Wolverine gets to push the limits of his personal “healing factor.”

It’s a great way to end the series. A few additional bits here and there would have improved it (e.g. I’d have loved to see the “Phoenix effect,” and I’m kinda outraged that Nightcrawler’s not a part of this third movie), but what it does it does pretty well. Trust me, if you’re one of those who buys into the fantasy, you’re in for quite the emotional rollercoaster.