In the ever-expanding universe of superhero cinema, where legacies clash and new heroes rise, one voice has risen above the multiversal noise to champion an unexpected encore. Ryan Reynolds, the irreverent force behind Deadpool’s box-office dominance, is rallying the Marvel faithful for a poignant farewell to Wesley Snipes’ iconic portrayal of Blade. Fresh off the triumphant release of Deadpool & Wolverine, which shattered records and reignited nostalgia, Reynolds envisions a standalone film that mirrors the emotional depth of 2017’s Logan—a gritty, R-rated swan song for the Daywalker who started it all. As fans flood social media with echoes of this call, the question lingers: could this be the spark that finally brings Snipes back to the forefront, even as Marvel grapples with its own rebooted vision of the vampire hunter?

The genesis of this movement traces back to the summer blockbuster that brought Snipes out of a two-decade hiatus. In Deadpool & Wolverine, directed by Shawn Levy, Snipes reprises his role as the silver-haired slayer amid a cadre of forgotten Fox-era heroes stranded in the Void—a clever narrative device that nods to Marvel’s tangled history. Reynolds, who first crossed swords with Snipes on the set of 2004’s Blade: Trinity, where he played the wisecracking Hannibal King, has long credited the elder actor for forging the path that superheroes now tread so confidently. Their on-screen reunion was more than cameo fodder; it was a full-circle moment laced with humor and heart, culminating in Blade’s memorable line, “There can be only one Blade,” a sly jab at the MCU’s upcoming iteration starring Mahershala Ali.
It was on August 5, 2024, mere days after the film’s premiere, that Reynolds took to X (formerly Twitter) to amplify his plea. Accompanying behind-the-scenes photos of the duo—grinning amid the chaos of production—Reynolds wrote, “There is no Fox Marvel Universe or MCU without Blade first creating a market. He’s Marvel Daddy. Please retweet for a Logan-like send off. #DeadpoolAndWolverine.” The post, which has since garnered over 68,000 retweets and countless shares, captures Reynolds’ signature blend of reverence and mischief. What begins as a tribute to Snipes’ groundbreaking work evolves into a viral campaign, inviting fans to join a groundswell that feels both organic and orchestrated, much like the meta-marketing wizardry that propelled Deadpool into a cultural juggernaut.

To understand the weight of Reynolds’ words, one must rewind to 1998, when Blade burst onto screens like a stake through the heart of comic-book skepticism. Directed by Stephen Norrington, the film introduced audiences to Eric Brooks, a half-vampire warrior armed with sunlight serum and unyielding fury. Snipes, with his athletic prowess and brooding intensity, didn’t just play Blade—he embodied the character’s relentless drive, grossing over $131 million worldwide on a modest $45 million budget. Sequels followed: Guillermo del Toro’s visually stunning Blade II in 2002, which delved deeper into the lore with a symbiote-like vampire strain, and the polarizing Blade: Trinity, which introduced Reynolds’ Hannibal amid rumors of set tensions. Yet, these films collectively proved Marvel properties could thrive outside the caped crusader mold, predating Iron Man’s 2008 launch of the MCU by a decade. As Reynolds aptly notes, without Blade’s bloody blueprint, the sprawling saga of interconnected blockbusters might never have materialized.
Snipes himself has embraced the resurgence with grace, hinting at untapped potential in recent interviews. “It’s been a wild ride, but the love from the fans keeps the fire alive,” Snipes shared in a Variety sit-down post-Deadpool & Wolverine, reflecting on the thunderous theater reactions to his entrance. “Blade isn’t just a role; he’s a piece of history that demands respect.” His words underscore a career marked by resilience—from legal battles in the 2010s that sidelined him to this phoenix-like return that has fans clamoring for more. Reynolds, ever the provocateur, doubles down on this sentiment, dubbing Snipes “my Marvel father” in a follow-up X thread, a familial nod that humanizes the larger-than-life icon. This personal touch transforms the pitch from mere fan service into a compelling case for closure, evoking Logan’s portrayal of a weary Wolverine facing mortality with raw vulnerability.

The intrigue deepens when considering Marvel’s current crossroads. The Ali-led Blade project, announced in 2019 with a voice cameo in Eternals, has languished in development hell—directors have come and gone, scripts rewritten, and release dates pushed, with the latest slot eyeing November 7, 2025. Kevin Feige has confirmed its R-rating, promising a fresh take on the Daywalker’s nocturnal battles, yet whispers of production woes persist. Enter Reynolds’ proposal: a self-contained Snipes vehicle that sidesteps canon conflicts, perhaps set in a multiversal limbo akin to the Void. Imagine Blade, aged but unbroken, mentoring a successor or confronting a horde of elder vampires in a story that honors his trilogy’s visceral style. It’s a concept that tantalizes with possibility—could Snipes, at 62, deliver one last katana flourish that rivals Jackman’s farewell? The theater screams during his Deadpool cameo suggest audiences are primed, their uninhibited joy a testament to enduring loyalty.
Fan reactions have fueled the fire, turning Reynolds’ tweet into a digital petition. On Reddit’s r/marvelstudios, users envision a “passing of the torch” hybrid with Ali, while TikTok edits mash Snipes’ classics with Logan’s haunting score. “Ryan’s got the Midas touch—Deadpool saved the MCU; this could resurrect Blade,” one viral clip declares, amassing millions of views. Even Levy, in a Variety interview, revealed the cameo stemmed from Reynolds’ early vision of exploring “themes of legacy and endings,” adding layers to the advocacy. As shares ripple across platforms, the momentum builds, hinting at Marvel’s ear for audience pulse—after all, Deadpool & Wolverine owes its $1.3 billion haul partly to such nostalgic pulls.
Yet, beyond the spectacle, Reynolds’ crusade speaks to a broader truth in Hollywood’s hero factory: true icons deserve their curtain call. Snipes didn’t just slay vampires; he slayed doubts, proving diverse leads could anchor tentpoles. A Logan-esque Blade could blend high-stakes action with introspective grit, perhaps delving into Eric Brooks’ fractured psyche or a final stand against a blood empire threatening realities. Picture sun-dappled showdowns in abandoned warehouses, symbiote horrors echoing del Toro’s flair, and a score that pulses with Trent Reznor-esque menace. It’s not just escapism—it’s catharsis for a generation that grew up on VHS rentals of the originals.
As November 2025 looms, with Ali’s Blade on the horizon, Reynolds’ call hangs in the air like a silver stake at dawn. Will Marvel heed the fans’ roar, granting Snipes the epic exit he forged? The retweets suggest a tide turning, one share at a time. In a multiverse of reboots and resets, sometimes the boldest move is looking back to honor what came first. For now, the Daywalker’s shadow looms large, and Hollywood watches with bated breath.