Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2
In which Star-Lord’s ego gets out of hand.
+: great characters, powerful story, much stronger villain than last time
-: slightly flat ending, sometimes kinda sentimental
Before writing this review — before rewatching the film for it — I wasn’t quite certain how I’d judge GOTG2. There are parts of it that feel a little ephemeral, a bit inessential — some moments cartoonish (Rocket vs. the Ravagers); some moments a little too obvious and sentimental (“I know you boy — because you’re me!) in that manner American pop culture sometimes seems to. The film is a bit confused, on a textual level, about Star-Lord (perhaps for understandable reasons), and Chris Pratt is still a bit limited as a dramatic actor — unfortunate when this film asks more of him in this area than its predecessor.
But what’s impressive about this film is its utter confidence. James Gunn shouldn’t get away with introducing four new planets in the first 45 minutes. He shouldn’t get away with stealing random bits of largely forgotten films (parts of Star Trek: Generations’ ending get strip-mined for the start of this film, for example). And he shouldn’t be able, once again, to dick around for almost an hour before establishing the conflict (indeed, this film is, on a strict technical level, worse than its predecessor — what the primary antagonist wants isn’t even hinted at until the 81st minute).
It works, though, for multiple reasons. For one thing, a good idea is a good idea, even if it’s taken from an average context. And Gunn cares intensely about the characters and the details of his world, and has the exact kind of humour and pathos down for each one (Groot incongruously sat with what looks like a small tub of smarties, and Rocket breaking down at a funeral, the latter of which even momentarily, partially sells me on Cat Stevens).
It also works because Gunn has a purpose for everything, locked into place like the filmic equivalent of serialism. Take the planets: the first, a gold-slathered realm of ineffectual narcissists (how this was supposed to have any cultural resonance, in the US or elsewhere, is anyone’s guess), is where the Guardians get paid. The second (Berhert, aka every forest planet ever) is where the potential mystery and danger is. The third is a wintry, cold place where old ties among the Ravagers are severed, or start to break apart. And the fourth is a paradise too good to be true. Motivation, plot, character — all of it is embodied in these planets and settings.
This last planet, too, is crucial. Star-Lord’s motivation is utterly understandable here; he’s being offered godhood and immortality, and the sole requirement is that he visit his dad’s house now and again. Sure, he’s a jerk to Gamora about it, but in the grand scheme of things, she’ll be gone in an instant.
This last part hints at the price to be paid. Yes, it’s the saccharine Hollywood standby, about how success can mean abandoning the Important Things in Life, such as Family (a wholly owned and registered trademark of One Race Films). Except, in this case, godhood also means being a terrible person.
The idea of past abuses of power haunting the present was already present in the previous two MCU films, but here it truly emerges in a more organic way. Ego’s aim is to spread everywhere, and homogenise everything. His unreflecting arrogance, which Kurt Russell has down brilliantly, sells this so much better than the small, underdeveloped resentment of Malekith the Accursed, who had similar plans. Ego is many things. He could be the British East India Company, or he might be Facebook — either way, time doesn’t sharpen him, it simply blunts him down to mindless, unthinking abuse, something that doesn’t even require malice to create harm, because it’s right there in the system of thought.
In this way, Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2 is neatly illustrative of how the MCU can work. To cram a whole critique of colonialism and ideological hegemony into a single film — a SF/fantasy blockbuster no less — would be a heavy undertaking. Any such film could buckle under the weight of ideas, turning entertainment into a lecture; but spread across a half-dozen films or more, surprising detail can emerge.
Also, Baby Groot is adorable.
High Points: the quantum asteroids, the North by Northwest homage between Gamora and Nebula.
Low Points: as mentioned above, Rocket vs. Ravagers falls a bit flat. The climax is also a bit conventional, a disappointment compared to the films either side of this one.
Curios: Kraglin’s suggestion that Nebula buy a nice hat goes down badly, which is just as well — Groot hates hats, for reasons both stupid and classic Groot.
Flagrant Product Placement: Dairy Queen, and — well, do the Walkman and Zune count? Both are obsolete — but then, so are all Peter Quill’s references…
Connections to Elsewhere: few, if any. Even Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t reference anything odd happening in Missouri in 2014.
Stan Lee Cameo: Stan Lee isn’t a Watcher — he’s an asset of the Watchers. Very brief, but easily the best one in the MCU so far. (10/10)
End Credits: five of them, mostly fun but inconsequential. Kraglin tests the arrow (6/10); the original 1970s Guardians characters come together (6/10); Ayesha reveals Adam Warlock (7/10); teenage Groot (5/10); Stan Lee reappears — “I’ve got so many more stories to tell…” (10/10).
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Next: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
