• The action sequences are usually the least interesting part of a Marvel movie, and Guardians of the Galaxy is no exception. This isn’t because of any personal failing on the part of the director or writers. Rather, it’s because 1) Marvel movies all tend to gravitate toward a house style, and 2) that house style is both shaper of and shaped by the current trend toward making action films less visually comprehensible and more impressionistic and chaotic. The last act of Guardians involves an enemy armada attacking a peaceful planet and being met in force by squadrons of ships. The sky is a blurred, packed mess of information, and only rarely do we as viewers get a sense of where different characters and ships are within the narrative space. Marvel’s employed a string of talented directors to helm their movies — including Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Kenneth Branagh, and now, on Guardians, James Gunn — but their respective sensibilities are almost always trampled by their films’ overloaded climaxes. ((I still can’t figure out if the climax of Iron Man 3, directed by Black, isn’t just a giant thumb in the eye of moviegoers and fans who clamor for these types of action sequences. It involves Tony Stark using a remote control to bring a bunch of self-piloting Iron Man suits to his rescue. So the battle sequence isn’t just one CG form versus another, but a frenzy of CG forms that are, narratively, hollow and empty and running on auto. Interpret at will.)) These sequences are the most visually aggressive, and the least interesting: there’s not much use of geography, the viewer’s never given a chance to inhabit the frame, etc. You aren’t able to hold in your head an idea of what’s happening where and to whom, which is standard now for impressionistic action. The final battle here feels pasted directly from many other movies, and the body count is so astronomically high you just stop caring. Death ceases to have meaning. You could cut 90% of the “action” from the movie and not lose anything. If anything, you’d probably improve the final product.
• Guardians of the Galaxy is more entertaining than most Marvel movies because it wants to be a comic sci-fi actioner, not a moody superhero drama. Christopher Nolan’s Batman movies are very good, and probably the best examples of how to marry operatic drama with cartoony heroes and make everything feel realistic and grim and engaging. The problem is that success breeds imitation, and most of that imitation only goes as far as aping a few random details on the surface. Every superhero movie now tries to be serious and earnest and maudlin when these things are not guaranteed to work in every situation. They aren’t cogs that can be moved and replaced at whim. Guardians, though, has a different tone altogether: reckless adventure, with a little goofy heart thrown in. In other words, it’s actually enjoyable to watch.
• Few people can nail the mix of seriousness and clownishness like Chris Pratt. It’s a hard line to walk.
• The plot’s Macguffin is fine, if generic — a mysterious orb that can blah blah explode planets — but overall the movie’s pretty streamlined. It’s certainly more focused than the latest Captain America movie from earlier in the summer, which tried to glue several plots together into a messy whole. Guardians zips right along.
• Speaking of death ceasing to have meaning: a friend of mine wrote a piece for the New York Times earlier in the summer about the overuse of death in blockbusters, specifically re: the way death is used as a cheap and artificial way to raise the stakes because it’s so often reversed. That happens here in Guardians, too. When it looks like the whole gang’s going to die in a crash, Groot expands from a tree into a giant cocoon of branches that protects everyone else. Rocket worriedly warns Groot that such a move will kill him, and sure enough, when they wreck, Groot is destroyed. Nothing remains but scattered branches and twigs. Rocket sits and weeps over the remnants of his dead friend. But a few minutes later, Rocket is seen carrying one of the branches in a planter. I thought at first this was a kind of memorial, but in the next scene, Groot is shown regrowing himself from that tiny branch, while Rocket holds the planter in his lap. There’s no mention or discovery that Groot has survived the crash. Rocket and everyone else act like things are pretty much going as planned here.
Groot’s death, then, is rendered narratively and emotionally pointless. If he was actually going to die the crash, Rocket should’ve been far more excited to see that he actually survived. And if he could actually survive the crash, Rocket shouldn’t have announced that Groot would die, nor would he have needed to spend time weeping over the remains. It wouldn’t damage the story in any way for Groot to suffer serious injury in the crash. He’s spent the entire film being pretty much indestructible: this would be a chance for him to actually risk something greater. We’ve seen that he can regrow lost limbs, but what happens if he sustains a more grievous injury? Wouldn’t something like that test him without also cheating us?
Additionally, what are the chances that Gunn is going to kill off one of the five main characters in the gang’s first appearance on screen? He isn’t Whedon (and Whedon can do what he wants with his own characters; messing with Marvel’s is probably a whole other issue). We know, as viewers, that it would be shocking and nonsensical for Groot to die here. It seems highly unlikely. Therefore, his death scene is even more misleading because we know that somehow, someway, it’s going to be reversed. It has to. And sure enough, it is. This whole turn felt like a misstep, which was a shame, since Gunn did so many other things well.
• I can’t remember the last time a film’s score — especially one for an action movie or blockbuster — stayed with me. Many modern scores seem to have jettisoned melody and themes in favor of sustained, shifting chords or generic drums and stings to underscore the mood. It’s fitting, then, that Guardians is loaded and mostly scored to pop songs.
• The central characters aren’t referred to as the “guardians of the galaxy” until they’re captured at the end by the villain, who uses the term sarcastically and seemingly without prompting, after which it seems to stick. It feels random and a bit forced, as if Luke Skywalker had moaned, “These star wars are tearing my family apart!” Indeed, you can see in earlier trailers that the phrase originally popped up in other places in the story, but having now seen the movie, I can’t understand why the guard (John C. Reilly) would’ve said “They call themselves the ‘guardians of the galaxy,'” since the group had just been arrested and this was the first time they’d all been rounded up at once. They hadn’t even worked together yet at this point. It’s always hard in these origin stories for catch phrases to get worked in, but still.
• I knew nothing about the history of these characters before I saw the movie, and I still don’t know anything more than what was on screen. The parts of the movie that worked best were, unsurprisingly, those that felt free to do their own thing instead of adhering to Marvel’s internal memos for franchise expansion. The interchangeable villains — Thanos, done entirely in CGI and looking not unlike a rhino the color of bubblegum; Ronan, acted by Lee Pace chewing every available piece of scenery; a rare-items dealer played by Benicio del Toro with hair and costume out of a Schumacher Batman movie — seemed to appear to satisfy brand obligations. The origin story of the Guardians, though, was a more entertaining and enjoyable part of the narrative simply because it felt like Gunn was able to tell a little story of his own.
• It comes as no surprise to learn that Groot’s animation and personality were inspired by Gunn’s dog. The character’s face doesn’t change much, but he’s given large eyes, a big mouth, and no nose. He looks like a giant smiley face, eager for affection and acceptance. We’re hardwired as viewers to respond to animals like that. The dragon in How to Train Your Dragon was modeled after a cat, and the creatures in Avatar also had feline inspiration. It works, though. Groot plays really well, and in a movie where several characters are fully CG, he’s the most enjoyable one. This also has to do with the fact that his dialogue is only three words (“I am Groot”) distinguished by intonation dependent upon the situation, and his reaction shots are sparingly used. He turns out to be the secret weapon.
• The post-credits scenes in these Marvel movies are almost laughably vague now, as well as symptomatic of a larger style of filmmaking-as-pure-product that shows no regard for viewer experience on an individual movie basis. They’re an endless tease. That’s what makes the stinger here so perfect. It’s a dumb, pointless scene featuring Howard the Duck. It has no bearing on the events of the film we just saw, nor does it tease some new villain or twist for whatever’s next in the franchise. It’s a blissful screw-you to those who expect, who demand, a juicy post-credit scene and who get upset when one doesn’t appear. The stingers always feel so narrowly targeted as to be pointless: only long-time comic book fans are usually going to understand what’s going on in them. It was great to see Gunn go the other way. It’s so hard to make these movies feel like they have a voice; this was an opportunity for him to make himself heard.