A good mixtape has well-defined arcs, with transition songs the true mark of quality. The well-constructed mixtape pays special attention to songs that demand repeated listens. Not simply because they’re catchy, but because they are elastic. Familiar songs with enough depth to recast themselves as first kisses and heartbreak alike. Mixtapes of notable quality are a durable good. Their manufactured heartiness notwithstanding, mixtapes endure because they are a handcrafted labor of love. Guardians of the Galaxy, the triumph of summer 2014, is one damn good mixtape.
Ugh, I hate being so gushy. And I’ll be damned if I don’t try and purge nostalgia at every turn, but Guardians of the Galaxy had me figured from the get go. A mixtape as a framing device? Imbued with profound emotional resonance? Featuring songs so far outside Marvel’s key demo kids won’t believe ‘Redbone’ and ‘10cc’ were even a thing? Knock me over with a 5-pack of 90 minute TDKs. Add the irrepressible Chris Pratt as Peter Quill/Star-Lord, the mighty, never human colored Zoe Saldana as Gamora, and outer space hi-jinks…well, I’m sure I can manufacture some bias to give the picture a fair treatment. But if you wanna bail on the next few hundred words, my recommendation is unequivocal: go see it.
From a big picture standpoint, Guardians is a much-needed shot in the arm for Marvel Studios. Yes, Marvel is making money hand over fist, but we are careening towards an inevitable cape and cowl exhaustion. Guardians of the Galaxy is not a superhero picture. I wouldn't call it Sci-Fi either, though it is space-ish. For lack of a better descriptor, it’s fantasy. No matter what you need to call it, it’s unique enough—and good enough—to shatter the greying structure Marvel was beginning to erect around its properties.
This isn't to say Guardians avoids the anticipated Marvel/Hollywood nuts and bolts here. The first act is devoted to getting the band together. There is an object of awesome power in the balance, and its necessary add-on, a bad guy in the form of Lee Pace as Ronan the Accuser. There’s action, comedy, pop culture references, and sexual tension. Yet, in defiance of all the well-worn familiarity, the film has savvy enough to excel beyond something routine.
The object of power is less a trope and more a notion. An implement of profound destruction and its invariable collision with ego’s fallibility. Our villain and his singular vision possess zealotry enough to cast a dark shadow. In a rare turn, the band of misfits unwittingly brought together are swarthy enough to rekindle even our most repressed inner misfit.
Much to the film’s credit, Guardians’ cast is a tight assemblage of talent. When Vin Diesel’s one day of ADR produces Groot, the character who induces some serious choked-up hot-face, you know you’ve got a gem on your hands. Michael Rooker is Yondu, and his agent must be like, “Look, when you pay for Michael Rooker you get Michael effin’ Rooker.” And he’s awesome. You know, because he’s Michael Rooker. Dave Batista is a work in progress, but his WWE chops suit the appropriate rigidity of Drax the Destroyer.
And how much more praise can I throw at the ongoing ascendance of Chris Pratt? I’ll spare you those embarrassing adverbs, but he has been in the two most surprising, satisfying, and (soon) to be highest grossing films of 2014. (The other is Lego Movie, and don’t even get me started. My editor—who probably shouldn't let me write reviews anyway—will dread the day I beg to post, “Everything is Awesome: Interlocking Plastic Bricks, Monoculture, and the War against Exceptionalism.” (Editor's Note: Bring it on.)
A harp script is always a benefit, and James Gunn clearly helmed a production where cast and crew could do what they do best, but the music... Part character, part storyteller, the soundtrack is woven into the story with a deft, exciting touch. Maybe I’m simple, but I like when music in a movie comes from somewhere. And as Star-Lord’s mixtape plays out in layers throughout the film, these super sounds of the '70s evolve well beyond pop hits. The way songs we love score the montage we wish our lives could be, the soundtrack becomes its own gravity, the force anchoring everything in place.
Guardians of the Galaxy‘s story isn't profound. The characters exist within a certain comfort zone. Even the songs selected aren't the deepest cuts in the catalog. Although, “Moonage Daydream,” on a mixtape for an eight-year-old kid? Best gift ever. But none of the above need to be a sterling individual effort. Guardians of the Galaxy is the sum of its perfectly machined parts. Track by track, a persona larger than the singular pieces begins to emerge. An identity malleable enough to launch thrilling action pieces and tender enough to foster a slow dance, Guardians becomes a feeling. The feeling finds a way to cement together memory, experience, and if you’re willing, a bit of pure, unfettered joy. The feeling becomes so powerful, you’d believe it could defend the entire galaxy. Because a good mixtape isn't the songs, it’s the space between the songs.
— Monte Monreal
Ugh, I hate being so gushy. And I’ll be damned if I don’t try and purge nostalgia at every turn, but Guardians of the Galaxy had me figured from the get go. A mixtape as a framing device? Imbued with profound emotional resonance? Featuring songs so far outside Marvel’s key demo kids won’t believe ‘Redbone’ and ‘10cc’ were even a thing? Knock me over with a 5-pack of 90 minute TDKs. Add the irrepressible Chris Pratt as Peter Quill/Star-Lord, the mighty, never human colored Zoe Saldana as Gamora, and outer space hi-jinks…well, I’m sure I can manufacture some bias to give the picture a fair treatment. But if you wanna bail on the next few hundred words, my recommendation is unequivocal: go see it.
From a big picture standpoint, Guardians is a much-needed shot in the arm for Marvel Studios. Yes, Marvel is making money hand over fist, but we are careening towards an inevitable cape and cowl exhaustion. Guardians of the Galaxy is not a superhero picture. I wouldn't call it Sci-Fi either, though it is space-ish. For lack of a better descriptor, it’s fantasy. No matter what you need to call it, it’s unique enough—and good enough—to shatter the greying structure Marvel was beginning to erect around its properties.
This isn't to say Guardians avoids the anticipated Marvel/Hollywood nuts and bolts here. The first act is devoted to getting the band together. There is an object of awesome power in the balance, and its necessary add-on, a bad guy in the form of Lee Pace as Ronan the Accuser. There’s action, comedy, pop culture references, and sexual tension. Yet, in defiance of all the well-worn familiarity, the film has savvy enough to excel beyond something routine.
The object of power is less a trope and more a notion. An implement of profound destruction and its invariable collision with ego’s fallibility. Our villain and his singular vision possess zealotry enough to cast a dark shadow. In a rare turn, the band of misfits unwittingly brought together are swarthy enough to rekindle even our most repressed inner misfit.
Much to the film’s credit, Guardians’ cast is a tight assemblage of talent. When Vin Diesel’s one day of ADR produces Groot, the character who induces some serious choked-up hot-face, you know you’ve got a gem on your hands. Michael Rooker is Yondu, and his agent must be like, “Look, when you pay for Michael Rooker you get Michael effin’ Rooker.” And he’s awesome. You know, because he’s Michael Rooker. Dave Batista is a work in progress, but his WWE chops suit the appropriate rigidity of Drax the Destroyer.
And how much more praise can I throw at the ongoing ascendance of Chris Pratt? I’ll spare you those embarrassing adverbs, but he has been in the two most surprising, satisfying, and (soon) to be highest grossing films of 2014. (The other is Lego Movie, and don’t even get me started. My editor—who probably shouldn't let me write reviews anyway—will dread the day I beg to post, “Everything is Awesome: Interlocking Plastic Bricks, Monoculture, and the War against Exceptionalism.” (Editor's Note: Bring it on.)
A harp script is always a benefit, and James Gunn clearly helmed a production where cast and crew could do what they do best, but the music... Part character, part storyteller, the soundtrack is woven into the story with a deft, exciting touch. Maybe I’m simple, but I like when music in a movie comes from somewhere. And as Star-Lord’s mixtape plays out in layers throughout the film, these super sounds of the '70s evolve well beyond pop hits. The way songs we love score the montage we wish our lives could be, the soundtrack becomes its own gravity, the force anchoring everything in place.
Guardians of the Galaxy‘s story isn't profound. The characters exist within a certain comfort zone. Even the songs selected aren't the deepest cuts in the catalog. Although, “Moonage Daydream,” on a mixtape for an eight-year-old kid? Best gift ever. But none of the above need to be a sterling individual effort. Guardians of the Galaxy is the sum of its perfectly machined parts. Track by track, a persona larger than the singular pieces begins to emerge. An identity malleable enough to launch thrilling action pieces and tender enough to foster a slow dance, Guardians becomes a feeling. The feeling finds a way to cement together memory, experience, and if you’re willing, a bit of pure, unfettered joy. The feeling becomes so powerful, you’d believe it could defend the entire galaxy. Because a good mixtape isn't the songs, it’s the space between the songs.
— Monte Monreal
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