Movie Review: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldana, Bradley Cooper, a baby-voiced Vin Diesel and a scene-stealing Dave Bautista return to save the Galaxy, and the MCU.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is an imperfect—and inessential—entry in Marvel’s increasingly slumberous and same-y film universe.

But there’s enough joyous invention in here (and plenty of gentle yacht rock classics on the soundtrack) to melt even the most hardened of superhero cynics.

My melting moment came about three minutes into proceedings, when the impossibly adorable Baby Groot—a frisky sapling with the Chipmunk’d voice of Vin Diesel—grooved along to ELO’s “Mr. Blue Sky” over the opening credits. I should know better than to succumb to such easy pandering. Still: cute.

James Gunn’s eye-popping sequel to 2014’s hit covers much of the same territory as his original. Chris Pratt returns as the Walkman-toting spaceman Peter Quill (aka Star-Lord), goofball leader of the self-described Guardians of the Galaxy. A motley crew made up of seemingly incompatible species, the fivesome travels the cosmos, protecting different civilisations from extinction… for a price, obviously (not including a tip, usually taken from clients without their knowing).

The galaxy guarding, however, remains secondary to the team’s constant flirting and bickering. Peter boasts about the ‘Sam and Diane’ dynamic he shares with green-skinned alien assassin Gamora (Zoe Saldana), a reference that flies entirely over her head, given she didn’t grow up in a universe with Cheers. (What unimaginable horror.) The bloodlustful and filter-less Drax (Dave Bautista)—sweetened, somewhat, since the last feature—encourages Peter to find someone more “pathetic”. Meanwhile, Rocket Raccoon (a CGI creature voiced by Bradley Cooper) is rudderless without his giant Groot companion; now he plays mother to Baby Groot, and grows ever grouchier towards his non-raccoon partners.

For about half an hour, I was convinced this was all I needed from a Guardians of the Galaxy movie. Its predecessor was probably over-celebrated for breaking the Marvel mould (when, in actuality, it fit the mould exactly, save for the intergalactic setting, neon Lite-Brite aesthetic and ‘70s-era musical cuts). It was followed by Avengers: Age of Ultron, which was unsatisfactory as a cohesive film, yet excelled as an uber-expensive “hangout” flick. I was ready for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 to take that model to its logical conclusion, and really, finally, do its own thing. Instead, in the second act, writer-director Gunn splinters the team, and grinds the narrative engine to a halt. You really can’t do both.

The trouble starts when Peter’s long lost daddy, Ego (Kurt Russell), emerges. Effectively a God, Ego invites Peter to his planet (as in: he is the planet), where he can finally teach his son to harness his powers, and maybe play catch too. Drax and Gamora come with, while Rocket, Groot and Gamora’s newly captured sister, the murderous Nebula (Karen Gillan), stay behind to repair their busted ship, and fend off the Ravagers, led by, gasp, Peter’s adoptive dad, Yondu (Michael Rooker). At least all this ‘who’s your daddy?’ hand-wringing will be a respite for anyone still reeling from Batman v Superman’s baffling mommy “Martha” drama.

Sure, Russell’s fun as the appropriately-christened Ego, and it’s on his planet that the standout Dave Bautista gets to play with Ego’s assistant, the oddball empath Mantis (a beguiling and peculiar Pom Klementieff). The scenes Drax and Mantis share are the comedic and emotional highlights, without exception. But our time with Ego seems to stretch on for an eternity. Gunn tries to make up for the inaction by giving Rocket and Groot a separate (and surprisingly violent) side adventure, though it's clearly wheel-spinning, and, ultimately, time-wasting. We shouldn’t be checking our watch during Guardians of the Galaxy. These things are nothing if not sensory-overloading distractions from our less colourful lives.

Gunn rights his starship before the flick comes to an end, introducing an unexpectedly spooky-looking villain and slapping itself out of stasis with a gonzo final battle, scored by Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain”. (Editors Fred Raskin and Craig Wood have basically patched together a tapestry of psychedelic music videos, bless them.) When Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 works, you’re convinced there’s nothing better in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or any other universe, for that matter.

That’s why, structural issues aside (not to mention the same stagnant feeling that has come with all Marvel movies since, oh, 2012), Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, like Vol. 1, is a breezy good time. It’s doing the same things we’ve seen before, only this time, a little bit stranger. It flies slightly closer to the sun than its studio-mates, and is only singed, funnily enough, when it tries playing it safe like them. If you’re wondering when the picture roars back to life, it’s when the enthusiastic Pratt—shaken from his own Jurassic World/Passengers-induced nap—excitedly tells his God-Father he’s going to “make some weird s***”. I assume that’s when Gunn started taking his own advice.

3.5/5

In cinemas April 25. Rated M for science fiction themes and violence.

Photo: Disney