After
a brief prologue, Guardians of the Galaxy
kicks off with likable star Chris Pratt basically re-creating the
opening sequence of Raiders of the Lost Ark
while boogieing to '70s soft rock. So far, so good. Then, Michael
Rooker shows up as a blue-faced alien scoundrel. This you must know:
while the presence of Michael Rooker is not a guarantee of quality,
it is a guarantee of awesomeness. Boom. I'm in.
Soon
enough, here comes Zoe Saldana, reigning queen of the big-budget
science fiction adventure, put into immediate conflict with Doctor
Who's Karen Gillan. We are
cooking.
Guardians of the Galaxy
doesn't squander its early goodwill. It takes its simple MacGuffin
chase of a plot and layers it with yet more endearing characters;
clever homages to films as diverse as Pulp Fiction,
Slither, Footloose, and Howard
the Duck; and loads and loads of
well-played banter. All of this adds up to a light, fun, and
exciting space opera that had my whole family laughing out loud
and rocking along for a solid two hours.
As I write about it, however, I find that I'm having trouble sinking my teeth into it. It's bouncy. It's fun. I'll enjoy seeing it again when it hits Netflix. But it doesn't give me much to think about. It's the cotton candy of movies.
That said, I like cotton candy. Guardians of the Galaxy worked for me.
