These are the uncomfortable and unpleasant questions I found myself asking, erm....myself, after Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2.
Yo Dawg I heard you like bright colors, so we put bright colors IN your bright colors....
Now, before I get rolling, I did not hate Guardians 2, as such. I didn't leave the movie feeling angry or upset, I didn't feel like the people who made the movie should be hounded and disgraced for not meeting my standards, I didn't think the legacy of the characters or the brand was tarnished by the latest brick in the Big Red Wall that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
More than anything, what I felt was tired. Not tired like I'd been through a long and difficult journey, or tired like I'd put up with a particularly taxing day at work. Tired like a grown-up who's heard a kid tell the same knock-knock joke twenty times in a row. Tired like someone whose friend won't stop showing them pictures of their new baby and has to keep pretending to find it adorable. Tired like a gamer who's explored every dungeon in the game but keeps grinding so their character can level up some more.
There are people who call this "superhero fatigue," blaming the seemingly unending glut of cape-and-tights movies for diminishing returns with each outing. Personally, I think I need to specify and call the feeling what it really is: Marvel fatigue.
In a vacuum, Guardians 2 is solid enough. I wouldn't call it great-- or even particularly good if we're not grading superhero flicks by a curve-- but it hits a lot of the right marks. Kurt Russell positively steals the show whenever he's on screen, even if his spaceship looks like a giant flying Glade Plug-In. Michael Rooker's character Yondu has easily the best character arc in the movie, and honestly one of the better arcs in all of Marvel. And while I didn't buy Zoe Saldana's Gamorra as a love interest for the lead ("Why does she like him? Because he won't stop hitting on her"), I did care a lot more about her interactions with her sister/arch-rival Nebula, particularly in the second and third acts.
And hell, it avoids a lot of the pitfalls that have become increasingly common complaints about the Marvel movies. The color scheme no longer looks like a flat, empty parking lot (though I'd say the undisciplined rainbow-vomit of super-saturated colors is an over-correction). There are no obnoxious fake-out deaths to tug at the audience's heartstrings only to renege on having actual consequences. The main antagonist has a clear motivation and reasons for doing what he does other than being a moustache-twirling bad guy for its own sake. And most importantly of all, it's its own self-contained story, rather than an elaborate setup for the next one.
If there's one big thing that I really, truly disliked about Guardians 2, it's the one thing that Marvel has been banking on for so long: the 'humor.' After the backlash DC's Man of Steel and later Batman v Superman received, Marvel has leaned harder and harder on comedy to make sure they're not seen as gloomy try-hards like their competitors. It's seeped into virtually every conversation, every scene, every sequence, to the point where it's impossible for me to engage with the movie. They continually undercut moments that are supposed to be impressive and 'epic' by punctuating them with wacky clown slapstick, they undermine lines that are meant to be full of gravitas and importance by following them up with Whedonesque awkward-mumble-jokes, they take what could be exciting battles and chase sequences and use them as backdrops for bickering or dance numbers. I get that these are action-comedies above all else, but when the dramatic and emotional moments finally come in the third act, I can't bring myself to get invested because they look and sound exactly the same as the scenes the rest of the movie told me not to take seriously.
Oh, and I may be alone in this, but I loathed Baby Groot and how hard this movie leaned on him. You remember America's Funniest Home Videos? And how every other week, all the genuinely funny and clever videos would lose to a video of a baby doing something 'cute,' and how irritating that was? That is Baby Groot to me. Every time he's on screen, all I can think of is the guy who put all the time and effort into creating something to make people laugh, only for the ten-thousand-dollar prize to go to some jerk who got his brat to sing along to "Great Balls of Fire."
You go to hell, Bob Saget. Straight to hell.
In a vacuum, I'd say the 80-ish% positive ratings on Rotten Tomatoes aren't off-base. The critical response hasn't been overwhelming praise like it was for the first Guardians, but a tepid endorsement is still technically an endorsement. It's nothing you'll remember, but you'll have a decent time while you're there. It's not great, but it's good enough.
The problem is that it doesn't exist in a vacuum. We've been getting a minimum of two superhero movies a year for nearly a decade now. We've seen enough Marvel movies at this point that we know how they work and what to expect. And we've seen the competitors step up their game, learning from past failures to become bigger and badder contenders for the throne. And as far as I'm concerned, good enough isn't good enough anymore.
Sure, DC is fighting an uphill battle after the divisive reception of Man of Steel and the critical lynchings it received for BvS and Suicide Squad. But even with an extremely hostile press and a significant portion of the comic fandom actively rooting for them to fail, those three movies still cracked two billion dollars (something it took Marvel five movies to do). And what's more, going by the trailers for the upcoming Wonder Woman and Justice League, the execs and creative teams at WB have listened to the response and have been taking steps to win back an estranged audience (notice how much of the Justice League trailer was focused on going "look everyone, we've got jokes now!"). They may not succeed, but if they're going to, this year is their best chance at it.
And over at Twentieth Century Fox, the long-floundering X-Men franchise has finally found its footing. Last year's Deadpool was a smash hit, and it opened the door for them to take on riskier, more mature projects that subvert expectations, challenge their audiences, and push against the self-imposed confines of the superhero genre as just light, fluffy escapism. One of those is the highly-acclaimed FX series Legion, which has delivered some of the darkest and most engaging takes on power and the consequences of heroism that I've seen in years.
The other, of course, is Logan.
Oh, you like hit pop songs in your superhero movie trailer? How about I use Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt," the saddest goddamn song ever?
Logan was more than just Hugh Jackman saying goodbye to a role he'd been playing since 1999. It was a reminder that superheroes are supposed to mean more than just something to laugh and clap at and dress up as for Halloween. It was a bleak, unflinching, and unapologetic commentary on where we are as a society and where we might end up if we stop seeing other people as people. It was a heartbreaking character study of a man who had fought too long and lost too much, who'd been surrounded by death for so long that he'd forgotten what it was to have a life, a man of war and his final search for peace.
It was a masterpiece of the genre, and more than that, it was a genuinely great movie. There was no need to make excuses for it, no need to say "well, it's just a silly superhero flick, what do you expect?" It was a shining testament to what happens when you put in the effort and actually give a damn about what you're doing.
On top of that, it gave audiences something that neither the Marvel or DC cinematic universes can give them: an ending. A meaningful, emotional, and important final chapter to a story we'd followed through its highs and its lows. Meanwhile, Marvel has long-term plans to keep their movie-verse going long after the climactic Infinity War they've been teasing since the first Avengers, and while many things at DC seem up-in-the-air, they don't have any intention of closing up shop any time soon. Hell, even after splitting custody of Spider-Man with Marvel, Sony still plans on making a 'universe' out of Spidey's more notable villains like Venom and Black Cat. We can argue and bicker all day about the actual quality of these movies, but all three of these big studios all plan on milking their respective cash-cows until they run dry. Logan, on the other hand, chose to close the book on Wolverine for good, and leave the audience sad but ultimately satisfied.
Even with the critical and commercial success of Logan and the apparent course-corrections at DC, Marvel Studios remain the king of the mountain. They've got the pedigree, they've got the formula that's led to one home-run after another, and they've got the bountiful resources of Disney at their back. As much of an unrepentant DC fanboy as I am, I'll be the first to admit that nobody thinks of them first when they think of superhero movies. Marvel at this point has become as synonymous with comic books and their film adaptations as Coca-Cola is to soda, as Starbucks is to coffee, as McDonald's is to fast-food. They are the undisputed top brand, come rain or shine.
And it makes it that much more disappointing that while their competitors are taking big steps forward, they choose to jog in place.
Which brings me back to Guardians of the Galaxy, vol. 2. It's a competent and inoffensive family-friendly action-comedy, made by a studio that has dominated an entire genre of entertainment by cranking out an endless stream of competent and inoffensive family-friendly action-comedies. It's not bad, but it doesn't make any effort to be any better than the one before that, and the reason that it doesn't is because it doesn't have to. It's a Marvel movie, and therefore it will make its weight in gold and everyone will love it, just long enough for people to have forgotten it completely by the time the next one comes around.
I haven't forgotten, though, and that's the problem. I haven't forgotten the last fifteen competent and inoffensive action-comedies, all made to look and sound and feel the same way, with characters that all act the same way, plots that all unfold the same way, and jokes that are all told the same way. I haven't forgotten all the people who have chided me for wanting more, saying "relax, they're just silly stories about guys in capes, they're not supposed to be taken seriously," before going back to their deadly-serious TV shows about zombies and dragons and robots that dress up like cowboys. I haven't forgotten the critics who showered the last movie with unabashed praise and jubilation, just like they did with the one before that, and the one before that, and the one before that. I haven't forgotten the other filmmakers out there who have tried to push superhero mythology outside the looming shadow of the Big Red Wall, even when they're ridiculed and dragged through the mud and kicked while they're down because of it. I haven't forgotten how good these films can be when they're not produced on an assembly line.
And after today, I won't have forgotten what it feels like to be the one person in a crowded theater that isn't laughing, wondering if I'm the one who has a problem.
