Take a Drink: anytime you see “Awesome Mix Vol. 1”and/or hear a track from the tape.
Take a Drink: whenever Groot spouts wood.
Do a Shot: if you spot the Stan Lee cameo. Take Two: if you were the last one to notice.
Take a Drink: if you laugh whenever you hear the name of the spaceship “The Dark Aster”. Take Two Sips: if you don’t, you mature prick.
Take a Sip: whenever you hear “I am Groot”, “Star Lord”, “Honor”, or “Friends”.
Take a Drink: every time you see or hear about the orb/infinity stone.
Shotgun a Beer: when the magic of friendship saves the day.
By: Felix Felicis (A Toast) –
Dear Editor-In-Chief, Henry J. Fromage, I accept the fact that I had to sacrifice two whole hours in hell (And So It Goes) and stab four other critics to death with stale Olive Garden breadsticks to score this review. But I think you’re crazy to make me write an essay telling you who I think I am. You see me as you want to see me… In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what I found out is that each one of us is an alcoholic…
Drax: … And a walking steroid…
Rocket: … And a genetically modified fuzzy-wuzzy mastermind…
Gamora: … A sexy assasin…
Star Lord: … And a not-so-criminal-okay-kind-of-criminal-with-a-heart-of-gold…
Groot: … I am Groot!…
Felix Felicis: Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Guardians of the Galaxy Club.
Guardians of the Galaxy follows a sextastic Chris Pratt as Peter Quill as Star Lord, an intergalactic ne’er-do-well breaking hearts and laws across the known universe, until shit gets all Ark of the Covenant when Quill falls into shenanigans that quickly spiral out of control during a routine scavenging mission. In possession of a mysterious orb and chased by a homicidal goth guy who probably just needs a hug (Lee Pace as Ronan) and is hell-bent on Hitlerizing an entire planet, Star Lord and Co. (murderous misfits who become the unlikeliest best friends that anyone could have, the unlikeliest best friends that anyone could have…) race the clock to save a universe, and planet, that’s never done them any favors.
Already blasting a summer slump of ticket sales out of the box office stratosphere, Guardians of the Galaxy is showing exactly why, in a market already over-saturated with all things super and hero, they’re the motherfucking Kings of the Universe. The anti-hero underdogs served on a bed of snark with subtle undertones of genuine connection is why this movie will satisfy and appeal to a broad audience of die-hard, and non-comic book, fans alike. First and foremost, the soundtrack, and masterful score, kicks this two-hour panty-dropping action-adventure flick in the space balls from opening credits to inexplicably weird post-credits scene. Seriously, even money three of you guys actually get who the fuck shows up in that shit. But I digress.
The overlap between action and music balances like a Yin/Yang of badassery; all songs from the 70’s and 80’s (featuring “Cherry Bomb” and “Hooked On A Feeling” to name a few) the overlay blending seamlessly together and helping the audience hit all the right *puts on sunglasses* tones at all the right times. Guardians of the Galaxy takes you on a surprisingly deep emotional roller coaster ride; from witty quips, to poignant connection, to explosive action, more expertly than my mother can serve up piping hot parental disappointment at holidays and family dinners.
The pacing never lags and the expert direction is evident in the engrossing, not to mention expansive, character connections and development. Most engaging was (surprisingly) not that of Star Lord and Zoe Saldana’s assassin, Gamora (which was Charlie Hunnam, I mean Channing Tatum’s abs, I mean engrossing to watch, don’t get me wrong) but Rocket Raccon (voiced by gritty vocal eargasm Bradley Cooper) and Groot (a dialogically limited, yet remarkably deep, Vin Diesel). This touching bromance steals the show and Rocket is hands-down the breakout character of the pack. Complex and layered, the juxtaposition between the Frankenstein-like (misunderstood) Groot, who almost literally parallels his bolted bro by gently giving a little girl a flower as a gift during a scene, and the fast-talking, wise-cracking, emotionally damaged smart-ass, Rocket Raccoon, was Kate Upton, I mean Chris Pine’s ass, I mean perfection.
The entire ensemble cast felt incredibly complete, even characters with minutes of screen time made the most of it (including a Hilary Clinton-like government director Glenn Close, a fresh and funny space cop John C. Reilly and questionably murky ally Yondu (Michael Rooker). I saw this gun-toting space-Western in 3D and it was actually worthwhile; there are some cool action scenes (and one incredibly elegant “firefly” effect- you’ll know when) that genuinely improve the viewing experience through the extra dimension. And this is coming from an almost anti-3D advocate so nut-up and shell out the few extra bucks to improve an already sure-to-be-awesome experience.
That’s not to say there weren’t tiny flaws, from the briefly overly schmaltzy and repetitive dialogue about the magic of friendship, to the iffy evil motivation of Ronan (don’t delve too deeply into that one) to the slightly simplistic plot, but Guardians of the Galaxy gives these nitpicky detracting factors the finger with wit and irreverent humor galore. This movie is exactly what we’ve been waiting for all summer and if you don’t enjoy it, please raise your hand so I know who to junk-punch at the next “Assholes Anonymous” meeting (in addition to the guy in front of me at the ticket booth who asked a minimum of five questions as to “how full the theater was” before begrudgingly purchasing a ticket to Guardians).
Last Call: Stay all the way through the credits for the weirdest fucking bonus clip you’ve ever seen. Hint: Google “Marvel” and “Howard” afterward to understand.
Guardians of the Galaxy is what happens nine months after The Wizard of Oz raw-dogs Prometheus at a Star Wars convention. Don’t miss this intergalactic Space Jam. Trust me, I’m a *doctor (*not a doctor).