#the avengers infinity war

This weekend I saw Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Since I’d let a few weeks pass post-release, I was surprised to find the theatre just as packed as I’d expect from opening night. The world, like me, must have all been anticipating the sequel to what, in retrospect, might be the standout success of the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe. The original Guardians was stylish, witty, delightfully cast and coated head to foot in retro aesthetic, which in a pre-Stanger Things world felt totally fresh.

Unfortunately,Guardians 2 doesn’t hit that same stride. Mind you, I enjoyed it quite a bit. Dave Bautista really comes into his own with a bevy of smart/dumb one-liners, Bradley Cooper continues to build a strangely compelling character in Rocket Raccoon, and the soundtrack, opening up with a full-on dance sequence to ELO’s “Mr. Blue Sky,” may even surpass that of the original. But through it all, Guardians 2 feels like it’s struggling against its own ubiquitous, monolithic creator, like a passionate kid trying desperately to convince his parents that a degree in music is just as valuable as enrollment in the business school.

See, in 2008, Marvel made us all a promise. The deal was, that if we all behaved and came out to support their summer superhero flicks, they’d reward us with a big, star-studded crossover event. The Avenger Promise. We all learned to sit patiently through every end credit sequence for that inevitable glimpse at the final chapter, the little tidbit to keep us satiated. The names were huge. Who wouldn’t be excited about Thor, Captain America and Robert Downey Jr.’s flamboyant Tony Stark? Every chapter, with varying success, established its own distinct world, its own feel, its own draw. Each one began and ended on its own power, and when Joss Whedon brought them all together four years after Iron Man’s screen debut, everyone cheered. I remember being absolutely certain that The Avengers would flop. There was no way they could take four years of hype built up over four different movies, throw together all that star power in two and a half hours, and walk away with something that would satisfy. But they did.

Five years after that success, however, the Avenger Promise has become a weight on the back of every Marvel film. Remember when they talked about the different stages of the MCU? The PowerPoint slides numerating franchise plans years into the future? We’re living that future now, and I have no clue anymore what stage we’re at. It’s gotten so that half the trailers before any movie you care to see are MCU trailers, and we all sit through the Dolby logo at every closing credits, be it for Pixar or Tarantino, because we’ve been conditioned to expect that little nugget at the end. The oversaturation of the superhero genre and Disney’s cinematic dominance has been talked to death, so I don’t want to dwell, but the scale just keeps getting more unbalanced. And now, it’s starting to really starting to harm itself.

Guardians 2 has, if I counted correctly, four individual scenes spread throughout the credits. Some were foreshadowing, others were simply comic relief, but I realized somewhere between the third and fourth that the movie feels less complete because of it. Captain America began and ended, with enough of a wink and nod to get you excited for Steve Roger’s inevitable thawing. It was the same with Iron ManandThor.Guardians, on the other hand, feels like a stepping stone.

The appeal of the first movie was its distinct style. It felt more like an extra-campy, 70s sitcom rendition of Star Wars than a superhero film. The action was solid, and the ties to the rest of the universe were there, but it worked on the merits of its quirky individuality, which now seems threatened by the very circumstances that gave it breath.

As much as I loved Karen Gillan and Michael Rooker in the first film, I find it a little odd that they, among other minor characters from Guardians 1 (remember Yondu’s backcountry first mate?), all become so central this time around. Everybody has an arc, a speech, and a hug-it-out moment of resolution, which is…nice…but it feels a little bizarre in a franchise that already boasts five major leads. Add Kurt Russell’s Ego to the mix and you have a cast of eight major players, more than the first Avengers even with Sam Jackson thrown in. That’s absurd, and it made me wonder why such a huge crew was necessary.

By the third act (if you can call it that, the movie has a weirdly one-act feel with everything pretty much happening in the same spot), I figured it out. Because somebody needs to be in danger. Because somebody needs to deliver the emotional gut-punch. Somebody’s arc needs to wrap up, one way or another, and it can’t possibly be any of the five protagonist. No, they’re arcs are waiting on Infinity WarandVol. 3 and whatever follows in MCU Stage 12. Every personal moment with the core cast felt weightless because their brand status is now abundantly clear. They’re protected from on high from any permanent character shifts, any major change in dynamic, any real danger at all. Instead, the movie spends half an hour speed-grinding a minor character up to the party level just so somebody can have a real moment. It comes off alright, but it doesn’t avoid feeling shoehorned in by the multi-billion dollar guardian angel that is Disney. For all the Fast and Furious family talk, the character inclusivity still seems like a scheme to keep Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldana and the other three headliners in narrative stasis.

Even Rocket’s arc, which to me felt subtle and interesting, loses a ton of weight by the fact that this movie is just the latest piece of a massive puzzle that I have an ever-diminishing interest in finishing. Infinity War holds none of the allure for me that the first Avengers did in 2012. Thanos has been hiding in the credits too long for me to care anymore. Will I see it? Yes, they got me. For a big dumb fight with theater surround sound, I’ll toss eight more bucks Disney’s way. The machine keeps turning, and I’m a part of the problem. It just saddens me to see a really brilliant property like Guardians kept from its true potential, its uniqueness and creativity crushed under the heel of the MCU business model.

When Ego helps Starlord unlock his god-powers, Chris Pratt grins and promises to “build some weird shit.” There’s a glint in his eye. He’s psyched. But all too soon, Ego reveals the price of those resources – life as a “battery,” fueling the assimilation of everything he’s ever known. Guardians 2 is almost too good of a self-prophecy. And while the jokes still play, the music still bumps, and a lot of the style remains, it hurts to watch something great be crippled by its obligation as a cog in an endless expanse.