[7.8/10] So much of *Guardians of the Galaxy*’s narrative is standard. This isn’t the first, and it won’t be the last film to feature a collection of rogues and nobodies reluctantly coming together to save the world. The tale of the dissolute young man who eventually learns to fight for something bigger than himself is a well-worn one, and a motley crew of suspicious characters slowly becoming a family is a cliché. In other words, when *Guardians* was released in 2014, it didn’t exactly reinvent the wheel.

And yet, it is a film full of such charm, such character, such inventiveness in ways beyond its story, that it becomes incredibly easy for give it for the ways in which it proceeds through the usual blockbuster story progression. The audience will put up with, and even enjoy, all the hoary tropes in the world if you can world and a cast of characters they want to spend more time with.

It also comes from a sense that director/co-writer James Gunn is content to make a film that doesn’t take itself, or these galaxy-spanning adventures, too seriously. That begins with movie’s much-ballyhooed soundtrack. While *Guardians* still employs much of the usual orchestral swell of the studio tentpole film, it scores much of the adventure to the dulcet tones of the sixties and seventies. Gunn and composer Tyler Bates flip nicely between the piped in tones of those classic greatest hits and the diegetic music emanating from Peter Quill’s holy artifact walkman.

Scoring scenes to the likes of “Come and Get Your Love” or the trailerrific sounds of “Hooked on a Feeling” serves two purposes. For one, it immediately gives *Guardians* a sonic identity distinct from its fellow Marvel brethren, and it’s an appropriately goofy one. A grim, intergalactic prison suggest ominous chords and haunting musical stings. Instead, Gunn deploys “The Piña Colada Song,” and it’s immediately clear that he’s more interested in riffing on the beats of the reluctant rogue-turned-hero story than playing it straight.

But it also roots Star-Lord’s attitude to a particular time and place, one tied to his lingering pain and connection to his mother. The film underlines it a little heavily in places, but there’s still a nice subtext that part of Peter Quill’s adolescent bent stems from the fact that he lost someone very close to him, and had his world turned upside down, at a very young age. There are notions of arrested development, of a veneration of a particular time in his life when things were normal and happy, that manifests in the form his prized piece of eighties paraphernalia in the midst of advanced alien technology, and the music that comes out of it.

That also syncs up with the film’s other big theme -- family. Hitting those thematic notes is where the film is at its most heavy-handed, with images of Peter’s dying mother spliced with those of the outstretched arms of his new comrades, followed by an appearance from his surrogate dad. Still, the film does a nice job of giving each of its titular Guardians a hole in their lives where family is supposed to go, that makes them each resistant but ultimately welcoming of the kinship that develops.
In addition to Peter’s complicated parental issues, there’s Gamora, whose horrific adopted father (Thanos, naturally), killed her real parents and taught her nothing but brutality and rivalry. There’s the very literal Drax who lost his wife and daughter to Ronin and has vowed to avenge them. And then there’s Rocket and Groot, a pair of science experiments who, for Rocket at least, carry the traumas of having had a creator tear them apart and stitch them back together. Each is understably adrift in their own way by the time their paths cross.

*Guardians* dutifully moves through the usual story beats about these misfits coming together and creating a found family. It provides plausible enough reasons why this normally self-interested pack of rogues would join forces, with each individual’s goal requiring the help of the others. The film glosses over a bit of the actual bonding, but offers enough of a “They hate each other”/”They’re starting to like each other”/”No they’re back to hating each other”/”No wait, they’ll risk their lives for one another” progression to keep the viewer invested in the group and their relationships with one another.

And of course, when the time is right, they do come together. They find their conscience in the face of a shouty evil zealot guy (Lee Pace, as another in a long line of generic, monologuing baddies) and his threats to use a doomsday weapon to kill millions of people. They make amends with the lawmen, strap into their spaceships, and dive into the explosive, third act brawl-for-all legally mandated for superhero films.

But what sets *Guardians* apart in the midst of all this standard mythmaking and hero-development is that every time the film hits one of these stock beats and threatens to get overly dramatic or cheesy, it undercuts the moment with some well-placed humor. Each dramatic speech is followed by a silly line to liven the moment. Each major reveal is accompanied by a pratfall (no pun intended) to take the edge off. Every hokey moment is followed by one of the film’s characters rolling their eyes before the audience gets a chance too.

Humor quickly proves to be the trademark of this budding corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and the way the film employs it to keep the audience laughing at any point where it might otherwise be sighing is *Guardians*’s not so secret weapon.

It also gets by on the complete and utter charm of the Guardians themselves. Chris Pratt’s human puppy dog qualities are familiar to anyone who enjoys the superlative *Parks and Recreation*. Zoe Saldana brings resolve but pathos to Gamora her third sci-fi blockbuster franchise. Dave Bautista offers a near-perfect dry comic wit, a surprise even to those lapsed pro wrestling fans who watched his heydey in the ring. And Bradley Cooper really is the hidden gem of this film as Rocket Raccoon. He nails Rocket’s sarcastic comments and perpetually beleaguered nature, while also capturing the tragic, touchy, and haunted dimensions of the character.

Then, of course, there is Groot, who represents the best things about this movie. For one thing, he is quietly (or tri-syllabically) the performative equal of his co-stars. Vin Diesel may be in his seventh go-round of implausibly smashing cars into one another, but he has experience from his early role in *The Iron Giant* of taking grunts, groans, and halted speech patterns and turning them into the expressions of an endearing character, a talent on full display in *Guardians*.

But he also represents the film’s visual acuity. The way Groot expands and contracts, unleashes unexpected beauty in the form of bioluminescent flowers, or offers a expectant, joyous expression after whomping an entire room full of bad guys, demonstrates the way *Guardians* uses the tools in its aesthetic toolbox to deliver character, not just thrills. It is a visually engaging movie, one where the Easter egg blue of Yondu or the preternaturally clean yet colorful world of the Nova Corps. make a film that is as distinct in its palette and iconography as it is in its style.

That also contributes to the sense of place imbued in the film. From the multicolored denizens of Xandar to the hive of scum and villainy in the interstellar cranial confines of Knowhere to the unique collection of miscreants among the Ravagers, almost from the word go, *Guardians* gives the viewer a sense of the ecosystem they’re stepping into. It’s one that stands apart from the rest of the M.C.U., offering a place where the Groots of the world are as unremarkable as they are unusual.

But it’s also a place where sacrifices are made for the members of those conveniently found families. For all the triteness of *Guardians*’s themes, it nails the big moments it really needs to, particularly in the third act, where many threads from earlier in the film pay off. From the group reluctantly resolving to fight Ronin, to Groot’s game-changing vocal variation and the gesture that follows, to the big, inevitable confrontation with the film’s villain, Gunn finds a way to move the story along, but do so in a way that’s true to the rough-around-the-edges characters he’s crafted for the screen.

And if all of that should devolve into a dance off that warrants genuine befuddlement in the midst of globe-threatening annihilation from the bad guys? All the better! That is the shine of *Guardians of the Galaxy*, a film that is content to tell a familiar story, but which adds such endearing texture, presents such charming characters, and freely belies the self-seriousness of its genre, that you cannot help but enjoy the star-lined ride.