Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

Geez Louise.

The spirit of the '90s lives on.

It hasn't been replaced by some mad bigoted dysfunctional totalitarian complex.

Writers and directors still seeking a reasonable balance amongst the levels harmoniously sustained with heartfelt respect.

Racist discrimination isn't dominating.

Neither is elitist pretension. 

In Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, posthaste, which holds a coveted place within the mass market, and is theoretically quite influential in terms of meaningful intergalactic liberty.

Within an ingenious megalomaniac seeks to reinvent ye olde planet Earth, with genetically modified animals, but the results are not utopian (Chukwudi Iwuji as The High Evolutionary). 

He's such a piece of shit that he doesn't try to fix the ailing society he's created, instead since it isn't ideal, he decides to utterly annihilate it.

He can't accept that the creation of a world has too many variables to cohesively caress, and that manifold multivariable mutations naturally challenge strategic planning.

You can't just destroy tens of thousands of lives if your perfect world lacks ornate distinction, that's tens of thousands of murders on your hands, if you create life, it happens to be living.

That's what he does though, that motherfucker, the Guardians fighting him along the way, while offering glimpses into Rocket's (Bradley Cooper) past, the Evolutionary's most gifted creation.

A ship is self-destructing, everyone must flee and move quickly to avoid oblivion, a voice shouts out to save the higher lifeforms at which point I thought elitism had won the day.

But an alternative voice rich with multilateral concordance soulfully contradicts it with compassionate equipoise. 

And the animals locked down upon the vessel are also freed and led to safety.

In the end, there's an awesome party which looks like it must have been fun to attend, different species from different walks of life exchanging observations and jokes and memories.

We were taught long ago way back when to value life in all its form, and not to condescendingly judge those whose grades lacked brilliant correspondence. 

Not to let them run the show but certainly to give them a salient voice, not everyone fluent in microbiology, but generally aware of ways and means.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 cherishes life and celebrates community, regardless of I.Q or test scores, or biological resiliency.

In a wild unpredictable way that isn't preachy or overwrought.

I may have to pick up a copy.

Along with Avatar: The Way of Water.

🦝🐘🐻🦏🦛🦑🐄

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

The characters have been introduced, and have come together to forge a resilient team.

Traits briefly developed in vol. 1 must now be convincingly expanded upon in order to keep generating cheeky sly endearingly rebellious momentum, even if the Guardian's antics are no longer officially outlawed.

Rocket (Bradley Cooper) screws up though, and, after saving a guilded race from a thick-skinned monster, he steals some of their precious batteries to profit on the side, and that very same none-too-amused excessively proud community decides to vengefully hunt the Guardians down consequently, which leaves them troubled and divided after Star-Lord (Chris Pratt) meets his father (Kurt Russell as Ego) who turns out to be an immortal Celestial.

For the first time.

Ego wants to destroy the galaxy but I've said too much already.

Nevertheless.

There's still more to be told.

Yondu (Michael Rooker) and Rocket wind up imprisoned after Yondu's crew mutinies and deprives him of his mellifluous arrow.

While imprisoned, Rocket begins to understand that perhaps he is somewhat abrasive, as he's critique by the rather unpolished Yondu, and referred to as "a professional asshole."

Sticking two assholes in prison together and having them play who's the severest was a great idea, and one that helped them tone it down a bit without spoiling their characteristic alarm.

A new empathic character named Mantis (Pom Klementieff) complicates Star-Lord and Gamora's (Zoe Saldana) relationship after revealing his true feelings, and they interrelate ala Sam and Diane of old afterwards as pride and improvisation delicately yet ruggedly blend.

Star-Lord must also relate to his newfound dad while Gamora contends with her psychotic sister (Karen Gillan as Nebula), the former becoming more estranged as the latter begin to bond.

The Guardians themselves are concerned with their collective identity and whether or not their wild unheralded intergalactic shenanigans have united them together as an im/penitent family?

Without acknowledging the unconscious focus of many of their conversations, they consider the nature of their beguiling consensus, while unravelling supervillainous plots and doing their best to universally grind.

Drax's (Dave Bautista) comments thematically reflect this Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 prerogative, as his colourful blunt wholesome yet provocative observations coddle and crucify the group as a whole.

Groot (Vin Diesel) assists as well.

It's a great sequel, multilaterally pondering life and why it's worth living without sugarcoating its contentions or shying away from its responsibilities from diametrically opposed perspectives.

Big time.

Complacency is structurally criticized as its warm and friendly formal aspects contradict its argumentative content, until the Guardians realize that if both its fuzzy and festive features are to continuously chill, or if Ego conversely gains the upper hand, their raison d'être, their status as Guardians of the Galaxy, will become somewhat mute, multivariably speaking.

The transformation accelerates around the time Star-Lord's walkman (walkperson) is destabilized.

If they didn't care, if they just embraced eternal isolated luxury, they would have gluttonously imploded.

Also visually stunning.

Tragic artistic melodramatic sci-fi?

Correct.

I'd say that designation is correct.

Yes I would.

Vermillion.

Guardians of the Galaxy

Penetrating deep within the lighthearted ventricles of fashionable intergalactic cysts, reflexive agility accommodating both the hunting of bounties and the wisecracking elite, plans projected then prorated, the deviants atomically deified, internal struggles, deconstructive precision, posterity balancing the incision of the blade, a rabble, a rabble arousing, athletic unexpected altruistic instance, for serenity's stringent spawn, the edification of the miscue, teamwork, trust, in tune.

Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) accidentally assembles a formidable team.

They have no choice but to restore order to the galaxy.

Well, not galaxy, more like the region of space they happen to be occupying.

She's green (Zoe Saldana as Gamora). Like on Star Trek.

The film intertextually plays with Star Wars as well, respecting, not glorifying, to hyperdrive into its own interplanetary perspectives.

And a characters says, "there's too many of them."

Searched for a YouTube collage but couldn't find one.

Classic.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching this band of misfits unite to attempt to thwart a fanatical genocidal dick, self-sustaining in their independence, stronger fighting as one.

Cheesy at times, but still raw, resplendent, and finicky.

Can't wait until they save the Avengers.

That must be coming up at some point.

Although, if the frequency of these films increases, curtailed earth shattering attempts to subjugate entire planets are going to start to seem humdrum, unless they continue striving for excellence.

Peter Quill saves Tony Stark, then gives him the finger.

On down the road.

SUPER

Some superheroes have vast financial and intellectual resources at their disposal which they use to champion justice. Others develop superhuman strength after having directly embraced science's unpredictable diversity. Still others are born with exceptional gifts for which they are ridiculed and ostracized by their fellow citizens. And others are simply nurtured by an alien land whose environment provides them with a permanent degree of invincibility.

But my favourite superheroes are regular average joes who grow tired of corruption's prosperity and take to the streets in a homemade outfit to distribute discipline and punishment with bluntly accurate precision.

Superheroes like SUPER's Crimson Bolt (Rainn Wilson) and his enthusiastic sidekick, Bolty (Ellen Page).

Crimson Bolt has experienced two perfect events throughout his life which have helped him to overcome an existence otherwise filled with depression and humiliation.

The day on which he helped a police officer fight crime, and that on which he married love interest and ex-drug addict Sarah (Liv Tyler).

But as SUPER begins we discover that Sarah has fallen prey to a local drug-dealing thug (played by Kevin Bacon) who encourages her latent addictions in order to steal her away from her loving and devoted trustworthy husband.

After complimenting his eggs.

That same husband decides it's time to fight back and save Sarah once more, and guided by the forces of instinct, love, and over-the-top Christian superhero The Holy Avenger (Nathan Fillion), he makes a red suit, picks up a wrench, and tells crime to shut-up as he bashes its representatives in the head with said wrench while wearing his red suit.

And playing by the unwritten rules.

As Serial Mom coalesces with Q-The Winged Serpent and becomes what Mystery Men should have been, SUPER psychotically delivers a sensationally laid back hard-boiled piece of cinematic mayhem, swathed in a deadpan frank ready-to-wear elasticity.

Not crafted for the feint of heart or those searching for technological hyperactivity, its comedic intuition and adventurous spirit still distill a universal sense of vigilante dexterity, as one short order cook rediscovers what it means to despair.