Guardians of the Galaxy Became the Best Version of Itself By Letting James Gunn Do His Thing

Warning: Spoilers follow for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is a tailor-fitted exit for James Gunn from Marvel’s Cinematic Universe (should DC be his new forever home). It’s the “Gunniest” Guardians of the Galaxy film (review) as the interstellar outfit sees Gunn’s trilogy come to a close, arguably the most individually-voiced Marvel film down to the universe’s first uncensored F-Bomb. Gunn injected every ounce of himself into the Guardians trilogy, from soundtrack to screenplay to Baby Groot’s motion capture, and found the best version of characters he emphatically adores, since each film allows a bit more of his background telling comically bleak stories into the DNA of the Guardians films. Pound for pound, the Guardians trilogy is one of the best character-focused substories in the MCU — and that’s wholly thanks to freedoms that allowed Gunn to be himself with minimal interference.

From Peter Quill’s thievery set to Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love” at the beginning of the first Guardians of the Galaxy to Vol. 3’s bittersweet finale set to Florence + The Machine’s “Dog Days Are Over,” Gunn puts a premium on cinematic personality through songs. What other Marvel film generates excitement around filmmaker-selected mixtapes before a movie releases? Gunn’s ability to accentuate his story’s impact by picking the perfect backing track adds another layer of depth to his cosmic rock operas, because Gunn’s thinking about how every piece fits his Guardians puzzle. Tracks on Gunn’s at-home playlists become the rhythm behind Quill’s antics, Drax’s beatdowns, and deeply emotional confessions like he’s writing scenes to fit pre-selected needle drops, not vice versa.

James Gunn Cares a Lot

Music is just one ingredient that makes up Gunn’s special sauce. There’s a consistency to the Guardians’ evolution, from unlikely prison-break unions, to battles against Celestials that bring them together, to rescue missions that cause teary goodbyes. The complaint that Marvel movies feel churned out of a machine is nullified by the Guardians trilogy, written (with co-writers) and directed by Gunn. No one’s better at making us fall in love with misfits than Gunn, never losing Drax, Gamora, Rocket, or Groot in the shuffle of Quill’s continued battle to save the galaxy instead of confronting his mamma and papa issues. Unlike lesser superteam movies that fail to elevate all their members, Gunn wants you to love each Guardian as much as he loves them, especially his personal favorite, Rocket Raccoon.

Unlike lesser superteam movies that fail to elevate all their members, Gunn wants you to love each Guardian as much as he loves them.

His wacky-yet-weighty signatures are subtler in the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie. Gunn’s tasked with creating an origin story worthy of the MCU limelight for superheroes without the mainstream recognition of Captain America or The Hulk. It’s the most neatly tucked and uniform of his Guardians films, minus a dance-off distraction or Groot’s violent skewering-and-slamming of Ronan’s Kree guards as they charge down a hallway. Guardians of the Galaxy is Gunn playing nicely in Marvel’s sandbox, because it’s enough that Vol. 1 is the MCU’s first foray into “Cosmic Marvel.” Gunn knows the spectacle is inherent as Ronan brattily threatens Thanos or we speed around in Quill’s Milano spacecraft. The sights, the sounds, they were MCU unseen back in 2014.

Gunn’s attention to the little details sets his films apart, starting with Vol. 1. Quill’s dedication to his battered walkman and sentimental mixtapes opens the character like a pop-up picture book. The messiness of Rocket and Drax’s alcohol-soaked fight outside The Collector’s den reveals background trauma. The quieter conversations and bonding moments outside Nova Corps fleets zipping around Kree fighter crafts above Xandar echo loudly throughout all three films. The foundation that Gunn lays for his Guardians in Vol. 1 is impeccable, allowing for durable storytelling arcs to ruin and revitalize heroes who have no idea what to do with conditional love. Gunn never gets distracted by the grand spectacle in Guardians of the Galaxy, always ensuring the Guardians themselves are the main focus.

There’s no more prominent beneficiary of Gunn’s character building than blue-meanie slash secret softy Yondu — not Quill’s father, but damn sure his daddy. Quill and Yondu banter about how the Ravager captain kidnapped an Earth boy and threatened cannibalism daily, which plays for jokes on the surface, but that’s a cover as Gunn sneaks father-son compassion under Yondu’s supposedly callous motivations. Again, little touches like Yondu’s dashboard tchotchkes or the approving smiles Quill doesn’t see lead to the waterworks flood at the end of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 that’s one of the most beautiful celebrations in the entire MCU. Gunn’s stealthy development of Quill and Yondu’s parent/child fondness hits like Ronan’s hammer as Cat Stevens’ “Father and Son” plays over Yondu’s fireworks-filled Ravager funeral, rendering even the stoniest watcher an emotional wreck.

He Takes (and Lands) Huge Tonal Swings

What’s impressive is how Gunn does this in an immensely sillier Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Baby Groot’s opening credits boogie to ELO’s “Mr. Blue Sky” not only doubles down on Quill’s groovy introduction from Vol. 1 but tonally prepares audiences for even more Gunn. The twisted prankster who thinks it’s funny to have Baby Groot sever and steal a Ravager’s toe. The childlike jester who includes scenes out of rejected Looney Tunes cartoons, like when Rocket sends Ravager hordes bouncing into the air like they’re made of Flubber. The hallucinogenic 700 hyper-jump gag that leads to Baby Groot puke, a Hallmarky father and son catch scene between Quill and Ego, Rocket’s continued obsession with stealing bionic body parts — Vol. 2 is Gunn embracing his Scooby-Doo past, approaching the Guardians as Saturday Morning staples.

Through it all, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is richly rewarding as a character study amidst all the gags and goofs. Quill and Gamora’s will they, won’t they is brimming with warm romantic gazes; meanwhile Mantis bursts out sobbing in a tragic display after reading Drax’s blood-dashed memories. Rocket’s admission as King Asshole after Yondu’s pep talk is simple yet impactful as the mutated mammal learns to be vulnerable. Yondu’s pure face-turn earns cheers, and his proud declaration that he’s Mary Poppins is more than just a throwaway laugh. Kraglin — even Yondu’s second hand — tugs our heartstrings as Quill gifts the now deceased Yondu’s Yaka Arrow weapon, and Kraglin’s voice touchingly squeaks a sobering “thank you.” Gunn makes a single line, the littlest of little things, feel so gigantic.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 is the full circle of Gunn’s career that started with a mentorship under cult horror figurehead Lloyd Kaufman of Troma Studios. All the darkest humor within Gunn — prevalent in scripts from Tromeo & Juliet to The Belko Experiment — pushes as far as it can under Marvel’s oversight. Adam Warlock’s inability to understand the difference between some light hostage punishment and laser-beam evisceration is hilariously inappropriate for the MCU, and yet wholly par for the filmmaker’s catalog. The High Evolutionary is one of Marvel’s most detestable bastards, and his animal war machine armies are nightmare fuel (even when voiced by Judy Greer). Gunn explodes innocent Counter-Earth inhabitants, finds humor in material that will stir questions inside younger MCU fans that their parents might fret about answering, and confidently embraces his fullest form in a way that suits the O.G. Guardians’ swan song. Gunn’s all-in, and Marvel’s ability to let Gunn be himself is what drives this trilogy capper home.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 Is Full-Force Gunn

Where Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 align more with Gunn’s safer comedy leanings, Vol. 3 isn’t afraid to let his nastier tendencies in scripts like Super or Slither find a home. Dare I say there’s comparable heartbreak to Elliot Page’s fate in Super as Young Rocket tries to spring Lylla and the others from their cages? The High Evolutionary’s gorily disfigured face is something I’d expect to see in a Rated-R zombie flick (it makes Red Skull look like an America’s Next Top Model winner). Yet Gunn still acknowledges what his Guardians deserve at the end of the day and doesn’t pull a no-hope ending like his Dawn of the Dead remake script. Even Drax gets his due, as his companions finally recognize his true calling as a corny-as-heck father, not a vengeful berserker bred to vanquish enemies with an insatiable bloodlust. Gunn channels his compassionate caretaker mojo and reaches deep into his bag of tricks, but stops before entering the abyss of cynicism and societal failures found in some of his harsher horror features — his Guardians fight for the future we all deserve.

As Gunn-ho Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 becomes, it never loses that thread of humanity that endears the Guardians and helps us feel their connection. Flashback sequences where Rocket is subjected to The High Evolutionary’s soul-crushing animal abuse are the tear-jerker moments you’d expect. Quill’s rage-fueled devotion to an injured Rocket, Gamora’s not-so-soft deflections of Quill’s lovesick pleas, the whole “last hurrah” sting of watching characters split for their betterment yet not wanting the Guardians to change — Gunn doesn’t get lost in selfish indulgences. Gunn never stops caring about the Guardians through every tonal embellishment and diversion. Each movie in the trilogy remains a character piece at its core, no matter how easy it is to boil Gunn’s signatures down to borderline juvenile humor and chart-topper music video sequences where baddies get embarrassed.

Gunn made these Guardians films for the outcasts, the misunderstood, and the broken among us, never conceding his vision.

Gunn fires on all cylinders for the most complete trilogy imaginable. Guardians of the Galaxy is his Star Wars. He lets us ride shotgun with wild-card protectors who mostly need protection from themselves, and lets their flaws lay naked. There’s no current sub-franchise run in the MCU that’s had me openly cry in every entry outside the Guardians — an ode to Gunn’s innate ability to tell affecting stories with characters others might turn into freakshows. Payoff is everything in these Guardians movies, and Vol. 3 nods endlessly to its previous entries. To finish it all with us being able to understand Groot because we’re all one big family with the Guardians now? If that doesn’t sock you, stick your heart in an incinerator because it’s frozen solid.

Ant-Man might make me laugh. Captain America: The Winter Soldier may thrill me. They’re proficient at playing to singular strengths. James Gunn’s Guardians movies are just a different breed that lets you belly laugh, shed tears, howl with excitement, and feel a rainbow of experiences all in one sitting. “We are Groot,” the Ravager funeral, the Guardians’ salute to Rocket — Gunn knows precisely how to meet swelling story highs with a tidal wave of meaning. Over three films, the Guardians have become the unsung heroes of the MCU thanks to the man supporting their imperfect perfection. Gunn made these Guardians films for the outcasts, the misunderstood, and the broken among us, never conceding his vision. As it turns out, Gunn’s emphatic individuality is the secret weapon these underdog Guardians needed to show the MCU how it’s done.

That, and maybe Zardu Hasselfrau.

For more on the film, check out James Gunn and Chris Pratt responding to IGN comments, find out how to watch Guardians 3, or study up on Every Guardian of the Galaxy Ever!