In fact, Guardians of the Galaxy makes the case that a hero’s individual strength amounts to merely a culturally acceptable form of pigheadedness. Take the movie’s portrayal of Drax, a conflicted vigilante with only one thing on his mind—avenging his murdered wife and child. It’s a generic motivation, and another movie might try to use him to bring us to tears. But here he nearly dies in the attempt for revenge, thus endangering the greater mission, to make money. “We’ve all got dead people!” his compatriot Rocket Raccoon scoffs. And for one moment of wonderful lucidity a Marvel movie makes sport of Marvel’s big, profitable trope: the prolonged mourning of buff guys in tights.

The lampooning is more playful than genuinely threatening to the Marvel universe, though. For however much Guardians critiques the usual fare, it’s still bookended by Chris Pratt’s tragic flashbacks, a technique reminiscent of Christopher Nolan’s super-serious Batman Begins. The flashbacks are the movie’s least convincing moments, either because they’re too earnest for the self-conscious flick or the actor isn’t as good at shedding tears as he is at acting a buffoon on Parks and Recreation.