Teen Titans Go

For the uninitiated, the Teen Titans are the DC universe’s Muppet Babies: pint-sized, brashly animated avatars of Justice League hangers-on. Best known is Batman’s eternally derided sidekick, Robin, whose knowing misadventures have set youngsters and stoners alike to cackling over several seasons on TV’s Cartoon Network. That their big-screen debut intends to operate closer to the irreverent spirit of Warner Bros’ Looney Tunes than Zack Snyder is immediately signalled by an opening sight gag that appears to be rivals Marvel Studios’ familiar page-shuffling logo – only for the camera to pull back and show a seagull flicking disinterestedly through a comic.

The stage is hereby set for a brisk 90 minutes of metanarrative mirth, a potential franchise-starter in which superheroes not big enough to land their own franchise take extreme measures to land their own franchise. Denied entry to the “Batman Again” premiere – attended by Batman, Superman (voiced, finally, by Nicolas Cage) and Wonder Woman – these Titans lay siege to Hollywood and travel back in time to rewrite key origin stories. They start by rerouting Bruce Wayne’s traditionally doomed parents away from Crime Alley and down Happy Lane. Narratives treated like the holiest of holies elsewhere become doodle pads for riffs and skits, odds and sods. A dream sequence lampoons Disney’s Africana; Stan Lee’s crowbarred cameos get increasingly desperate.

Arguably, these are the crumbs left behind when a major entertainment conglomerate has its cake and eats it, pointing out how ridiculous and repetitive superhero stories can be, even as the suits in the studio’s live-action arm are quietly pencilling in a Jonah Hex reboot for 2024. Still, with its committed poop jokes, and one gratuitous attack on Shia LaBeouf, it’s encouraging to see someone at DC approaching this material as an opportunity for colourful fun rather than a grim matter of rights maintenance. A handful of jokes in this minipop Ragnarok, like the crack at Gene Hackman’s role in the 1978 Superman, land at the exact sweet spot where fond fanboy scholarship meets sublime goofiness.

 

Teen Titans Go

For the uninitiated, the Teen Titans are the DC universes Muppet Babies: pint-sized, brashly animated avatars of Justice League hangers-on. Best known is Batmans eternally derided sidekick, Robin, whose knowing misadventures have set youngsters and stoners alike to cackling over several seasons on TVs Cartoon Network. That their big-screen debut intends to operate closer to the irreverent spirit of Warner Bros Looney Tunes than Zack Snyder is immediately signalled by an opening sight gag that appears to be rivals Marvel Studios familiar page-shuffling logo only for the camera to pull back and show a seagull flicking disinterestedly through a comic. The stage is hereby set for a brisk 90 minutes of metanarrative mirth, a potential franchise-starter in which superheroes not big enough to land their own franchise take extreme measures to land their own franchise. Denied entry to the Batman Again premiere attended by Batman, Superman (voiced, finally, by Nicolas Cage) and Wonder Woman these Titans lay siege to Hollywood and travel back in time to rewrite key origin stories. They start by rerouting Bruce Waynes traditionally doomed parents away from Crime Alley and down Happy Lane. Narratives treated like the holiest of holies elsewhere become doodle pads for riffs and skits, odds and sods. A dream sequence lampoons Disneys Africana; Stan Lees crowbarred cameos get increasingly desperate. Arguably, these are the crumbs left behind when a major entertainment conglomerate has its cake and eats it, pointing out how ridiculous and repetitive superhero stories can be, even as the suits in the studios live-action arm are quietly pencilling in a Jonah Hex reboot for 2024. Still, with its committed poop jokes, and one gratuitous attack on Shia LaBeouf, its encouraging to see someone at DC approaching this material as an opportunity for colourful fun rather than a grim matter of rights maintenance. A handful of jokes in this minipop Ragnarok, like the crack at Gene Hackmans role in the 1978 Superman, land at the exact sweet spot where fond fanboy scholarship meets sublime goofiness.