Words by Bailey Agbai
For what was meant to be a nostalgic summer hit, Space Jam: A New Legacy feels like the worst kind of sequel.
Over the past decade, social media has been a forum for Gen Z to educate ourselves on the pitfalls of capitalism, and duly critique them. Despite the anti-capitalist leaps we’re making every day, it seems that Warner Bros never got the memo that the 80s ended thirty years ago, and that capitalism’s twin brother consumerism isn’t too cool anymore.
The Looney Tunes feel like they dropped off after the 90s. They had the original Space Jam in 1996, a last-ditch effort in 2003 with Looney Tunes: Back in Action, and then a slew of TV shows that no one really remembers nor cares to. So, it’s safe to conclude that, up until Space Jam: A New Legacy, the Tunes’ last career-high was as part of the 90s zeitgeist.
This creates both a long-term objective and a sentimental one for Space Jam: A New Legacy to achieve. The long-term goal is to resurrect the Looney Tunes IP: a hard task in a much more self-aware world than the one we last saw them play basketball in. Then there’s the sentimental objective: make a worthy sequel to Space Jam, a film that, as time passes, gets closer and closer to cult status. Space Jam: A New Legacy fails in both of its objectives.
LeBron James steps up to the plate in lieu of Michael Jordan who filled the vital role of ‘world-renowned basketball player’ in the original. Both of these men are more than sports icons, they’re cultural icons, but they can’t act. So, any criticism of James’ acting, although well-deserved, is futile considering Jordan didn’t fare much better in the original Space Jam. What truly separates Space Jam: A New Legacy from its predecessor, though, is its soullessness.
The original Space Jam does what it says on the tin: it’s a family movie with no ulterior motives. A New Legacy, on the other hand, feels like an advertisement for every other Warner Bros IP, merely featuring the Looney Tunes and LeBron James. IPs such as Harry Potter, Flintstones and Batman all make appearances, serving as a reminder of Warner Bros’ power in Hollywood. It’s total consumerist overload. However, perhaps the most bizarre IP cameo is the Droogs from A Clockwork Orange. The slew of random cameos confirms A New Legacy’s greatest sin: the film exists as a promotion for HBO Max, Warner Bros’ subsidiary streaming service hosting Warner Bros films and TV shows.
Naturally, Warner Bros makes films in order to make profits, keeping its shareholders and bosses happy. Making a movie simply to promote their streaming service, however, is perhaps the shamelessly capitalist action I’ve ever witnessed from a film studio. Whilst the original film was made pure by its wacky and carefree nature, the sequel lacks this same purity. The two-hour runtime isn’t centred around the plot, LeBron James, or the Looney Tunes. Call it a reach, but to me, it serves to highlight the fact Warner Bros holds the film rights to so many beloved characters, holding them hostage – and in their eyes, giving them a shot at competing with the ever-elusive Netflix.
To be honest, it’s not even Warner Bros’ capitalist intent that I’m criticising, it’s the specific use of the Space Jam IP as an HBO Max promotion vehicle. Of all the film rights they own (of which Space Jam: A New Legacy confirms there’s a tonne), why choose Space Jam as the sacrificial lamb? The sequel suffers because it’s not based on a desire to deliver a good story and experience – but rather as an advert for what’s to come for Warner Bros.
Warner Bros’ ulterior motive overshadows all of the film’s superficial flaws, of which there are plenty. The predictable plot, woefully unamusing jokes, and criminal pacing were admittedly tiresome. Yet, what’s the point in criticising Space Jam: A New Legacy by film standards when it’s not a film at all, but rather a two-hour advert?
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