If you’re one of those people who asks, “Does the dog die?” before you decide to read the book or see the movie, your friends may have warned you off from seeing the new Guardians movie, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3.
**Spoiler Alert: Not much detail is shared here but I wouldn’t want to ruin it for anyone who hasn’t seen the movie yet**
James Gunn’s farewell to the lovable motley crew of misfits, GOTG3 has an unexpected focus on Rocket Raccoon’s origin story, and Rocket’s past is, to say the least, unsettling. Hinted at in the first Guardians movie when we glimpsed sores and some type of mechanization on Rocket’s back, we learn that Rocket was once just your average raccoon until he was plucked by a mad scientist and forced to undergo unspeakable experiments in the scientist’s desire to engineer a perfect species to live in his perfect society.
Rocket’s backstory is told in flashbacks, and they are indeed not easy to watch.
The reviews of the film have been overall positive, but some have found the animal experimentation scenes too graphic, and “profoundly unpleasant to sit through… It’s the fact that writer/director James Gunn approaches those scenes without trusting his audience to naturally recoil at the idea of animal cruelty.” (Glen Weldon, NPR.org).
I’m not a film critic and not an encyclopedia of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (I think that’s what they call it). I don’t know if the movie was emotionally manipulative or true to characters, etc. I found it entertaining and heartbreaking and life affirming. I guess I’m one of those, “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like” kind of people.
What is most interesting to me, though, is not the media attention on Rocket’s story and the film’s subject of animal experimentation – though, YAY! – or the anti animal cruelty organizations applauding GOTG3 as having, “a powerful message about animal testing.” (peta.org) That’s all great, of course, but what I’m inspired by is the reaction of the audiences, the fans of Marvel Comics and the MCU, and the average moviegoers.
I don’t usually read comments on social media because they frustrate and deflate me, but I’ve been reading the comments on reviews of GOTG3, comments on James Gunn’s Instagram account, on Chris Pratt’s and Mikaela Mehrizi Hoover’s social media accounts, and there are a lot of very emotional responses to the film.
Just a few comments on Gunn’s IG:
“I audibly sobbed the whole movie… it was so hard to watch. It was good but the animal stuff was tough!”
“I seriously hope this movie made us better people. As in, more thoughtful about how we treat animals.”
“James woke up and decided to traumatize his fans.”
“Where in your sick, deranged, despicable yet incredibly intelligent mind did you come up with a way to cause millions of people to need therapy, James Gunn?”
We are usually, “preaching to the choir.” Those who follow us on social media find us by hashtags, by social “shares,” and by the algorithms of the Facebook gods: our content and so our mission’s message and the work we do is fed to those who already show an interest in it.
It’s very hard to reach outside our own bubble.
When our fosters and adopters walk their dogs and strike up conversations with strangers, and those strangers learn that the beagle they’re meeting came from a laboratory, over and over again we hear, “I didn’t know they still did that.”
When we’re able to get some media attention because we’ve rescued 20 beagles from a laboratory, people who still read newspapers and magazines may learn about laboratory testing and research survivors for the first time. When we set up a booth at an event that isn’t animal-specific and attendees see our sign with a cute dog and stop by to chat, these people are often learning something new.
THOSE are the people we need to reach.
And that’s exactly what James Gunn did – on a wee bit larger scale. Unsuspecting moviegoers, Marvel fans, comic book fans, Guardians fans, James Gunn fans – plopped into their theatre seats with a large popcorn and a box of Dots, settled in for a rollicking good time with Peter and Drax and Nebula and Groot and all the rest – and got all that – along with a heaping helping of heart-wrenching suffering and a glimpse into the dark world of animal testing.
I wish I could reply to every comment. I wish I could tell them what it’s like to open a cage and wait for a very scared and traumatized beagle to find the courage to step out into freedom and love. I wish I could convey to them what it feels like to gain the trust of a dog who has been hurt over and over and over again, for years, by other humans. I wish I could help them understand how good it feels to give a dog who has spent her life in a cage a cozy bed and a stuffie toy and a blanket that she now knows is hers. I wish they could feel how devastatingly bittersweet it is to go to a laboratory, load up 17 dogs and drive away, hearing the whines and barking and cries of the dozens you’ve left behind.
None of them digitalized or animated drawings. All of them real sentient beings feeling pain and fear and the desire to live.
I wish they could understand how hamstrung we are by the need for money. What it’s like to get the call from a laboratory, finally willing to negotiate a release, and worry you’re not going to find the money to fund the rescue. The pharmaceutical and cosmetic companies have all the money they need to contract with laboratories for more testing and even to pay the breeders to breed more animals to sell to laboratories. Those of us who work to take in research animals have supporters who make average incomes and have families and their own family pets to care for, donating $25, $50, $100 to help these animals have a second chance, to help raise awareness in the hopes that public pressure will result in change.
I wish I could share with them the veterinary bills that range from normal afflictions like ear infections and allergies, to chronic gastrointestinal diseases to the “seizure study beagles” to the implanted devices that work their way out of the animals’ bodies over time.
There are a lot of people just trying to help these animals have a chance at living, if even for a short time, as a beloved family member, curled up at the foot of the bed, just like hundreds of thousands of others who weren’t born to be laboratory test subjects.
Storytelling is a form of communication and an art form that goes back to the beginning of mankind. We learn through stories to see the world through others’ eyes, whether those eyes are human or a non-human animal or an animated drawing or a digitalized creature. We identify with individuals, not with groups. From stories we learn empathy, and we first need empathy to get to compassion.
My hope is that the empathy the audience is feeling for the characters of Rocket and his laboratory friends, Lylla and Teefs and Floor, is extended to the real living and breathing animals in laboratories and grows from empathy to compassion.
Compassion is action.
First, people have to be aware of what’s going on. Then they have to decide if they find it unethical and inhumane or if they think it’s all okay. If they do find it unethical and inhumane, they need to decide if they’re okay with supporting what they deem unethical with their shopping dollars or as a taxpayer for publicly-funded research. They must decide if they’re so opposed to it that they’re willing to do something about it. Are they willing to work for incremental change? Willing to pay attention to new bills and proposed legislation and voice their support for them? Are they willing to foster a former research animal? Adopt a laboratory survivor?
Sign petitions so our representatives know how you feel and what you want changed. Vote for change. Be the voice for the voiceless. Don’t just feel sad for those still waiting and suffering in cages and wish things were different. Things can be different. Things can change. Suffering can be alleviated.
Humaneness can prevail.
(photo credit: Marvel Studio)