I know many of us were wary that Phil Lord and Christopher Miller’s animated action/adventure flick, “The Lego Movie”, would clock in at 100 minutes of soulless commercial fodder. I admit that I walked into the theater prepared for my contraband 6-pack of Twinkies to be the most engaging thing I consumed that evening. However, 10 minutes and one face splittingly amped-up theme song later, my misgivings had vanished entirely.
The audience is invited to follow Lego construction man Emmet, voiced by Chris Pratt (Guardians of the Galaxy, TV’s Parks and Recreation), through his everyday routine as it is dictated by the corporate state of Bricksburg. This corpocracy is managed by the evil Lord Business (Will Ferrell, Anchorman, Elf), who aims to vanquish creativity and free thought with the aid of his superweapon, the Kragle. Emmet lives under this regime in ignorant bliss, until a chance encounter with cool-girl WyldStyle (Elizabeth Banks, The Hunger Games, Pitch Perfect) leads him to join her and other master builders (those who can build freely without instructions) in their search for the Piece of Resistance, which will stop Lord Business’ nefarious plot.
The strength of this premise is precisely what allows “The Lego Movie” to succeed where other plaything-based films have failed. Lord and Miller tapped into the heart of Lego’s cross-generational appeal when they decided that the battle between free-wheeling expression and careful, planned construction would be the center of their plot.
Any viewer will be able to sympathize with the plight of the master builders, as we’ve all known the kids who agonized over the models on the front of the box and then put them on the shelf, never to be touched again. And if you were that kid, then the film’s live-action twist(ish) finale will reach out to you, as well.
At its core, “The Lego Movie” understands why we bought our tickets, despite all of our fears of commercial pandering and childish storytelling. Lord and Miller use their screen time to successfully illustrate all of the sides of Lego building that unite parents, children, siblings, and playmates. Indeed, we all know that the joy of creativity goes hand-in-hand with the frustration of unrealized ideas, the pride in skilled construction, and the drama of creative differences.
Above all that, however, is a central theme that makes me want to watch this film again with my brother, and then again with my parents, and one more time with anyone else who ever argued with me about the merits of color vs. size coordinated Lego city planning. This is the notion that all of our favorite Lego creations are memorable to us now because of who we remember sharing them with. The Lego Movie is kitschy, cute, funny, and nostalgic, but above all it is a film to share. I can only hope that my still-uninitiated friends and family members won’t get sick of me singing “Everything is Awesome” before I’m done sharing it.