How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Space Jam 2

Without delving too deeply into my personal history with Space Jam (a movie I have seen more times than any other, with the possible exceptions of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Dark Knight), it's enough to note that I was very young when it was released, and loved both Looney Tunes and Michael Jordan before growing into a healthy love of Bill Murray, Wayne Knight, and trash. There's a longer story here, but for now I'll tell the shorter one of how I admitted to myself that Space Jam was a bad movie.

During the first round of serious rumors that LeBron would potentially be starring in a sequel, I was, to say the least, upset. The endless machinery that transforms things people liked when they were young into worse things they will pay to see when they are old grinds against us all, but I take some measure of pride in being immune to the call of most of the results. I hate the way fandom currently manifests itself in frequently unthinking allegiances for many people who love pop culture, in a way that makes them both reactionary and easy to exploit. But I love Space Jam, and knew -- still know -- I would probably pay for a sequel.

When I saw the news, I was with two friends, one of whom had seen and enjoyed Space Jam and the other who, shockingly, had not been exposed. In a fit of pique and some level of sadness and probably also a vague desire to not go out that night, we forced her to watch Space Jam with us at my house instead of allowing her to go to the fashion show she was supposed to attend. (We had our priorities right, I guess?) It was fun -- and yet.

It was the first time I had watched the movie in a couple of years, the hangover from a massive binge my freshman year of college (which is part of the long story), and all of a sudden I could see all of the aesthetic flaws instead of just taking comfort in the fact that I could recite the whole thing from memory. The only parts that really held up even a little bit were the moments Bill Murray was on screen. I realized: This movie is absurd, and I only like it because of its relationship to my childhood, and how silly it is conceptually. Its very existence is enough to get me excited about it, which is how Hollywood wants me to feel about its sewage pipe of reboots 

For a while, I was sad. Had my childhood been ruined (the refrain of a certain type of masochistic moviegoer)? After a while, I decided -- probably not. Space Jam is a bad movie, and that's okay. It's lack of "objective" merit doesn't change the experiences I had watching it, or alter the shape of the Bugs Bunny-shaped hole it filled in my life. If you are honest with yourselves about why you love the original Space Jam (or any such piece of entertainment that came into your life at the right time, grabbed on, and refused to let go), then it's hard to be let down by a sequel, unless your unreasonable expectation is for it to somehow "live up to" your relatively carefree, effortlessly passionate childhood. 

Besides, Space Jam 2, if it happens, will probably be an improvement on the original. LeBron is certainly a much better actor than Michael Jordan ever was or ever will be, less certainly a better basketball player, and almost certainly a better human being. When asked whether he was worried about the prospect of playing the MonStars in a hypothetical sequel to Space Jam, he said, "Absolutely. Those guys are very intimidating and they're bigger than us. We've got to do our due diligence here on Earth." This might be the greatest answer anyone has ever given to a question in the history of human language, and one that would top nearly any line of Michael Jordan dialogue from the original.

Really, the best argument in favor of Space Jam 2 has already been made by both the movie's detractors and my crestfallen self. Yes, the original Space Jam was an act of ridiculous corporate synergy that makes no sense and is probably offensive to "adult" sensibilities. But that just means there shouldn't be anything for the sequel to mess up for those people. If you're mad about unnecessarily horrible Hollywood movies, go picket Batman v. Superman: The Garbage Fire, not my Space Jam 2. 

In fact, the weight of expectations from '90s kids might just create enough pressure for the studio to actually invest effort in a sort of good movie. (Though, admittedly, I am dubious of Warner Brothers' ability to top the actual peak of the original Space Jam -- its soundtrack.) Everything weird and kind of awful about the movie has insinuated itself thoroughly into the background knowledge of everyone who loved it (just try to find someone who doesn't know that the original, decrepit website is still standing) that there isn't really anywhere left to go but up, flying like some sort of eagle, or a terribly CG-ed Michael Jordan.



So, fans of Michael Jordan's secret stuff, Swackhammer, and that ridiculous scene where Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck go to Michael's house to get his basketball gear, rejoice -- Space Jam 2 is nothing to be afraid of. There's nothing they can do to hurt you. Everybody get up, it's time to slam now.