Nowadays, the minute that you have two different properties that exist, you need to think of the quickest way to get them in a cross-over movie. Thanks to the Marvel Cinematic Universe™ (M.C.U.), everyone has tried to make their stamp on the medium, creating these sprawling narratives where small details pop up here or there but culminate in this exciting clash of themes. Last year saw the epitomé of this trend with Avengers: Endgame (2019), where the “most ambitious crossover in history” found dozens and maybe a hundred different Marvel characters coming together to make for this triumphant ode to their 11-year plan.
Everyone wishes they were as good as the M.C.U. In honesty, nobody really does it like them and those smart enough to realize it has moved onto their own approach to the cinematic universe. D.C. Extended Universe has become more fun since it stopped finding ways to put Batman and Superman in the same frame. Those who fail to find a niche end up failing before things start, much like the much-maligned Dark Universe.
Without much of an announcement prior, Scoob! (2020) feels like it’s destined for Dark Universe territory. When it was advertised, it was nothing more than another wild adventure from the Hannah Barbera classic Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?. The worst that can be said is that it was given a CG animation technique that modernized it in a way that could be jarring, but considering that The Peanuts Movies (2015) was able to do this and create a heartwarming story, there was no doubt that this film could withstand the sometimes jerky style.
On one hand, it’s plausible that Scooby-Doo would want to get into the cinematic universe game. While most of us probably at best have heard the theme song one or two times or seen those early-2000s adaptations, those who look through its history will see that they have gotten rich off of nonstop crossovers with just about everyone. It’s arguably the only thing that The Harlem Globetrotters and W.W.E. have in common. Scooby-Doo is unafraid to adapt with the times, for better or worse. It’s had to deal with Scrappy-Doo, so it knows true pain.
But there’s so much holding back Scoob! from achieving this. The Dark Universe failed because it announced a world before having any confidence that there was reason to buy into years of cinema. Who cared if Javier Bardem, Johnny Depp, and Angelina Jolie would reinvent classic horror? Even if Scooby-Doo had the cultural cache to deliver something promising, there is one particular hurdle that is undeniable: nobody cares about Hannah Barbera.
Unless the world has changed significantly, I don’t think that kids will have that much name recognition to anyone but Scooby-Doo. Maybe they watch their parents watching Boomerang and wonder who’s this Hong Kong Fooey or Magilla Gorilla, but at best they’ll recognize Yogi Bear. Even then, these are all antiquated stars stuck in a different generation. What is there to make us care about a crossover between Scooby-Doo and Snagglepuss?
These aren’t superheroes like The M.C.U., or has the basic appeal of memorable properties like Godzilla and King Kong a’la The MonsterVerse. These are all cartoons that could do well on their own in short doses (which is how most of them started), but to carry movies and make this expansive franchise is ridiculous. An episode, sure, but I can’t help but watch Scoob! and wonder what its ultimate goal was. It never outright says in marketing that this is the start of a cinematic universe, but don’t get it twisted. Everything about the narrative structure feels built to create one.
In order to create a cinematic universe that the world becomes invested in, there has to be an understanding of why this property deserves to be expanded upon. There needs to be a level of fondness and respect that draws the readers in. For a better writer, creating this tribute to Hannah Barbera’s universe would be wonderful, creating a collage of wonderful mishmash of cartoon antics. However, this is Scoob!, which masquerades not with a story about solving a mystery, but having a backseat to other people’s wild adventures while presenting sub-par Shrek (2001) style juvenile humor and pop culture references that frankly feel written by a writer old enough to watch the Hannah Barbera cartoons during their initial syndication.
There’s not really any love for its central characters who drive around in the Mystery Inc. van. The group is immediately split up following criticism from American Idol’s host Simon Cowell. If there’s a red flag going up, it starts her. Cowell just enters the scene like one of the lazier Family Guy references and breaks poor Shaggy’s heart that he serves no value to the team. He services no bigger function to the story, only symbolizing how this is a story that will shamelessly reference anything that fits within the Warner Bros. ownership. If you want to know how delusional this film is, just know that Cowell comes back once more (pointlessly) to say that he played Rum Tum Tugger in his son’s production of Cats. Yes, somebody clearly thought that Cats (2019) was going to sweep the nation and make us smack our knees in appreciation of such a timely joke.
This film already feels dated, and that’s not before we get to every Hannah Barbera reference that I guarantee will go over most people under 50’s heads. The villain is Dick Dastardly of Wacky Racers. We get to see Captain Caveman for a brief stop-over in an alternate universe. The hero who guides the story is Blue Falcon, whom Shaggy and Scooby spend the whole film fawning over, trying to stand in for this deeper sense of why we should care.
When was the last time that you cared about Blue Falcon? Could you even name where he originated? I can’t, but I know that I’ve now seen him dab. Oh, how this film loves trendy humor that appeals to young kids. There’s some adult humor, such as Fred flirting with police officers and giving these Tinder jokes that land flat. It all feels like the Steve Buscemi meme where the writers pose as these characters and say “How do you do, fellow kids?” By the end, we’re no richer for having these Hannah Barbera characters in our lives, never seeing what made them special. All we get is them doing topical jokes that are either too specific or leery to be fun. Even for a franchise that could be built on slapstick humor, it chooses to not be like “Remember Hannah Barbera?” and invests more in “Remember Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Harry Potter, and American Idol? We sure do!” It’s pathetic pandering.
This is an odd series of events considering that the Warner Animation Group (W.A.G.) has already secretly created a far more interesting cinematic universe out of an even more abstract property. The LEGO Batman Movie (2017) may not seem like it fits this bill, but that is why it works. Following a memorable cameo in The LEGO Movie (2014), he was given his own film and the simple truth is that it’s the greatest film about Batman to ever exist. It’s a complete deconstruction of his identity and history as a cultural figure going back to a near-century. With so much to pull from, this is a film dense with references and obscure characters that reward investigation (and a trip to the toy store).
So what is the difference? Scoob! and The LEGO Batman Movie both are reliant on pulling up these references that most people probably don’t remember. It isn’t just that Batman as a franchise has produced a lot more memorable content. It’s that the film plays into the basic theme of who Batman is. While we get time to see Batman (1966) with Adam West doing the Batussi, it’s a meta-commentary on how malleable the character is, reflecting his change throughout decades. Few characters have been as prominent in so many different time periods as he has.
Then to go even further, the story works because it’s about Batman’s personal struggle to feel like he belongs. It’s a story about relationships, presenting his inability to respect anyone who doesn’t love him more. By making him a LEGO character, it takes so much of his physical presence away, showing this small, breakable person. He has a conflict with The Joker, who proceeds to unleash The Phantom Zone. The Joker wants to be Batman’s greatest foe (itself a commentary on their decades-long feud). Batman has to adopt Robin, teaching him about caring for someone else. While the journey is madcap, it all ties into this theme of working as a team.
Sure, The Phantom Zone is something more associated with Superman, but it all works in this cinematic universe perspective where The Justice League is out partying without Batman. There’s emotional catharsis in the absurdity.
Scoob! has a similar narrative where Dick Dastardly wants to open a portal protected by Cerberus in order to save his buddy Dynomutt. The only difference is that by this point we’re not really given a reason to care that anything happens. It’s all so wacky and the humor inconsequential, not tied to the character. The most character development that we get is when Scooby-Doo confronts Dick and they have a shouting match where Dick wants the dog to say his name correctly, but Scooby’s patented “Rooby rooby roo!” style of talking makes him say “Rick.” It takes up so much time and feels like it exists solely as a chance for the naughty kids in the crowd to say “That guy said dick a lot!”
So what emotional catharsis does Scoob! have that’s on par with The LEGO Batman Movie? It’s supposed to be about finding the heart of why Shaggy and Scooby matter to the group. When it’s revealed that they’re the heart, there is absolutely no reason to believe this. They were spectators in their own story, barely doing anything but being our entry point into the obscure Hannah Barbera characters’ worlds. What do we get when we get there? A guy that says “dick” a lot. The issue is that every other central Scooby-Doo character doesn’t matter for most of the story, and their journey is the most cringing element, lacking any depth besides watching Fred be a pervert and nobody being nearly as adept at their job as we’re used to.
I think a big difference is that you get to the end of The LEGO Batman Movie and you’re not overwhelmed by what’s to come. We aren’t eagerly awaiting some exciting conclusion to this narrative in The LEGO Movie: The Second Part (2019). We just saw a whole story with a beginning, middle, and end. Batman has learned to care about others and it explains the Batman mythos in a way that adds this deeper value of fans. The Condiment King cameo is a superfluous detail, but it reflects perfectly how many goofy villains exist in this world.
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| More memorable than any character in Scoob! |
Does anyone come out of Scoob! with a love for Captain Caveman or Blue Falcon? This is all thrown at a wall and we’re watching the whole thing breaking apart in slow motion. This is more of an advertisement for what makes Warner Bros. great than anything about Scooby-Doo. We’re not any richer in the mythos nor do we see Shaggy as more than this Goofus who gets called a hippie at one point. The film loves its self-aware humor, but only when it requires the least effort. While I’m sure that every frame is filled with some detail that will be more relevant in a few films, for now, it’s all pointless and I don’t care about any of it because nobody here clearly cares about Scooby-Doo.
Whether or not this is true, the Scoob! cinematic universe is getting a slow rollout. A Tom and Jerry (2020) update is being planned for Christmastime. Similarly, W.A.G. is behind Space Jam: A New Legacy (2021). While these sound like fun little ditties, there is currently zero to invest in with this franchise, and Scoob! is among the worst films to ever launch a cinematic universe, more obsessed with the moment than the bigger picture. Even when it sets things up, it fails to make us care about anything. Unlike The LEGO Batman Movie, you wouldn’t believe that Scooby-Doo is a property that’s over 50 years old. You gain no insight into the character from this, just that Simon Cowell randomly (and I mean randomly) hates you. When that’s the best that your franchise can do, you need to just call it quits.
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