Grizzled comics veterans like me may remember a previous incarnation of the Guardians – an equally ill-assorted bunch from 3,000 years in the future trying to wrest the Galaxy from its alien conquerors – but the current line-up is a disparate bunch of characters created by the likes of Jim Starlin and Bill Mantlo back in the 1970s and ’80s and only brought together in recent years. Turning this motley crew into anything resembling a super-team is no easy matter; Guardians never lets you forget that its roster of reluctant heroes don’t even share cultural references or linguistic idioms, let alone a common purpose, and the film gets some great comic mileage out of things lost in translation or misunderstood. Drax doesn’t understand the notion of metaphor (“Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it”.), Rocket doesn’t know what a raccoon is, and Gamora has certainly never come across key Earth texts like Footloose or heard of Kevin Bacon. This lack of common cultural bonds – each character firmly believes that the others are either insane or imbecilic, and frequently says so – means they have to discover something they do share. In this case, it’s loss – of home, parents, identity – and it’s the forging of a common purpose that ultimately brings them together. In that sense, Guardians is a universal tale about the formation of a new family out of the ashes of dispossession – and thanks to the sharp script, direction and performances it’s charmingly told.