Under Childhood is a column on children’s cinema—movies about and for kids.
Buried beneath Looney Tunes slapstick and Warner Bros. advertisements passed as homage, the main conflict of Space Jam: A New Legacy (between a father and son who don’t share the same dreams) is a formative and necessary one. Space Jam (1996) opens with a reenactment of the 1993 press conference where Jordan announced his retirement from basketball and concludes with his return to the Chicago Bulls. But the more family-oriented Space Jam: A New Legacy is more about LeBron James as a father than as a basketball player. The successes of “King James” (the player’s nickname and Instagram handle) act as the film’s backdrop. The opening credits show James’ rise from a high school superstar growing up in poverty with a single mother to a legendary NBA player. We see his happy family of three children and the opening of his I Promise School in Akron. Much of the film’s appeal hinges upon whether it can be believed that one person deserves this much joy after so much struggle, so haters should steer clear.
Led by the assertion that James has excelled as an athlete and philanthropist, Space Jam: A New Legacy turns its attention to the one thing James seems to be not so good at: supporting his children. In his essay on Space Jam, Calum Marsh writes that the film reflects Michael Jordan’s own feelings towards his late father, wanting to follow in his footsteps and do right by him. A New Legacy explores that longing further by taking the perspective of the child of someone great. A flashback from childhood shows young LeBron throwing his Nintendo Game Boy (and his Looney Tunes game) in the garbage to focus on basketball. Years later, this disregard for video games as a symbol of idleness has driven a wedge between LeBron and his son Dom (Cedric Joe), who’s burdened by his father being one of the greatest basketball players of all time. LeBron holds Dom to the impossible standard of being King James. As Dom puts it, “You never let me do me.”
What Dom really excels at is game development. A popular streamer and prodigious developer, he wants to attend E3 Game Design Camp more than basketball camp, where he can perfect his new basketball-themed video game. But LeBron regards his childrens’ non-basketball endeavors as distractions, and especially finds video games to be rife with cheats and short-cuts. When Dom shows his father his game, which includes additional features like style points and a tribute to his father’s signature move. “It’s like basketball, but better,” he says. “You just play for fun.” LeBron is mildly offended that the game is not real basketball. The relationship between an accomplished basketball player and his tech-savvy son already offers plenty to be explored. But because this is Space Jam: A New Legacy, the film’s familial tensions are a set-up that motivates LeBron to play basketball with the Looney Tunes.
In an attempt to make Dom happy, LeBron takes him to Warner Bros. Studios, where spineless executives pitch a streaming service controlled by the advanced computer AI “Al-G-Rhythm” (Don Cheadle) or Al G—a clunky pun on the word “algorithm.” Warner Bros. wants LeBron to be an add-on that users can insert into any media of their choosing. LeBron refuses, but Dom finds the idea cool. An argument leads them into Al G’s virtual “Serververse,” a world containing all of the studio’s intellectual properties. There’s Game of Thrones world, The Matrix world, Harry Potter world. The dissonance between A New Legacy’s inability to engage in self-critique and its sincere didacticism makes for a slightly enervating experience. Though Space Jam only came into being because of a Nike Super Bowl ad starring Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny, the film maintains some playful irreverence towards each brand involved. The 2003 film Looney Tunes: Back in Action (which begins with the firing of Daffy Duck) also skewers Warner Bros. In A New Legacy, the studio is only a receptacle of cultural touchstones, and its direct responsibility in creating a villain like Al G is never called into question or even quipped about.
Here we finally arrive at the basic premise of the Space Jam films: Al G challenges LeBron to a fateful game of basketball. If LeBron loses, Dom will stay in the Serververse forever. LeBron lands in the world of the Looney Tunes, enlists the help of Bugs Bunny (a LeBron fan), and finds himself an all-star team of Looney Tunes characters as the Tune Squad. “Fundamentals win championships,” LeBron tells the Tunes. He refuses to let the Looney Tunes be Looney. But they are totally incapable of doing so. Dribbling a ball turns into shooting a ball with a gun, blocking a pass turns into throwing a piano. Dom’s resentment against LeBron leads him to join Al G’s Goon Squad. On the day of the game, an advertisement inviting followers to watch LeBron and Dom summons all of LeBron’s social media followers into the Serververse, where they’re threatened with being eternally seated courtside with Yogi Bear, Harry Potter, and a nun from Ken Russell’s erotic horror film The Devils (1971).
The 2008 documentary More than a Game, which follows James’ high school basketball career in Akron, can be useful to understanding how a fictionalized LeBron James might relate to his child. Deemed the “Chosen One” by Sports Illustrated, LeBron leads his team to multiple national championships. But he soon learns that fame and attention do not guarantee victory. Between his hard work, however, we also see teenaged LeBron having fun with his teammates, who later become his best friends. The thin but endearing emotional trajectory of Space Jam: A New Legacy sees the adult LeBron’s return to the part of himself that can see the “fun” in “fundamentals.” As it turns out, the game is Dom Ball, not real basketball. Without style points or unlocked upgrades, LeBron’s skills fail to carry the team. Only after the Tune Squad is behind by thousands of points does LeBron acknowledge that they must be Looney to win. This means dynamite on the court, changing the rules of gravity, and, yes, even a rap battle.
The film is best when sappy and straightforward about parent-child communication. Dom reaches the irrational conclusion that beating his father in basketball will teach him to respect his son, but this suggests that Dom must excel in his father’s field and that basketball is their only bridge towards relating to each other. Many children’s films focus on how both parties can meet each other halfway: for instance Tim Hill’s The War with Grandpa (which temporarily beat Christopher Nolan’s Tenet at the box office last fall) ends with the boy Peter begging his grandfather to forgive him for their violent back-and-forth of pranks, never mind that his veteran grandfather is an adult. But Space Jam: A New Legacy does not punish Dom for fairly speaking up—not, as some might call it, talking back—to defend his own autonomy.
Director Malcolm D. Lee tells Hollywood Reporter that he hoped to counter negative narratives about Black fathers. And indeed LeBron stands as a positive example of a transparent parent. Instead of forcing Dom into some sort of compromise, LeBron admits that he was in the wrong for discouraging Dom from being himself, and that he’s learning from Dom how to be a father. He does this publicly, in front of his wife and other children (as well as the Flintstones and the Droogs from A Clockwork Orange). Of course they win the big game and everyone makes it back home by the end of the day. Of course Al G is defeated, whatever that means. Most importantly, Dom makes it to E3 Game Design Camp with a basketball in hand—proof that he can pave his own unique path towards whatever goal he has in mind. Dom and LeBron’s excursion into the Serververse yields zero insights about how families might filter through content together. But one hopes that Space Jam: A New Legacy might inspire conversations between traditional parents and their tech-savvy children, who might pick up on a faint theme of honesty transmitted throughout this studio tour.
