Golden Axe debuts September 16 on Paramount+.
It’s understandable to feel somewhat cynical and pre-exhausted about Golden Axe going into it, simply because the entire approach of a snarky, self-aware animated series is, generally speaking, very well worn territory at this point and can feel like something of a safety net rather than trying for a more straightforward and earnest approach. Then there’s also the fact that joke-driven fantasy stories in particular are also quite familiar terrain both in and out of animation, encompassing everything from The Princess Bride to Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves.
Having seen the entire first season, I can say that Golden Axe is certainly doing what you’d expect, as it takes the characters and concepts from the 1989 SEGA game and its sequels and remixes them into a decidedly wacky, high energy cartoon. But after some initial bumps in the road, the series gradually grew on me through its ten episodes thanks to some solid laughs, great voice acting, and its overall good nature.
Obviously adapting any familiar IP is tricky territory, as fans can be just a tiny bit possessive and sensitive about how a beloved pre-existing universe is handled — just ask Zach Cregger — but Golden Axe feels like a safer title than some for going this route. Its heyday was in the arcade era, its most recent installment was a poorly received 2008 game, and it never had the deepest or most complex mythology. Of course, you’ll still find many many angry comments below Golden Axe’s trailer saying that they’re upset that this is a comedic take on the serious property they remember. I get it, but also… it’s Golden Axe, guys! It’s a genuinely fun game, but as someone who’s old enough to have fond memories of playing the original in arcades, it’s also not a title we need to be precious about, especially given that this show never feels spiteful about its source material.
The game’s original heroic trio of Ax Battler, Tyris Flare, and Gilius Thunderhead all play large roles here, but the story kicks off with Gilius having a spat with the others that leads to him splitting off from them on a parallel quest through the land of Yuria alongside an overeager protogree named Hampton Squib, who’s the main new addition to the canon in this series. Meanwhile, Ax and Tyris replace Gilius with Chronos, a character culled from Golden Axe III, while all the characters simultaneously hope to take down the villainous Death Adder, who has control of the powerful weapon known as the Golden Axe.
If there’s a lead character in this ensemble, it’s definitely Gilius the battle dwarf, voiced here by the always excellent Matthew Rhys, currently riding high on much deserved adoration for Widow’s Bay. Rhys is incredibly fun playing the crusty and stubborn Gilius, going big when the scene calls for it in all the right ways. If you’ve enjoyed hearing him yell out in terror on Widow’s Bay, you’ll also enjoy some of Rhys’ reactions here, including an especially prolonged scream at one point.
Voicing Hampton, Danny Pudi makes for a perfect partner for Rhys, bringing just the right kind of youthful, optimistic energy the character calls for (it doesn’t matter that Pudi’s pushing 50 in real life; this is a cartoon!). And Liam McIntyre, Lisa Gilroy, and Carl Tart all know exactly the kind of humorously self-confident vibes with which to imbue their characters, voicing Ax, Tyris, and Chronos respectively.
Still, with the show keeping our heroes in two distinct groups for so much of the season, there’s stronger material for the Gilius and Hampton portions overall, with the dimwitted Ax and the arrogant Tyris sometimes providing too similar of a feel with their single-minded, overconfident approach. Chronos the cat man — or panther man if you ask him — at least provides a different, more offbeat energy.
The tone and sense of humor of Golden Axe evokes the likes of Rick and Morty and Star Trek: Lower Decks, and also replicates the strengths and weaknesses of those series and others like them. This isn’t a shock, given that Golden Axe has writers who worked on Rick and Morty, and that one of the two creators — Mike McMahan, teamed here with Joe Chandler — was in fact the creator of Lower Decks as well.
Like those series, Golden Axe is rapid fire with its jokes, with mixed results. There are some duds to be sure, and some gags are way too telegraphed or obvious, but there are also many really strong and even outright hysterical moments as well as we watch these guys and their enemies hack and slash their way across the land, mega-gore included. One particularly strong ongoing element is how the series uses the game’s skeleton warriors, who get to represent all sorts of different mundane personality types as we see them make small talk, bully one another, or complain when they can’t hear their boss’ big speech.
Shades of Lower Decks and Rick and Morty, Golden Axe can be a lot at times, feeling overly frenetic and sometimes outright abrasive with its in-your-face approach. But after the early episodes lean dangerously far in this direction, the pacing improves as the season continues, and the characters become better defined and more likable, including the addition of a notably upbeat skeleton voiced by the always welcome presence of Stephanie Beatriz.
The show rarely breaks the fourth wall outright — though the funny offscreen narrator, voiced by SungWon Cho, certainly pushes things further — but continually takes a winking approach to both video game tropes in general and to elements of Golden Axe specifically. Yes, the wonderfully ridiculous name Ax Battler, and the fact that the dude uses a sword and not an axe, is addressed in a scene that is both amusing yet also certainly low-hanging fruit.
I particularly loved how the show incorporates the magic potions from the game, and the bizarre manner in which you’d replenish those potions by literally kicking small little creatures known as Thieves. The show’s exploration of what exactly the deal is with one of these Thieves, his home life included, is one of the season’s highlights. Also a standout is the fifth episode of the season, which comes up with a plot device to directly recreate the game’s imagery in an entertaining manner.
The self-parody and winking approach feels like it’s done with affection in Golden Axe. As with Lower Decks, it’s comedically deconstructing the familiar aspects of the IP with which it’s working, but from the perspective of someone who definitely understands and knows the original well. It doesn’t come across as either mockery or self-loathing, because yes, the beast from the games known as Chicken Leg is in this show, and yes, he’s very silly but he’s also very lovable.
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