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Released in 2014, “The Lego Movie” follows the story of Emmet, a Lego minifigure, as he is chosen as “The Special” who must lead the movement of stopping an evil businessman, Lord Business, from permanently gluing every piece of Lego to satisfy his personal vision of perfection.

A surprising financial and critical success, grossing $468.1 million worldwide and named by the National Board of Review as one of the top-ten films of 2014, “The Lego Movie” is a testament to the enduring power of creativity and individuality, and its impact is still traceable in major Hollywood blockbusters.

“The Lego Movie” takes the popular “Chosen One” trope and offers it a new twist. A prophecy mentioned in the beginning of the film calls for the greatest, most interesting and important person of all time. This description is far from Emmet, who is an ordinary and humble “everyman” who has blindly followed instruction all his life. Having Emmet as the main character may seem a contradictory choice at first. However, the film’s narrative guides him toward discovering his unique form of creativity.

While the message that “everyone is special” can be cliché if not handled properly, “The Lego Movie” avoids that trap by utilizing a wonderful cast of complex supporting characters: The brilliant Wyldstyle learns to love her true self, the always-happy Princess Unikitty learns to regulate her emotions, the brave yet discouraged MetalBeard learns to trust a team again, and many more. Even the aforementioned Master Builders, though admired, suffer with issues of their own, and they are special in their own personal ways that are separate from their creative building.

One of the film’s most impressive achievements is its animation and style. The film is a tangible experience — watching it, you can feel every brick, every fingerprint, every scratch. The audience can imagine playing with and building the Lego sets presented in the film. Full of vibrant landscapes created out of Legos, the film is proof that the animation medium has great variety to offer.

Even the script recognizes and plays with its subject matter. Lines such as “rest in pieces” cheekily remind the audience that they are, in fact, watching a film about people made out of bricks.

At the same time, “The Lego Movie” can feel like a 101-minute commercial. Its release greatly increased the toy company’s revenue — in 2015, one year after the release of the film, Lego reported that sales had jumped 25%.

While the film’s commercial aspect is apparent at first glance, the greatest feat of “The Lego Movie” is that it doesn’t feel as such. The word “Lego” is never mentioned in the film. Pop culture inserts including Star Wars, Gandalf, and even Batman don’t feel forced. The film is a product of major corporations, yet its villain is a businessman. It critiques consumerism and the media while profiting off of them.

Fundamentally, “The Lego Movie” is self-aware — it recognizes its position and simultaneously manages to criticize it. Furthermore, having the ordinary Emmet as the main character allows for the cultural references and social commentary not to overwhelm or bore the audience. They experience the journey in the same way as the inquisitive and excited Emmet, through his eyes.

The film’s impact is still noticeable in major Hollywood productions that focus on previously-established production lines, the most recent example being the 2023 film “Barbie.” The two share striking similarities: Both films begin in utopias that turn out to be dystopias, both rely on Easter eggs and product characteristics to engage the audience, both feature real-life human characters that play with the toy ones, and coincidentally, both star Will Ferrell as an antagonistic businessman.

“The Lego Movie” is a wonderful example of an effective commercial film done with care and heart. Its sharp script, complex characters, and stunning visuals expand the world of a beloved toy. Underneath its polish and supporting material, the film is a touching tale of the everlasting power of imagination and creativity.

—Staff writer Erlisa Demneri can be reached at erlisa.demneri@thecrimson.com.