Death Stomps Again

A sort of review of GODZILLA KING OF THE MONSTERS (2019)

Directed by Michael Dougherty

Written by Michael Dougherty and Zach Shields

Cinematography by Lawrence Sher

Score by Bear McCreary

Staring Vera Farmiga, Millie Bobby Brown, Kyle Chandler, Ken Watanabe, Charles Dance, Ziyi Zhang, Rodan, Mothra, King Ghidora, and Godzilla.

(This was mostly written the night of May 31st, going into June 1st. Life got in the way and I shelved this. Now it's out on home video, so I figured it was time to put it out. What follows is about 85% of the review I wrote for this movie. If you want a reaction closer to when I saw it, check out this episode of A Quality Interruption featuring Rafael Hernan Gamboa, he of The Long Take on Youtube and Violet, where among other things we do some fanfictioning on what this movie should have been.) 

ZERO DARK KAIJU

Godzilla (2014) was a reboot that was worthwhile. Instead of mining Godzilla for easy action set pieces, director Gareth Reynolds (Rogue One, Monsters) created a film with a unique tone and perspective that breathed fresh air into a flagging and ancient franchise. It brought terror and dread to the story, quietly resulting in one of the best action movies to come out in the past decade (one of the best monster movies, at least). There’s a reason they gave Edwards a Star Wars movie.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters is the sequel to that film (and the follow-up to the rather fun Kong: Skull Island) and it trades in majesty for volume. The restraint that made Godzilla (2014) worthwhile is gone, replaced with louder and bigger action scenes. Why inspire awe when you could just be awesome?

"Let them fight," huh? Am I right, guys? Guys?

The opening scene of King of the Monsters is vaguely reminiscent of Zero Dark Thirty (and, like all action blockbusters today, from Avengers to Game of Thrones, it’s a nice reminder that 9/11 drove us all insane*). This exists as both the high point and the low point of the movie. It's a moment that attempts to firmly establish King of the Monsters as a Serious Film about Loss and So Forth. It's also a moment that dispels any sort of tension. It's a movie where the worst has already happened. From there what could have been a serious monster movie, one with a unique point of view, instead sheds all of that in favor of being a bog-standard monster movie. A blockbuster to begin the blockbuster season. The opening of this film is a promise unfulfilled.

If there is something wrong with King of Monsters (and there is so very much wrong with it), you could probably diagnose its troubles by looking at its characters.

THE PROBLEM WITH NEVER SAYING NO

Of course, the frustrating thing is that the film isn’t entirely brain dead. You look at the art design, the special effects, and the attention to detail when it comes to the lore of Godzilla and you can see that all over the film. If not intelligent, King of the Monsters has an enthusiasm that is rare in tentpole entertainment.

This shot is beautiful and should be
taught in any film studies class

That also is at the heart of the movie's problem. It's a lot of good ideas that never form a cohesive whole. There's references to the Mothra twins, Mu, Castle Bravo, (copyright-free) X-1, and a whole underexplored sub-plot about Moby Dick (I think?), but without all of that informing the action (or the characters or their choices), it's like everything else in the movie: It's just stuff.

King of the Monsters doesn't ever rise above its influences. It doesn't ever use its toolkit to do anything other than to show off that it has a lot of nice tools.

Whereas the alleged sin of Godzilla (2014) is that it takes too long to get going and that you don't see the monster enough, King of the Monsters' sin is that the reveals never stop. There are never any moments too breathe or reflect. It's all kaiju all the time. Instead of two monsters fighting, it's four (with more on the way). Instead of one human villain, it's two. And, hey, let's throw in a Spielbergian child protagonist while we're at it. And a McGuffin and and and. . .

It's exhausting.

My friend Victor Perfecto, well-known kaiju nerd and podcast, described it as an “everything but the kitchen sink approach.” This helps temper some of my distaste toward the film in general. It's a failure, but at least it's a big failure. It's one that feels like there will never be another one of these ever again. It wanted to please fans and the average movie goer at the same time and in its attempt, it managed to please nobody.

On the plus side, one can’t complain about King of the Monsters leaving you bored. In a series full of shoddy special effects, bad acting, and poor editing, that's the worst sin there is.

GOOD AND "GOOD" MONSTER MOVIES

To rationalize for a moment—Godzilla movies are almost never good. Even the “good” movies aren’t very good. They’re poorly acted (with even worse dubbing). They’re cheap. They’re deeply silly and the action isn’t even that well choreographed. But—BUT! There’s something there in those films. In the cardboard sets and the fuzz of the VHS tapes. There is a kind of can-do charm that bigger movies just can't replicate. They've got gumption. They may not be good, but they are great.

Godzilla (2014) felt like a confirmation of what kaiju nerds like myself felt, which is that if you just had the budget and the time and you treated this material with respect, not only could you make a fun movie, but you could make and actual "good" movie out of Godzilla. One that you could show other people and you wouldn't have to explain why it's good.

King of the Monsters has the money. It has the power and yet, it’s this cold and unimpressive thing. It isn’t a movie that one can love. You can like it, probably. You can definitely have fun with it, but you can't love it, because for all of the art design and attention to detail, it isn't a film with any sort of heart.

And, again, if you can't make it properly thrilling and you can't make it charming, what do you have?

You have nothing. That's the crying shame of this movie. It isn't just that it misses the mark as a Godzilla movie, it's that it has so much going for it and the only memorable thing about it is that it's really loud.

Just to break up the monotony, here's an interview with mocap actor TJ Storm,
but also here's a ridiculous photo of mocap actor TJ Storm

THE KING THAT WAS PROMISED

King of the Monsters is about as standard of a summer blockbuster as you can get. It is awesome in place of awe-inspiring. It’s more explosions and more CGI creatures and it takes two hours or so and then it ends. There are plenty of these movies and there will be plenty more (not only this year, but in this franchise—Kong V. Godzilla is less than a year away, apparently). As a fan, it is hard for me to be too entirely down on it, though. It is competently made and the fan service does feel earned. Without my affection for the characters, there isn't much there.

Explosions. Sounds. Moving images. We have those aplenty. We only have one King of the Monsters and it would have been nice to see another movie live up to that name.

Personally, it makes me want to get out and see more movies. Not only ones in the theater like Booksmart or The Last Black Man in San Francisco, but dumber, even more far-out nonsense like Matango and The Mysterians. Because a movie doesn't have to be one or the other to be good. It can be both. It can be neither. It just has to be something and I love finding movies and I love finding things in those movies that are worthwhile and worth talking about. There is value in even bad art and, if nothing else, King of the Monsters is a reminder of that.

RELATED:

• My review of Godzilla (2014)
• My review of Shin Godzilla/Godzilla Resurgence (2016)
• My review of Pacific Rim, which I am only linking because I couldn't figure out a natural way to wedge it into the review
• The episode of AQI detailing this movie featuring Rafael Hernan Gamboa
• An AQI episode on The War of the Gargantuas
• An AQI episode on a lesser-known Toho monster movie Matango (AKA The Attack of the Mushroom People)

FOOTNOTES:

* Actually, I would really like to watch a procedural kaiju movie about a Driven Female Character trying to forensically determine how to kill a god.

James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and a big fan of big monsters. You can listen to him here and here. You can shovel piles of lucre at him on kofi and Paypal. You can also support his podcasts on Patreon. It is suggested that you do all of the above. He deserves it.

The Mule You Know

Some Thoughts on The Mule (2018)

Art is a funny thing. I've seen a lot of good movies this past year-- both new and old. I've also seen some real clunkers. Some real shitty movies that just got my goat and really made me angry. The Mule, the latest film by famed film-maker and shitty boyfriend, Clint Eastwood, is neither of these things.

And yet, I can't stop thinking about it.

It's not good. It's not bad*. It's just inherently strange and that it isn't one thing or another is what is so exceptionally strange about it. That a man who felt so strongly about Barack Obama that he rambled at a chair in front of a live studio audience, at a time where the nation is run by a mentally-deficient sex-offending, con artist-- where the panic against Latinx people and refugees requires a big dumb wall and where children are being put in concentration camps and are dying-- you'd think that some sort of passion would be present. That there was something about this story that had to be told. That something, even something truly ugly, would slip out.

And it doesn't.

It goes on for two hours and then it just sort of ends.

It's a truly baffling picture, because at least I understand the impetus of Sully or American Sniper or, especially, Gran Torino. One would almost have to go out of their way not to cast their lots one way or the other when it comes to something as sensitive and as fraught with controversy as the border and the War on Drugs. And yet, no decision seems to be made at any point for any reason other than to make a picture.

And yes, what I'm saying is that I kind of wish that Eastwood had been a little more racist. That baring his blackened heart would have at least been art of some kind.

At 200 years old, you'd think that the only thing that could tempt Eastwood out of his crypt would be a story that he really needs to tell. One that really speaks to him. Presumably a story where he gets to say racial slurs for millions and millions of dollars. The Mule doesn't seem to be it. That the one bicentennarian on earth who doesn't have an opinion about Those People directs movies is actually more fascinating than the movie itself.

I was talking to Cruz, a friend of mine with whom I co-host A Quality Interruption, and I was explaining this movie to him, trying to make sense of it and how I felt about it and, really, I was just dropping the ball on it (as if you couldn't tell). I

He described to me a character from One-Hundred Years of Solitude**. The character is an old man who lived this full, long life-- adventure, war, romance, all that-- and now he was at the end of his life and all he did to fill his time was making aluminum fish. Once he's done making his little fish, he then melts it down and starts all over again. That seems to be what Clint Eastwood is doing. He's tinkering. He's making movies to stay busy. In its own way that's admirable. The hitch I'm having is why make this movie just to stay busy?

What is more than that-- how in all of the time of staying busy do you make a movie so listless and basic after nearly fifty years of directing your own movie?

Here are some highlights that before I go:

• This movie has Michael Pena in it. That's always a good sign. 
• Diane Wiest is in this? That's great!
• In this film, the titular mule (as played by Clint Eastwood) has not one, but two threesomes. People give Tom Cruise shit for always making sure that his romantic interest is hotter and younger that he can actually pull (lest we start wondering about things), but Eastwood is the master of this. He did the same shit twenty years ago with Blood Simple and here it's even stranger and sadder. Now, while, we all love a dirty old man, I have to wonder about the motives of Eastwood making sure that people know that grandpa can still fuck.
• In this movie Eastwood's character is a florist. I swear to god. It's literally the first scene.
• You would only have to change, like, three things, and this would just be an episode of The Simpsons where grandpa accidentally gets recruited by Los Zetas. And, actually, I'd kind of like to see that.
• Most of the movie is just an old man driving through the mid-west listening to Oldies. Honestly, if there was one actual reason a pre-Boomer lith made this movie, that might be it.

FOOTNOTE:
* We all thought abut completing that joke, but not all of us did it. Sometimes the best writing happens because of what you decide not to do.
** A book that I'm not even going to pretend that I've read.

James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and bakery clerk. You can listen to him here and here. You can shovel piles of lucre at him here and here.

What the. . .

I rented Assassination Nation (more on that in the future) and this was one of the trailers attached to the film.




I found it incredibly striking, so I had to find out what it was about. So, I checked out its Wikipedia page.

This movie, uh, goes some places. And now I have to see it. I mean, I read the entirety of the plot and I still have to see it just to find out if any of that is real. Because, man, what a wild fucking thing.

Alright Ramblers, Let's Get Rambling

THE HATEFUL EIGHT REVIEW

By James Kislingbury

I've put a lot of calories into telling people why most of Tarantino's movies are garbage. Kill Bill 1 is fun, but too long and too closely resembles a feature length music video. Kill Bill 2 is too long and no fun. Death Proof watches like a practical joke. And Inglorious Misspellings* watches like the deleted scenes of a film that never got made. While his first three films are classics for varying reasons, after ten years of watching an artist wander in the wilderness, I realized that I couldn't follow him any more. I was going to go watch movies that had stories.

Then Django Unchained came out. It felt like a maturing of Tarantino's fixations. While all of the quirks that he usually overindulged were still there, he managed to wrap them all up in a film that was full of characters and had a compelling story. It had a drive and a direction that, after the box office failure of Jackie Brown, he seemed to resent. Yet, as much as I loved that movie, I also realized that this was something he could easily backslide from. He followed up Jackie Brown with Kill Bill. The same might be true of moving from Django Unchained to The Hateful Eight.

It is with no little energy (and no little relief) that enjoyed The Hateful Eight quite a bit.

Well, maybe “enjoyed” is the wrong word. I enjoyed Mistress America. The Hateful Eight, I endured. It's a movie that almost demands that you loath it. It indulges in all of QT's worst fixation (short of women's feet), yet, in the end, it's a film that comes together as a satisfactory whole. It is not a movie without faults and it is certainly one that I wouldn't begrudge anybody for loathing, but, damnit, I liked it. I really, really liked it.

That makes me a bad person, doesn't it?

First and foremost, as with all of Tarantino's post-Jackie Brown movies, it is too damn long**. Like Bruce Dern's old timer, it's even satisfied to go nowhere. The first 90 minutes of the film are jam packed with long stretches of nothing. Here's a scene of expostion. Here's a long take of people hammering spikes into the ice that will not come back at all. Here's another scene of folks jawing on about a whole lot of nothing (that will also not come back in any way, shape, or form). Beneath the grizzled visage of The Hateful Eight, is the sharp face of a Agatha Christie chamber piece, yet it insists on indulging in its

The worst example of this is how we have to watch a board get nailed into a door frame at least five different times. We watch it. Every. Single. Time. We get it, QT, it's kind of funny. The first time. Now you're just fucking with us. Go back to filming women's feet if this is how you're going to be. This movies doesn't so much need an editor as it needs a pathfinder. A large, ugly man with a machete. Possibly Machete. QT can probably get him for a song.

The other problem with the structure of the film is that its story is bound together with the same gossamer threads as a good Three's Company episode. It's premise makes little sense and as the film carries on, its plot thickens, and its stakes get raised, it make less and less sense. The story requires that Daisy (Jennifer Jason Leigh), the bounty which the entire film revolves around stay alive, but. . . Why? The Hangman (Kurt Russell) isn't a particularly upright man. So why is she still alive? This is stretched even thinner when we realized that almost everyone has a vested interest in her dropping dead. Yet, she doesn't.

Why? Because the sitcom requires it. This conceit is a cause for monologues and ultraviolence. The worst of the film seems to act upon this urge. Don't think about the logic, don't pay attention to the man behind the curtain, look over here. We've got the guy from Justified doing a caricature of Barney Fife and that's pretty cool, right? RIGHT?

Unlike his worst films, though, it never tips over. It knows where it's going, even if it takes the long way around. Through some switchbacks. And then backtracks. Then takes a nap. Then decides it would just be easier to go the easy way after all. No, not that easy way. Come here, I'll show you. It's not like you didn't clear your schedule for the next three hours.

I mean, how many goddamn times do I have to see somebody put a hammer to a nail? They don't even hit their thumb! Not once!

The Hateful Eight is also loathsome in that it makes me find common cause with Spike Lee. I don't feel like that's ever a good sign. This time, though, I get it, Spike. You were right. Tarantino loves using the word “nigger***” too goddamn much. Motherfucker is in love with it. Straight up. The dude gets off on it. Dude wants to fill a hot tub full of it and lather himself up good with it. He loves making other people say it, too. He loves making other people say it to his friends. He has to. Otherwise, he's an idiot and he isn't that. Of all of the things our dear director might be, he's not dumb. That might make it work.

Me twenty minutes into the film.

Which makes me wonder: Does he actually know what this word means? Not that I get it. I'm a dumb white dude. But, man, I feel like Spike Lee has got to have a handle on this, right? Spoil sport, though he may be? Does Tarantino think he's making a point? Or does he want to shock us with it? You know, prove a point, man. Frankly, I could give a fuck. It's exhausting. What is more is that it is boring. It's your dumb punk rock friend in high school pushing another safety pin into his ear. Except that he's a grown man. And the safety pin is a racial slur. Real cool, Darryl. Now shut the fuck up and see if your brother can buy us beer.

The first n-bomb drops about ten minutes into the film and never lets up. Ultraviolence, “bitch,” and some really good sexual assault occurs between the opening and closing credits, yet the n-word is there. Always. Ever present. Every scene. Oh, and the next one? It's got even more of them. And it's needless. It's there to prove a point that we already understand. It's there as a replacement for actual dialogue about America or about the cultural landscape in the post-Civil War climate. It's just the n-word. Again and again and again. It's not clever or cute or funny. It's a racial slur. It should mean something. Otherwise, it's an aesthetic adornment that comes at the cost of actual meaning. That's probably not something an artist should aim for. I don't know that being the Goodfellas of the n-word is a goal an artist should aspire to, either.

A friend of mine went to the reading of The Hateful Eight and when the first use of nigger occurred, Tarantino interrupted and pointed out that this was the first time it would occur in the story and that there would be 200-something more. The audience laughed at this. My friend looked around at this parliament of honkeys, their mouths agape in laughter, and had visions of the climax of Inglorious Bastards. At that exact moment, they'd be right to blow us up, he said.

It never lands on the ear the way it's supposed to and my annoyance of it only abated because, I think, I was numb to hearing it after the first two hours. Then again, maybe that's the point. Actually, like the drawn out nothingness that makes up the first half of the film, I'm fairly certain it's supposed to be alienating. Then again, maybe like a lot of QT's more clever points, maybe I don't give a fuck.

Flaws aside, The Hateful Eight's strengths do more than outweigh or outshine its manifold problems. The films problems are things the rest of the film treads upon and moves past. It says something about the quality of the rest of the film that I can ignore something as distastful as the needless use of racial epithets. Then again, maybe the joke is on me.

Somebody give this motherfucker a sequel.
No, not you, Eli. Never you.

I guess this is also helped along by the fact that Samuel L. Jackson is in prime form in this movie. His role as the bounty hunting Major Marquis Warren almost feels like an apology for making him the villain in Django Unchained. Warren is, to borrow a phrase, a bad motherfucker. He's cool. He's collected. He's got the best outfit. And, unlike everyone else in the movie, he actually seems interested in doing his job (which, when another character remembers that they also have a job to perform marks the point where I became fully invested in the film).

The best monologue in the film also belongs to Jackson. I won't spoilt the surprise, yet, as horrific as the story is, I can't help but laugh at it. I'm still laughing. I'm laughing because Samuel L. Jackson is laughing and who am I to disagree with him? He's a really good actor, as it turns out.

As it is with the best of Tarantino's movies, The Hateful Eight is a film about characters. It is about people in a premise, not a premise that requires people. The conceit of the film, thin though it may be, never overcomes the basic human drama that exists between these characters that Tarantino and his actors have crafted. As the film goes on, the story becomes less about being a mystery or a western or an exploitation movie and more about the dynamics of these characters. Their loyalties shift. Their needs shift. Their desires conflict. And then a lot of people die poorly. It's a hell of a lot of fun. Or, well, you know, "fun."

Tarantino's best movies, Jackie Brown, Pulp Fiction, Django Unchained, aren't about showing off (necessarily), but about people, characters, and place. His worst films and his most absurd overreaches have always been about being as loud and flamboyant as the Weinstein brothers will allow him to be. Some artists need a tether. I don't know that Tarantino has ever had one. Maybe that's the appeal. Who else is going to make a movie like this? Who else can piss off this many people and make this much money with a movie? That's fun. That's exciting. I just kind of wish I didn't have to imagine QT writing his screenplays with one hand because he was jerking off with the other.

Oh, also, Ennio Morricone does the score for this film. ENNIO FUCKING MORRICONE! He finally got him! Tarantino finally completed the loop!

There's a better, leaner, less needlessly dispicable film beneath the surface of The Hateful Eight. That movie would not be a Tarantino movie, though. For better or for worse, this is what we have. As obnoxious as the man may be either on screen or off (or in this case, in a voice over), he's making the films that he wants to make. Like George Lucas, plenty have tried making movies like him, but none have succeeded. It's nice for me to be on the side of the argument that actually had fun with the damn thing.

The Hateful Eight is a better movie than it has any right to be. It's a better movie than most movies have a right to be.

It's a fine movie to round out 2015's Oscar season-- That is if you really want to spend nine hours watching cowboys be the absolute worst to each other. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then The Hateful Eight is the movie for you.

James Kislingbury is a writer. Ostensibly. He also podcasts about movies. You can support his podcast here. But you won't. Also, buy his dad's book about old time saloons from here. Writing on his own blog means he can have whatever byline he wants. 

*There is no way I am looking up how to spell that film's title “correctly.”

**Yes, Death Proof included. Also, did you know that he went back and added scenes to the movie? If I recall correctly it was so it could be a contender at Canne. Ugh. As if QT couldn't be any more pretentious, the additional scenes were also black and white. Looking back on it, I think this was the exact moment that I realized that this director was just a man and, also, fuck this man.

***Sorry, but we're all adults and I'm not going to talk about it without saying it. I don't have a problem with hearing it and I don't have a problem with it in movies. Again, I'm a big boy. I take issue with how this film handles it. Me. The middle-class white dude in his 20's. You know. The arbiter of what is offensive or not. I mean, I did go to college. . .

Wagner's A Space Odyssey

Or "Time is Not a Flat Circle, It's a Sphere"

A Review of Interstellar (2014)

While I've been diddling around reviewing mediocre comics on a self-imposed dare, I have been remiss in my actual calling: Reviewing good movies and telling you to go see them. Ignoring the movies that I have already reviewed, I will say this before I get onto the actual review, the following movies are fantastic and deserve to be seen: Fury, Calvary, Noah, Gone Girl.

Alright. Thanks. Here we go, into the great wide open--

For those of you who worry: This will be a spoiler free review. Part of the wonder of Interstellar is not knowing where it is going and then, somehow, arriving at these amazing vistas. And the rest of the fun comes from figuring out how you got there. So, worry not. Put your adult diapers back in the closet, you won't get them in a ruffle over little old me.

I will also try to be brief.

2014 has been a fantastic year for film and, specifically, it has been a fantastic year for the special effects movie. Between Snowpiercer, Godzilla, Days of Future Past, Guardian of the Galaxy, and Edge of Tomorrow there have been a lot of well done, exemplary films that also happen to involve running, jumping, and blowing things up. We are in a new golden age of special effects pictures and Interstellar fits snuggly in among all of those.

Christopher Nolan, he of Batman and Inception, has crafted a movie that is as much about human relationships as it is about fast things moving through space. That has always been his strong suit. His weakness is that in that ambition, he misses out on the details, yet we are also left with an amazing experience. Interstellar is about human beings interacting with time, space, movements, and sound on the grandest scale possible. It is not so much film as it is opera.

I will come absoluetly clean with you: Interstellar is a movie that I did not understand at all for the last hour and a half, but I know that I loved it. Somehow that feels thematically consistent.

So, the good things--

First of all, the music is incredible. As much as 2001: A Space Odyssey is about melodrama in the Classical sense, so to is Interstellar. The score by Hans Zimmerman sets the tone and the emotions as much as the actors on the screen set them, and between Matthew MacConaugher (Academy Award winner), Anne Hathaway (Academy Award winner), Michael Caine (Acadamy Award winner), Matt Damon (Academy Award winner), and Jessica Chastain (Academy Award nominee), the movie does a pretty solid job on that end.

It's an amazing score, and it underlines what the movie is about, which is motion and emotions. I think I vainly tried to describe this when Gravity came up last year and I failed. I think the same feelings apply, though. Interstellar in many ways is about feelings and movement in the grandest sense possible. Again, this is opera that we are dealing with. Zimmerman's score, mixed with everything else in the film elevates it to something more, something much more precious than the sum of its parts.

Space Man, Dude

A lot of people complain that music is manipulative, that it tricks people into thinking a scene is more important than it is. Well, that's nonsense. That's what music does. That's what music in film does. It's a trick. It's all a trick. Nolan and Zimmerman manage to pull off the greatest trick of all, which is making you believe in this massive, cosmic opera that they have constructed. The film's score is as much responsible for making me cry during this movie as anyone else in the project.

And, on a slight aside, Interstellar has the best movie robots since. . . Aw, hell. David from Prometheus? We all liked him, right? Anyways, somebody give me a TARS spin-off. What an amazing/dumb idea.

Interstellar, like all of Nolan's films, are not the perfect watches that he wants them to be (or, with some people, needs them to be). I won't slog into the Dark Knight Risesdebate again, but we all have opinions on that film, right? Whether we like it or not, we all know that the details of the story are not Nolan's main concern, right? In his ambition, Nolan tends to overstep. Missing the details in favor of the grander picture. And unlike a great piece of Islamic art, his mistakes are not intentional. He is a man and his reach excedes his grasp.The same is true of Interstellar.

When the film arrives at what I will call the “Cosmic Erector," the movie hits a patch of black ice and starts careening out of control. It is at this point that we are asked to take a big bite of this mystery sandwich. Now, I might be mixing up my metaphors (or are the similes?) here, but I'm riding high off of space fumes and really need to get this all across. Like Nolan, I need you to stick with me.

Anyways, it's nonsense. Utter nonsense. In a movie that has painstakingly and proudly adhered to scientific reality (there is a reason that Nolan called upon physicist Kip Thorne to work on this movie) it is an abrupt and confusing stop. Faith is a major theme in the movie, but I don't know that this extends to the viewers. It has given you a good few hours of concrete, scientific adventure, then it basically asks you to believe in wizardry. And fuck you, no I am not. I just paid sixteen bucks, not including parking to get into this movie. But, the movie has been good so far and I just paid sixteen bucks, not including parking to watch it.

And, luckily that great filmic ditch never arrives. The narrative rights itself and everything turns out just fine. And that's kind of amazing. It then appears to be less of a film losing control as it is a film that has earned a few moments of indulgence. From the places it has been and the places that it then goes, it maybe had earned that indulgence.

And that mystery sandwich that I mentioned earlier? It is a Reuben. Maybe the best Reuben you've had in years. And you feel like a fool for ever doubting this delicious, delicious sandwich. And what's that? A pickle? Yes it is. You earned it.

Interstellar feels like a movie born to receive superlatives. It is about the greatest achievements of mankind. It is both a requiem and a jubilee all rolled into one. It's big, it is audacious, it is very loud. There is nothing muted or demur about the movie, even when it is dealing with smaller character moments. Even its flaws are incredibly loud and obvious. As a whole, though, like the best of Nolan's films, it works. Interstellar is a grand and imperfect film that perfectly encapsulates what is so incredible about people, the universe, and film.

 

SIDE NOTES:

Whether you want it to be true or not, Christopher Nolan is going to go down as one of the Great Directors. Make yourself right with your god, because no one else is going to save you. And, for the record, The Dark Knight Rises was the second best Bond movie to come out that year.

 It's also appropriate that the last movie I saw at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood was 2001: A Space Odyssey (it also might pass for a major plot point in a Christopher Nolan movie, but anyways. . .)

Man. Now I want to see 2010: The Year We Make Contact. And Contact. And Sunshine again. And Event Horizon when it's not on TV. Man. Space really is the place, isn't it?

I still have this document, complete with pictures, about the hows and whys of how amazing space travel is. I will never finish it. But Interstellar will do in its own way. It is a love letter to space travel and space exploration which, to me, is a love letter to this planet. Going Out There represents the greatest achievement that we could possibly have. Or not. I don't know. I never finished it because the ideas never coalesced in my head. We should strive to do impossible things, I guess is the major thrust of it. I don't know if that is what Interstellar is arguing for, but I'd like to think that it is. I'd like to think that somebody does something impossibly because of what this movie represents.

It would be nice to live in a world where our greatest heroes are pioneers, not soldiers. And I say this as a guy who loves Fury with all of his pinko heart.

James Kislingbury writes, podcasts, and begs for money.

And Death Stomped With Him

I AM BECOME DINOSAUR

Some Thoughts, Feelings , and Pained Metaphors on Godzilla (2014)

GO GO GOJIRA

If you asked me a year ago about how much we need a Godzilla reboot, I'd say that we need one about as bad we need teeth in our asshole.

Ignoring the brain-dead fiasco that is Roland Emmerich's 1998 fiasco, even the original Godzilla movies are silly, if charming, balls of cheese. At worst, they're Final Wars. They're the kinds of film that you watch because you've either got a real yen for camp, you're eleven years old, or you're very, very high.

That is to say, overall, with the exception of the very first film, Godzilla movies are not high art that has changed the way we watch movies. So, yeah, the idea of a remake, even one helmed by the director of Monsters made me feel like I ate too much burrito: Tired and a bit queasy.

And I'm not alone. In 2004 Toho, the "Owners and Creators" of Godzilla, pulled the plug on Godzilla. Or, at least they saw fit to have him hibernate until there was a worthy reason to bring him back. And that's how I thought it would be until the end of time.

Then the teaser came out.

And then I realized that a new Godzilla is exactly what we needed.

THE MONSTERS ARE COMING. . . EVENTUALLY

Gareth Edwards' first big foray into Hollywood is exactly what you want out of a Godzilla film: It's a B-movie told with the seriousness and professionalism. It also does so without losing any of the energy or charm that made you fall in love with those old rubber suit movies. It's an actual film about giant monsters and it isn't embarrassed about it. If Pacific Rim hadn't come out last year Godzilla would have been the giant monster movie we've been waiting for.

One of the biggest complaints about the movie-- that Godzilla is held back for so long-- is proof of how well it has been made. Holding back the monster is what you're supposed to do. That's how these things work. Alien does it. Jaws does it. The Thing does it. Pacific Rim didn't do it, but Guillermo del Toro can do whatever he damn well pleases. Godzilla (1998) didn't do it either and look how that turned out. By holding Godzilla back, Edwards firmly places this movie alongside some of the best monster movies of all time. It shows that he knows what he's doing.

By building up the anticipation, it make Godzilla that much more of a mythical figure. It somehow tricks us into thinking that we've never seen something like this before. It makes us wonder when will he show up? What will he do? What exactly is this behemoth capable of? It makes that initial Godzilla scream that much more impactful. To take a sixty year old property, one that even its owners aren't too fond of, and gives it back its mystique.

But, of course, I'm burying the lead: Godzilla clocks in at a mere two hours. That gives the director plenty of time to establish a world before it starts blowing it up. It has a human length. If only for that Godzilla might be the best blockbuster this year.

THOSE PINK WALKING BITS THAT AREN'T GODZILLA. . . YOU KNOW, PEOPLE

As much as Godzilla is about watching cities that didn't do anything wrong in their life getting smashed like your drunk grandpa's vase, it's a movie about people. . . and whether or not these people are going to get smashed. For the most part, the characters that aren't giant monsters are perfectly capable of moving things along.

As far as square-jawed leading men are concerned Aaron Taylor-Johnson is a perfectly acceptable collection of right-angles. While I loathed Savages, he was one of the less loathsome things in the movie. I mean, beyond his hair. But in this movie he has a crew cut, so it's fine. He actually reminds me of Orlando Bloom's performance in Kingdom of Heaven, which is to say neither of them are very good, but at least they've got the good taste not to get in the movie's way.

Elizabeth Olsen also delivers a perfectly fine performance, giving scene an emotional grounding when they need it or accentuating the drama where needed. While I don't buy her as a mother of a five year old for one single second, at least she doesn't look entirely ridiculous.

Where the film's strength lies is in its supporting cast-- a collection of actors either too old, too talented, or too expensive to give the lead to. They elevate every scene. It's a thankless task, but it serves the movie's purposes. It's a better drama for them being wasted.

Right off the top, we have Juliette Binoche who even when collecting a paycheck delivers a performance that is far greater than the length of time she is on screen. Then there is Sally Fields also shows up if only to remind us that Happy Go Lucky has been on our Instant Queue for two years now and that we still haven't watch it.

We also have Bryan Cranston. He's great. We all know this. He's about as underused as the rest of the cast that doesn't have a military haircut. Fortunately, in the few scenes that he has, he acts his ass off. Like Binoche, he isn't on for long, but he makes those moments count.

Then, of course, there is Ken Watanabe (who, like Morgan Freeman, is the kind of actor you patch into a movie if you need a scene to have gravitas). Even in sillier films like The Last Samurai, he's a man who commands your attention and Godzilla is no exception. Even in a room full of military goons, he's the man you're waiting to speak. Every film he appears in, he seems like the perfect choice. Godzilla is no exception.

The best moment in the movie-- that doesn't involve monsters duking it out-- focuses on Watanabe. In it, he and David Strathairn are looking over a seemingly doomed San Francisco, wondering what the hell to do.

There's something beautiful about that little moment. It's about monsters fighting as much as it is about everything but monster fighting. It's one of the few scenes that match up to the promised metaphorical heights that Edwards mentions in interviews and that the original film was built around. It also doesn't make me think about weird 9/11 allegories and that's always a good thing.

EL MONSTRE ES MUYO GORDO

I like the new Godzilla. He looks like Godzilla. That's always a good start for a Godzilla movie.

Keeping in the tradition of other recent franchise reboots, this incarnation of Godzilla is meant to be  realistic take on the the King of Monsters. Or as realistic as a 300+ foot tall lizard is ever going to get.

But the Weta-assisted design actually works. Unlike a lot of CGI, eveven recent CGI, this is a monster that has real weight and impact. As easy as it might be to poke fun at Godzilla's bulk, everything suddenly makes sense when the first move he makes in a fight is a two-handed sumo wrestler slam. Even the sillier bits of the design have a well thought out function. That's always nice to see.

As important as Godzilla is, the mark of a good Godzilla movie is a good villain. King Ghidorah, Biollante, and Mechagodzilla and Charles Barkley are just as significant as the King of the Monsters himself. Fortunately, this time around the film makers got it right. The baddies are smartly designed and have the same kind of heft that Godzilla does.

What's interesting is that they don't just look like bugs that have been scaled up. Instead, they look like living fossils. They look like they are of earth, but that they don't quite belong. They look like they fall somewhere between something at the Natural History Museum and a Pokemon. They're anchored in this world, yet there's something fantastic going on. That's a good place for a kaiju to be.

 

WHAT REMAINS

A lot of the flack being hurled at Godzilla centers around what polite people would call “pacing problems” and what others would call “boring.” Over the years I've backed away from spitting venom at people with whom I disagree,* but it needs to be said: These people are idiots. Godzilla, for all of its smashing, is not a movie made for or by idiots. For all of its special effects Godzilla is a movie about the human beings. Apparently that makes things "boring" now instead of "dramatic."

While I'll agree that the human aspect of the film leaves something to be desired, Gareth Edwards still delivers a rock solid action film. It looks great, it moves along nicely, and it delivers exactly the kind of thrills that you want out of a giant monster movie. It doesn't quite have the depth that some other action movies might have that doesn't mean that it still isn't worth your time and money.

The original Godzilla practically invented a genre. This film does not do that. What it does do is deliver an exciting action film that belongs in the pantheon of monster movies. It's the kind of movie you would love as a kid and unlike a lot of crap that you watch as a kid this movie might actually deserve it. A lot of people are mentioning Steven Speilberg in the same breath as this film. While Godzilla does not hit the highs of those great blockbusters, it is a fun film and a fine start to the blockbuster season. If only more blockbusters could be as insubstantial as this one.

 

ALTERNATIVE OPINIONS:

I'm a fan of Vice and this article is no different. With a headline like that, I can't resist it.

Here's a more coherent review of the film from Rafael Gamboa. Even though I don't agree with it, I went to high school with this guy and he wasn't terrible, so I'm going to be nice. Also, it's really well written.

As always: Kermode is also available.

Since we're at it, why don't we all relive Roger Ebert's amazing review of the 1998 Godzilla.

SIDE NOTE:

My current feeling on the movie is that I think it'll slide into obscurity and only be viewed by the odd Godzilla nerd or kid who is getting into scary movies, but can't quite handle actual scary movies. That is until the sequel, which has already been green lit. As cynical as I sound, I'm kind of excited for what that movie will look like. I'm excited by the idea of Gareth Edwards (or whoever) trying to square Mu or King Ghidorah into this semi-realistic world that they've built. I want to know how they're going to meld Battle of Algiers with Cloverfield.

Someday.

FOOT NOTES:

*Yes, I realize that I complained that Only Lovers Left Alive left me a bit bored, but that also didn't have giant bugs and reptiles smashing things for an hour. Being a bit boring is also a part of that movie's charm.  And, yes, I know that I also complained that The Wind Rises was boring, but fuck The Wind Rises. And another thing, Only Lover Left Alive was two hours of people talking in rooms and that was boring. Godzilla is maybe an hour of people talking in rooms and then it has another hour of monsters smashing shit. What the fuck do you morons want?