With Bryan Cranston headlining the cast of “Godzilla,” it easily dominated the box office… but was it any good?
Godzilla. Or as some say, “GOZIRA!” is a worldwide monster icon; the Michael Jordan of giant bipedal lizards; the Charlie Sheen of crazy, blue-plasma breathing reptiles that can crush your house with a single shit. Godzilla is perhaps the most well-known disaster-causing monster ever conceived. But the last recent Hollywood attempt at doing what the Japanese do best was somewhat of a let down, mainly because we didn’t get to see Ferris Bueller run through backyards to escape the baby godzillas. So of course, logically speaking, it’s time for a reboot. And how well did Hollywood recreate Japan’s most iconic monster this time around?
The answer, in my opinion, is pretty well. Obviously the special effects were top-notch; the design and aesthetics of Godzilla (him?)self were representative of the original, and the amount of destruction in the movie rivaled Man of Steel. Moreover, the size was completely accurate. Godzilla is supposed to dwarf battleships and even aircraft carriers, and that was pretty cool to see in the movie. So in all those respects, A-triple-fucking +. However, unfortunately, it’s all downhill from here…
I fully understand that ample and bounteous suspension of disbelief is required for all these types of movies. How could it not? You must suspend your disbelief, otherwise you’re just a buzzkill. It’d be so easy too: ‘Sorry inverse square law, Godzilla’s muscles and bones would be too massive for him to even be able to support his own weight,’ boom Godzilla ruined. But there comes a point when it’s so obvious and in your face, that you just have to ask…
If they (Godzilla, Monarchs) can survive a freaking nuclear blast, how the hell are they getting KO’d by just hitting each other? Yes, they “feed” on radiation (whatever that means) but nonetheless, the blast force alone is strong enough to vaporize any organic material. I’m assuming they’re organic since they bleed when they hit each other with force far less than that of a nuclear blast. But whatever, that’s not such a big deal. Just enjoy the action, right?
Right; when the action happens, I will certainly enjoy it, because so far it’s just been Ken Watanabe saying stuff in cool Last Samurai accent while looking humbled and terrified. Although, there were a number of scenes devoted to giving the U. S. military a decent amount of screen time—while building up to an impeding fight between two colossal beasts, only to show what it was our troops were up to instead.
And speaking of screen time, the main reason I pushed myself out of the house, drove all the way to the movie theater, spent $12.50 on the movie ticket, $4.50 on a drink, and $7.00 on fucking popcorn, was to see Bryan Cranston in Godzilla. Not, “Godzilla,” mind you. No, “Bryan Cranston in Godzilla” was what I came to see. And what did I see? (SPOILER!) I saw, “Bryan Cranston dies within the first 30 minutes of Godzilla.” What?! Seriously? Ok movie people in Hollywood, you’re going to make a trailer filled with images and quotes from Bryan Cranston as if he’s the star of the movie, while showing the real star (his son) for all of two seconds of that trailer, and then kill off Bryan Cranston in the first thirty minutes of the movie?! That, sir, is bullshit.
One more thing—those floppy disks. The culmination of all of Bryan Cranston’s research that he risked life and limb to retrieve because it held keys to filling in the gaps of what he’d been obsessing about over the past 15 years since he had to kill his wife (oops, spoiler!)—what was on those? He died before he could tell his son anything beyond, “they’re talking to each other” and then we’re never told what that important data was! WTF
Despite those costly mistakes by the writers, the movie wasn’t terrible by today’s standards I guess. There could have been more monster violence too, but hey, I only spent thirty bucks to see a movie one time, and have my feet stuck on the floor for two hours while surrounded by a bunch of loud douchebags. But I guess that’s just the movie-going experience. Overall it was a meh, but certainly better than the Matthew Broderick one.