The Thin Red Line
1917 is directed and co-written by Sam Mendes and stars George McKay, Dean-Charles Chapman, Mark Strong, Andrew Scott, Richard Madden, Claire Duburcq, Colin Firth, and Benedict Cumberbatch.
It ought to be mentioned right out of the gate that I have a high level of enthusiasm for anything and everything by Sam Mendes. While I can't argue that the man should be placed into one of the top tiers of film directors, the ones populated by the likes of Steven Spielberg and Christoper Nolan, I won't deny that I've gotten a great deal of enjoyment out of everything I have seen from him, American Beauty being a film I especially hold near and dear to my heart. Mendes' directorial resume isn't as long as one may think, so he tends to float in and out of my memory bank as I try to keep up with new releases. Anyway, Mendes' film-making style over the years has largely been about taking a relatively straightforward concept and dressing it up into something more complex and thought-provoking than what said concept appears to be on paper, one major criticism being his films are not as smart as they think they are. The one constant, however, that pretty much everyone is in agreement about on Mendes' films is their elegant cinematography. Mendes has had the honor of working with some of the most famous cinematographers in history: Conrad L. Hall and Roger Deakins, the latter of which takes on the cinematography for 1917. So if you've never been a fan of Mendes, chances are I will not be able to use 1917 to sway you into thinking differently about him. What I will advocate for though is 1917 as not just a Sam Mendes film, but as an alluring war film: one that drives us knee-deep into the trenches of World War I and rattles us until we're as shaken as the soldiers on the battlefield.
1917 follows the travels of two young British soldiers: Lance Corporals Will Schofield (MacKay) and Tom Blake (Chapman). General Erinmore (Firth) assigns the two the task of delivering a message to the 2nd Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment, calling off a planned attack against a retreating German front. One of the soldiers in the 2nd Battalion is Blake's brother Joseph (Madden), and if the message is not delivered on time, the Germans will ambush and likely kill all 1600 men in the Battalion. Schofield and Blake set out on a dangerous journey, where they must make their way past German soldiers, while also enduring the gritty World War I landscape.
Not much meat to the plot, but there doesn't need to be. 1917 falls into the category of experience film: in which the plot is not about going from Point A to Point B, and eventually culminating at Point Z; it's about characters getting through just Points A, B, and C, with the emphasis on the journeys in between Points A, B, and C, and making them as meticulous and memorable as possible. If 1917 was a plot movie, chances are that the film would get by as just an entertaining war picture with some stand-out technical features. Instead, Sam Mendes takes us right into the trenches and asks us, "What was it like, being one of those soldiers, trying to survive among all the blood, sweat, and tears that war inevitably brings?" The movie's heart and soul lies in the hands of its two main soldiers, so their eyes and ears are going to be our tour guides. The one thing they're not going to be able to do is warn us of is if something gruesome or tragic is about to happen, because, well, what kind of war experience would we be getting then?
- The main thing to know going into 1917 is its primary technical decision: shoot the film as one long, continuous shot. Now, it's not entirely accurate to say the film is indeed one, long continuous shot. There is a moment midway through the film when a character passes out where the continuous shot cuts to black. Seconds later, a different shot starts up at a different angle, so the movie is really two continuous shots. Regardless, this is a praiseworthy decision by Roger Deakins, because such lengthy takes help better immerse us into the setting and what the likes of Schofield and Blake are seeing and thinking as they traverse through enemy territory. The cinematography presents the likes of no man's land, a destroyed town, and the British trenches like traps that our characters are trying to escape from, not visual marvels that could enhance a blood-soaked battle. Schofield and Blake are almost seeing everything from a first-person point of view, you know, those views you get in Xbox games like Call of Duty or Destiny. A German soldier, a plane crash, or some kind of explosion: they all feel closer and more intimidating, and the experience is that much more realistic. Deakins never allows a take to stray too far from a character's line of sight, because doing so would rip us away from the experience.
- Thomas Newman is to Sam Mendes what John Williams is to Steven Spielberg. Thomas Newman is also, in my opinion, the most underrated musical composer in modern film history. The fact that the guy has been nominated for fourteen Oscars without a win is almost blasphemous. In the case of 1917, Newman's score does it all: elevate the emotional scenes with softer and slower tunes, and provide an adrenaline-boost to the more action-oriented scenes. What's more, Newman allows his score to never impede on the experience that Mendes and Deakins try to create, because that might not go over too well if watching British soldiers panic in the trenches got drowned out by string instruments and percussion, desperately trying to get your blood pumping. The score is prominent, but enough "in the background" that it never serves as a distraction.
- I don't want to be too critical of the lack of plot, but the fact of the matter is that 1917's bare bones plot makes the film ring a little hollow, at times forcing Mendes and co-screenwriter Krysty Wilson-Cairns to generate filler material. Schofield and Blake have a great deal of "walking and talking", but some of their conversations don't really serve as character development, only as small talk that acts as padding until they reach a spot where something of interest can take place. Then there are other scenes that are stretched as far as possible, even to the point that it doesn't feel like someone's real-world war story. A bunch of soldiers gather together to hear someone sing a song, and no, it's not the final 30-45 seconds of the song; it's the whole gosh darn thing. There's also another scene where a truck gets stuck in mud, and all the soldiers have to get out to push it loose. I suppose you could say this is a "bonding" moment, but considering that nearly all the soldiers pushing the truck are never seen again afterwards, then I'm not sure "bonding time" is the right way to describe this scene. It's one thing to be realistic, but you also have to separate realistic from borderline pointless, and that's where 1917 struggles at times.
Even with some padding, 1917 is an impressively immersive experience, throwing you right into the heart of the World War I trenches and not letting you out until the end credits roll. Roger Deakins' terrific cinematography is one of 2019's most impressive technical achievements, and Thomas Newman is as reliable as ever with another knocked-it-out-of-the-park musical score. Along with great direction from Sam Mendes and top-notch acting from a talented cast, 1917 is the full package, and the best war film to get a wide release since 2016's Hacksaw Ridge. I eagerly await to see what the film may get at the Academy Awards. Maybe finally this will be the year Thomas Newman gets that elusive Oscar victory.
Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them.
Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker is directed, co-written, and co-produced by J.J Abrams. Multiple actors return to reprise their roles from the previous films: Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill, Adam Driver, Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Anthony Daniels, Domhnall Gleeson, Kelly Marie Tran, Billy Dee Williams, and Ian McDiarmid. Newcomers to the cast include Naomi Ackie, Richard E. Grant, Lupita Nyong'o, Keri Russell, and Joonas Suotamo.
It is rather depressing to see the level of disarray that the Star Wars franchise has fallen into in the years since Disney bought Lucasfilm from George Lucas back in 2012. At least for the first couple years, it didn't seem like there was anything dysfunctional about Star Wars now being Disney's property; The Force Awakens and Rogue One were box office gold, and both critics and audiences seemed to be on board with the direction Disney was taking the franchise. Then came The Last Jedi and Solo: A Star Wars Story. The Last Jedi, while garnering strong reviews and favorable box office results, sent the Star Wars fanbase into an almost total state of chaos, in which fans decried Disney for ruining their childhood heroes and tampering with all the supposed "rules" about The Force and how the Star Wars galaxy operates. Solo, meanwhile, was the first legitimate box office bomb for the franchise: a way for fans to give Disney the middle finger for The Last Jedi. So as you can imagine, excitement was at an all-time low when The Rise of Skywalker was announced, and given the less-than-stellar reviews from critics and audiences, I think it is perfectly reasonable to now question the future of the Star Wars franchise (if people hadn't started doing so already after The Last Jedi and Solo).
One word that perfectly summarizes The Rise of Skywalker is underwhelming. Disappointing might be the better word, because 2019 has seemed to be the year of disappointment for almost anything and everything pop culture not directly tied to Marvel. The absolute last thing a Star Wars film should be though is underwhelming, because these are supposed to be the ultimate fun time at the movies: watching heroes go on an epic space adventure, exploring wonderful new worlds and vanquishing the dark forces of the universe. No one can deny the entertainment value of the original trilogy, and while the prequels are heavily problematic, they at least show flashes of energy and imagination here and there. The prequels also offer the amusement of watching pure ineptitude when it comes to acting and dialogue. As for The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, there is certainly entertainment to be had in both films, but let's not sit here and pretend that both films are not doing a whole lot of nudge-nudge, wink-wink fan service. Fan service, meanwhile, is rampant in The Rise of Skywalker, so much so that J.J Abrams doesn't care one iota for imagination, originality, or even simple spectacle. Almost nothing about the film is proactive: the plot, the characters, the direction. Everything feels reactive, as if Disney was so startled by the backlash generated by The Last Jedi and Solo, that their mindset was to treat Episode IX as an apology letter to fans and not the proper finale to this sequel trilogy.
The opening title crawl starts out with the words, "The dead speak!" It turns out that Emperor Palpatine (McDiarmid), almost out of pure screenwriting desperation, is still alive. He sends out a galaxy-wide broadcast announcing his return, drawing the presence of Kylo Ren (Driver). Palpatine reveals his plan to unleash a giant armada of Star Destroyers, each equipped with a planet-destroying weapon. Palpatine also tasks Ren with finding and killing Rey (Ridley), who is still training to be a Jedi. You know the rest: Rey and friends must find Palpatine and stop his dastardly plans once and for all.
This plot is as frustrating as it is tiresome. The bit I left out concerns Rey and her friends going on a treasure hunt, but you don't need me to fill in the blanks: Rey and co. must meet X, Y, and Z people and acquire Shiny Objects 1 and 2 in order to find where the bad guy is located. By the way, J.J. Abrams must think the Death Star is the coolest fictional weapon ever devised if he not once, but twice made it the focal point of the villain's scheme. Snoke and Kylo Ren worked to create what I always called the Death Star+ in The Force Awakens, and here, Abrams just takes the same powers of the Death Star and multiplies it across an armada of ships. Bringing back the Emperor, meanwhile, is an ill-conceived attempt at nostalgia and my biggest beef with the movie. To start with, Abrams completely neglects to explain how Palpatine can survive being thrown down a miles-deep reactor shaft, so good luck re-watching Return of the Jedi and not feel as if Disney violated one of the most grandiose moments of the original trilogy. I'm expunging material from my low points, so more on The Emperor's return in a bit.
- So what can I say about The Rise of Skywalker that qualifies as nice? Well, the best I have is that all the actors are giving it their best efforts, despite what little the screenplay has to offer in terms of characterization and memorable dialogue. Daisy Ridley, Adam Driver, Oscar Isaac, and anyone else that has some kind of relevant role in the film are all giving it 100% and trying to act like they care for the sequel trilogy to end on a high note. I have to specifically point out poor John Boyega, who truly does everything in his power to keep his character Finn afloat, despite the fact that the character's arc was basically complete by the end of The Force Awakens, and thus, had little to no purpose for being in The Last Jedi and The Rise of Sykwalker. It's almost sad that the only interest the screenplay even remotely has in Finn is having him find the right time to tell Rey some sort of secret he's been keeping from her. The previous films would suggest this "secret" is just that Finn loves Rey and wants to be with her, but romance is something these newer Star Wars films do not care much for. So yeah, this one and only high point boils down to just, everyone is trying. Super deep, I know.
- I'll jump back into my gripes about the plot/screenplay shortly, but one low point that kind of surprised me was the film's action: perhaps the most vanilla of any Star Wars film ever. Any shootout scene, space dogfight, speeder bike chase, or even any lightsaber duel, all of it is just run-of-the-mill action that was done earlier and more inspired in previous Star Wars films, so watching the action is a lot of, "Been there, done that." There are no brand new space creatures, no new high-tech weapons, and no new battle layouts that you'd want to play for yourself in a new Star Wars video game. Remember how engrossing it was, watching the Rebels try to take down the Death Star at the end of A New Hope? You know what followed that awesome sequence in The Empire Strikes Back? Arguably the coolest battle sequence in all of Star Wars: the battle between the Rebels and the stop-motion animated Imperial Walkers on the snowy planet Hoth. Where is the creativity? Where is the inspiration to try something new and offer us a dose of action like we've never experienced before in a Star Wars film? The action in The Rise of Skywalker is so bland, that it never becomes something you look forward to. We can only watch the Millenium Falcon run away so many times from Imperial spaceships before we start yawning and demand for something else to show up on screen. In a galaxy full of endless possibilities, it's amazing how un-creative and lackluster that someone (Disney) can make it out to be.
- If I already said it once, then I'll say it again: this plot is so underwhelming and chock full of fan service, that it doesn't feel like something J.J.Abrams and Disney had in mind when Disney originally conceived this sequel trilogy. More so, The Rise of Skywalker is Disney's reaction to the backlash of The Last Jedi, and in hopes of getting back into the fans' good graces, they pump the film full of nostalgia and fan service, almost none of which works. The most egregious of The Rise of Skywalker's fan service crimes is the return of Palpatine, mostly because his return completely undermines the story of the earlier films, specifically that of Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader. If Rey was to one day confront Palpatine, then how are we supposed to feel about Anakin Skywalker's storyline and his transformation into Darth Vader? How are we able to not feel differently about the way Vader's story ends, knowing that Episode IX brings the Emperor back? As for other fan service, Billy Dee Williams comes back to play an elderly Lando Calrissian, you know, because he was in the original trilogy? Luke and Leia are also in the movie, although their endings are more about helping to bring closure to the some of the newer characters, which feels like a bit of a disservice to them and what they went through originally. It's so much for the film to try and wrap up over the course of 142 minutes, and the plot being so low-stakes doesn't help matters at all. Characters just go over here, then go over there, meet this person, then meet that person, and occasionally there will be some blaster shots and maybe even a lightsaber or two. The grand finale of a nine episode saga should not be this uninspired and discombobulated.
With the previous two trilogies, you can watch their respective finales, getting a sense of the stories they were trying to tell over a three episode span. Episodes I-III told the story of the Clone Wars and how Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side. Episodes IV-VI depicted the war between The Galactic Empire and the Rebels, and how Luke Skywalker learned to use the Force and learn the ways of the Jedi. This is where I am especially troubled about Episodes VII-IX. What was the story they were trying to tell over this three episode span? A war breaks out between The First Order and Resistance, while scavenger Rey discovers she has the ability to use the Force and learn the ways of the Jedi? That sounds a lot like the summary of Episodes IV-VI, if you ask me. If this whole sequel trilogy was just one long nostalgia ride for Disney, then that's one of the most pathetic, albeit unsurprising, things I've seen from the film/entertainment industry in years. Star Wars is one of, if not, the most popular media franchise in the world, and instead of expanding upon the endless goldmine of opportunities that George Lucas had created prior to selling the franchise rights, Disney gave in to their laziest desires and created a new trilogy that went through nearly all the same beats of the original films. I had quite a few nice things to say about The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, but now, after seeing The Rise of Skywalker and thinking over everything that happened in these last three episodes, I am not so sure how fond of those films I am here at the end of 2019.
The Rise of Skywalker is extremely underwhelming and sends out this Star Wars sequel trilogy with a whimper. The complete lack of originality, a screenplay that screams of desperation, toothless action, and an abundance of fan service make this not only the worst film of this sequel trilogy, but one of the worst episodes of the entire Star Wars saga. All the actors are giving it their best efforts, but none of them can save this film from all its shortcomings. The Rise of Skywalker is not quite Attack of the Clones bad, but boy does it flirt with going down into that circle of hell at times. I don't care how successful The Mandalorian is turning out on Disney+ at the moment. The future of the Star Wars franchise has never looked more bleak, and now I feel a tad foolish for ripping the current Star Wars fan-base as toxic and an atrocity to the franchise. Maybe it still is, but if The Rise of Skywalker is the best Disney can come up with nowadays, then there may be more than just a fanbase that is toxic about Star Wars.
Recommend? I suppose if you've seen the previous eight episodes, you'll feel obligated to see this one. If not, avoid until it comes out on DVD and Blu-Ray.
Knives Out is directed, written, and produced by Rian Johnson and stars an ensemble cast: Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Ana de Armas, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Katherine Langford, Jaeden Martell, and Christopher Plummer.
It is worth mentioning that I am something of a sucker for a good ol' fashioned mystery: whether in print or audio-visual form. I've always been fascinated by the structure of a mystery-based story, largely because the payoff of when a (good) mystery is solved is one of the most satisfying feelings I've felt while reading a novel or watching a film. So when a juicy, all-star whodunit like Knives Out rolls around, you can bet your ass I'll be there to see it. The first thing that comes to mind when looking at Knives Out is questioning if the movie is essentially a modernized and more straightforward version of Clue. The title should be an indication that we won't be dealing with candlesticks, lead pipes, and wrenches, although they'll certainly still be a lot of deciphering of who was where and doing what at the time of the murder. Here's the thing: we don't want Knives Out to be a revival of Clue, because we've already seen that song and dance, and it isn't as fun watching it the second time around. What we do want is for Knives Out to be in the spirit of Clue: bouncy, unpredictable, and never taking itself too seriously. Being in the spirit of Clue is something Knives Out excels at, but the best part is, that's only the icing on what is a delicious cake of a movie.
Rian Johnson has been a bit of a notorious figure among movie-goers the past two years; The Last Jedi brought about the wrath of the Star Wars fanbase, and with the backlash came slamming remarks by fans about how Johnson "ruined" Star Wars and forever tarnished the overarching saga. Whatever your thoughts on The Last Jedi (this guy here ended up liking it by a lot), there is far more evidence out there that Rian Johnson is a stellar director and writer, and Knives Out, seeing its rave reviews and reasonable box office success I think is only going to quiet his critics further. There are certain movies you can watch and can say to yourself, "Yep, that's a Steven Spielberg film" or, "Yep, I've seen all those moments before. I am watching a Michael Bay film." So while I don't think Rian Johnson has developed that sort of intangible presence yet with his films, what I can say with certainty is this: Johnson's enthusiasm for making a film like Knives Out leaps off the screen and is highly contagious. This is a guy that always wanted to make a murder mystery and is psyched that his lifelong dream has finally come true. The last thing he cares about with Knives Out is what a bunch of angry Star Wars fans have to say about him.
The movie opens at the house of wealthy crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Plummer). Housekeeper Fran (Edi Patterson) goes upstairs one morning and finds Harlan dead, his throat being slit. The police bring several members of Harlan's family for questioning: his eldest daughter Linda Drysdale (Curtis), his youngest son Walt (Shannon), his grandson Hugh Drysdale (Evans), son-in-law and Linda's husband Richard Drysdale (Johnson), and widow of deceased son Neil, Joni (Colette). Also involved is Harlan's nurse, Marta Cabrera (de Armas). Leading the investigation is the eccentric private detective Benoit Blanc (Craig), who learns piece by piece that Harlan had a falling out with each family member being questioned. A dead body and multiple suspects. Yep, it's indeed a whodunit.
For about a third of the way through, Knives Out is a whodunit, until Rian Johnson decides to turn his whodunit completely inside out and morph it into something else altogether. It's extremely difficult to discuss what I mean without giving direct spoilers, so bear with me if I sound rather vague. In a traditional whodunit, we have multiple suspects from multiple backgrounds; the fun is in learning about the lives of each suspect, what their motivations are, and how they came to know the person who gets murdered. Then comes the part where we have to take a step back and look closer at our interlinked web and find out which person's story doesn't mesh well with the others. Whoever's story doesn't add up is almost always the one who is guilty. Knives Out does about the first third of this process, and then it veers off course onto a stray dirt road that no one saw initially. Rian Johnson is not trying to be clever for the sake of being clever, nor is he trying to break new ground in the mystery genre. What it is is Johnson taking a story dressed up as a whodunit and using it to make a neat commentary on who the characters are representing.
- The best thing of all about Knives Out is just how damn fun it is: a mystery comprised of meaty, thought-provoking details, an all-star cast, and a script that allows said all-star cast to exchange caustic and hilarious dialogue with one another. Rian Johnson takes the whodunit structure and plays around with it for almost the entirety of the film's 130-ish minutes, and this playful state of mind permeates throughout the entire cast, all of whom are having as much fun as the their director is. Daniel Craig soaks up every little bit of eccentricity that the script displays of Blanc, because a goofy, offbeat family requires a goofy, offbeat detective. The Thrombeys, meanwhile, are prime examples of snobby rich folks who believe themselves to be on a higher plane than everyone else. Every Thrombey member wholeheartedly believes they will get a piece of Harlan's fortune, because the rich always get richer. The reason the humor in the movie works so well is because the Thrombey family suspects are all vying for control, and they all look like total buffoons while doing it. There's nothing to distinguish these people; it's the same stuck-up personality multiplied several times. Watching the Thrombeys clash is like watching a bunch of lemmings race to see who can be the first one to jump off the cliff; they're all goners when it's all said and done. The Thrombeys are a great example of why watching people trying to be serious and failing will always be funnier than watching people try to be funny. The rich folks yell, scream, and rip each other to shreds, and we're laughing our heads off every step of the way.
- Much to Rian Johnson's credit, Knives Out presents a thoughtfully put together murder mystery, layered with much more than just a dead body, a weapon, and a bunch of suspects who are connected to the now deceased person. I will reveal details about the murder which I think borders on minor spoilers, but nothing that I think would make you turn away from this review now and come back after watching the movie. Anyway, we first see that Harlan has his throat slit, but it's quickly revealed that Harlan apparently committed suicide, which complicates the question of if he was really murdered. Furthermore, Marta was responsible for giving Harlan pain medicine every night, and sure enough, the medicine plays a part in Harlan's death as well. This is a mystery that ends up being about much more than just uncovering events of the not too distant past, events that Rian Johnson is more than happy to provide us much earlier than expected. What happens is that Blanc and the other detectives have to uncover the clues about Harlan's death, while also keeping up with the events of the present, specifically the matter of who gets Harlan's fortune. The characters are in a tug of war with both the past and present, and it presents a series of challenges that never allows the film to become totally stagnant.
- Actually, to say the film is never stagnant would be a bit of a betrayal of my own thoughts towards the movie, because I do think the movie is a bit slow in the beginning. Once it gets going though, it moves gracefully. The slow beginning isn't the biggest issue with the movie, though. The biggest issue in Knives Out is what it does with the character of Marta Cabrera, specifically with her motivations and general thought process throughout the film. Marta goes back and forth between being an innocent bystander and a potential suspect, and it's never clear (at least, not until the very end) as to what she hopes to get out of this murder investigation, and how she feels towards those around her. Again, it's extremely difficult for me to discuss this point without sounding vague, so bear with me as I try to stick to my motto of never giving major spoilers. Marta is understandably horrified when she learns of Harlan's murder, and so she cooperates with Blanc and the police. Later on however, Marta gets an opportunity in which she sheds her innocent skin and starts to act in opposition to Blanc and the police. Then when more details of the murder are revealed, Marta goes back to being the innocent party that she was initially. It's incredibly erratic behavior for a character that has no reason to be erratic; her actions and decisions end up hindering the flow of the story. Luckily, Rian Johnson still ends up where he wants to when all is said and done, but the journey getting there is rather bumpy. If this behavior was with one of the Trombey characters, I probably wouldn't give it much thought, but because Marta quickly develops into one of the movie's main characters, it's impossible to ignore.
So while Knives Out is advertised as a Rian Johnson whodunit, the truth is that it's a Rian Johnson whodunit that takes the whodunit mystery formula and turns it completely upside down. We have much more than a dead body, multiple suspects, and a cheeky detective. We have extra character motivations, more depth, and a final result that ends up saying something quite effective about the characters and their backgrounds. Rian Johnson once again proves his directing and writing talents with Knives Out: a razor sharp murder mystery that is as fun as it intelligent. While the movie is slow in the beginning and has some inconsistencies with one of its central characters, there is so much entertainment to be had watching an all-star cast play a bunch of snobby rich people who get their comeuppance. This was a movie Rian Johnson always wanted to make, and his childlike enthusiasm is prevalent in every frame. Nothing like watching people see one of their dreams come true.
Recommend? Yes. The movie is a ton of fun and definitely worth your time.
Come play with us, Danny
Doctor Sleep is directed and written by Mike Flanagan and stars Ewan McGregor, Rebecca Ferguson, Kyliegh Curran, and Cliff Curtis. The film is based on Stephen King's 2013 novel of the same name.
It is almost natural instinct to start a review of Mike Flanagan's 2019 film Doctor Sleep with some brief talk of The Shining, both the 1977 novel by Stephen King and the 1980 film by Stanley Kubrick. While I will not fall under the same trappings, it will be impossible for me to go about this review without talking at least a little about The Shining and how it compares to what transpires in Doctor Sleep. We all knew Doctor Sleep would not in any shape or form surpass the masterful film-making of Kubrick; Flanagan's film just needed to be, at the worst, a decent continuation of the pure terror put on display by Kubrick's film. The good news: Flanagan has proven to be one of the most promising horror film-makers of this day and age, with successful films like Oculus (one I personally was not a fan of though), Ouija: Origin of Evil, and the Netflix hits Gerald's Game and The Haunting of Hill House. Flanagan's films have had a history of addressing themes about childhood trauma, addiction, and families coming apart, and since Doctor Sleep addresses these very themes, Flanagan looked like a perfect fit.
The end result is a satisfying, albeit flawed, follow-up to The Shining, offering up strong thematic content and several well-constructed thrills. Doctor Sleep is more of a fantasy-based thriller than it is a pure horror film; this is simply a matter of what the plot entails and how it unfolds. Trying to recreate the scares of The Shining would be lazy and make it seem like Doctor Sleep is just trying to be a nostalgic cash-grab. Flanagan understands this, though I'd be lying if I said the movie doesn't take at least a little bit of time to go through some nostalgic beats, evident by scenes of Dan Torrance at the Overlook Hotel (no, this is not any kind of spoiler). What's important this time is to expand upon the mythology of The Shining and not try to strictly use it to terrorize us again. Familiarity kills fear in horror movies, so for Doctor Sleep, the story should not ask, "What is this shining?" but rather, "What are people going to do with this shining?" The latter question is the direction that Doctor Sleep goes and is more suitable for a thriller.
The film opens in 1980, starting off with a scene in which a little girl wanders off into the woods and encounters a woman named Rose the Hat (Ferguson). Rose is the leader of a vampire cult known as the True Knot, and they live by feeding off the "steam" of anyone (mostly children) who have used the shining. Meanwhile, Danny and Wendy Torrance, following the events of The Shining, have moved to Florida to start a new life. However, the past wont' go away, as Danny is still troubled by his psychic "shining" ability, particularly in his recurring visions of the rotting old woman from the Overlook's Room 237. Danny also spends time talking with the ghost of Dick Hallorann (Carl Lumbly), who teaches Danny how to suppress ghosts by using imaginary boxes in his mind. This is a truckload of backstory that the movie dumps on you, so it's no wonder that Doctor Sleep takes an awfully long time to get started.
Flash forward then to 2011, when Danny (or just "Dan") is now an adult. Dan still struggles with his childhood trauma, and he is also a struggling alcoholic. He has a one-night stand with a single mother, steals her money, and then moves to a New Hampshire town, where he meets and befriends Billy Freeman (Cliff Curtis). Billy helps Dan clean himself up and get back on his feet: he gets Dan set up in a new apartment and takes Dan to AA meetings. Dan also secures a job working at a hospice, where he uses his shining to help patients die peacefully. The patients give Dan the nickname, "Doctor Sleep", and for the next eight years, all seems well with Dan both at home and at work. During those eight years, Dan telepathically communicates with a girl named Abra Stone (Curran), who also has a shining ability, but one far stronger than Dan's. Abra's shining, naturally, gets the attention of Rose the Hat and the True Knot, who are starving and looking for new sources of steam.
I find it a bit strange that Doctor Sleep makes The Shining mythology look like a battle between psychics and vampires. Are psychics and vampires meant to represent good and evil? Or perhaps is it something along the lines of spirituality versus materialism? The shining psychics learn how to use their shining to better themselves and the world around them, just as spirituality would teach people to discover their own gifts and use them to better both themselves and the world around them. Meanwhile, the vampires represent people who only wish to pursue material gain: money, fame, or anything else they believe will give them true happiness, regardless of what their actions do to others. The True Knot will go as far as to deceive and kill innocent children, because anything and everything goes if it means getting some of that heavenly steam. I think part of The Shining's allure is the pure mystery behind its title and what exactly are the supernatural forces at the Overlook that influence the Torrance family. It's clear that the young Danny/Dan has some kind of telepathic power, and figuring out how that telepathy relates to Jack's descent into madness offers some neat food for thought. In Doctor Sleep, I wouldn't say it goes so far as to ruin the mystery of The Shining; it's more so the sequel is giving us a direct answer that will likely affect the way we go back and view its predecessor. In other words, that food for thought about the mythology of The Shining might taste a little dry the next time we try it.
- For as much as Doctor Sleep can't help but accept its inferiority to The Shining, it certainly works as a thriller, in due part to how brutal the film is. There's a scene (one I was surprised didn't generate a lot of controversy), where the True Knot kidnaps a young boy named Trevor (Jacob Tremblay) and brutally murders him. Unlike the opening scene where we see the True Knot just swarm around the little girl, Flanagan shows every little gruesome detail with this murder: the boy screaming and pleading for his life, Rose the Hat eyeing the boy like he was a delicious piece of meat, and Rose stabbing the boy repeatedly with a knife until he finally succumbs to his wounds. The True Knot then suck up the boy's steam like a starving pack of wolves that just found their first delicious meal in ages. It's the most unsettling scene I've seen in a movie this year and makes Pennywise killing children look tame by comparison. Flanagan uses a similar sort of method with nearly every other death scene: the person lies on the ground, writhing in pain, reaching death slower than usual. Almost nobody dies in Doctor Sleep without making dying look very, very painful.
For as much flak as Doctor Sleep has received for its lengthy run time, the film is always doing something with its characters and moving in a forward direction, translation for, "The film is never boring." There's an excitement that matches the kind of excitement you'd get from an episodic TV series, in which characters talk about what they will do when they reach this place or meet this person, and you are eager to see what unfolds when characters go to that place or meet that person. Rose the Hat meets Abra and learns of her incredible psychic powers midway through the movie, and it lays the groundwork for an inevitable confrontation that you can look forward to, because it's never clear as to how Abra is going to defeat Rose, with the added bonus of trying to figure out what Dan's role in the confrontation is going to be. There are no dumb plot twists that you can see coming from a mile away; every unexpected course of action achieves a plot twist sort of climax without twisting the plot at all. The setups are expected, but the results are anything but.
- I don't know how much ties back to Stephen King's novel, but Doctor Sleep suffers from a rather frustrating screenplay, highlighted by nostalgic overload, spotty characterization, and some cheesy dialogue. It's hard to call it much of a spoiler, but Dan does eventually make his way back to the Overlook Hotel, and the mini-tour he takes through the hotel is an annoying little stroll down memory lane. The scene is basically an unnecessary summary of The Shining's most famous moments: the wave of blood coming through the hallway, Dan sitting at the bar and getting a drink of bourbon, a look at room 237, and the "REDRUM" writing on the door that Jack had smashed through with an axe. The scene of Dan at the bar where he discusses his parents is the most justified of this memory tour, because it at least makes a conceited effort to connect the trauma of childhood Dan with the struggles of adult Dan. The rest, however, is just there to be nostalgic for the sake of nostalgia, and it continues throughout the remainder of the film. The Overlook sequence is frustrating also because the movie never really takes the time to establish Dan as the focal point he seemingly should be. Dan struggles with alcoholism, but the character development stops dead in its tracks there. Once Dan gets his alcoholism out of the way and Abra enters the fray, the screenplay reduces Dan to little more than a supportive father figure, which makes it tough for us to buy into what happens to him when the movie reaches the Overlook.
As for the cheesy dialogue, it takes a few teeth out of the film's scare factor and takes some menace out of the True Knot. No one gets it worse than poor Rebecca Ferguson, who is truly giving it her all as Rose the Hat. Rose's greeting card when she goes almost anywhere is, "Hi there", and while there's nothing inherently wrong with the word's 'hi" and 'there', there's something about the way those two words are put together that just sounds out of place here. I think it's mainly that the words 'hi' and 'there', are not all that intimidating, which is what you don't want in a horror-thriller like Doctor Sleep. There are other lines sprinkled throughout the film that sound awkward and out of place, but it's near the bottom of the list of issues with this movie.
In conclusion, Doctor Sleep is a successful follow-up to Kubrick's infamous Shining, working as a robust thriller in exchange to trying to be another round of pure terror. It's a forward moving film that prevents the bloated run time from feeling like a long day in the cubicle, earning extra points for putting emphasis on simple brutality. 2019 sure seems to love Stephen King adaptations where children are brutally murdered. Anyway, the main downside is an underwhelming screenplay, which includes a climax far too heavy on nostalgia, a lack of character depth for Mr. Dan Torrance, and some wonky dialogue. I imagine Warner Bros. thought Doctor Sleep could have been the start of a Shining franchise, but seeing the film's disappointing box office results, that's not going to be happening anytime soon. For me, I'm left unsure about how to feel, in regards to what this film has added to The Shining mythology. Has it enhanced the mythology or just made it look silly? I guess I'll have to go back and watch The Shining a couple more times, and maybe even read King's books to boot. Final answer: to be determined.
Recommend? Yes. It's worth watching despite how long it is.
Godzilla 2000: Millennium, or better known as just Godzilla 2000, is directed by Takao Okawara and stars Takehiro Murata, Hiroshi Abe, Naomi Nishida, Mayu Suzuki, and Shiro Sano.
Determined to wash the foul taste of Roland Emmerich's 1998 Godzilla out of their mouths, Godzilla fans of the world demanded Toho to bring their beloved kaiju back to the screen the way they know and loved: trampling Tokyo to bits and going toe-to-toe with other giant monsters who dared to stand in Godzilla's way. Merely two months after the 1998 Godzilla's release, production for a new Godzilla film began, and it was all about going back to Godzilla's roots and re-imagining what turned him into such a worldwide phenomenon. This was somewhat premature: Toho originally planned to bring Godzilla back for his 50 year anniversary in 2004, but even they couldn't have imagined the disaster that transpired when they handed Godzilla off to an American film studio and a director who had no passion for the project. There is some solace to be had knowing that Toho wouldn't allow the Godzilla fanbase to wait several, painstakingly long years until they could see Godzilla back in action. Anyway, Godzilla 2000 kicks off what is usually dubbed the Millennium Godzilla series, and while this would end up being the shortest of all the Godzilla eras, it's a burst of several exciting and enjoyable moments, especially since it's now Godzilla with more luxurious, modern-day technology.
The story takes place right in the year 2000 (supposedly). Godzilla is a threat to all of Japan, but he's also the subject of intense scientific study and analysis. The Godzilla Protection Network, or the GPN, follows Godzilla to learn more about his movements and behavior. The GPN was founded by Yuji Shinoda (Murata), and he studies Godzilla with his daughter Io (Suzuki) and news reporter and borderline love interest Yuki Ichinose (Nishida). Combating Shinoda's efforts is the Crisis Control Intelligence (CCI), led by the smug Mitsui Katagiri (Abe). The CCI looks to kill Godzilla, but their scientists uncover another threat: a sixty million year old UFO. It's an easy guess as to where the plot goes from there.
There are two different versions of Godzilla 2000: the gloomy, distressing Japanese version that tries to recapture the tone of the original 1954 Godzilla, and the cheesy, light-hearted English dub that is not meant to be taken seriously at all. Unfortunately, I have only been able to stumble across the latter, which I have no doubt is the worse of the two. The last thing we want is to have Godzilla harken back to the dark days of the late 60's and early 70's, in which Godzilla was an environmentally-friendly superhero monster that fought other kaiju like it was WWE wrestling, all the while being weighed down by a never-ending reel of stock footage. Godzilla 2000 should, in one way or another, reinvent the wheel for the franchise, because there's several decades of evidence of what works and what doesn't for a Godzilla film. The Millennium series should aim for the style and tone of the more successful films like Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla, Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II, or Godzilla vs. Destoroyah; the films with stories that have believable consequences and know how to keep the humor and general cheesiness at a distance. The English dub of Godzilla 2000 offers some awkward hybrid of doom and gloom Godzilla and cheesy, eye-rolling Godzilla, which means the whole thing is a bit of a wash.
- The most commendable thing about Godzilla 2000 is the way Godzilla is presented: as an invincible monster of destruction that is also a fascinating subject of science. The screenplay by writers Hiroshi Kashiwabara and Wataru Mimura devotes a large chunk of time to showing us the science and mechanics behind why Godzilla is able to survive anything and everything thrown at him, which is arguably the most in-depth a Godzilla movie has ever gone towards explaining why the military and other weapons are useless against him. For the longest time, we were left to just assume that tanks, missiles, and electricity could do nothing against Godzilla simply because he's the King of the Monsters. In Godzilla 2000 however, there is a full-blown explanation to it all, and it's actually not the dumbest thing you'll ever hear. The opening scene of Godzilla rampaging through parts of Japan puts the film in a good spot to showcase Godzilla's invincibility and potentially establish it as the film's overarching theme, but unfortunately, all we get is the invincibility part as well as shots of Shinoda fascinating over Godzilla's presence.
The only thing that slightly diminishes Godzilla's invincibility aura is the suit. The suit shows far too many teeth, and the head is a bit smushed in. The eyes are a bit inconsistent: Close-ups make Godzilla look a little intimidating, but several zoomed out shots make him look like he's half-asleep. It's a bulky suit too, so props for giving Godzilla some actual muscle. I also like how Godzilla's atomic breath has been changed from its traditional white-blue to a new, fiery-orange color. Godzilla's signature weapon is now the true ray of fire it's always been.
- Godzilla 2000 is uneven all across the board, not just in its tone. For as much praise as I can give Godzilla's presentation, he disappears completely during the film's second act, in favor of the UFO and the threat its presence brings to Japan. It's never a good thing when there is a "Godzilla gap" in a Godzilla film, in this case the big G only showing up in the early and late parts of the film. The special effects are all over the place: a decent overhead shot of Godzilla walking is offset by a cheap-looking green screen or something that looks like it didn't quite make its way off a storyboard. Godzilla 2000 contains Toho's first full CGI shot of Godzilla: a brief moment of him swimming in open water, which looks....okay-ish for a 1999 film. The movie especially drops the special effects ball when it comes to the UFO; scenes of the UFO flying through the sky in broad daylight are a ghastly sight to behold.
Now to be fair, the uneven tone criticism doesn't apply to the Japanese version, so we might as well just leave that version alone. The most galling thing when it comes to the tongue-in-cheek approach of the English dub is how unnecessary it is. Like, why does the dubbing have to be purposefully cheesy? Why is the voice acting so over-the-top? Why does Godzilla 2000 try to be funny and light-hearted when the story works so much better when it's grim and cynical? Was this all some lame-brained effort by TriStar Pictures to make Godzilla 2000 more marketable by making it seem more "family-friendly?" This is nowhere near the kind of film a family can sit down and enjoy together, let alone be enjoyed by small children who know next to nothing about Godzilla. Whatever the reason, the alterations didn't work: the film only grossed around $10 million at the North American box office, which is pretty disappointing when you throw in that this was the first Godzilla film to be released theatrically in North America since Godzilla 1985.
In the end, Godzilla 2000 accomplished its ultimate goal: bring Godzilla into the new millennium and leave Roland Emmerich's 1998 flick all but forgotten. Sure, the Japanese version was taken to the woodshed and roughed up by the English dubbers at TriStar, but that's not to say that the film isn't still without its entertaining moments and its basic Godzilla appeal. Godzilla's sheer invincibility is nicely displayed and gives the movie a lot of potential to speak on the seemingly invincible forces that are human error and greed. Unfortunately, an uneven tone, uneven special effects, and a large gap in Godzilla screen time do not allow Godzilla 2000 to capitalize on this potential. This was a golden opportunity for the franchise to recapture a lot of what makes the original 1954 Godzilla so special, and believe me, if there's one thing we can say about the Millennium Godzilla series, it's that it is completely in love with the original 1954 film. The signs are there, but Godzilla 2000 doesn't quite recapture that magic of Godzilla's roots, and for that reason, it's understandable to think of the film as a bit of a disappointment. Regardless, this is still a perfectly watchable Godzilla film, and that ain't too bad of a starting point for a new stage in the franchise.
Recommend? If you're a die-hard Godzilla fan, then yes. I'd recommend trying to find the Japanese version of the film, however.
The Secret Life of Pets 2 is directed by Chris Renaud and stars the voices of Patton Oswalt, Kevin Hart, Eric Stonestreet, Jenny Slate, Tiffany Hadish, Lake Bell, Nick Kroll, Dana Carvey, Ellie Kemper, Hannibal Buress, Bobby Moynihan, and Harrison Ford.
I have, admittedly, a soft spot in my heart for Illumination's The Secret Life of Pets: a film advertised as a top secret, inside scoop of what pets do at home when their owners are away. Sure, the plot ended up being a total copycat of the first Toy Story, but at least the film had enough charming, humorous pet moments to show at least a commitment to making us appreciate why dogs, cats, birds, etc. are such beloved companions. I have no soft spots at all, however, for the 2019 sequel, The Secret Life of Pets 2, most certainly to be the second installment of what will one day be a Secret Life of Pets trilogy, because just about everything now comes in threes. The Secret Life of Pets 2 is about as "meh" of an animated film as you'll find this year, which is better than straight-up mediocrity, although given the standard that Illumination has set for itself with its animated features over the years, the range between mediocre and meh is rather small. What exactly is it then, that makes Secret Life of Pets 2 a "meh" film? The story? The characters? The comedy? It's really a bizarre mixture of everything, although if I were forced to choose one particular part, it would have to be the story.
The story takes place sometime after the events of the first film. Jack Russell terrier Max (Oswalt) and Newfoundland mix Duke's (Stonestreet) owner Katie (Kemper) meets a man named Chuck (Pete Holmes), marries him, and has a son named Liam (Henry Lynch). At first, Max is repulsed by Liam, but he quickly comes to love him, and later starts to be overprotective of him. The family then goes on a road trip out to the city, where Max has trouble adjusting to the new setting. Before they leave, Max assigns white Pomeranian Gidget (Slate) to watch over his favorite Busy Bee toy, but Gidget loses Busy Bee inside an apartment that is rampant with cats. While that's going on, former villain turned superhero bunny Snowball (Hart) teams up with a Shih Tzu named Daisy (Haddish) on a quest to rescue a White tiger cub named Hu from an abusive circus owner named Sergei (Kroll).
There are several frustrating things about this story: first and foremost, it's made up of three separate sub-stories that have almost nothing to do with each other, that is until the third act mashes all three together by force. Secondly, only one of these sub-stories has anything resembling stakes or consequences; the other two just sort of happen with no clear purpose. The Gidget sub-story kind of has stakes: if Gidget doesn't retrieve Max's Busy Bee toy, she will fail him as a friend and blow any hopes of one day being romantically involved with him. Too bad this little nugget is discarded entirely for the sake of the third's act final sequence on a train, thereby rendering the entire story line almost pointless to begin with. Third, it's impossible to guess which of these sub-stories is supposed to have greater priority over the other two. It has to be Max's story because he's the main character, right? It seems that way, at least up until the finale, which is centered around bringing closure to the Snowball-Daisy tiger rescue story line. It's confusing as all hell to figure out how this is all supposed to fit together, and with a mere 86 minute runtime, there's next to no time to figure anything out.
- It pains me when I have to really scrape and claw my way through a movie just to figure out some sort of high point to discuss, and The Secret Life of Pets 2 is absolutely one of those movies where finding something of true substance is a frustrating (and somewhat wasteful) use of my time. There is only one thing I can dig up: Harrison Ford in his first ever voice role as a Welsh Sheepdog named Rooster. If anything, Ford brings an "old guy who knows how everything works" kind of charisma to his role, and it's the only charm to be had from a cast that is basically sleep-walking their way through their performances. I suppose if there's anything else to speak nicely of, the animation is bright, detailed, and cheery, as seems to be the norm for an Illumination film. Solid animation is colorful and artistic, and Illumination is no exception to this.
- The Secret Life of Pets 2 is targeted primarily at children, which is kind of horrifying considering the contempt put on display by the film's story. Trying to juggle three semi-connected stories is one thing. It's another how unorganized the movie is with keeping them all in line, with the blame solely being placed at the feet of the film's ridiculously short attention span. It almost seems deliberate the way the film bounces from one sub-story to the other, and from one stupid joke to another. Illumination clearly believes children can't follow a concept for longer than 11 seconds, so why should the movie bother to do so? Max's storyline starts out as a metaphor for helicopter parents, only to then suddenly switch gears and turn into a life lesson on how the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. You see, it's not the fear for Liam that ends up being important to Max; what ends up being important is the fear he has for himself, because Illumination knows pushing the initial metaphor over the finish line would have taken extra thought and effort.
There's no consistency to any of this. The Secret Life of Pets 2 gets so wrapped up in what it can do at this very moment, that it's completely oblivious to the bridges it burns and the general disregard it shows for its target audience. Children are more than capable of watching colorful animated films full of complex themes that require your attention from start to finish to fully understand. Films like The Secret Life of Pets 2 lead us to think that Illumination doesn't share this same mindset. To them, children need to have something goofy thrown at them every ten seconds to stay engaged, and as long as parents are willing to throw their hard-earned dollars at these movies, why would they ever change?
I don't want to end this review sounding like I'm knocking films that just want to be goofy and have fun. There's nothing wrong with such a movie as long as the comedy is there, and the story is something at least halfway decent. The Secret Life of Pets 2 though, is not a good example to use, because it's an extremely "meh" film that teeters dangerously towards being a mediocre one. Harrison Ford is a bright spot in a talented yet uninspired cast, but aside from that and the generally high quality of the animation, there's hardly anything of substance The Secret Life of Pets 2 has to offer. A metaphor about helicopter parents? Nope. Hilarious jokes that transcend low-bar comedy like fart jokes or bathroom humor? Also nope. What we get instead is a discombobulated story with the attention span of a goldfish, potential payoffs that get scrapped altogether, and an animation studio that is basically telling the world, "we don't need kids to look up more than a few seconds from their devices in order for them to follow along." This is bad practice from an animation studio that thinks it's a lot smarter and more successful than it actually is, and if they keep churning out "meh" films like The Secret Life of Pets 2, well, I pray and hope that children and their parents will have the smarts to put their foot down and say no. Real life pets are more fun than the like of Max and Snowball anyway.
Recommend? No. While the movie is very short, it's rather unsatisfactory viewing.
I am not someone who is loved. I'm an idea. A state of mind.
Joker is directed and co-written by Todd Phillips and stars Joaquin Phoenix as the titular Joker. The film also stars Robert De Niro, Zazie Beetz, Frances Conroy, Brett Cullen, Glenn Fleshler, Bill Camp, Shea Whigham, and Marc Maron.
There is something kind of refreshing about a film like Joker: one that takes place in an extremely familiar universe but is almost completely opposed to drawing attention to the mechanics of that universe. Yes, Joker takes place in Gotham City: known all too well for being the sight of the infamous Batman and his adventures in fighting crime. In Joker however, Gotham is just a name: the name of a city plagued with crime and unemployment, no different than say Los Angeles or Baltimore. Batman is completely nonexistent in this version of Gotham, and thus, anything having to do with superheroes is completely nonexistent in Joker. It's as anti of a superhero movie as you'll find, and to be placed smack dab in the center of this day and age of what I always liked to call the Superhero Renaissance, well, that does this man's heart some good.
Something else that Joker is: controversial, which I'm more convinced is due to the nature of today's hypersensitive media then it is Todd Phillips condoning some morbid branch of psychology that would have him thrown in jail and barred from working on a motion picture ever again. In a nutshell, the film's controversy is fixated on the dark tone and the portrayal of mental illness. Joker is not just doing a psychoanalysis on a person that is clearly suffering from some form of mental illness; the film is victimizing that mental illness, as if to say mental illness is something that immediately places someone in the category of the oppressed, the alienated, whatever other word you can think of to mean a victim. So in a way, Joker is taking a defensive stance on mental illness, and in a time where the news is rampant with shootings, bullying, and other forms of crime or oppression, it's to be expected that a lot of people will get a little hot and bothered. The last thing they want to see is a movie romanticizing one of these troubled people, regardless if it's one of the most famous villains of the superhero genre.
The story of Joker follows Arthur Fleck: a party clown who lives with his mother, Penny (Conroy). Arthur suffers from PBA (pseudobulbar affect), a disorder that makes him burst out with laughter at awkward or inappropriate times. After a gang beats him up in alley to start the movie, things look to be trending in the right direction for Arthur: his co-worker, Randall (Glenn Fleshler), gives him a gun for protection, and he starts to date his neighbor, single mother Sophie (Beetz). It all goes south in a flash, however: Arthur loses his job after having his gun exposed during a visit to a children's hospital, and he then shoots and kills three businessmen while riding home on a subway. News of the murders dominates headlines, and Arthur, seeing the growing number of protests against Gotham's elite, starts to embrace a life of crime and his identity as the Joker.
- Anything less than an R rating would have been unacceptable from Warner Bros., because Joaquin Phoenix should have no kind of handicaps in this type of role. Phoenix has received almost universal praise for his performance, so if you're wondering: no, I am not going to go into the whole Heath Ledger vs Joaquin Phoenix debate on who played the character better. Phoenix's Joker is easily the most "hardcore" rendition of the character in live action: brutal, graphic kills and the undeniable sense that this is nowhere near some goofy version of the Joker you'd likely find in a Saturday morning cartoon. This is truly an individual suffering from a disease eating away at him inside, and what makes it different from the Joker's presentation in The Dark Knight is the all-in focus on the Joker's state of mind and how it starts to unravel as the plot progresses. In The Dark Knight, the Joker is already immersed in his nihilistic beliefs, and the movie doesn't need to show him walking down that path.
So anyway, Phoenix is excellent with how a budding Joker would act: twitchy body movements, a shaky, fluctuating voice, and finding a delicate balance between what could be perceived as funny versus something kind of gruesome. Arthur will randomly burst out laughing and make light of a sticky situation, and at least for a little while, you feel like you can start laughing along. Then a split second later, Arthur performs a complete 180 on the situation and leaves everyone in stunned silence. As shocking as such a moment is, nothing comes off as awkward or nonsensical, because such moments perfectly capture the fear of what it's like to be close to someone who seems like they could lose it at any moment. Phoenix's Joker is a prime example of that someone, and, all controversy aside, it's highly effective because of Phoenix's great performance.
- Joker's cinematography looks like something straight out of an early 2000's superhero film, but for what the film is trying to be, it's a strength, not a weakness. Cinematographer Lawrence Sher looks to be out of his element here; he's the same guy behind the cinematography of raunchy comedies like The Hangover films, The Dictator, and Garden State. Despite his track record, Sher brings his A-game with making Gotham look as grotesque as humanly possible: inky color schemes, grimy set designs, and shadowy interiors every which way you look. It's almost nauseating to look at anything other than the characters on screen, which is why it's a bit unfair that Phoenix gets all the love. I guarantee Phoenix's Joker would not be as menacing if he was placed in some bright, rainbow-y imagination land and not home sweet home for Oscar the Grouch. Even scenes taking place in broad daylight look dark and unpleasant, as if Sher has a fond hatred for the Sun and wants to keep it out of the movie as much as possible. There are no warm fuzzies or happily ever afters in Joker; the cinematography blots out anything and everything suggesting love and happiness.
- For all its psychoanalysis and impressive cinematography, Joker ends up being nowhere near as deep as one might think it can be. Arthur's Joker turns into the symbol that inspires Gotham's oppressed to rise up and fight back against Gotham's elite. Meanwhile, Arthur's story becomes, "the hopeless loser who overthrows the system that so terribly wronged him." This isn't bad story-telling; the problem lies in the fact that there aren't enough juicy, unique details to help propel Joker over any other "the victim overthrows the perpetrator" story. What is it about the Joker character that encourages Gotham's low-lifes to don clown masks and start to stage protests? Is it just because he had the guts to fight back against a couple drunk guys on a subway? What exactly is it about a clown or clown-makeup that makes it the perfect fuel for a rebellion? In Batman Begins for example, Bruce Wayne overcomes a fear of bats, and thus, becomes a hero that helps his city overcome its fears.
Part of why the Joker is Batman's arch-nemesis is because the two are almost complete opposites: Batman is a figure of the dark who stays in the shadows and has motivations that are rooted in fear. The Joker is an outlandish figure that loves to be in the spotlight, creating fear from anything normally considered funny. Hardly anything of what happens in the 2019 Joker resembles what is typically associated with the Joker character, and while that's not a back-breaker, it does sting that what we do get boils down to nothing more than, "these people are tired of being treated like dirt, so it's time for them to take a stand."
What I think would have made Joker a masterful origin story would be to take a neutral approach to the Joker's mentality and what causes him to take up a life of crime. The controversy surrounding the movie deals with how it is seemingly taking a defensive stance on people who suffer from mental illness, and that it's openly welcoming people to take on acts of real-world violence. In a time where mental disorders are a buzzing topic, a movie like Joker, had it been nothing more than a pure analysis on what exactly might go on in a mentally unstable person's mind, would seem like the perfect movie. To a certain extent, the movie accomplishes this goal, mostly thanks to a terrific lead performance by Joaquin Phoenix and some excellent cinematography by Lawrence Sher. What's unfortunate though is the movie is nowhere near as deep as it thinks it is, which kind of sucks since Joker takes place in a well-known superhero setting, but has no interest whatsoever in the pizzazz of a superhero flick. That lack of superhero pizzazz is certainly doing nothing to diminish the movie's box office results, which, as of this writing, is setting records for an October release. Controversy or not, that's putting a smile on Warner Bros. face.
Recommend? Yes. Despite its flaws, the movie offers an excellent lead performance worth seeing.
Pretender to the Throne
Godzilla is directed and co-written by Roland Emmerich and stars Matthew Broderick, Jean Reno, Maria Pitillo, Hank Azaria, Kevin Dunn, Michael Lerner, and Harry Shearer.
If one were to consider the 1998 American Godzilla to officially be a part of the Godzilla library, the question must be asked: what exactly is it about the 1998 Godzilla that is impressive enough to qualify it as a Godzilla film? Certainly, we are not dealing with the same Godzilla that made Tokyo and all of Japan his personal playground for the better part of the 40 years prior. No, this is a Godzilla that is making his presence felt in New York City: the perfect spot for a monster attack in the United States. So let me rephrase the question: is a Godzilla film, set in New York, and entrusted to none other than Roland Emmerich enough to qualify said film to be a part of the official Godzilla library? The answer, my dear readers, is a big fat no.
The 1998 Godzilla was the first of an originally planned American Godzilla trilogy; Toho was in the middle of their second Godzilla hibernation period, not intending to bring back the character until the start of the new millennium (I think it was around 2004 when Toho had planned on rebooting the series). Toho granted permission for an American Godzilla film to producer and distributor Henry G. Saperstein, and after jumps through many hoops, a Godzilla film produced by TriStar Studios, written by screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, and utilizing the talents of director Roland Emmerich and producer Dean Devlin was in the works, at least until Emmerich decided to throw out Elliott and Rossio's script and, with Devlin's assistance, create a new one from scratch. Emmerich made it very clear that, if he agreed to do the film, he would be granted total creative freedom with no worries about studio interference. Right then and there, Godzilla was doomed to fail, because if there's one thing we've learned about Roland Emmerich over the years, it's that the man is a savant when it comes to style-over-substance.
I was only knee high when Godzilla first hit theaters back in 1998, so I have utterly no memories of the film's rampant advertising campaign. You maybe have seen pictures or short video clips of it: buses, billboards, and other large structures with a poster for the film that read: his ____ is bigger than this ____. TriStar had no confidence the film would do well, evident in their refusal to give test screenings and set aside time to fix any flaws. Thus, their only hope was to market the crap out of the film and try turning Godzilla into the film that everyone was talking about, increasing the likelihood that people would go see the film just because they saw posters for it on every street corner, not because they thought it would be a great time at the theaters. Either way, it's a ticket someone pays for, and that's all that matters at the end of the day. When all was said and done, Godzilla walked away to the tune of $379 million, but given the fever pitch of the marketing campaign, this was nothing short of a disappointment. The planned sequels were cancelled, and Toho immediately began production on a new Godzilla film, leaving this Godzilla to be nothing more than an ugly scar on the franchise.
So let's take a bite right in: the film opens with sepia-tone footage of French nuclear tests, coupled with shots of iguanas crawling around on a beach. The first sentence of the Wikipedia plot summary contains the following: "an iguana nest is exposed to the fallout of a military nuclear test." The movie hasn't even started yet and we're already at strike one: the confirmation that this Godzilla is an iguana, and not the kind of T-Rex, stegosaurus hybrid we've known Godzilla to be. Roland Emmerich has stated that he wanted this Godzilla to represent a giant animal and not a giant monster, which sort of defeats the purpose of the whole thing, but I digress. We then move on to a giant sea creature attacking and destroying a Japanese fishing vessel, about the closest this film ever comes to honoring the original 1954 Godzilla. It's perhaps the only time you can watch the film and be optimistic that things won't turn out so bad, but no, it's all downhill from here. The film introduces us to Dr Nick Tatopolous (Broderick), a scientist who is out in Chernobyl, studying the effects of radiation on worms. He is greeted by the U.S. State Department and is taken to Panama and Jamaica to help study giant footprints and the remains of the fishing vessel. Nick deduces that the footprints and the shipwreck are not from a dinosaur, but from some giant creature that was subjected to nuclear testing. That very giant creature soon surfaces in a rainy New York, and needless to say, he's quite the unwelcome visitor.
- Godzilla clocks in at a whopping (and inexplicable) 139 minutes, but I credit Roland Emmerich for this: he does find a way to inject some kind of entertainment value into the film and keep it from feeling as long as the run tie suggests. Now, don't get me wrong: this is not a type of entertainment that will slap a silly smile on your face and make you want to watch the film over and over again. The best way to describe how Godzilla is entertaining is rooted in morbid curiosity: this is a film that believes it's something awe-inspiring, something that will have people talking for years. The most famous giant monster of them all is coming to America, and he's stomping around none other than the Big Apple, truly a must-see. For at least the first 10-15 minutes, you buy into the notion that this Godzilla will be somewhat awe-inspiring, an honorable addition to the Godzilla library, and that it was not a mistake for Toho to entrust their beloved kaiju with a Hollywood studio. Then you see Matthew Broderick driving and singing to the tune of Singin' in the Rain, then you begin to notice the questionable acting and the lame dialogue. Finally, you see the hideous CGI creation that is Godzilla. By this point, you have already given up hope that Godzilla will be decent, but you can't shake the notion that you want to keep watching, not because you're amused by what you're seeing on screen, but because you're fascinated watching Godzilla continue to go through its delusion of grandeur with shameless, childlike zeal. It's a movie so infatuated by being the first American film titled Godzilla, that it doesn't care one iota how many technical blunders it suffers along the way. It's about cranking out some kind of an audio-visual product, all for the honor of slapping the title Godzilla on the poster when all is said and done. It's like the filmmakers knew deep down this was a bad movie, but instead of hanging their heads and feeling sorry for themselves, they were going to embrace this misfire like a badge of honor. Yeah, this movie is a piece of shit, but it's OUR piece of shit!
A quick sidenote: Something else that helps is that Godzilla never takes itself too seriously: a barrage of one-liners and goofy character interactions is evidence that the movie is at least having fun with itself. Certainly, the movie is in the spirit of what Emmerich likes to do with all his blockbuster sci-fi films: have fun with little to no regard towards facts and logic.
- It seems unfathomable to believe that this Godzilla could be any worse than the likes of Toho's worst, such as Godzilla's Revenge or Godzilla vs. Megalon. From a pure film-making standpoint, this Godzilla is, in all seriousness, above and beyond what those films had the audacity to churn out. That's still not saying much though, because Godzilla's special effects, specifically its CGI, is simply unacceptable. Godzilla himself is as shoddy as can be, especially during the early scenes that take place during the day. It's no wonder that Godzilla ends up appearing mostly at night, that way Emmerich and crew can better conceal their hideous CGI. As an added bonus, Godzilla runs away nearly every time he appears, like he's the world's shyest giant monster. There was no faith in the creation of this Godzilla, nor was there faith in the equally shoddy baby Godzillas that make up the film's third act. The entire sequence in Madison Square Garden is a complete ripoff of the velociraptors chasing the children scene(s) from Jurassic Park, and it all adds up as just a way for Emmerich to pad the run-time. Good special effects is the one thing you'd think this movie would get right, but no, Emmerich can't even provide that to us. Would you believe Terminator 2 came out almost ten years earlier?
- So the misrepresentation of Godzilla as an iguana is strike one. The awful special effects was actually strike three. Strike two against the film is its pitiful lineup of characters and the equally pitiful acting performances to go with them. I commend Matthew Broderick and find the guy to be a perfectly fine actor. I have no clue though what kind of preparation he did for this role. Broderick, while able to convey Tatopolous's charming nerdiness, is incapable of showing anything resembling fear, as if Tatopolous is experiencing fear for the first time in his life and doesn't know what short of facial expressions and tone of voice are supposed to go with fear. Jean Reno isn't even trying to hide how much he is not taking the movie seriously, while poor Maria Pitillo looks like she has little confidence in her performance and is getting by on the bare minimum. It's unfortunate Pitillo's career never amounted to anything more prominent than this movie. I think the right director and the right script would have given the chance to deliver a performance to prove she did have some talent. But anyway, there's nothing really to like about any of these characters. Emmerich even goes as far as to put in Mayor Ebert and Assistant Gene: obvious parodies of film critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel. I get that Emmerich was salty about the negative reviews Ebert and Siskel gave to some of his earlier films, but what I don't get is Emmerich not having the guts to have Godzilla squish these two like bugs. Emmerich was probably so despondent by the end of principal photography, that he no longer had the energy to do so. What a shame.
Kenpachiro Satsuma, the actor who played Godzilla during the Heisei series, walked out of a fan convention and gave a quote that I think perfectly summarizes the 1998 Godzilla and everything that's wrong with it: "It's not Godzilla. It doesn't have his spirit." This is not Godzilla we're watching; this is some giant, cowardly iguana creature that is so far off from everything Godzilla represents, it's best to think of this monster as one of he various names that fans have critics have dubbed the monster over the years: GINO, which stands for Godzilla In Name Only, or what Toho started to trademark the monster as: Zilla. I personally prefer Zilla, because I see it as a monster that thinks it's Godzilla but is unworthy of having "God" in its name.
All the signs were there from the start: the quick shooting schedule, the lack of test-screenings, and the reluctance of its director, co-writer Roland Emmerich. Was anyone that surprised that Godzilla was the disappointment it ended up being? While the entertainment value is there, Godzilla is heavily lacking in everything else: compelling characters, convincing special effects, and the spirit of the kaiju it's based on. It's a soulless film that believes it's something more special than it actually is, which is why you can at least watch it with morbid fascination. In the years since, Emmerich has stated he regrets taking the directorial role, and Dean Devlin admitted to he and Emmerich's script being the source for the film's failure. Failure is the only way this Godzilla will be remembered: a failure to bring Godzilla to American studios (until 2014 at least), a failure to honor what Toho spent the better part of 40 years on, and a failure to represent who Godzilla is and what he stands for. I will never consider it to be a part of the official Godzilla library, and based on the reactions of Emmerich, Devlin, and several of the actors over the years, they probably don't want to either. Godzilla In Name Only or Zilla, indeed.
Recommend? No. The only thing I can possibly recommend is if you're in the mood to watch a movie you can watch and make fun of for 2+ hours.
Out of Clown
It Chapter Two is directed by Andy Muschietti, written by Gary Dauberman, and stars Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Jay Ryan, James Ransone, and Andy Bean. The child actors from the first film: Jaeden Martell, Sophia Lillis, Finn Wolfhard, Chosen Jacobs, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Jack Dylan Grazer, and Wyatt Oleff all return to reprise their roles from the first film.
The question was never, "Would 2017's It have a sequel?" There was always going to be a sequel, because no filmmaker in his/her right mind could take Stephen King's 1000+ page horror novel and turn it into reasonable one film marathon. No, the question was more so, "Would there be optimism or pessimism heading into the release of It Chapter Two?" The 1990 It miniseries starring Tim Curry was far from a seamless execution of King's novel, which is why it's easier to get behind this more up-to-date version of King's novel. It Chapter One was a big hit at the box office for Warner Bros., so optimism should be the answer to the above question, except that the It miniseries and the book itself to a certain extent are notorious for their kind-of-sucky second-act(s) when the Losers become adults, so perhaps that optimism might need to be sprinkled with a little pessimism. It's not worth wasting time comparing and contrasting the novel, the 90's miniseries, and this dual-movie adaptation, but the point being is that history suggests this second chapter/act of King's novel doesn't have too much history on its side.
Before I sound too much like a debbie-downer, it should be stated right now that I did find myself enjoying a lot of It Chapter Two, at times debating if I liked it more than the first It. Much criticism has been laid at the feet of the film's sprawling 169 minute run time, but I am not one to add to that critique pool, simply because the film felt to me like it was only about two hours, which I guess is my way of saying the film is not boring or that it drags. I also don't want to add to the critique pool that is directed towards the film's opening hate crime scene, in which a group of thugs attack a homosexual couple and throw one of them off a bridge. It's a scene straight out of the novel and was put in the movie presumably because Muschietti and company found this to be the best and most faithful way to reintroduce Pennywise.
27 years have passed since The Losers Club defeated Pennywise, but now the evil clown is back and ready to unleash his reign of terror on the helpless folks of Derry, Maine once again. Mike Hanlon (Mustafa/Jacobs), the only one of the Losers that stayed in Derry, first learns of Pennywise's return and calls the other Losers- Bill (McAvoy/Maetell), Beverly (Chastain/Lillis), Richie (Hader/Wolfhard), Ben (Ryan/Ray Taylor), Eddie (Ransone/Grazer), and Stanley (Bean/Oleff) to come back to Derry. All but one of the Losers agree to return; Stanley commits suicide after his call with Mike, unable to confront his fear of the creature he and his friends defeated so many years ago. The Losers reunite in Derry and learn from Mike that there may be a way to destroy Pennywise once and for all: The Ritual of Chud. In order to perform the Ritual, the Losers must find and sacrifice a "token", aka something from their past. The Losers then split up to search Derry for their respective tokens, but quickly realize that Pennywise is out and about, terrifying each and every Loser with haunting visions.
- There was plenty of excitement to be had surrounding It Chapter Two's casting call, and it does not disappoint in the slightest. Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader, Bill Skarsgard, and company all deliver terrific performances, Hader being singled out for a performance that has many chattering about a possible Oscar nomination for him next year. At least up until now, Hader has been mostly known for his voice acting and comedy roles, but playing an adult Richie allows him the opportunity to not only show off more of his comedic talent, but also show off some dramatic flare. Hader balances the comedy and horror behind his role perfectly; it's quite the unexpected surprise among a talent-rich cast. Skarsgard, meanwhile, is fully immersed once again into his role as Pennywise, and it makes for a lot of terrifying fun, watching him torment every one of the Losers. There's not one weak link in the cast; they are the glue that holds everything together.
- I am more on the unpopular opinion side, because I found It Chapter Two's scares to be much freakier and nightmarish than those from It Chapter One. The main issue with It Chapter One was the movie's relentless assault of jump-scares, to the point that they started to lose their scare factor. It Chapter Two, while certainly chock-full of jump scares, makes an effort to make the imagery appear larger, more disturbing, and as in-your-face as possible. Muschietti relies more heavily on low-angle shots to make Pennywise and his transformations appear more menacing, as opposed to having Pennywise just rush the camera at blazing speed. It makes sense to take this kind of approach, as it becomes clear that the movie likes to use the idea that fear makes someone seem smaller and weaker. For It Chapter Two, it's never about when will the jump scare happen. You always know when the scares are coming. More so, It Chapter Two builds it scares by making you wonder what sort of ghastly figure is going to appear next, and who is it going to come after.
- The cast is certainly the best part of It Chapter Two, but the characters they're playing end up being the worst part. A lengthier running time would lead some to believe that the movie wants to take extra time to dive more into each of its characters, except that we only get a brief glimpse of such potential characterization early on in the movie. Once the Losers all reunite in Derry, it's basically like watching the exact same people we saw from It Chapter One, the only difference is that now they're all adults. Bill is the stuttering leader who still struggles to cope with Georgie's death. Beverly continues to find herself stuck in the grasp of an abusive man. Richie is a joker who never knows when to shut up. Eddie is uptight and paranoid about his well-being. 27 years is a long time, so it seems odd that the adult versions of these characters still seem to have the same fears and anxieties that they had as children.
What would have enhanced It Chapter Two's scares even more is if Pennywise preyed on the more adult-oriented fears of Bill, Beverly, Richie, Eddie, and so on. What if Richie was now fearful that he chose the wrong career and now won't be able to make anything of his life? Wouldn't Beverly be afraid that she would never fall in love with the right person, and thus, find herself forever feeling alone and loveless? Would Mike feel any sense of regret that he decided to stay in Derry his whole life, never travelling anywhere or at least seeing other people? These are all real-life fears that thousands, hell millions, of people around the world feel or have felt, and if Pennywise was able to terrify Bill, Beverly, Richie, and so on, based on such fears, it would really be a neat way for the movie to tell us that fear is something that never goes away, even in adulthood.
Another issue involving the characters is that, even with the expanded running time, the movie has a hard time juggling every one of the Losers and giving each of them reasonable screen time. Mike is virtually taken out of the movie once everyone goes to search for their tokens, returning only when the movie heads to its finale. Poor Beverly ends up being caught in a love triangle with Bill and Ben, and while we get a clear answer as to who she wants to be with by the end of the movie, it feels rather anticlimactic and underdeveloped. Again, I am not going to read into how faithful the film is to the second half of the book; the movie lacks the true characterization it needed to make the Losers feel whole and realistic in their adulthood, and thus, why they seem almost like carbon copies of their childhood selves. They say some people never change. I say 27 years is a long enough time for anyone to go through some kind of change.
If I were forced to pick which It movie I liked more, I might have to give the slight edge to It Chapter Two, although that choice is slightly influenced by my most recent re-watch of It Chapter One. The jump scares wore off much quicker than the first time I saw the film back in September 2017, and I found Finn Wolfhard's Richie a lot more annoying than before. It Chapter Two's biggest flaws all find their way back to the way the film treats the adult Losers: not giving them proper characterization, struggling to keep them all on equal footing, and worst of all, showing them as almost total copies of their childhood selves. Regardless, the cast is excellent, and the scares are more effective the second time around, offering a lot more disturbing imagery and nightmare fuel. Due to its near 3 hour runtime, It Chapter Two likely has very low replay value, but coupled with the success of Chapter One, this two-part film series proved to be a successful up-to-date adaptation of King's novel. Warner Bros. has made mentions that this may not be the last we see of Pennywise, although I'm not sure what else they could really do with the It mythology. Whether it's a prequel or another sequel of some sort, let's just be happy that Andy Muschietti's It films are true stand-outs in the not-so-rosy group that is Stephen King film adaptations.
Recommend? Yes. I recommend though that you have the first film fresh in your mind and that you set a couple hours aside, due to the long runtime.
Some monsters just want to watch the world burn
Godzilla vs. Destoroyah is directed by Takao Okawara, written by Kazuki Omori, and stars Takuro Tatsumi, Yoko Ishino, Yasufumi Hayashi, Sayaka Osawa, Megumi Odaka, Masahiro Takashima, Momoko Kichi, and Akira Nakao.
Godzilla vs. Destoroyah marks the end of the Heisei Godzilla series, and that's exactly how the movie is presented: like an ending. Marketed as the movie in which Godzilla dies (even though Godzilla died once before in the original 1954 Godzilla), Godzilla vs. Destoroyah was meant to be the final Godzilla film produced by Toho until the character's 50th anniversary in 2004. In the meantime, a trilogy of American Godzilla films starring Matthew Broderick was to be made, but this plan backfired so hard that it convinced Toho to bring Godzilla back much sooner than they had originally anticipated. So in hindsight, Godzilla vs. Destoroyah's sense of finality isn't as strong as it planned to be, but that doesn't stop the film from being one of the best of the entire Godzilla library.
In the summer of 1995, producer Shogo Tomiyama announced that the next Godzilla film would be the final installment of the series. Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II and Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla were unable to generate the sizable audience turnout that Godzilla vs. Mothra succeeded in generating, so it made sense for Toho to send Godzilla on another hiatus, not wanting to further diminish the character's popularity and drive him into the ground again like they did at the tail end of the Showa series. The original plan was to have the Heisei Godzilla face off against a ghost version of the original 1954 Godzilla, but the idea was scrapped because the producers didn't want to have three straight films in which Godzilla faces off against some alternative version of himself (robot Godzilla, space Godzilla, and then ghost Godzilla). However, the idea to callback to the original 1954 film was kept in place, and believe me: the original 1954 film will get brought up A LOT when discussing all the modern-day Godzilla films. The callback to the 1954 film primarily deals with the Oxygen Destroyer, the weapon that killed the original Godzilla and, as we quickly learn, gives birth to Destoroyah.
The movie opens with Godzilla going on a rampage through Hong Kong, but there's something wrong: Godzilla is covered with bright, fiery spots, and his atomic breath has now turned a red-orange color. It turns out that Godzilla is undergoing a nuclear meltdown: his heart acts a nuclear reactor, and when his temperature reaches 1,200 degree C, he will unleash a nuclear power capable of setting Earth's atmosphere ablaze and burning the entire planet's surface to the ground. The JSDF scrambles to find a way to prevent this nuclear meltdown, but Godzilla's meltdown isn't the only problem. Scientists discover that the Oxygen Destroyer has mutated organisms living in Tokyo Bay, and these organisms quickly evolve into giant creatures that start to wreak havoc. The creatures eventually merge together to form one mega monster the JSDF dubs "Destroyer", which soon comes into contact with Godzilla. I should also mention that Godzilla Junior is present, which should be totally expected, given that these late Heisei Godzilla series all seem to love having a baby Godzilla involved.
- Godzilla vs. Destoroyah wants to be as grandiose and hard-hitting as possible given the stakes involved in the plot, and it hits the nail right on the head with its action and special effects. While there may not be much in the way of monster choreography, the monsters exchange massive blow after massive blow, and there's no shortage of blood and graphic monster violence. The addition of steam and glowing orange spots are nice touches that properly evoke the idea that Godzilla is melting down. The Godzilla suit is also one of the best ones of the Heisei series: a firm, well-rounded head and dorsal fins that maintain their standard shape, but also look like they're about to melt off at any moment (as they should). The best feature is Godzilla's eyes: a bright orange color to match his atomic breath, as well as make Godzilla look like a fearsome hellspawn. One of the most impressive effects is a transition effect that occurs when the JSDF temporarily freezes Godzilla using their advanced Super-X III fighter jet. For 1995, it's an effect that still holds up extremely well showing a face going from unfrozen to frozen. Obvious green screen is basically nowhere to be found in the film, and the use of enough low camera angles and framing techniques do a nice job of giving the necessary impression of the monsters' size. If this movie was being graded on special effects alone, it would get an A+ without question.
- I do hope that Toho can bring Destoroyah back at least once or twice in future kaiju films, because this is one of the coolest monsters that they've pitted Godzilla against. Starting off as a microscopic trilobite creature, Destoroyah first evolves into several large crab-like creatures, then into a flying super crab, and finally, a massive bat-creature that looks like it could be mistaken for the devil. It's no coincidence that both Godzilla and Destoroyah look like they've been pulled out of hell; they're about to burn all of planet Earth to the ground. Destoroyah has a neat line-up of powers: he has a pinkish breath that, I assume, sucks the oxygen out of anything it touches. He also can use his horn as a glowing katana blade (he only uses it once or twice though). Destoroyah can also devolve back into the crab-like creatures he was previously, and he also uses his long tail to drag Godzilla around and choke him. This is truly one of the most evil, merciless monsters that Toho has created, and there are various moments where he overwhelms Godzilla, even when it seems like Godzilla is gonna blow any second. Everything about Destoroyah backs up his ridiculously awesome name, which is why it's a huge bummer that the English subtitles and dubbing continue their notorious tradition of butchering various kaiju names, referring to Destoroyah as just Destroyer. Just doesn't have the same kick to it.
- If I would say that there is anything noticeably wrong with Godzilla vs. Destoroyah, it would be that the movie has a series of bizarre moments that beg an explanation. The scene of the JSDF facing off against the Destoroyah crabs is an action scene straight out of Aliens, and there's a true head-scratcher when one of the crabs tries to kill one of the characters that gets trapped inside a car. The crab tears the car apart and has a clear opening to make the kill, but it doesn't follow through. There's also a goof that kind of ruins a moment when Destoroyah bites a big hole in Baby Godzilla's chest: the chest wound is just magically gone a few minutes later. The climax of the film also transitions from day to night rather abruptly, but given the film's plot and tone, it's perfectly understandable why most of it takes place at night. In summary, there are a series of little moments here and there that don't really make a lot of sense, but these moments are small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, so it's not worth harping on them too much.
Being advertised as the film in which Godzilla dies, Toho ended the Heisei Godzilla series on an absolute high, delivering one of the best films of the entire Godzilla series, maybe even the best since the original 1954 film. Godzilla vs. Destoroyah offers just about everything we could ask for: terrific special effects, a plot with perfectly fleshed-out, and a new monster in the malevolent Destoroyah that Toho should seriously consider bringing back in future Godzilla and/or other kaiju-based films. There are some weird moments during the film that don't make a whole lot of sense, but when you've got the kind of explosive action this film offers and not have to worry too much about characters and story, it's easy to just sweep those confusing little moments under the rug and fully enjoy the film for what it gives you. Toho went all out with Godzilla vs. Destoroyah, and while this "ending" for Godzilla didn't quite work out the way Toho had hoped in regards to when they hoped to bring the character back, it doesn't diminish the film's emotional weight, its ambition, nor any of its achievements.
Recommend? Yes. This is a must-see for all Godzilla fans.
Here you'll find my reviews on just about any film you may have seen. I try to avoid major spoilers as much as possible. I structure my reviews in the following way: