Godzilla II: King Of The Monsters (2019)

The Low-Down: With Marvel raking in the cash and plaudits after creating the world’s most epic cinematic universe, every studio that can thread movies together – however tenuously – is hopping on the bandwagon. And so we have Godzilla II: King Of The Monsters: the third installment in Legendary Pictures’ MonsterVerse, following Godzilla (2014) and Kong: Skull Island (2017). It’s easily the most ambitious film yet, uniting several classic critters straight out of Godzilla lore and finding pretty much any excuse to have them fight one another. The final result is both bold and bonkers – good and bad, often in the very same moment.

The Story: Monsters break stuff, including people. It’s a fact of life that the broken Russell family must deal with after Godzilla’s epic battle leaves downtown San Francisco in ruins. Grieving and newly sober, Mark (Kyle Chandler) stalks wolf packs in another part of the world. Emma (Vera Farmiga), his ex-wife, continues to work on the Orca, a machine they created together that can emit soundwaves capable of calming or infuriating Godzilla-scale monsters. Madison (Millie Bobby Brown), their precocious daughter, is caught in between – especially when Emma’s decision to use the Orca sets off a chain of monstrous events that could lead to the end of the world as we know it.

The Good: The concept at the heart of Godzilla II, quite frankly, is off-the-wall wacky – so bold and audacious and weird that you have to give director/co-screenwriter Michael Dougherty some credit for effort, even if his execution of it is somewhat lacklustre. This is no mere story of monsters raining mayhem down upon mankind. Instead, the film moves its mythology quite firmly into the realm of faith; Godzilla, the film suggests, is as much god as monster. It’s actually quite remarkable to see a mainstream blockbuster movie embrace – rather than shy away from – religious iconography, folding in theologies and environmental philosophies from Greek myth to Thanos. As such, Godzilla and his arch-nemesis, King Ghidorah (a three-headed Hydra-esque dragon beast), aren’t just having their version of a bar-room brawl – their earth-shaking clash is a battle for the survival of humanity.

The Not-So-Good: It’s a shame that the film as a whole can’t keep up with its high-concept ideas. The writing ranges from inspired to insipid, with character motivations dancing ridiculously back and forth – dictated mostly by the rather demented plot. As a director, Dougherty exhibited some skill with subversive comedy in cult horror flick Krampus, but very little of that is evident here. It’s not just about sacrificing soul for scale – Dougherty occasionally struggles with telling such a massive story in visual terms. Some of the film’s action sequences are so choppy as to be downright confusing. It doesn’t help that Dougherty’s preferred aesthetic tends towards the grey and grim, which makes it even harder to figure out just what is going on while monsters are duking it out in frustratingly murky lighting.

The Monster Mash: The first Godzilla film in the franchise suffered for shoving its titular monster into the background, having him play second fiddle to human characters who weren’t all that well-written to begin with. Godzilla II tries to rectify that, somewhat, by flinging so many monsters at the screen that you’d be almost glad to get back to the human drama after a while. Apart from Godzilla and Ghidorah, fans will be glad to see old-school Toho favourites like Mothra and Rodan in action too. (If they could actually see them, that is. Seriously – the monsters are beautifully rendered, but the bruise-toned lighting does them no favours.)

God(zilla)-Level Casting: If Dougherty learned one thing from his predecessor, Gareth Edwards, it’s the importance of casting a bunch of top-notch character actors in an otherwise barmy creature feature. Veteran performers like Oscar nominee Farmiga, West Wing alumnus Whitford and Charles Dance (that’s Tywin Lannister to you) reel off awkward exposition and pseudo-scientific claptrap (“bio-acoustics”, “the Oxygen Destroyer”) like it’s actual real human dialogue. It’s quite remarkable to see Friday Night Lights’ Coach Eric Taylor in action anti-hero mode, but Chandler – just as Bryan Cranston did in the 2014 film – brings an everyman weight to a character whose narrative arc is muddled, to say the least. The MVP here, though, is Brown. She brings to Madison the same soulful blend of toughness and tenderness that made her such a breakout star in Netflix’s Stranger Things.

Recommended? It depends. Godzilla II is a hot mess… but it’s a fascinating hot mess, and surprisingly fun to watch and even think about.

Pokémon Detective Pikachu

The Low-Down: There really is no better time for Hollywood to release its first live-action Pokémon movie. Generations of children – who are now adults with spending power – have grown up dreaming of becoming Pokémon trainers. Since their creation in the mid-1990s, the (mostly) adorable creatures known as Pokémon (‘pocket monsters’) have captured hearts and imaginations all over the world – through video-games, animated television shows, movies and more. The advent of Pokémon Go in 2016 has taken the franchise into the global mainstream, boosting its name recognition even among those who couldn’t have differentiated between a Bulbasaur and a Charmander just a few years ago. Fortunately, Detective Pikachu doesn’t come across as just a cynical cash-grab – it will delight its devoted fan base, but is also smart and charming enough to appeal to a wider audience.

The Story: Tim Goodman (Justice Smith) has lived a life as far away from his childhood dream of becoming a Pokémon trainer as you can get. Working quietly in the insurance industry, he refuses to even choose a Pokémon as his companion. One day, he receives a fateful call that brings him to Ryme City: a metropolis created by brilliant industrialist Howard Clifford (Bill Nighy), where humans and Pokémon live and work in harmony. Tim’s estranged father has gone missing, and the only clue he has left behind is Detective Pikachu (Ryan Reynolds) – whose clever insights and snarky observations can only be understood by Tim.

The Good: Detective Pikachu is a remarkably canny adaptation of Pokémon lore and legend. Fans will have a ton of fun (and might need multiple viewings) to spot all the Pokémon wandering in and out of frame – from dozing Slakoths to swooping Pidgeots, grieving Cubones and beyond. You might find yourself experiencing a sense of visceral joy at seeing these critters come to life, quite literally, and interact with actual human beings – not just on the page, or via pixels. Happily, though, the film doesn’t simply rely on fan service and affection to power through. There’s a welcome wit and warmth to much of its writing that’s impossible to resist, especially when it comes to the film’s titular electric-yellow hero – an adorable ball of energy that literally (and metaphorically) lights up the screen.

The Not-So-Good: If you’re a Pokémon neophyte, you might find yourself quite confused by audience reactions to Detective Pikachu, which don’t always match what’s happening on screen. You’ll still be able to follow the narrative fairly easily, but you’ll be lost when audience members freak out at the many Easter eggs and callbacks to decades of Pokémon canon. The film’s plotting also loses its footing towards the end, when the motivations of its main antagonist and the truth about Tim’s mysterious connection with Detective Pikachu become clear. At this point, it feels as if director Rob Letterman and his screenwriting team came up with the ending they wanted, and then reverse-engineered the rest of the film to make it work.

MVP (Most Valuable Pokémon): The answer is obviously Pikachu – a blend of brilliant character design and charismatic voice/facial-capture work by Reynolds. But one of the greatest joys of Detective Pikachu is that it doesn’t simply provide a showcase for Pikachu, already one of the most beloved of all Pokémon. Psyduck – a frazzled duck perpetually on the verge of combusting from stress – walks a fine line between hilarious and helpful. Even Mr. Mime, easily one of the weirdest and creepiest Pokémon ever created, gets a moment to shine – and in the kind of scene that’s so blissfully weird and silly that you can’t help but appreciate what the filmmakers are trying to do, even if they don’t always succeed.

Recommended? Yes. Detective Pikachu could have raked in the cash through brand loyalty alone. But the film is evidently the product of a great deal of love and care. Flawed as it is, this thoughtful re-imagining of the Pokémon franchise is fun, silly and charming in lots of the right ways.

Godzilla (2014)

In all likelihood, this brand-new incarnation of Godzilla would have been met with far fewer expectations if director Gareth Edwards had never made Monsters. Edwards’ ultra-indie, incredibly well-crafted creature feature – in which he magicked up creepy monsters and special effects on his own computer – served as so impressive a calling card that he was drafted in to breathe new life into this giant monster who hails from Japan. So great was Monsters that Edwards managed to amass a stunningly credible cast as well, from Breaking Bad‘s Bryan Cranston through to indie darlings Sally Hawkins and David Straithairn. Alas, Edwards’ Godzilla falls quite far short of the mark. Ultimately, there’s neither enough story nor enough monster to keep the film going for as long as it does.

Ostensibly, the plot intends to focus on its human elements, and that works well enough at the beginning. We follow Dr. Ichiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) and his assistant Vivienne Graham (Sally Hawkins) into a cavern propped up by the age-worn bones of an ancient creature. So we know that something else is at work when the Japanese nuclear power plant overseen by Joe Brody (Bryan Cranston) suffers a catastrophic meltdown. Joe loses his beloved wife (Juliette Binoche) in the accident, and effectively loses his son Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) as well.

Flash-forward fifteen years, and Ford is now an explosive ordinance officer – he detonates bombs – with a wife Elle (Elizabeth Olsen) and son of his own. He’s healed from the loss of his mom, or so you think, when he’s forced to return to Japan to bail Joe out of prison. His father, you see, has remained obsessed for years with figuring out the real cause of the nuclear meltdown. And, as it turns out, the secret to that mystery is about to burst forth from the seas…

It’s evident with every frame what Edwards is trying to do: develop real, believable human stakes that can lend weight to the monstrous carnage to be wrought by Godzilla and the Mutos – giant, bug-like creatures that first emerge to lay waste upon Earth. Serizawa and Graham search for motivation and make appeals on Godzilla’s behalf; Ford must reconcile himself with the loss that transformed his father and his own life; Godzilla is the solution and not the problem. So on and so forth.

But the resulting movie frequently gets lost within its uneven, uninspiring script. The humans to whom we’re introduced barely have any depth to speak of, the most egregious offender being Elle – she seems to exist merely to look devastated and/or scream helplessly in the tumultous streets of San Diego. Cranston does some pretty incredible work with what little he’s given, but his screen-time is, unfortunately, limited. Taylor-Johnson looks good and occasionally elevates his material, but – especially in the second half of the film – is forced to lumber from action sequence to action sequence, barely registering as a fully-realised entity once the monsters have taken centre stage.

Just as unfortunate is the rendering of the monsters in Godzilla: not in a visual effects sense, but as characters. The titular beast barely gets a look-in. Even when all form of monster mayhem is unleashed in the second half of the movie, he’s quite literally the supporting player in his own starring vehicle – and we’re not just talking about playing second fiddle to the human cast. Godzilla stalks broodily in the wake of the Mutos, who effectively sideline the monster whose very name is in the title of the film. He looks great and moves well, but it’s hard to care all that much when his appearances are as relatively fleeting as they are.

It’s not that Godzilla is a complete mess; it isn’t. It’s perfectly watchable, there are some super-cool action sequences, and Edwards – as befitting his own not-so-secret past as a Godzilla junkie – laces the film with in-jokes and references that will please those well-schooled in the giant monster’s lore and backstory. But that can’t quite salvage the film from what it turns out to be: a competent if not particularly compelling monster movie, one which occasionally demonstrates but largely lacks the bite, energy and charisma of Edwards’ debut feature film.

Basically: An adequate monster movie that feels curiously characterless – a shame considering its impressive pedigree where director and cast are concerned.

Letters From Iwo Jima (2006)

In the hands of a lesser director than Clint Eastwood, it would be hard to imagine Letters From Iwo Jima having quite the soulfulness and veracity it fortunately does have – after all, it’s an American film depicting the Japanese side of the story over the battle for the tiny island of Iwo Jima in 1944. Given the almost fearfully jingoistic tone of American foreign policy then and now, it’s refreshing to see a movie so intent on giving its characters – the ‘villains’ by any conventional definition of World War II, given Japanese membership of the Hitler-led Axis – faces, histories, lives and motivations that render them affectingly real rather than mere caricatures. Eastwood handles this skilfully, producing a movie that feels genuinely Japanese despite its pedigree.

The Japanese troops sequestered on Iwo Jima, led by the fiercely intelligent, honourable General Kuribayashi (Ken Watanabe), are facing an impossible task – the defence of a tiny island more symbolic than actually valuable, such that help and reinforcements from the Japanese mainland are not forthcoming. Forced to resort to desperate ingenuity to have a hope of defeating the Allied forces, Kuribayashi orders his troops to hollow out a network of tunnels inland and to abandon beachfront defenses. His unorthodox methods draw derision from more straight-laced officers like Admiral Ohsugi (Nobumasa Sakagami), Colonel Adachi (Toshi Toda) and Lieutenant Ito (Shido Nakamura), each of whom acts out his frustration in different ways. As Kuribayashi’s officers rise in silent mutiny against him, and his soldiers are forced to choose between obeying their commanders and saving their own lives, young Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) remains determined to fulfil the promise he made his wife Hanako (Nae) and his unborn daughter that he will return to them alive. The letters of the film’s title are the many screeds written by Kuribayashi and Saigo for their families, most of which probably never make it off the island… like the very same soldiers fighting to their deaths on a chunk of land long ago forsaken by their fellow countrymen.

Letters, if nothing else, is a masterful study of leadership and how it can both inspire and be undermined in times of crisis and of course, the often drastic, fatal consequences in both cases. For every admirable leader, be it Kuribayashi or Olympic horseman Baron Nishi (Tsuyoshi Ihara), there are crazy, cowardly ones. As the American forces continue to make advances through the island, Kuribayashi tries to keep his men alive… but officers like hot-blooded wannabe tyrant Adachi instead select the ‘honourable’ route for his regiment: to die by their own hands rather than at those of their enemies. In a memorably horrifying scene, one dumbly acquiescent soldier after another reluctantly, shiveringly activates his hand grenade and is blown to kingdom come. The mute terror on Saigo’s face as it draws ever nearer to his turn, when he will have to commit suicide or be killed for treason by one of his zealous troop mates, speaks volumes about the miseries to which soldiers of any ilk and nationality are subjected in war-time situations. Ito, too, is a study in hypocrisy, as he stubbornly refuses to listen to orders he disagrees with and insists on deserting the caves to serve as a human land mine to take out an American tank… only to lose sight of his task near the very end.

There is much Eastwood and his screenwriters Iris Yamashita and Paul Haggis have to say here about the nature of righteousness and of courage as well. While never denying that the Japanese were fighting on the wrong side of the war, Eastwood makes clear that there remain causes to which these Japanese menfolk can be truly committed, and that there is still something admirable in the positions that they have adopted, even if the motivation at the top for the senseless war remains obscure. (War, after all, is always senseless after a point.) Certainly the futility of the battle cannot be denied, as the Japanese soldiers plunge towards death with a ferocity unmatched by their political leaders. But when Kuribayashi asks, in a final poignant moment on the grey beaches of Iwo Jima, whether the island remains Japanese soil, you understand also that these ‘villains’ are fighting too for a passionate love of country… albeit a country that has done a deep wrong by them.

Predictably, Eastwood (can this man do no wrong?) elicits strong performances from his Japanese cast, despite the language barrier he must have experienced. The only recognisable face to most Western audiences would be Watanabe’s, and he proves here that his reputation as one of Japan’s most capable, powerful actors is well-deserved. The world-weary devotion worn like a badge of honour by Kuribayashi is written across Watanabe’s wonderfully expressive face. Saigo, the emotional fulcrum of the movie, is given fascinating life by J-pop boy band singer Ninomiya, whose youth is so painfully fresh it becomes harder and harder to imagine that he might die at any moment – whether forced to kill himself by a insanely zealous commander, or by the sheer misfortune that besets the soldiers as they have no choice but to run from tunnel to tunnel without cover when ceding ground to the Americans. Eastwood also makes his movie quite the aesthetic treat: using a stone-washed palette of greys and dusty pale yellows, the entire movie quite appropriately feels like it’s trapped in the sands of the island on which it’s set. This colour scheme lends even more immediacy to the violence when it erupts, as it inevitably does – whether through a burst of blood across Saigo’s face, or a sudden explosion of fire from aboveground that consumes one soldier within seconds.

All this being said, however, there are some elements of Letters that prevents it from being one of the best movies of 2006. For all its even-handedness and wonderful characterisations, it’s difficult to deny that the movie veers too much towards the formulaic – the pat ending to Saigo’s story almost unbearably hollow in contrast with all the stark horrors of death that have gone before. Subtlety isn’t one of the hallmarks of this movie either: two of the most admirable leaders, Kuribayashi and Nishi, are depicted as noble heroes fighting for a cause they don’t necessarily believe in, when we are given insights into their past lives… the former in a flashback to a dinner with his American counterparts in friendlier times, the latter when he reminisces about his Hollywood friends Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. The injection of wounded American POW Sam (Lucas Elliot) into the proceedings only serves to needlessly pound this point home, as a letter from his mother becomes the unfortunate emotional soundbite for a far more complex movie. While the point needed to be made that the Japanese, too, had to somehow be awakened to the fact that there was room to question the propaganda they had been fed about the Americans being heartless monsters, having each character gain this understanding only through their own past or present interactions with the ‘other side’ makes it less credible that they might have come to such a conclusion on their own.

More straightforwardly a war movie than its companion piece Flags Of Our Fathers, Letters is as horrifying and heartbreaking as anything these resurrected soldiers had to go through – and, crucially, is one of those rare war movies that understands the futility of war and filters it through the blood, gore and sheer everyday terror that blankets its characters’ lives. Eastwood, so masterful at rendering real what would otherwise be overblown melodrama, does a good job of presenting both heroes and villains within the same camp, and makes the very smart point that war frequently leads to battles against and amongst ourselves, that are in the end more debilitating than those directed at some unknown, far-off enemy. That the tale is fairly predictable in its efforts to tug at your heart strings and make you think is perhaps a minor quibble over an otherwise impressive achievement.