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.

Paddington (2014)

There’s plenty to be cynical about where Paddington is concerned. The first feature film about the iconic bear – red hat, blue coat, suitcase in hand –  was first announced in 2007, and went through a gestation period that’s extraordinarily long even for a heavily animated film. The trailer’s (literal) toilet humour seemed to confirm that it was pitched firmly at kids. And last, but certainly not least, the cast experienced a shake-up of fairly seismic proportions when Colin Firth announced in July that – with the unanimous consent of all concerned – he would no longer be voicing Paddington. All signs pointed towards a disaster of a movie, one stitched together to cash in on rather than celebrate the phenomenon of Paddington, a little bear who has lived in books, TV series and cuddly merchandise around the world.

It’s a flat-out joy to discover, then, that Paddington is very far from a disaster. Indeed, it’s an unmitigated delight of a family film. Of course, “family films” don’t really cater to everyone in the family a lot of the time – the phrase is a euphemism applied to movies that adults must put up with or suffer through for the sake of entertaining their children. But Paul King’s Paddington, based on the beloved books by Michael Bond, really does have something for everyone and is, incidentally, an utterly lovely movie about families to boot. The young will be bowled over by the adorable bear who tumbles through London and into the hearts of his adopted family. The young at heart -and even a few older, crankier people – will find much to enjoy in the film’s cheerfully subversive script.

Our journey begins in Darkest Peru, where a young bear (voiced with pitch-perfect charm by Ben Whishaw) lives happily with his Aunt Lucy (Imelda Staunton) and Uncle Pastuzo (Michael Gambon). He inherits from them a healthy love for marmalade and London, as well as a floppy, red felt hat left behind decades ago by English explorer Montgomery Clyde (Tim Downie). When an earthquake destroys their idyllic home, Aunt Lucy urges her nephew to strike out to London. Many jars of marmalade later, he finds himself in the iconic train station that gives him his name. He meets the Brown family: risk-averse Henry (Hugh Bonneville), dreamy Mary (Sally Hawkins) and their children, Judy (Madeleine Harris) and Jonathan (Samuel Joslin). With Henry insisting that Paddington can only stay while he looks for a more permanent home, the bear begins investigations in London – unaware that Millicent, an obsessive, possibly crazy taxidermist (Nicole Kidman), has very specific reasons for wanting him to visit her museum.

Strictly speaking, there isn’t anything all that new or original about Paddington. We’ve seen the trope many times before – in trying to find a new home, a misfit changes the hearts and minds of the people who will eventually become his family. The narrative of the film is also little more than a patchwork of wacky incidents and hijinks: Paddington floods the bathroom while trying to come to terms with the “facilities”; Paddington apprehends a criminal through sheer good luck and his incredibly honest nature; Paddington and Henry infiltrate the top-secret Geographers’ Guild to hunt down Mr. Clyde.

And yet, King has crafted something quite charming and magical around the bare bones of his story. The film practically radiates love for the sweet-tempered, unfailingly polite bear at its heart. A life-long fan of the ursine hero, King peppers his script with smart references to Bond’s books, from Paddington’s trademark ‘hard stare’, used to embarrass people into behaving better, through to the meddling interference of nosy, thrifty neighbour Mr. Curry (Peter Capaldi). He’s also updated and deepened the story to give the elder Browns their own emotional arc: Mary’s determination to open her heart and home to a stranger is what eventually leads Henry to getting back in touch with his wilder, more fun-loving side. The film also looks quite spectacular, whether Paddington is surfing down a flight of stairs in a bathtub or we’re allowed a dollhouse glimpse at the Brown family as they go about their lives.

Most importantly, King infuses the entire film with a practically joyous strain of comedy and wit. Pratfalls and sight gags are accompanied by deliciously silly allusions to William Shakespeare and Mission Impossible. Even the film’s supporting characters get their own hefty share of comedy, whether it’s housekeeper Mrs Bird (Julie Walters) distracting a security guard by means of a booze throwdown or Mr. Curry falling instantly for Millicent to a smooth burst of Lionel Richie. Millicent herself is an inspired creation. Prowling through the film, togged out in figure-hugging snakeskin and wielding scalpels, she brings to mind and subverts the icy-cool blonde archetype most beloved of Alfred Hitchcock.

The sharp script and stunning visuals would mean little without a cast wholly committed to their roles, and King has struck gold with his offbeat casting choices. Bonneville, a veteran of Downton Abbey, has no problem playing Henry’s constant anxiety over his children, but also gleefully flings propriety to the winds as he slips into tunic and apron for a spot of howlingly funny undercover business. Hawkins lends Mary – the loving, tender heart of the household and Paddington’s biggest champion – a soulful gravitas. Great as they are, however, the MVP here is Kidman. Her fantastically manic performance as Millicent reminds us why it’s a damn shame that she hasn’t been in a comedy for years – she’s so cheerfully unhinged in the film that she steals pretty much every scene she’s in.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a fan of Bond’s books, someone who only knows Paddington as a cuddly soft toy, or a neophyte who has never heard of this walking, talking, marmalade-loving bear. Paddington is a big, warm bear hug of a film, one that will enchant children and tickle adults, even as it grabs just about everyone by the heart with its charm and humour.

Basically: A bear necessity.

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.

Blue Jasmine (2013)

In the past decade or so, Woody Allen fans have not always found it easy to keep the faith. Barring the occasional gem, his recent films – churned out with clockwork regularity once a year – have felt like increasingly tedious variations on the handful of themes that have preoccupied him since the 1970s. That’s part of the reason why Blue Jasmine – a subtle, heartbreaking and unsettling look at a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown – shines so very brightly. It’s conspicuously, wonderfully unlike anything Allen has made in the past 15 years.

Jasmine (Cate Blanchett), a deeply troubled New York socialite brought low by a devastating scandal in her very recent past, arrives in San Francisco to stay with her adoptive sister Ginger (Sally Hawkins). Ostensibly, she’s in town to recover her footing, to re-build her shambles of a life. Instead, she trails chaos in her wake, upsetting Ginger’s happy romance with boyfriend Chili (Bobby Cannavale) even as she wanders through the Bay Area in a haze of drugs, drink and depression.

What’s so disarmingly great about Blue Jasmine is how it only very rarely feels like one of Allen’s films. In fact, he merrily subverts audience expectations to make a few rather devastating points about Jasmine and the world she’s leaving behind her. He shoots the scenes that reach into her past in characteristic jaunty style, cranking up the jazzy swing numbers that have long made up the soundtrack of his films. This locates Jasmine and her wealthy husband Hal (Alec Baldwin) firmly in the richly romanticised Manhattan of many of Allen’s movies – a rarefied environment in which witty repartee and easy privilege mask the darker realities of life.

In contrast, the majority of the film, which is set in San Francisco, comes almost completely free of musical accompaniment. In this most subtle of ways, Allen draws a stark, effective parallel between Jasmine’s old life and her new one: the place where she first lost her senses, and where she’s struggling to regain them. There’s a heartbreaking chill to watching Jasmine try to adapt to a lifestyle several rungs below what she’s accustomed to on the social scale – one that evokes pity and revulsion in almost equal measure.

Even more intriguingly, Allen breaks with his own tradition in fixing his camera and script so firmly on the character of Jasmine. He’s reached a point in his long and storied career when his characters feel less like people than archetypes, each movie either revolving around or featuring a nervous, paranoid, death-obsessed Jewish man loosely based on himself (whether or not he actually plays the part).

Jasmine is something altogether different, a woman trapped within and by her own choices in life. As Allen scrapes away the sleek gloss of wealth encasing Jasmine, he uncovers an utterly fascinating character: vibrant, vital, and powerfully determined, yet also hollow, broken and almost hopelessly lost. Jasmine is – quite literally – a self-made woman, someone who, as Ginger observes, excels at “looking the other way”, disregarding anything that doesn’t fit into her meticulously crafted image of herself and her life.

It should come as no surprise that Blanchett – always reliably magnificent in every role she plays – is brilliant. Even so, the black magic she weaves in bringing Jasmine to life is truly astounding. Never one to allow vanity to compromise her performances, Blanchett delights in the moments when Jasmine loosens her grip on her sanity and her mask of careful, polished beauty slips a little. Watch for an intimate moment in a diner, when Jasmine is babysitting her nephews and regaling them with stories of her glorious past. It’s impossible to spot the precise moment when her luminous radiance cracks and withers to reveal the broken, callous, selfish monster of a human being cowering beneath. All the more impressively, Blanchett makes this sad, wilful, frustrating creature terrifyingly, powerfully sympathetic – no small feat considering Jasmine’s out-sized sense of entitlement and frequently foolish decisions and actions.

Allen is well-known for acquiring muses, so to speak: he’s crafted scripts around the likes of Diane Keaton, Mia Farrow, Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz. On the evidence of Blue Jasmine, it would be an enormous shame if Blanchett doesn’t join his pantheon of screen goddesses on a permanent basis. It’s very much her devastating performance that holds Allen’s entire film together, allowing it to flit effectively from character study to socio-economic satire and back again. Allen’s script is actually less sharp than it could be, failing to do real justice to the otherwise fantastic Hawkins – who is relegated to a sidekick role that doesn’t have quite the depth it should. But, thanks to Blanchett, Blue Jasmine easily counts amongst Allen’s best films – while setting itself apart from them in a most welcome and fascinating way.

Basically: A fine bouquet.