Such confidence is all the more remarkable since Edwards is here wrestling a multimillion dollar blockbuster beast (a reported $160m) the size and scale of which is utterly incomparable with the homemade micro-budget Monsters, in which he self-shot all the live footage on the hoof and then knocked up the special effects in his bedroom. Impressively, many of the tropes that made Monsters an unexpected indie hit remain, notably the tangible tenderness in the central human relationships, which just happen to be interrupted by the arrival of massive marauders. Similarly idiomatic is a Clive Barker-style affection for the creatures; a sequence in which two monstrous mantis-like "mutos" (escapees from Starship Troopers?) rub heads amid the carnage reminds us of the bittersweet denouement of Monsters, the title of which was as pointedly ironic as that of Tod Browning's Freaks. No surprise to learn that motion-capture maestro Andy Serkis was enlisted to help "control the souls" of the beasts in key scenes, the tragic figure of King Kong lurking in the shadows as skyscrapers tumble and chaos reigns.
In the middle of the maelstrom is Ken Watanabe, smartly cast (for both narrative and marketing purposes) as the one man who understands the true nature of Gojira's resurrection (he uses the original name once, before reverting to the anglicised Godzilla) and who gives voice to the eco-anxieties of Max Borenstein's radiation-driven script. Other supporting roles are inevitably more sketchy, most notably a tremulous Sally Hawkins who gets all but lost in the mix as we move toward the increasingly catastrophised third act wherein destruction takes hold as (human) character inevitably takes a back seat. How much this bothers you probably depends upon the size of the screen on which you see Godzilla. My advice would be to seek out the biggest, loudest Imax auditorium available and allow the movie to roar majestically right in your face, peeling away any niggling uncertainties with the icy fire of its thunderous breath.
Such confidence is all the more remarkable since Edwards is here wrestling a multimillion dollar blockbuster beast (a reported $160m) the size and scale of which is utterly incomparable with the homemade micro-budget Monsters, in which he self-shot all the live footage on the hoof and then knocked up the special effects in his bedroom. Impressively, many of the tropes that made Monsters an unexpected indie hit remain, notably the tangible tenderness in the central human relationships, which just happen to be interrupted by the arrival of massive marauders. Similarly idiomatic is a Clive Barker-style affection for the creatures; a sequence in which two monstrous mantis-like "mutos" (escapees from Starship Troopers?) rub heads amid the carnage reminds us of the bittersweet denouement of Monsters, the title of which was as pointedly ironic as that of Tod Browning's Freaks. No surprise to learn that motion-capture maestro Andy Serkis was enlisted to help "control the souls" of the beasts in key scenes, the tragic figure of King Kong lurking in the shadows as skyscrapers tumble and chaos reigns.
In the middle of the maelstrom is Ken Watanabe, smartly cast (for both narrative and marketing purposes) as the one man who understands the true nature of Gojira's resurrection (he uses the original name once, before reverting to the anglicised Godzilla) and who gives voice to the eco-anxieties of Max Borenstein's radiation-driven script. Other supporting roles are inevitably more sketchy, most notably a tremulous Sally Hawkins who gets all but lost in the mix as we move toward the increasingly catastrophised third act wherein destruction takes hold as (human) character inevitably takes a back seat. How much this bothers you probably depends upon the size of the screen on which you see Godzilla. My advice would be to seek out the biggest, loudest Imax auditorium available and allow the movie to roar majestically right in your face, peeling away any niggling uncertainties with the icy fire of its thunderous breath.
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