Godzilla is from the director Gareth Edwards, a Brit whose first film, Monsters, truly put him on the map, as it daringly played with the genre, and incorporated a plausible human love story, and the difference between that film and this may be summed up as follows: whereas Monsters was a clever and inventive film made for relatively little money ($500,000), this is a quite stupid film made for a lot of money ($160 million). Oh dear. It sounds like I’m wearing my disapproving hat again, although I don’t always. For example, I take it off for special occasions, and sometimes even in bed. (Sometimes yes, sometimes no; depends.)
‘The world’s most revered monster is reborn,’ say Warner Bros, who may well be hearing from King Kong’s lawyers anytime soon. (‘Our client would like it known he is the most revered…’). It’s the reboot of a franchise, and whether a sequel, prequel, origins story or straightforward remake, these franchises all rely on the reassurance offered by familiarity. You know where you are and what you are going to be getting, more or less, so if you know this is what you like, you will like this. It is spectacular. The staging and CGI are spectacular. Godzilla, once Godzilla appears (an hour in), is spectacular, with scaly-skin and a dorsal-finned spine to die for. There are aeroplanes falling out of the sky and bridges collapsing and monsters looming over cities and then stamping on them. But it’s still more of the same, with the same tropes and, in this instance, the human characters are so bland and dull and by-numbers you may well find yourself rooting for the monster. At least it has personality. And vim.
Our plucky hero, who will, of course, eventually succeed where the entire American military fails, is Ford Brody, as played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who is wooden throughout, possibly through no fault of his own as his role requires little beyond handsomely staring into the middle-distance while appearing troubled, and being nice to children.
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