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Neil Goddard (3 KP) rated Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) in Movies
Feb 27, 2020
No Actors Required
Contains spoilers, click to show
I have a theory about movies that are 100% CGI; when someone isn’t a great actor and they are required only to supply a voice and they still aren’t very good, it really stands out.
Now, imagine you’re watching a film. I don’t know, maybe a bit creature epic, larger than life with whole cities being destroyed. The creature’s look amazing and the carnage they are wreaking is fabulous; buildings, helicopters, cars, all flying around the screen with a swish of a mighty reptilian tale. Now imagine that the actors, real people, not CGI, are, at best, bland and in some instances just outright terrible.
Annoying isn’t it?
It would lead one to believe that the film makers didn’t really put any stock in the human interactions, rather just gave a huge wad of cash to an SFX company and said, “Fill your boots, the more the merrier, make everything f---ing enormous!”
Godzilla (2014) was the second time Hollywood has attempted to make a film featuring Japan’s kaiju supremo and it was the first successful attempt from Hollywood, given that the 1998 Roland Emmerich attempt was basically Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997) but with added daddy issues (Roland Emmerich’s trademark).
Gareth Edwards 2014 first entry in the MonsterVerse was a huge success, financially and artistically. We saw a Godzilla that was of a scale we’d always wanted, towering over buildings, a reptilian God and we’re just the ants trying to not get squished.
Godzilla: King of Monsters attempts to up the ante by throwing a dozen or so monsters at the story. “Godzilla fought two MUTO’s did he, well… hold my beer!” Yeah, we’ll hold your beer while you get Millie Bobby Brown to stand there teary eyed for most of the film (a waste), Vera Farmiga to go from bereaved workaholic, to eco-terrorist to pointless self-sacrifice (unfathomable), and for Kyle Chandler to… well, Christ knows what Kyle Chandler was doing, apart from spitting terrible dialogue badly and then standing/sitting/walking looking angry but unconvincingly. Bradley Whitford provided some nice comic relief, he does droll sarcasm immensely well, Charles Dance is underused (and then forgotten about) and Zhang Ziyi tries to out-Kyle-Chandler Kyle Chandler in the bland, borderline useless stakes.
Worse than any failing on the human emotion side of the story are the huge liberties they take with global travel, like, one of side of the world to the other in a very short space of time. I mean Godzilla can do it because of some tunnels under the sea that he uses, possible the ones used in the science-denying sci-fi car crash abomination The Core (2003), but for the humans to just pop to Venezuela or the Antarctic is unforgivable.
This kind of leaps of reality always leads me to lose interest in the events in a film and start thinking around the script. In a film where everything everyone says is of dire emergency or import and then we see them in another part of the world some time later, what have they been talking about for all that time. Have they been napping? If so, it’s hasn’t eased any of the pointless angry posturing. Have they been chatting about boring everyday stuff? There is no hint of a relationship between any of these people who are spending potentially their last moments on earth together with alarming regularity. The world is possible about to get destroyed and you are in direct harm’s way! Shut up and nut up.
Now, imagine you’re watching a film. I don’t know, maybe a bit creature epic, larger than life with whole cities being destroyed. The creature’s look amazing and the carnage they are wreaking is fabulous; buildings, helicopters, cars, all flying around the screen with a swish of a mighty reptilian tale. Now imagine that the actors, real people, not CGI, are, at best, bland and in some instances just outright terrible.
Annoying isn’t it?
It would lead one to believe that the film makers didn’t really put any stock in the human interactions, rather just gave a huge wad of cash to an SFX company and said, “Fill your boots, the more the merrier, make everything f---ing enormous!”
Godzilla (2014) was the second time Hollywood has attempted to make a film featuring Japan’s kaiju supremo and it was the first successful attempt from Hollywood, given that the 1998 Roland Emmerich attempt was basically Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997) but with added daddy issues (Roland Emmerich’s trademark).
Gareth Edwards 2014 first entry in the MonsterVerse was a huge success, financially and artistically. We saw a Godzilla that was of a scale we’d always wanted, towering over buildings, a reptilian God and we’re just the ants trying to not get squished.
Godzilla: King of Monsters attempts to up the ante by throwing a dozen or so monsters at the story. “Godzilla fought two MUTO’s did he, well… hold my beer!” Yeah, we’ll hold your beer while you get Millie Bobby Brown to stand there teary eyed for most of the film (a waste), Vera Farmiga to go from bereaved workaholic, to eco-terrorist to pointless self-sacrifice (unfathomable), and for Kyle Chandler to… well, Christ knows what Kyle Chandler was doing, apart from spitting terrible dialogue badly and then standing/sitting/walking looking angry but unconvincingly. Bradley Whitford provided some nice comic relief, he does droll sarcasm immensely well, Charles Dance is underused (and then forgotten about) and Zhang Ziyi tries to out-Kyle-Chandler Kyle Chandler in the bland, borderline useless stakes.
Worse than any failing on the human emotion side of the story are the huge liberties they take with global travel, like, one of side of the world to the other in a very short space of time. I mean Godzilla can do it because of some tunnels under the sea that he uses, possible the ones used in the science-denying sci-fi car crash abomination The Core (2003), but for the humans to just pop to Venezuela or the Antarctic is unforgivable.
This kind of leaps of reality always leads me to lose interest in the events in a film and start thinking around the script. In a film where everything everyone says is of dire emergency or import and then we see them in another part of the world some time later, what have they been talking about for all that time. Have they been napping? If so, it’s hasn’t eased any of the pointless angry posturing. Have they been chatting about boring everyday stuff? There is no hint of a relationship between any of these people who are spending potentially their last moments on earth together with alarming regularity. The world is possible about to get destroyed and you are in direct harm’s way! Shut up and nut up.
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Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated The Last Dance in TV
Aug 6, 2020 (Updated Aug 6, 2020)
Some people’s worst nightmare isn’t just being forced to watch sport, but being forced to listen to commentary or analysis on sport. My passion for a competitive event, and appreciation for an acheivement at the highest level in any sport, is still there, but is a little cooler than it was when I was a younger man with the energy to get carried away, whooping and cheering on an underdog or applauding the very best in a discipline.
Basketball for me has never really been a thing. To be honest, I barely understand the rules beyond the basics. It just wasn’t something that was on British TV that often as I grew up, the Olympics being an exception. The skill level (and height above Sea level) needed to be good enough for NBA glory does not escape me though, and neither has the exceptional career of Michael Jordon, who is a clear contender for greatest sportsman of all time, in any sport.
What I do enjoy though is the drama of over-coming hurdles and records against all the odds. The underdog story really appeals to me, as does the story of an older athlete doing it one last time, when no one thinks it’s possible. The Last Dance is exactly that. But not told by actors in a Hollywood way, like the wonderfully under-rated Miracle starring Kurt Russell. This is a documentary, in ten parts, with the real guys, and some of the most comprehensive archive material you’d ever want!
In theory, the tale is about the whole team, and their final fling at winning a title before knowing the aging gang would be disbanded, with the key figures forced into retirement. But, it is about Jordan, of course it is. And as a document of a rise to fame, and how the man responded to that fame and increased pressure, it is simply the best sports documentary yet to be made.
Told in parallel timelines of the final year juxtaposed with the backstory of the previous 20 years, it shows in exquisite detail how a franchise was built, maintained and taken to the heights of being the greatest ever to play the game. There are tantrums, fall outs, walk outs, no shows, injuries, and some mind-bending successes riding on single moments of genius.
The main voices of Jordan himself, as he sits in retirement with a cigar and a single malt, Scottie Pippin, and bad boy Dennis Rodman, are in parts fascinating, eloquent and revealing. Even after many years have passed, the emotion of big moments and issues is still fresh. We see the joy, the pride and the exhilaration, but also the regret, the grudges and the pain. It shows every angle of what being an athlete at the very top means, and exposes what kind of mentality you have to have to be that person. To be a champion.
As with me, it really helps with the cliffhanger drama of it if you don’t remember, or never knew at all, the result of that “last dance” season in ’98. It also helps if watching sport raises the pulse, but I wouldn’t say it is essential, as it all plays like an ten part series full of drama, betrayals and gasp out loud moments. Ten hour long episodes is a lot. But this incredible production never out stays its welcome. Some acheivement, and testament to what a charismatic figure Jordan was and is on the context of sport history.
Of course, not every hero is a hero every minute of his life. And that is my final reason to recommend it. See for yourself what kind of personality virtual gods like these invent for themselves. Utterly compelling TV.
Basketball for me has never really been a thing. To be honest, I barely understand the rules beyond the basics. It just wasn’t something that was on British TV that often as I grew up, the Olympics being an exception. The skill level (and height above Sea level) needed to be good enough for NBA glory does not escape me though, and neither has the exceptional career of Michael Jordon, who is a clear contender for greatest sportsman of all time, in any sport.
What I do enjoy though is the drama of over-coming hurdles and records against all the odds. The underdog story really appeals to me, as does the story of an older athlete doing it one last time, when no one thinks it’s possible. The Last Dance is exactly that. But not told by actors in a Hollywood way, like the wonderfully under-rated Miracle starring Kurt Russell. This is a documentary, in ten parts, with the real guys, and some of the most comprehensive archive material you’d ever want!
In theory, the tale is about the whole team, and their final fling at winning a title before knowing the aging gang would be disbanded, with the key figures forced into retirement. But, it is about Jordan, of course it is. And as a document of a rise to fame, and how the man responded to that fame and increased pressure, it is simply the best sports documentary yet to be made.
Told in parallel timelines of the final year juxtaposed with the backstory of the previous 20 years, it shows in exquisite detail how a franchise was built, maintained and taken to the heights of being the greatest ever to play the game. There are tantrums, fall outs, walk outs, no shows, injuries, and some mind-bending successes riding on single moments of genius.
The main voices of Jordan himself, as he sits in retirement with a cigar and a single malt, Scottie Pippin, and bad boy Dennis Rodman, are in parts fascinating, eloquent and revealing. Even after many years have passed, the emotion of big moments and issues is still fresh. We see the joy, the pride and the exhilaration, but also the regret, the grudges and the pain. It shows every angle of what being an athlete at the very top means, and exposes what kind of mentality you have to have to be that person. To be a champion.
As with me, it really helps with the cliffhanger drama of it if you don’t remember, or never knew at all, the result of that “last dance” season in ’98. It also helps if watching sport raises the pulse, but I wouldn’t say it is essential, as it all plays like an ten part series full of drama, betrayals and gasp out loud moments. Ten hour long episodes is a lot. But this incredible production never out stays its welcome. Some acheivement, and testament to what a charismatic figure Jordan was and is on the context of sport history.
Of course, not every hero is a hero every minute of his life. And that is my final reason to recommend it. See for yourself what kind of personality virtual gods like these invent for themselves. Utterly compelling TV.
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Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Lady Bird (2017) in Movies
Sep 29, 2021
“What if this is the best version”.
When did you grow up? I am now 57, and I’m still “working towards”! I remember distinctly though at the age of 16 thinking “I’ve got there”. And then again at 18. And then again at 21. And then again at 25…. There is something sweet about the certainty of youth that only life’s ultimate experiences can roughen the edges of.
“Lady Bird”, the directorial debut of Greta Gerwig, features one such teen who thinks she knows it all. Looking and acting for all the world like a 15 year old (something that Margot Robbie really can’t pull off in “I, Tonya”) Saoirse Ronan plays Christine McPherson who has the given name (“I gave the name to myself”) of ‘Lady Bird’. She is struggling with a lot of issues: an unreasonable and overbearing (parents: read ‘perfectly reasonably but firm’) mother (Laurie Metcalf, “Roseanne”); the issues of puberty and young love; the constrictions of a Catholic school she despises; and her inability to perform to the grades she needs to get into a college of her choice. That choice being on the East coast as far away from the backwater of Sacremento (“the mid-west of California” – LoL) as she can get.
Love comes in the form of two serial male fixations: the gorgeous and artistic Danny (Lucas Hedges, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”, “Manchester By The Sea”) and the aloof and enigmatic Kyle (Timothée Chalamet, “Call Me By Your Name”).
This is a near perfect coming of age film. The plot, while fairly superficial and covering ground well-trodden before, fully engages you and makes the running time just fly by. And there is just so much talent on show. The script by Gerwig is chocker-block full of great and memorable lines; Ronan is pitch-perfect as the irascible and cock-sure teen; Tracy Letts (“The Post“) is magnificent in the less showy role as the “good cop” dad, struggling invisibly with his own demons; and Metcalf gives an Oscar-nominated performance that really should give Alison Janney a run for her money… a drive away from an airport conveys just perfectly every college-age parent’s emotional low-point.
Where perhaps the film overplays its hand a bit is in the “wrong side of the tracks” line. The household while struggling is by no means trailer-park poor (compare and contrast with “I, Tonya”): perhaps this is the depths of financial desperation found in Sacremento? But I doubt it… there still seems to be money available for fancy cowgirl outfits.
Which leads me to the rating, which seems to have been a common rant in the last few weeks. I would have thought that there was nothing like this film to turn the mirror of reasonableness on a young teen, perhaps helping them to treat their parents better, work harder for college or make better choices. Yet it has a UK 15 certificate. And for what? There is a full frontal male photo-spread in “Playgirl” (I want to say “it’s a penis, get over it”, but if forced I would have frankly just snipped the 50 milliseconds out to get the lower rating). And there are a few (only a few) F- and C- words. I have the same problem here as with “Phantom Thread” – here is a high-class film that a young teen audience would absolutely love to see. I think the BBFC have got it wrong again here.
I cannot recommend this film enough: a tale of teenage life love and resolution that is hard to beat. Possibly one of the best coming of age tales I’ve ever seen. On the basis that it looks like I will never get to see “Call Me By Your Name” – the only major one I’ve missed – before this Sunday’s Oscar ceremony, what a great way to round off my Oscar-viewing season.
“Lady Bird”, the directorial debut of Greta Gerwig, features one such teen who thinks she knows it all. Looking and acting for all the world like a 15 year old (something that Margot Robbie really can’t pull off in “I, Tonya”) Saoirse Ronan plays Christine McPherson who has the given name (“I gave the name to myself”) of ‘Lady Bird’. She is struggling with a lot of issues: an unreasonable and overbearing (parents: read ‘perfectly reasonably but firm’) mother (Laurie Metcalf, “Roseanne”); the issues of puberty and young love; the constrictions of a Catholic school she despises; and her inability to perform to the grades she needs to get into a college of her choice. That choice being on the East coast as far away from the backwater of Sacremento (“the mid-west of California” – LoL) as she can get.
Love comes in the form of two serial male fixations: the gorgeous and artistic Danny (Lucas Hedges, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri”, “Manchester By The Sea”) and the aloof and enigmatic Kyle (Timothée Chalamet, “Call Me By Your Name”).
This is a near perfect coming of age film. The plot, while fairly superficial and covering ground well-trodden before, fully engages you and makes the running time just fly by. And there is just so much talent on show. The script by Gerwig is chocker-block full of great and memorable lines; Ronan is pitch-perfect as the irascible and cock-sure teen; Tracy Letts (“The Post“) is magnificent in the less showy role as the “good cop” dad, struggling invisibly with his own demons; and Metcalf gives an Oscar-nominated performance that really should give Alison Janney a run for her money… a drive away from an airport conveys just perfectly every college-age parent’s emotional low-point.
Where perhaps the film overplays its hand a bit is in the “wrong side of the tracks” line. The household while struggling is by no means trailer-park poor (compare and contrast with “I, Tonya”): perhaps this is the depths of financial desperation found in Sacremento? But I doubt it… there still seems to be money available for fancy cowgirl outfits.
Which leads me to the rating, which seems to have been a common rant in the last few weeks. I would have thought that there was nothing like this film to turn the mirror of reasonableness on a young teen, perhaps helping them to treat their parents better, work harder for college or make better choices. Yet it has a UK 15 certificate. And for what? There is a full frontal male photo-spread in “Playgirl” (I want to say “it’s a penis, get over it”, but if forced I would have frankly just snipped the 50 milliseconds out to get the lower rating). And there are a few (only a few) F- and C- words. I have the same problem here as with “Phantom Thread” – here is a high-class film that a young teen audience would absolutely love to see. I think the BBFC have got it wrong again here.
I cannot recommend this film enough: a tale of teenage life love and resolution that is hard to beat. Possibly one of the best coming of age tales I’ve ever seen. On the basis that it looks like I will never get to see “Call Me By Your Name” – the only major one I’ve missed – before this Sunday’s Oscar ceremony, what a great way to round off my Oscar-viewing season.