Shin Godzilla

There are some media franchises that, because of something that happens over the course of its life cycle, the audience splits into camps based on preference. Black Sabbath fans have the eternal Ozzy vs. Dio debate. Mystery Science Theater 3000 has the Joel vs. Mike split. Godzilla has so many splits, it's hard to keep track. There's been three distinct eras in Japan of the big lizard, each with its own style. Fancy the more serious, horror-oriented version of the big lizard, or the silly guys-in-rubber-suits Godzilla vs. era? Or maybe you prefer the destruction-porn of the modern American version. Whatever your preferred version of the King Of The Monsters is, there's a movie or even a series of them to suit you. But I promise you that one won't be a movie that consists of 85% board meetings, because that's what Shin Godzilla is. This isn't a Godzilla movie; this is eavesdropping on a Zoom call between government agencies about a Godzilla scenario. I cannot accurately convey how much of this movie takes place in offices and conference rooms and any indoor building with fluorescent lighting and a drop ceiling. Endless, redundant debates about how to handle the situation, do they need to pass a resolution, having a meeting to discuss another scheduling another meeting. It's an avalanche of verbiage that is honestly exhausting to sit through. I'm not sure there's more than 15 minutes in this movie where someone isn't speaking. And even if the dialogue were interesting, and it almost never is, nobody, and I do mean nobody, comes to a kaiju film to see people navigate the seas of governmental bureaucracy. We come for a radioactive super-lizard, and whatever preferred narrative architecture holds it together when the big guy isn't kicking over apartment complexes. If I want to watch government employees bore me to death by doing their jobs, I'll watch C-SPAN. And hey, speaking of the cast, I'd highlight any of them, but I can't, because there's approximately 357 people in this movie. The movie seems to think throwing up a graphic introducing them helps, but when I have to read "Assistant Secretary to the Deputy Minister of the Department of the Self-Defense Force" AND their name AND keep up with the translated subtitles? And they do this for EVERY INCIDENTAL CHARACTER IN THE MOVIE?!? AND LOCATIONS?!? Yeah, no, you can fuck right off, movie. This isn't a speed-reading class, and I shouldn't need a fucking flowchart to keep track of a cast that makes a Robert Altman film look like My Dinner With Andre. Sitting here, less than 24 hours removed from watching it, I can tell you there's the original Prime Minister (old, indecisive), the replacement (older, indecisive), the head of the geek squad trying to figure out a scientific way to stop Godzilla instead of bombs (nerdy), the short-haired lady in the cabinet (hair is short, keeps reminding the PM to make a decision), the geeky girl in the nerd council (geeky), and the woman that is Japanese but also a US senator's daughter (smoking hot, US/Japanese liason). Who are these people? Shin Godzilla doesn't have time, because we have 348 more people to introduce. Which brings me to the direction and editing. I don't know who thought making a Godzilla movie in the style of The Office was a good idea, but it was not. The pseudo-documentary style in the office settings never feels right, either being overly comical (angles that are too in-your-face to be anything but comedic) or angles that fail to actually convey any emotion or pull in the audience. Of course, this gets dropped when it's time to film the big guy, so the lack of a consistent style does the movie no favors either. But you might not even notice the style because you'll be worn out from the constant quick cuts that only add to the fatigue. There's one sequence where some characters find out something, don't ask me what; cut to a shot of the hot senator's daughter (which is filmed kind of overhead, but at an angle, for no reason), on the phone, yelling an exclamation of shock, as if she's hearing the news the other characters in the previous scene heard, but they weren't on the phone. That scene literally lasts long enough for her three-word exclamation before it slam-cuts to another scene. If you've ever seen that scene from one of the Taken movies, where it's like 37 cuts in 11 seconds, that happens often in Shin Godzilla. If you're not exhausted by the end from the fusillade of talking, the editing will wear down what's left. And if you're not convinced yet how misguided and poorly conceived this reboot of Godzilla is, then you get to the biggest insult of all: how the big guy is used. There is a significant portion of this two-hour movie -- probably half of it, I'd say -- where he goes into a dormant state. He's just sitting there, in the middle of Tokyo, a statue. Yes, that's what I want in my Godzilla film, TO WATCH HIM NAP STANDING UP. But that's alright, because Shin Godzilla also has this element where Godzilla evolves over the course of the movie, and you are not prepared for how insulting his original design is. The gills (wtf?) along his neck that constantly eject lakes of poorly-rendered CGI blood. He doesn't walk, he crawls, and his can't seem to support the weight of his own head. And then there's his face. If you thought the '98 American Godzilla movie had a terrible design, you ain't seen nothing yet. Godz has eyes that look like golf balls with pupils painted on them, but then given a haze like he has cataracts, and they're ALWAYS OPEN AS WIDE AS POSSIBLE. Do yourself a favor and look up a picture of the Gobbledy Gooker. I'll wait. THAT'S WHAT GODZILLA'S EYES IN HIS FIRST FORM LOOKS LIKE. Shin Gozdilla is a train wreck on every front. There are no enjoyable characters, because there are no characters, just dialogue-spitting machines. There is no story with the human characters, just a barrage of dialogue that, in printed form, could fill a Costco. The destruction is hard to enjoy, because the CGI looks unfinished. Godzilla starts off looking so stupid, his design would be too comical for a MAD Magazine parody, and when he evolves, he becomes a laser light show-emitting toy instead of a malevolent force of nature. Even the resolution is dumb, because the movie explicitly says its temporary. I didn't think it would be possible to be bored or annoyed with a Godzilla movie, but here we are. If you want classic Godzilla, the original is out there. If you want destruction porn, the American franchise is there for you. If you want rubber suit wackiness, there's plenty of it. And if you want a Godzilla movie with actual characters and actual depth, Godzilla Minus One is your choice. But unless your idea of fun on a Sunday is making spreadsheets and seeing if you can read 300 words per minute, then Shin Godzilla has nothing for you.