Plodzilla: King of the Monsters

Oh, how I wanted this movie to succeed. After the overall disappointment of 2014’s Godzilla, once again, I let a well-cut trailer fuel my optimism, and was excited for a colossal buffet of mega-monsters, with Rodan, Mothra and King Ghidorah joining the mix to wreak havoc on buildings and citizens alike.

Directed by Michael Dougherty (Trick ‘r Treat, Krampus), Godzilla: King of the Monsters is essentially two movies: one, about 40 minutes of pretty excellent effects work showcasing Godzilla and the classic bestiary of behemoths. The monsters are nicely rendered and pretty cool. The other movie, sadly, is the one with the actors in it – a life-sucking assortment of poorly drawn characters that have been handed some of the worst dialogue in recent memory.

Vera Farminga and Kyle Chandler are estranged married scientists, both of whom have a connection to Monarch, the secret organization that has been monitoring the world’s reemerging kaiju. They have a daughter – Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown, who vaguely yearns for them to reassemble as a family. These are all good actors, who tackle their roles with conviction, determined to bring intensity to every scene. Much wide-eyed Jurassic Park open-mouthed gazing ensues. Wind and rain lashes at them, as they lean into the green screens. Poor Brown has virtually no dialogue but screams like she’s on fire, or evoking Drew Barrymore’s Scream phase. Charles Dance (the late Tywin Lannister) is some kind of villain, glowering and causing havoc.

The monsters emerge at various global locations, with a massive stealth bomber the only means to quickly cross huge distances between events. The timeline and logistics are beyond confusing. We’re in China, then suddenly Antarctica, then Boston. How did we get here? How did we get here so fast?! Ludicrous occurrences take place involving nuclear weapons, like when a nuke’s shockwave hurls an intact submarine popping up out of the ocean – or when characters squint against the proximity of a blast like it’s a dust storm.

Avengers: Endgame was a three-hour movie that felt like forty minutes. King of the Monsters is a two-hour and twelve-minute movie that feels like seven and a half hours. There are some exciting sequences to be sure – but if those scenes were oxygen, you’d suffocate by the time the film lurches to an end. Mothra has been nicely redesigned, looking way more believable than its cinematic forbearer. King Ghidorah is fantastic, and genuinely freaky and terrifying. The monster scenes are well executed, they’re just not particularly inventive or awe-inspiring. There’s a curious detachment to the destruction that numbs the audience. The blame has to go to Dougherty and co-writer Zach Shields, who went with a script that feels lifeless and dialogue that sounds like reading a weather report.

Jordan Vogt-Roberts’ Kong: Skull Island was deliriously more entertaining and fun. We’re getting another chapter in this “shared universe” saga in 2020, with Adam Wingard’s Godzilla vs. Kong. Let’s hope that next installment’s more Skull Island than Godzilla, at this point. It’s clear that director Dougherty has great affection for Ghidorah, Godzilla and the rest. It just seems that he didn’t know how to craft a satisfying story around that reverence, which is a shame, because these actors – and the audience – deserved much better.