Godzilla

You’d have to wonder whether Gareth Edwards feels like he’s peaked too soon. After all, for a man whose only other feature was a critically-acclaimed, visually stunning low-budget indie film called Monsters, landing the helmer’s position on the blockbuster reimagining of Godzilla is like catching your white whale while still practising fishing in the kiddie’s paddling pool. And the director makes easy work of this monster sci-fi flick, elevating the cerebrally flat-lining material with striking visuals and an entertainingly ‘90s approach to tension, suspense and thrills.
From the opening credit sequence of war footage, atomic bombs and redacted government documents, Edwards combines paranoia-laced war thrillers of the ‘70s with that era’s own monster, Jaws. Keeping the titular creature hidden for over an hour, Evans sets his stage with the staple Chekhov’s guns of a Japan-based conspiracy theory, an emotional tragedy and mysterious supporting monsters with an appetite for radiation and a desire to generally wreck the gaff.
Bryan Cranston’s emotional performance as a bereaved nuclear engineer obsessed with uncovering the truth behind a long-forgotten disaster makes for an engaging first-half, but just as Cranston’s role is over-taken by vapid, youth market-courting beefcake Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the story gives way to well-constructed but cornea-straining imagery.
As tsunamis rage, pods hatch and nightmarish monsters emerge roaring from the deep, Edwards’ visuals are striking and suitably ostentatious – though any actual message is crushed underfoot. Unlike the original’s socio-political commentary, Edwards’ Godzilla is merely a Pacific Rim-style justification for collateral damage, as long as the monsters and explosions are big enough.
And we all know those types of films never have mass appeal. Ahem.