Film Review: Godzilla (2014)

It’s common knowledge that Godzilla was originally born out of fear for all things nuclear. Released by the Toho Company in 1954, the giant lizard’s first appearance was a not-so-restrained, but perfectly legal, combination of fear and loathing against an American imposed media embargo that banned any criticism against the Allies or indeed the bombings themselves. So it’s unsurprising that American productions of Godzilla have never been any good. That is at least, until now. 

Sixty years old and Japan’s most famous son has gone on to become a worldwide cult smash. Featuring in 28 Toho films, the 350 ft. tall reptile has inspired a whole genre of ludicrous creature features, thanks in particular to low budget, B-Movie aesthetics. Ironic then that the biggest blip on Godzilla’s career is the $130 million, American produced film by Roland Emmerich back in 1998. 

No pressure then for Gareth Edwards, the director behind the west’s second attempt to wrestle Godzilla onto American soil. Thankfully, the British filmmaker is no stranger to creating monsters of his own. His post-modern, ultra-cheap, and low key Monsters, released in 2010, was a compelling character driven drama set in the aftermath of an alien invasion. 

The legacy of Godzilla has been retooled to fit in with modern times. The plot seems to tie the first Gojira to this new version, with obviously some degree of ret-conning. The hangover of World War II still lingers, particularly in the film’s black-ops styled opening credits, but there’s a shift in politics to give this a much more contemporised feel. 

The opening act of the film harks back to events as recent as the 2011 Fukushima nuclear meltdown. Shifting the blame from human error to natural disaster becomes a recurring theme in the film, and certain scenes become reminiscent of very real catastrophes, such as Hurricane Katrina and the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami. The apocalypse will come on Mother Nature’s terms, not humankind’s and wherever the story takes us, it seems like the end of the world isn't too far behind. 

The cast also provides some much needed human perspective on the monstrous rampage. Aaron Taylor-Johnson plays an American soldier caught amidst the chaos as he tries to get home to his wife, played by Elizabeth Olsen. The Kick-Ass actor’s performance is rather flat throughout, but as fates conspire to keep him apart from his family, you can’t help but get a little choked up.

Out of all the cast, however, it’s Bryan Cranston who stands the tallest, even perhaps towering over Godzilla’s. As the father to Taylor-Johnson’s character, he is transformed from nuclear physicist to conspiracy nut in the gut-wrenching, albeit predictable opening prologue. It sets up themes of complete family units for the human characters, giving them an extra dimension beyond that of simply gawking and pointing as the destruction unfolds. 

But don’t dig too deeply into the subtext of Godzilla. “Let them fight,” Ken Watanabe’s scientist character advises as the US Navy run out of options. Big monsters’ fighting is what it’s all about and when it comes to the final act of the film, it’s a no holds barred brawl fest. In the style of Jaws, Edwards employs smoke and mirrors for the majority of the film, treating us to just occasional glimpses of Godzilla’s most recognizable body parts. 

One particular scene involving a HALO (High-altitude-low-opening) gives the human characters a special effects extravaganza of their own. As they fall back to Earth, followed by a trail of red smoke, it’s like they are plummeting into the fiery depths of Hell, and it’s only then to we get a true sense of Godzilla’s impossible height. It also makes for one of the most breath-taking set-pieces to appear in film this year. 

His appearance is finally unveiled to be much more consistent with that of the Toho originals, rather than the Jurassic Park leftovers from the 1998 film. He even comes complete with his trademark nuclear breath, all powered by state-of-the-art, visually stunning special effects. It makes seeing the finished result all the worthwhile, even if it does mean less room for fighting and destruction than we’d have liked in the film’s two hour running time – perhaps the film’s biggest let down. 

The tone and action of the film can obviously compared to the likes of Jaws and Jurassic Park, but there are also few nodding references to sci-fi master classes such as Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Alien thrown into the mix. Edwards’ respect for the Toho legacy seems to work well with his heritage in Hollywood cinema. A combination of science-fiction, action and all-out disaster movie makes for not just the best American version of Godzilla to date, but perhaps the biggest, loudest, proper summer blockbuster this year.

MCM Comic Con Belfast Preview - Don't Deny Convention

Walking into a convention is both an overwhelming and mesmerising experience. I’ve seen grownups run around like little kids in a toy shop, trying to cram in every attraction available. I’ve seen people who normally wear a shirt and tie to the office casually dress up like Batman, Wolverine or Spock. But above all that, I’ve seen an unadulterated celebration of all things pop culture, where people can enjoy their hobbies together without fear or ridicule. 

This year, Belfast will get its first taste of the MCM Comic Con, as one of the top organisers of comic conventions in the UK sets up shop in the King’s Hall on the 07 - 08 June. It’s been a long time coming, especially for the hundreds of fans who normally would have to trek to Dublin for such an experience. 

To dismiss an event like this on the premise that it’s for the ‘geeky’ or ‘nerdy’ is just plain ignorant. Too often are people pigeon-holed for being particularly passionate about comic books, computer games and cult television. Ifthe Amazing Spider-Man 2 tops the box-office and Game of Thrones is the world’s most watched television show, it’s clear that on some level these unique facets of pop culture appeal to us all. 

I grew up on a steady diet of Red Dwarf and it is, was and always will be one of my favourite television shows. Created by Doug Naylor and Rob Grant back in 1988, the character driven comedy developed a cult following thanks to its hilariously unforgettable grungy sci-fi universe, filled with smegheads, simulants and space core directives.

So when I heard that Chris Barrie, Robert Llewelleyn and Hattie Hayridge, who play Rimmer, Kryten and Hollie respectively on the show, would be the special guests at Belfast’s inaugural MCM Comic Con, I admittedly and unashamedly got rather excited. 

Having met Craig Charles earlier this year (albeit briefly) at Belfast’s Aether and Echo, the prospect of meeting the rest of the people from the Dwarf could make my year. 

These conventions aren’t just about the special guests however. Writing about retro games for a number of my Itchy Fingers articles often makes me wish I had kept some of my old consoles. Thankfully, I’ll be able to indulge in a little nostalgia, with an area dedicated to retro gaming, arcade machines and pinball also available to ticket holders. Let’s hope they have the original Street Fighter II on offer.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a comic convention without comics. Whether you’re an avid fan of Marvel or DC, you’ll be glad to hear that there’s a whole village dedicated to the more literary medium. Special guests include artists such as Simon Bisley, Glenn Fabry and Belfast’s very own John McCrea who between them have illustrated some the biggest books in the industry, such as Judge Dredd, Batman, Preacher, and beyond. For those looking to break into the comics business, these are the people to talk to as many of them once stood in your shoes. 

Don’t let preconceptions get in the way. Conventions like this are meant to inspire and nurture our passion for pop culture. Even if your Darth Vader costume is away at the dry cleaners, it doesn’t mean you should miss the event. For one weekend in June, the King’s Hall will be transformed into what looks like a page from a comic strip and I for one hope that a scene as colourful as that will become an annual occurrence in this city.

http://www.mcmcomiccon.com/belfast/

Originally published in The Big List Issue #247

Film Review: Frank

How to describe Frank? That’s the quandary facing Lenny Abrahamson’s pseudo pop-flick that reaches for the far corners of offbeat black comedy. An exploration into the mental processes of the avant-garde musician, the film is inspired by memoirs of Jon Ronson, a writer and journalist who for a period in his life played keyboards for the late Frank Sidebottom.

Unmistakable for his nasal Mancunian accent, leftfield cabaret routine and of course wearing an oversized, doe-eyed papier-mâché head, Sidebottom was the bizarre alter-ego of the late Chris Sievey. Now the mantle has passed to Michael Fassbender, and while the film isn’t a biopic of Sidebottom or Sievey, it certainly doesn’t lack any of the entertainer’s anarchic spirit. 

Domnhall Gleeson steps into Ronson’s shoes as Jon, a young keyboard player with a dream of reaching stardom, but sapped of his creative drive by the monotony of his 9-to-5 job. However, all it takes is a chance meeting with the dysfunctionally experimental rock band Soronprfb and his life his changed forever. 

"Can you play C, F and G?” seems to be the only experience necessary and it isn’t long before Jon finds himself on stage alongside Soronprfb, witnessing first-hand the eccentricities of the band’s leader, Frank. Despite protests from the other members of the band, spearheaded by the delightfully wicked theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal), Jon is invited to become the full-time keyboard player, taking him on a journey from Wicklow to Texas, as he wonders all the while what goes on inside the head inside THAT head.

Throughout the film Jon captures his experience and shares it with the world through social media. The band’s bizarre approach to finding their perfect sound is posted on Youtube, propelling them into somewhat hipstery, cult stardom while Jon finds himself a celebrity in his own right, questioning the methodology of Frank and criticizing the intentions of his fellow band-mates via Twitter, posting on screen for the audience to read.

Jon’s approach to finding fame and fortune seems to satire the music industry today. He seizes the oddity of Frank as a scheme to propel himself into the spotlight, putting gimmickry and publicity before the music itself. It’s a path that so many take, choosing to bypass creative process in favour of getting those precious fifteen minutes of fame. 

Ironically, Frank subverts all that. “He’s 100% the sanest cat I’ve ever met,” band manager Don (Scoot McNairy) tells Jon. It’s a hard truth to take at first, particularly amidst the wacky hijinks that apparently inspire Frank to write music. Some have compared the Frank story to that of other musical lunatics such as Captain Beefheart or Syd Barrett, with this incarnation of Frank acting as a poster boy for avant-garde musicians. 

But whether he’s recording sound bites from Mother Nature or singing about a little tuft of stray wool, you realize there’s innocence and purity in his music. When the band finally does record a song, it’s one of mesmerizing mayhem and enthralling anarchy, and a far cry from the ukelele parodies of Smiths and Queen singles. 

Absurdity gives way to tragedy in the film’s final act and it’s at that point you remember that there’s a truth buried somewhere in this yarn. Behind the fantasy of fame, fortune and facades masks a story about mental illness. The cartoonish head is a shield, protecting a somewhat fractured personality rather than a gimmick to propel him into the limelight. 

He comedically describes his facial expressions verbally. But just like the Mona Lisa, the head is expressionally ambiguous, eerily still providing a seemingly emotional response without moving a muscle. It’s just another weird and magical twist in this already bizarre tale. 

Ronson’s memoir can only take us so far, and the film builds upon the legend of Frank Sidebottom in order to breathe new life into a papier-mâché icon. Whimsical, sharp, funny and sweet, there’s definitely a method to Frank’s madness, and by not going down the straight-up biopic route, the film sticks to the anarchic, chaotic, alternative scheming that both Sidebottom and Sievey would have been proud of.

Film Review: Brick Mansions

Shifting the action from a Parisian banlieue to a Detroit ghetto, Brick Mansions is a typically uninspired, unnecessary remake of the superior foreign language film, District 13. Yet, unlike other stuffy American bastardisations such as Spike Lee’s recent take on Oldboy, there’s a fitting sentimentality to the sheer unapologetically absurd nature of what would be the late Paul Walker’s final finished film.

Much of the action takes place inside a walled ghetto, abandoned by the United States government, overrun with drugs and now controlled by gangsters. When the criminal kingpin manages to get his hands on dangerous device (because “bomb has such negative connotations” apparently), it’s up to (surprise, surprise) hero-cop-who-just-happens-to-hold-a-grudge Damien Coullier (Paul Walker) to go undercover and put a stop to the district’s Kingpin before the the city of Detroit is held to ransom. 

Returning from the original film is David Belle, the man who is considered to be the creator of the parkour movement. In a role identical to the original, he plays Lino, a Robin Hood type character who goes up against the over-the-top mobsters types with his impressive free-running moves partnered with his equally unimpressive acting skills. It’s the exact same role he played from District 13 so you think he’d have been able to build on that, ten years down the line. 

Walker is in familiar territory as the almost squeaky clean undercover cop who always gets results. Mansions will never be considered the actor’s swan song, and even though he phones the performance in, there is sense of nostalgia to this role, sandwiched somewhere between a disjointed plot and boring action sequences.

It’s quite late in the film before Walker is paired up with Belle, so their relationship isn’t allowed to develop into anything like the Lethal Weapon level of buddy cop dynamics, save for a few very flat choreographed sequences or Belle’s condescending wind-ups aimed at Walker’s lack of free-running skills. 

Rounding off the cast is Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA as the crimelord in control of Brick Mansions. Spouting off all the nonsensical, stereotypical rhetoric you’d come to expect from a baddie, RZA delivers these lines with such little menace that he ends up playing second fiddle to his much more cartoony, two-dimensional cavalcade of henchmen. 

The plot begins to crumble around the half way mark of the film, but it is when it tries to make some sort of sociopolitical statement that it gets demolished completely. Characterization goes right out the window, rendering much of the film’s build up or backstory null and void right around the time all character arcs should reach a satisfying close. 

But of course, Brick Mansions was never meant to be a lesson in pathos. Scripted by Luc Besson, District 13 was also little shaky when it came to the plot, but the French action thriller certainly made up for it with its breath-taking chase sequences centered around the discipline of parkour. 

Brick Mansions puts its money on the star power of Walker instead of using the one strength it had over other run-of-the-mill action films. We even get Fast and the Furious inspired car-chases thrown in for good measure, but no matter how much nitrous oxide is in the tank, it doesn’t quite reach the adrenaline pumping heights of the film’s strangely few free running sequences. It almost seems pointless to have put David Belle in this movie at all as his talents are wasted. 

The fist fights are also incredibly incoherent thanks to poor, out-of-sync editing, with many of the punches that land conveniently being covered by sweeping jackets, shaky cams or unconvincing cinematography. What makes it even more disappointing is that the film’s director, Camille Delamarre is editorial graduate of similar macho action flicks including Taken 2 and Transporter 3, so one would think that would have been the one sucker punch the film would have been able to deliver. 

So let’s call a spade a spade, and call out Brick Mansions for what it is – a terrible action film that would have probably went straight-to-DVD, if it weren’t for Paul Walker’s tragic death in 2013. 

Let down by poor acting and a disappointing approach to the action, the one saving grace is that by the end, you realize that the film has been reveling in its own absurdity the whole time. It’s enough to provoke a few laughs, but you can’t shake that feeling that you’re not laughing with it, but at it.