When I sat in the theater watching “Jurassic Park: The Lost World,” there was a scene where a T-Rex gets loose in New York City and starts rampaging all over the place, and I, like so many others, no doubt, had a revelation. No, not that I shouldn’t have gone to the movies to watch “The Lost World,” but that it was just a matter of time before they made another “Godzilla” movie. And in 1998, our worst fears came to pass.
I didn’t go see it, though, and the reviewers ripped it apart. It was one of those times I decided to listen to the critics. Time passed, though, and with the passage of time comes two things: forgetfulness and in some cases, dementia.
In 2003, I met a girl who had “Godzilla” on DVD. She said it wasn’t as bad as everyone said, but I didn’t believe her. I borrowed it from her because I wanted to see just how bad the movie was. I mean, this was a failure of “Waterworld” proportions. The summer of 1998 had “Godzilla” plastered everywhere. There were fast food tie-ins, soft drink promotions, video games, even toys. None of it sold and “Godzilla” became the poster child for summer blockbuster excess.
I started to watch that movie after 30 minutes, I was already doing something else, with absolutely no memory of what I had seen, but I never gave the movie back, because I forgot. Then, came a fateful night in 2007, when my dementia kicked in and I made myself watch the entire movie. What follows is the recollection of my horrible, horrible decision.
In thirty minutes, you should be able to tell if the movie you’re watching is going to suck. Except for “Transformers,” which despite a really good first hour, provided me with two blogs worth of material, every movie pretty much fits into that. After 30 minutes with “Godzilla,” it was pretty easy to see why it flopped. The movie purposely opens in the South Pacific for one reason and one reason only: So they could have an Asian man says “Gojira” on camera.
But besides making fun of the way Asian people talk, this movie was goddamn boring. There’s no other way to say it. I don’t know where moviemakers get the idea that we’d rather see regular humans and government interworkings instead of iconic characters, but “Godzilla” showed Ang Lee and Michael Bay the path that they would later walk with “Hulk” and “Transformers.” And both of those movies were terrible.
For what felt like at least three hours, we got to watch the excitement of a nerd biologist researching a giant lizard and how it got pregnant. Along the way, we got to meet the mysterious Frenchman, the mayor of New York who’s trying to get re-elected, the military guy who’s stuck with the mayor, the governor of New York, the other military guy who’s actually on the ground, a news cameraman and his girlfriend, and an aspiring reporter who just happens to be the ex-girlfriend of the nerd biologist. What do any of these people have to do with a giant lizard rampaging through New York? Except for the nerd and the guy with the guns, not a damn thing.
Honestly, I think the screenwriters forgot what movie they were writing at times, because there were whole hours that went by where they weren’t even talking about the eminent threat to Manhattan and by proxy, life on Earth. I mean, there was a failed relationship to talk about, or the re-election campaign, or the how the ex-girlfriend keeps getting screwed over by her boss at the news station. These are pressing concerns, people! We can’t be bothered with the giant lizard that’s trying to kill us all.
I swear, I thought I was watching Transformers again. Are you sure Michael Bay didn’t direct this?
No, we have the creators of Independence Day to thank for this one. I know this because plastered above the title of the movie is the statement, “From the Creators of Independence Day.” Thanks for telling us that, Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich. Now, I know where to send the shit sandwich for letting this one get out, sucking harder than the virgin girl who’s dealing with her first ‘materhead. It was the sort of experience that makes old ladies drink and babies explode.
I can only imagine what it was like for the people who actually had to sit through this in the theater, because once you adjust for inflation, the people in 1998 would have paid at least $77 to watch this. At least the people who worked for Tri-Star back then were getting paid for this abuse. Which leads me to wonder…how much money would you accept to let someone kick you in the groin?
The special effects were good, and truthfully, I’ve got no problem with the way Godzilla looked, mainly because he wasn’t a robot Godzilla or a turtle with jets for legs or a giant moth. Clearly, there was no opium usage during the creative process. The short time that you got to see Godzilla actually rampaging through the city was pretty okay. Too bad there wasn’t more of it. But where the awe-inspiring moments left off, the ridiculous scenes took over. For instance…
The first time Godzilla comes into full view, he’s just breaking buildings, running all over the place, doing his thug thizzle. Then, he walks up on the nerd biologist (played by a “trying way too hard to be nerdy” Ferris Bueller), gets right up in his face, and just stares at him. And Ferris Bueller stares right back, with all the childlike wonder he can muster. In the background, the music from E.T. when he makes the bikes fly is playing. I swear it is. Now think about that for a second. The perfect killing machine is standing in front of you, wondering what you taste like, but the music is laying out a mood of magical wonder and jumping over the Army on your bike.
As stupid as that sounds, what’s stupider is…Godzilla just walks away. And what’s stupider than that is, the U.S. Army, who was standing right behind him, had to be told to fire on the giant lizard that just destroyed half the city. I guess they were waiting to see if Ferris Bueller and the lizard were going to share a touching kiss. And who would want to ruin the chance to see some “interspecies erotica?”
Godzilla goes running through the city, outruns the gunships that are firing all over the place, then hides somewhere in the city. I would ask how, but it might ruin the illusion of ridiculousness that this movie has worked so hard to create. Although, you probably should remember this scene of Godzilla running at least 150 miles an hour through Manhattan, because later on he’s unable to catch a cab that’s directly in front of him.
Nor could his babies catch the people that were on foot in front of them. Yes, Godzilla has babies. Much like Superman, Godzilla is apparently a “baby daddy.” And his babies are susceptible to Vaudevillian slapstick, because when the people are running from hundreds of mini-Zillas, they’re able to get away when Ferris Bueller pushes some basketballs and a gumball machine into their path. Dear God, Godzilla has given birth to the cast of a Hanna-Barbara cartoon. I think I saw that trick on “Jabber-Jaw.”
Of course, the lizards all die in the end, and the most incompetent military in history manages to get out of this mess without accidentally letting off their grenades in the truck or running over their feet with their tanks. But who was it who actually saved the day? The French guy. That’s right, New York got saved by a French guy. Sure, it was The Professional, but he’s still French. And we just can’t have that.
I’m sure most of you have gone through life not having seen this and I would just like to suggest that you keep doing what you’ve been doing. I have just laid my life and my sanity on the line to assure that you continue to do this. Never see this movie. If you have any respect for me at all, you’ll slap anyone across the face who owns this movie. Just do that for me. Now, I’m going to go throw up.
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