The sequel to Gareth Edwards' "Godzilla '14" steals its name from the U.S. '56 edit of "Gojira", but if the truth be known, this new flick is more a quasi-remake of 1964's "Ghidrah, the Three-Headed Monster" ("Three Giant Monsters: Earth's Greatest Battle"), '65's "Monster Zero" ("Invasion of the Astro-Monster") and 69's "Destroy All Monsters" ("March of the Attacking Monsters").
The 2019 variant comes from director Michael "Krampus" Dougherty, whose retelling, per a script co-written with Zach Shields, touches as much on sweetened, human negotiation (i.e., lots of Monarch Company hot air) as blurred-out, battling behemoths.
There's loads of feminine overflow, as well. Though that's not altogether displeasing, it too often distracts from its colossal beasts, more so than the humans ever dared in "Godzilla '14", where there was at least some symbolic symbiosis.
As a '60s Toho knock-off, "King of the Monsters'" set-up is familiar, with the multi-headed terror manifesting from the celestial mist (or in this case, the ice) to zap the world to bits, as various other Titans (as they're now commonly called) join in. Godzilla, Rodan and Mothra emerge in the forefront to deal with Ghidorah, aka Monster Zero, each in his/her own way. On occasion, they get a little help from their little, human friends. Why not? The Titans and humankind play for the same team, plus or minus a philosophical discrepancy here and there.
To bring the epic to life, the CGI gets pretty heavy-handed, though is preferable to the clunky interpretations that blemished the Toho '70s run. (Some would argue that such was the case even in the '60s, but I detect enough care invested into that period's puppeteered costumes to give the economical angle a deserved pass.) On the other hand, CGI is a swift substitute for stop-motion. I do believe that Ghidorah would have benefited from a meticulous, classic approach. (Think along the lines of "Jason and the Argonaut'"s hydra.)
Rodan, in my opinion, is the most fascinating of the film's gigantic stars. Though prior Rodans were for the most part intimidating, this new one projects a formidable semblance unlike any predecessor: a nightmarish, flying demon, even if the entity's presence has virtuous potential when all is said and done. (Sad thing is, as awesome as Rodan appears in this retelling, he won't get a solo outta it; that'll go to sweetie-pie Mothra for sure. Bloody blah.)
Again, the film's drawback is its matriarchal stance and the chatty softness that coincides with it. I do dig "Stranger Things'"s Millie Bobby Brown and "Bates Motel'"s Vera Farminga, who get thrown into the focused-character gist. However, what good are competent actors if planted without purpose, or if that purpose does exist, it's for a concealed, PC (let-that-pretty-moth-rise) cause. (I must confess that I did fancy Zhang "The Grandmaster" Ziyi, who brings beauty and logic to the proceedings; it's just that there wasn't enough of her.)
Kyle "Kong '05" Chandler; Ken "Batman Begins" Wantanabe; David "The Spiderwick Chronicles" Strathairn; Thomas "Replicas" Middleditch; Bradley "The West Wing" Whiteford and Charles "Phantom of the Opera '90" Dance (looking more Peter Cushing-ish than ever before) are there for us guys to identify (and butt heads) with, but though commanding, their development is stilted by heaps of gobbledygook. That in turn hampers the film's required toughness. Playing it nice and verbose may be fine and dandy for real life, but for a movie of this cataclysmic caliber, two-fisted, bone-crushing intensity should have run high--real high--and on all subplotted levels. (For the record, the film offers one moment of moving sacrifice, a clever twist on the climax of "Godzilla '54", but it's too late in the game to make everything okay.)
If the plan was to lift from "Ghidrah/Monster Zero/Destroy", those films should have been "Godzilla '19'"s lasting foundation and not mere nods. With garrulous padding anchoring its premise, "King of the Monsters" develops like a half-baked "Rampage": the latter a superior, giant-monster rally, if only due to its shameless, building-breaking melees and brawny, get-it-done hero.
(If I may digress, I do hope that for the sake of "Godzilla vs Kong", the "Rampage" blueprint is matched. If not, I've a gnawing hunch that we could see even more babble and no-do than this time round. Hey, that's just the way things roll these donnish days.)
With that said, I don't need a giant-monster flick to help me tap into my feminine side, my diplomatic side, my side that wants to talk and talk and talk while others do the work, even if they are monsters. Sorry if that offends certain sensitive factions, but I don't think I'm alone in that view. Too bad the makers of "Godzilla '19" snubbed those of my adamant ilk.
On the other hand, why get all flustered? To balance things out, there must be a Dwayne Johnson/Jason Statham team-up on the horizon, where the duo combats Strawberry Shortcake and Rainbow Brite in a battle to the death, right?
Your queue of movies is beyond remarkable. The westerns alone (including those of the adventurous Red Ryder, aka Wild Bill Elliott) will make one's head spin.
There's "California Gold Rush"; "Tucsan Raiders"; "Stagecoach to Denver"; "Marshal of Laredo"; "Sheriff of Las Vegas"; "Sheriff of Redwood Valley"; "Cheyenne Wildcat"; "Conquest of Cheyenne"; "Vigilantes of Boomtown"; "The Fighting Redhead"; "Firebrands of Arizona"; "Code of the Prairie"; "Silver City Kid"; "Bandits of the Badlands"; "Rough Riders of Cheyenne"; "Dead Man's Gold"; "Frontier Revenge"; "The Back Lash"; "The Phantom Rider"; "Son of Zorro"; "Trail to San Antoine"; "Alias, Billy the Kid"; "Gun Street"; "Silver City Kid"; "Rustlers of Devil's Canyon": "Wells Fargo"; "Utah"; "Oregon Trail"; Stagecoach to Monterey"; "Cody of the Pony Express"; "Red River Renegades"; "Days of Buffalo Bill"; "Tex Granger"; "The Way West"...to name but a few.
You also had a prolific, television career, covering "Gunsmoke"; "The Cisco Kid"; "The Gene Autry Show"; "The Roy Rogers Show"; "Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok"; "Have Gun--Will Travel"; "The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp"; "Hondo"; "Pony Express"; "The Rebel (Johnny Yuma)"; "Daniel Boone"; "Twilight Zone"; "The Fugitive"; "Peter Gunn"; "The Millionaire"; "The Mod Squad"; "Lassie"; "Ironside"; "Baretta"; "Quincy"; "Seinfeld"; "Taxi"...plus many more.
In the realm of horror, action and related adventure, you graced "The Vampire's Ghost"; "Tiger Woman"; "Girls in Chains"; "The Stranger"; "Beyond Evil"; "Fall of the House of Usher '79"; "Terror in the Wax Museum"; "Invisible Informer"; "The Animals"; "The Clown and the Kid"; "Bobbie Joe and the Outlaw"; "When the Clock Strikes"; "Pickup on 101"; "Black Oak Conspiracy"...and The Adventures of Nellie Bly".
One could never downplay your contributions to cinema and its plentiful genres. You did it all, and what you did will be remembered with utmost awe, veneration and above all, enduring love.
DC Larson is one of my favorite authors: a connoisseur of classic movies and television shows. He knows what makes them tick (why the newer stuff often falls short), which makes his reflections the most accurate homages.
Larson's latest anthology is "Movie Palace Evening". Its contents create an old-time, Bijou-movie experience. That means he establishes an atmosphere of consistent, nostalgic fun, covering comedy, scares and rollicking thrills: the ingredients that once made movie-going a major highlight of any night, afternoon or weekend.
He introduces us to the Bijou world through a nifty, golly-gee short called "Two Scoops for Tubby Barvin", where an ice-cream lovin' lad is carried away by the titular, space-age reporter's engrossing broadcast. The fictional transmission becomes ever more consuming as young J. Cecil listens with growing intent, to the point where Barvin's details adapt exciting, three-dimensional sustenance. Ah, the uplifting power of old-time radio, not to mention big-screen shorts...
To further warm one's chair, Larson follows the tasty "Two Scoops" with a crafty detective tale, "Cosmo Jones Nabs the Vaudeville Strangler". In this story, the shrewd Professor Jones interrogates stage suspects to reveal the killer of the Seer of Decopolis. Jones' process of elimination allows Larson to spotlight the story's quirky performers and their splashy specialties, giving this mystery not only a mini-movie panache, but a glimpse into those gutsy stage-show personas who once populated towns. An excellent romp that teems of gleeful tension and seasoned, pop-cultural know-how...
"Cosmo" is joined by the fanciful co-feature, "Pennsylvania Avenue Capers", hosted and influenced by (hold onto your seat) White House ghosts! The "Canterville"-feeling story dispatches ample pomp and circumstance, frivolous and superfluous debate to make one's head spin, though in the best possible way. (Breakfast menus and house redecorating for any new Pres and First Lady are paramount, especially when whispering spirits are near.) Larson proves with "Pennsylvania" that he can kick it with the best satirists, though who dares to engage in clever, ghostly comedies these days? Larson--that's who! (Give that man a cigar!)
Next in line is "Movie Palace'"s headliner, "The Beleaguered Reascendence of Conrad Mayflower": a moving tale where the eponymous thespian (cut from the same cloth as John Barrymore/Douglas Fairbanks) gains a chance for cinematic resurgence through an ambitious, low-rent production called "Center of Gravity".
Mayflower's questionable circumstance brings to mind "Dinner at Eight" and "The Trouble with Templeton", at the same time giving readers a swell slice of behind-the-scenes history that never occurred, but thrives with starry sophistication per every page turn. A literary, it-shoulda-been-a-movie gem, if ever there was one...
Larson's euphoric endeavors will leave one exiting his imaginary odeum with pep in one's step and no doubt yearning to check out a few favorites on TCM.
If one can't get enough of the sweet tidbits of the past, check out Larson's fruitful work. The sentiment beckons at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07S9T9JTZ.
Rock Baker's Cartoon Cuties #1 is now available from InDellible Comics. Baker's lovely creations are always in demand, and this new entry has been gaining exceptional attention, based on the teasers the artist/storyteller has shared.
With Cartoon Cuties, the prime characters are designed with ample anthropomorphism, but even with their forest-creature attributes, they exhibit physical, "human" appeal: Think along the lines of Disney/Warner Bros cartoons meet Benny Hill, but even that doesn't do justice to Baker's unique, crossover enticement.
The comic's premise revolves around Creek Bend, which houses a toon studio (C.B. International Pictures), where its inhabitants (often referred to as "Annies") interact with human stars. In many ways, Creek Bend is a veritable, Hollywood counterpart, but (I dare say) much more talented and fun by comparison.
The stand-out character is Crissy Carrots, a pretty, bikini-clad, bipedal bunny. There's also her shapely, mousy pal, Daisy Poise, a cutie of equal stature. (In fact, she's a sort of Bettie Page/Marilyn Monroe equivalent.) Minerva Mallen is a major honey-and-a-half, as well: without question, the sexiest skunk I've ever encountered.
Then there's Roger Ralphwitt, a sorrowful wolf whose amorous intent gets him into loads of trouble. Pepe Le Pew move over... (Say, maybe ol' Roger should give Minerva a whirl!)
Baker's panels are a joy to behold, brushing vaudevillian cheer with pin-up vivacity. Jim Ludwig does an excellent job with the coloring and lettering, embedding a vibrant flair that recalls Dell, Gold Key and Harvey Comics.
In addition, #1's stories present adventurous engagement. However, it's not the "Watership Down" or "Lord of the Rings" kind, where catastrophic contention intervenes. Instead, Baker establishes a breezy yet basic, mature mythology upon which he can (and will) expand. (Portions of Issue #1 reminded me, in fact, of classic Archie Comics.)
I'm quite confident that Cartoon Cuties will appeal to all readers. (From what Baker conveys, #2 and #3 will be just as great. Can't wait!!!)
Purchase your copy of Cartoon Cuties #1 at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/194983011X/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_image_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1.
Michael Ferentino has re-entered the episodic domain with a new Bedtime for Robots sojourn, packaged by virtue of Mid-Sunday Midnight Movies Presents.
"Exquisite Machines" kicks off its first episode with an explosion of colorful images and electronic sound, culled from Bedtime for Robots' past, present and future.
Within its twenty-minute expanse, the connecting samples blend and flow like a tribal waltz captured within a lava lamp or a hefty, industrial craft set upon a rash river, splashing through places deemed forbidden. There's also a welcome heaping of hymn-like, homespun sentiment, followed by Bedtime for Robot's latest: a boffo tribute to the '53 classic, "Robot Monster".
The collective aura is as absorbing as any hypnotic, self-help tutorial jammed on YouTube, but more open-ended, allowing the viewer/listener to create his/her own vast, expressive formula. This installment is not, therefore, merely a companion piece to Ferentino's previous series, "After Hours", but a Rorschach variant of "Twilight Zone" and "Night Gallery", where any number of dark, blazing, infantile and mature concepts can spring: One fashions the stories and then customizes one's emotions to accompany them. (The results depend on one's mindset, what resides in one's heart and soul: everything that defines Bedtime for Robots.)
I'm grateful that Ferentino has given fans this specialized edition. May there be many more to come.
Experience Episode #1 at
https://www.facebook.com/mferentino/videos/10157335176027138/.
A crossing of genres can be tricky. When it comes to speculative fiction, there's some reasonable room for overlap. M. Night Shyamalan proved this, and now producer James "Guardians of the Galaxy" Gunn has accepted the challenge, joined by co-producer Kenneth Huang and "Hive'"s deft director, David Yarovesky, for the creepy, supervillain knockoff, "Brightburn".
"Brightburn" is also a collaboration with Gunn's brothers Brian and Mark, who wrote the underrated "Journey 2: the Mysterious Island". In this case, the siblings' script turns the Man of Steel mythos upside down: A boy (Jackson A. Dunn) crashes in Kansas via a spacecraft and is taken in by sympathetic parents, Tori and Kyle Breyer (Elizabeth Banks and David Denman). The couple name the orphan Brandon (in a nod to Routh, perhaps?), treat him like a prince, but things twist when the lad starts exhibiting peculiar powers, like chewing silverware, crushing a little girl's hand and then there's those eyes, bright and burning.
Despite his unique nature, young Breyer initially assimilates, before getting bullied (well, it's more like come-and-go teasing) and from there decides to toss caution to the wind: murdering anyone who stands in this way and if world conquest should await, so be it.
The boy's guardians panic over the evil they've harbored, even though their intent was nothing but selfless and good. Thanks to Yarovesky's taunt direction, these guilt-ridden folks become the film's most empathetic element. We experience the mad ordeal through their eyes...feel their pain. Like them, we only wish we could turn away, but of course, with a tale this morbid, our curiosity keeps us glued.
Brightburn, the boy's implied alias (culled from his initials and evident traits), is a harbinger invader in a "War of the Worlds" retelling or better yet, a reintroduction to "Twilight Zone'"s Anthony Fremont: a new-age conjurer of weird and frightful stuff who slips on a cape to wreck havoc. One could also consider this fable a variant of "The Omen", wherein an ersatz Damien Thorn opts for a fast, flashy rise. (Why seek the Presidency when one can all the quicker portray General Zod?) No matter how one spins it, there's no super antithesis to thwart the hateful youth, so the best anyone can do is evade his wrath, but considering his vast powers, how is that possible?
This makes "Brightburn" not so much an ironic, comic-book derivative, but an all-out horror flick. It also makes Breyer unworthy of sympathy. I don't care what the know-it-all sociologists and shrinks say: If one is persecuted and yet feels compelled to persecute others, one is as bad as those who initiated the vile process--no, worse. Breyer isn't Carrie White, whose rage runs rampant on a particular, blood-splattered night. He isn't the spurned Frankenstein Monster, murdering in confusion and lamenting it later. He isn't Magneto or Bane, out to purge some ill-perceived plague for the betterment of all. This kid is driven to kill for the sheer, sadistic sake of it.
"Brightburn" is also an apocalyptic analysis of society's worst traits, disguised as something alien. The message behind the symbolism is as obvious as Hell (pun intended), and all the more disturbing because of it.
Considering the recent accusations aimed at James Gunn (monstrous, unforgivable stuff if it's for real), one must wonder if "Brightburn" might not be the filmmaker's confessional vessel, where child contempt is the allegorical novelty. (I sure hope not.) Maybe "Brightburn" is a swipe at the DC competition or action-figure icons in general. You got me, but there's no denying that it captures life's darkest, cruelest fantasies, flaunting them for all they're worth.
Brightburn is Satan incarnate, in addition to our collective, all-mighty Hyde unleashed. We raised and/or turned a blind eye to this little bastard during the "decline of truth and justice in the modern world", making him what he is. Now we must choke on the smoldering remnants of his reign.
