It’d been a while, but it happened for the first time since Peter Jackson’s King Kong: I fell asleep in the cinema. During the epic climax of the movie, no less.
Victim this time: Godzilla.
I wonder what it is about Monster movies that makes me drift off. Is it the vibrating bass in the monsters’ epic shrieks? Or maybe it’s the spastically moving CG-camera that rocks me to sleep? Or perhaps it’s the unbelievably stupid characters and dialogue?
Nah, it’s just me getting old.
(In all seriousness: Godzilla was quite okay. The plot was good enough, the dialogues were terrible – not even Bryan Cranston could save them – but nobody cared, and I loved the design for the epic monster: bulky, bearlike, almost hugable – until it shoots lasers from its mouth. Yet most importantly, Godzilla respected the ground rule of monster movies that made Cloverfield legendary to me: Size only matters in comparison. In every menacing monster money shot, there was a crane, a skyscraper or a huge bunch of people to show how massive this dude really is. Awesome. Now if only they’d use this logic for their characters: “Drama is only big in comparison.” The movie is filled with bulky army dudes with no real conflict other than a bighuge lizard stepping on their stuff – where’re the normal people, other than the one relatable dude that dies after twenty minutes?)