tomfry-10237
Joined Apr 2017
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tomfry-10237's rating
As the First Act of 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' came to a close, the thought settled in my mind that this sequel to 2014's 'Godzilla' if building on the intrigue and mystery of its First Act, with the splendour of titans clashing in a satisfying brawl, would certainly supersede its predecessor. However, as the plot plods along it becomes harrowingly clear to the audience clawing at the bit for the epic monster madness they've paid for, that they'll have to wait for the film to conclude before they can go home and pop on their copy of 'Pacific Rim'.
The premise of 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' is one you've heard a thousand times before. Giant monsters rise from the oceans, some with the intent to harm, some to protect, and these titans battle it out behind the backdrop of a boring human storyline which steals the majority of screen time. When it comes to Kaiju movies such as these there really is a clear expectation for what we as an audience expect. The conventions are clear cut: Grand scale, satisfying and creative creature design, an underlying theme of the self-destructive nature of mankind and most importantly colossal battles that make us feel small and the issues in our own lives inconsequential. However, Godzilla inherently fails at 3/4th's of these expectations through distorted and unclear lighting design highlighting a lack of control over the grandiose scale of such a film, which as a knock-on effect makes the battles we have paid to see barely intelligible 80% of the time.
The flaws in the script, initially, don't seem all that problematic, yet that may be as a result of the cast trying their very best to work with the weak material which initially at least holds the attention for some time. However, as the film develops it becomes the victim of what I would refer to as "Dramatic one-lineritus" in which it appears the crux of the film relies upon a dimly lit character looking just right of the camera and uttering something intended to be dramatic and daunting, yet in the context of the cheesy dialogue comes off as simply laughable. Unfortunately, these moments outshine the intended comedic moments as the funniest of the film. You don't care about any of the characters or dramatic stakes of the narrative by the long drawn out conclusion of the film as nothing here feels natural, it all feels like cliché melodramatic nonsense.
There is certainly a childish joy elicited from the image of forces superior in stature to ourselves throwing their weight to each other while the insect-like humans look on, yet even this often times just appears as unclear mass throwing itself together: there were too many times I couldn't even distinguish Godzilla from King Ghidora, giving me eerie flashbacks to Michael Bay's 'Transformers'. The looking on is the real problem with 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' as it feels as if the conflict, we have paid to see takes a backseat to the drama we've seen thousands of times before. Here's hoping Kong Vs. Godzilla rights the wrongs.
The premise of 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' is one you've heard a thousand times before. Giant monsters rise from the oceans, some with the intent to harm, some to protect, and these titans battle it out behind the backdrop of a boring human storyline which steals the majority of screen time. When it comes to Kaiju movies such as these there really is a clear expectation for what we as an audience expect. The conventions are clear cut: Grand scale, satisfying and creative creature design, an underlying theme of the self-destructive nature of mankind and most importantly colossal battles that make us feel small and the issues in our own lives inconsequential. However, Godzilla inherently fails at 3/4th's of these expectations through distorted and unclear lighting design highlighting a lack of control over the grandiose scale of such a film, which as a knock-on effect makes the battles we have paid to see barely intelligible 80% of the time.
The flaws in the script, initially, don't seem all that problematic, yet that may be as a result of the cast trying their very best to work with the weak material which initially at least holds the attention for some time. However, as the film develops it becomes the victim of what I would refer to as "Dramatic one-lineritus" in which it appears the crux of the film relies upon a dimly lit character looking just right of the camera and uttering something intended to be dramatic and daunting, yet in the context of the cheesy dialogue comes off as simply laughable. Unfortunately, these moments outshine the intended comedic moments as the funniest of the film. You don't care about any of the characters or dramatic stakes of the narrative by the long drawn out conclusion of the film as nothing here feels natural, it all feels like cliché melodramatic nonsense.
There is certainly a childish joy elicited from the image of forces superior in stature to ourselves throwing their weight to each other while the insect-like humans look on, yet even this often times just appears as unclear mass throwing itself together: there were too many times I couldn't even distinguish Godzilla from King Ghidora, giving me eerie flashbacks to Michael Bay's 'Transformers'. The looking on is the real problem with 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' as it feels as if the conflict, we have paid to see takes a backseat to the drama we've seen thousands of times before. Here's hoping Kong Vs. Godzilla rights the wrongs.
The collaborative child of Studio Ghibli with Dutch Director Michaël Dudok de Wit, The Red Turtle may be a leap away from the rest of Ghibli's filmography, yet It deserves it's place at the top with greats such as Spirited Away, My Neighbour Totoro and Princess Mononoke.
From the very first shot, the raw power in the style of the film is prevalent and instantaneously reels you in. It's magical: tender and soft in its landscapes, yet terrifyingly powerful in the prowess of the raging waves that leave our protagonist stranded on land.
Our unnamed main character wakes up on an isolated tropical island, surrounding by vast trees and various birds and beasts. Within minutes he has established all the island has to offer: one monotonous source of food, water to drink and, most harrowing, the gallons of water that act as his prison. Instantly trying to escape, he finds his raft destroyed by a mysterious red turtle.
This is all I will reveal in terms of narrative, as the true beauty of the film is in the wordless wonder of seeing the fantastical events of the film unfold, revelling in the raw power of the cinematic form in order to convey a profound message on nature, humanity and the mutually beneficial relationship between the two, if they can find a way to harmoniously, symbiotically act as one.
The unique selling point of the red turtle is the intrigue of seeing a feature length film held up by cinematography, music and the elegance of its photogenic animation. The absence of dialogue in the film is courageous and will certainly serve to alienate some. However those that stick with it will find a tender reflection on life and nature unlike anything else Ghibli has produced.
The Red Turtle is truly something special. Despite flaws in its pacing, this film is a tender reflection on the relationship between man and beast and the world that we live in. The Red Turtle reminds us of the beauty in the world that we call home.
From the very first shot, the raw power in the style of the film is prevalent and instantaneously reels you in. It's magical: tender and soft in its landscapes, yet terrifyingly powerful in the prowess of the raging waves that leave our protagonist stranded on land.
Our unnamed main character wakes up on an isolated tropical island, surrounding by vast trees and various birds and beasts. Within minutes he has established all the island has to offer: one monotonous source of food, water to drink and, most harrowing, the gallons of water that act as his prison. Instantly trying to escape, he finds his raft destroyed by a mysterious red turtle.
This is all I will reveal in terms of narrative, as the true beauty of the film is in the wordless wonder of seeing the fantastical events of the film unfold, revelling in the raw power of the cinematic form in order to convey a profound message on nature, humanity and the mutually beneficial relationship between the two, if they can find a way to harmoniously, symbiotically act as one.
The unique selling point of the red turtle is the intrigue of seeing a feature length film held up by cinematography, music and the elegance of its photogenic animation. The absence of dialogue in the film is courageous and will certainly serve to alienate some. However those that stick with it will find a tender reflection on life and nature unlike anything else Ghibli has produced.
The Red Turtle is truly something special. Despite flaws in its pacing, this film is a tender reflection on the relationship between man and beast and the world that we live in. The Red Turtle reminds us of the beauty in the world that we call home.
Hayao Miyazaki isn't a name synonymous with fantasy epics grand and aggressive such as the Lord of The Rings, yet in a pleasant twist of fate it appears as if the renowned director has yet another genre wrapped around his finger, intertwining a vast yet personal epic with a profound message for the younger viewer in 1997's 'Princess Mononoke'.
Suffering a cursed injury, Ashitaka, the last Emishi prince of the Emishi village, finds himself on a journey Westward bound to try and find a cure for his ever-worsening ailment. Along the way we meet a colourful cast of characters including the titular Princess Mononoke (San) and her band of wolves.
Venturing into the wild Ashitaka discovers a town destroying the land around them, the home of the wolves, in order to develop iron, growing exponentially in power and wealth. Should this trope sound familiar to you it would be for good reason. For many years the issue of defamation of the natural world for the prosperity of humanity has been a frequently touched upon issue, yet from the get-go the beauty in this film is in its initial reluctance, and then outright refusal to take a side.
The destructive mentality of the people of the ironworks is merely a community attempting to find its place in the world; they destroy to prevent themselves from being destroyed (as it is established clearly they are not the most powerful force in this world). They destroy in fear of being destroyed, in many ways a reflection of the aggressive animals they kill rather than a binary opposition. Following this train of thought, even the animals are not without fault. The forest is divided into tribes of different species, and amongst them it is clear that there is conflict. They bicker and fight all in a desperate bid to survive, much the reflection of ourselves.
This conflict is centralised through our connection to Ashitaka whom from the first scenes retains a clear reverence for nature, smiling and gazing in wonder at its otherworldly beauty. He acts as us, the everyman, looking on in horror as two worlds that he adores and is familiar with crash together In fire and blood, a desperate bid for survival where no survival is guaranteed. He fits his role very well and plays off San well also, however if I did have one flaw with the film it would be that: in earlier scenes he seems to develop a connection with San that is only apparent to them and doesn't translate to the audience very well (yet one could always argue that the reason for this is as what they represent thematically usurps what they represent in emotional connection.)
Speaking of fire and blood, this is by far one of the most unexpectedly violent Studio Ghibli films I have ever laid eyes on. From the first scene blood is abundant, limbs are lost and death reins over the land. However, unexpected as it threw me, out of place it was not. The violence perfectly reflects the theme previously mentioned; the disarray of the conflict at the centre of the film between the growth of industry and nature, senseless and heart-breaking.
This profound melancholy surrounding the theme yet contrasts itself with joyous human moments sprinkled throughout the film in romance, friendship etc. all heightened by a mesmerising score and Ghibli's signature rich vibrant visuals, which both make the world we're exploring feel full, truly living and breathing.
Princess Mononoke is a film which takes risks, hovering in-between the side of nature's right to rule and the roaring progress of industrialisation, yet never wavering in its resolve. It knows that the issue isn't black and white, with dynamic elements frequently affecting the actions of both man and beast, with violence resulting from confusion, and a sense of pensive grief hanging over the film. Through all this conflict, neither side overcomes in the end, with the beauty of life itself being the true victory, a truly profound message for both children and adults alike.
Suffering a cursed injury, Ashitaka, the last Emishi prince of the Emishi village, finds himself on a journey Westward bound to try and find a cure for his ever-worsening ailment. Along the way we meet a colourful cast of characters including the titular Princess Mononoke (San) and her band of wolves.
Venturing into the wild Ashitaka discovers a town destroying the land around them, the home of the wolves, in order to develop iron, growing exponentially in power and wealth. Should this trope sound familiar to you it would be for good reason. For many years the issue of defamation of the natural world for the prosperity of humanity has been a frequently touched upon issue, yet from the get-go the beauty in this film is in its initial reluctance, and then outright refusal to take a side.
The destructive mentality of the people of the ironworks is merely a community attempting to find its place in the world; they destroy to prevent themselves from being destroyed (as it is established clearly they are not the most powerful force in this world). They destroy in fear of being destroyed, in many ways a reflection of the aggressive animals they kill rather than a binary opposition. Following this train of thought, even the animals are not without fault. The forest is divided into tribes of different species, and amongst them it is clear that there is conflict. They bicker and fight all in a desperate bid to survive, much the reflection of ourselves.
This conflict is centralised through our connection to Ashitaka whom from the first scenes retains a clear reverence for nature, smiling and gazing in wonder at its otherworldly beauty. He acts as us, the everyman, looking on in horror as two worlds that he adores and is familiar with crash together In fire and blood, a desperate bid for survival where no survival is guaranteed. He fits his role very well and plays off San well also, however if I did have one flaw with the film it would be that: in earlier scenes he seems to develop a connection with San that is only apparent to them and doesn't translate to the audience very well (yet one could always argue that the reason for this is as what they represent thematically usurps what they represent in emotional connection.)
Speaking of fire and blood, this is by far one of the most unexpectedly violent Studio Ghibli films I have ever laid eyes on. From the first scene blood is abundant, limbs are lost and death reins over the land. However, unexpected as it threw me, out of place it was not. The violence perfectly reflects the theme previously mentioned; the disarray of the conflict at the centre of the film between the growth of industry and nature, senseless and heart-breaking.
This profound melancholy surrounding the theme yet contrasts itself with joyous human moments sprinkled throughout the film in romance, friendship etc. all heightened by a mesmerising score and Ghibli's signature rich vibrant visuals, which both make the world we're exploring feel full, truly living and breathing.
Princess Mononoke is a film which takes risks, hovering in-between the side of nature's right to rule and the roaring progress of industrialisation, yet never wavering in its resolve. It knows that the issue isn't black and white, with dynamic elements frequently affecting the actions of both man and beast, with violence resulting from confusion, and a sense of pensive grief hanging over the film. Through all this conflict, neither side overcomes in the end, with the beauty of life itself being the true victory, a truly profound message for both children and adults alike.