GODZILLA (1998) ZERO STARS (out of four) -a review by Bill Chambers (wchamber@netcom.ca) (Ugh. This is becoming so routine... Just visit my damn website, FILM FREAK CENTRAL. http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Set/7504 Send me some hate mail, recommend a movie, read the journals...just have as good a time as you can there.)
starring Matthew Broderick, Jean Reno, Hank Azaria, Maria Pitillo, Godzilla screenplay by Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich directed by Roland Emmerich
The team of Emmerich and Devlin scored a giant b.o. hit last time out with their alien picture, Independence Day. That film was critically dissed largely because of their use of stereotyping and clichees to define an ensemble of characters: we knew who the smart guy was because he wore glasses and a pocket-protector; who the gay guy was because he ran around squealing like a panzie for his mother; who the hero was because he promised to "whoop E.T.'s ass". This time out, Devlin and Emmerich have solved the problem by making no attempts whatsoever to define their ensemble of characters. Not only is New York City a shambles when Godzilla is through with it, so is the film, a disaster-picture in every sense of the word. This may be the most uncompelling summer movie contender in the history of the sport.
I'm going to give away the plot of this movie with relish, for all the security surrounding this non-story before the May 20th release was non-sensical, to say the least. To say the most, it was merely an attempt to keep the publicity machine well-oiled: on-screen sponsor Fruit-of-the-Loom is entangled in a breach of contract lawsuit after revealing early sketches of Godzilla on the Internet. How about suing Steven Spielberg for revealing the new monster's design in his Jurassic Park films? For Godzilla, like the movie itself, is a most derivative creation.
The movie begins with Broderick driving out into an open field at Chernobyl to examine some mutated earthworms. Then a helicopter inexplicably lands before him, and stiffs in suits exit the chopper and announce to him that his years of earthworm research have ended: he has been reassigned to investigate giant footprints. Broderick deduces that the footprints belong to a Polynesian lizard that has grown to an enormous size because of "years of French Polynesia nuclear testing". His hypotheses - which also include that the beast is the first of its kind, and that it is pregnant (he deduces that one with the aid of an over-the-counter home pregnancy kit) - eventually prove accurate. For reasons never explained, asexual Godzilla wishes to lay his eggs in "The City That Never Sleeps" (that's how New York City is billed!). So he does, in Madison Square Gardens, but only after crushing a lot of taxi cabs - NO MENTION OF HUMAN CASUALTIES IS MADE. So Broderick, his stupid ex-girlfriend (Pitillo), a French-Polynesian top secret agent guy (Reno--the most enjoyable human presence here), and a ballsy cameraman (Azaria) team up to get trapped in Madison Square Gardens.
The filmmakers' idea of genuine comic relief is to name the mayor Ebert (rotund Michael Lerner) and have his advisor, Gene (haha), always slap Ebert's hand away from food. Oh, look, a fat guy wants food. The filmmakers' idea of a plot development is to have said stupid girlfriend - who is also an aspiring anchor beauty - discover a top secret videotape with footage of a frightened Japanese man repeating "Gojira...Gojira..." She knows this is a top secret tape because it is labeled such, "Top Secret", and she seems to know how bottom-of-the-barrel her news program is because they take the bait and air the snippet as a top story. Then Ebert wants more food! Said broadcast winds up getting Broderick fired, so he and Pitillo have a fight, and break up again. Who cares? Until the night before, they hadn't seen each other for EIGHT YEARS. And when they met up again, it was only to EXCHANGE THE WORST WRITTEN EX-LOVER TO EX-LOVER DIALOGUE THE SCREEN HAS POSSIBLY EVER KNOWN. To quote Ebert - the critic, not the mayor (by the way, during the two times I met the man, he was not eating) - in his review of North, I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate this movie. GODZILLA is an entirely charmless 139 MINUTES(!), unlike the Japanese counterparts which inspired it. Boring as hell, seemingly edited with a machete and some Scotch tape, weighted by a screenplay that makes Titanic's read like Edward Albee, GODZILLA is the worst cinematic experience I've had in years. Flamers, take note: I am not demanding hyperrealism from a movie about a giant lizard, nor am I requesting good dialogue, even. I'm asking for entertainment, pure and simple: for the reported $130 million budget, I want to mainline unadulterated summer movie fun. Not even the effects held my interest - they turn to digital mush in too many spots.
If this is reading a little too much like one of Harry Knowles' Ain't-It-Cool caveman test-screening reviews, my apologies. It isn't too often a movie sparks a fire in me like GODZILLA, a steady, burning rage. Independence Day was a terrible movie, but terribly fun. GODZILLA's cinematogrpohy and production design can't even match the pastel appeal of ID4's images: almost every shot is a rain-soaked bore. (Ladies and gentlemen, let's officially seal that moratorium on homages to Blade Runner.) Perhaps I can't fully convey why I despised this movie so much without slipping into incoherence, but it looks like I may not be alone in my camp: despite months of hype, the weekend late show of GODZILLA at a brand new multiplex saw an audience of half-capacity. If we're lucky, Godzilla's damage won't end at the credits: it will put an end to bloated, scriptless event pictures for a good long while.
-May, 1998
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