Godzilla vs. Kong (2021)

Score: 3 / 5

Let's not split too many hairs about it, Godzilla vs. Kong is the sort of trashy mess that I usually try to avoid. It features lengthy sequences that, in any other franchise, I'd call utterly unwatchable. More often than not, it feels like a video game in ridiculously high definition. At least disaster movies usually focus on human characters, but this feels more like the smash-bang hoopla of a Transformers movie, which is to say, not particularly satisfying as anything but mindless summer action. Then again, it is the climactic part of the franchise that birthed it, and as such deserves some consideration in context of its buildup and its intended effect on future films. As the COVID box office leader, its financial successes will surely lead to more monster mayhem. We can certainly hope so, and that they will anchor it back into the aesthetic and themes that birthed it.

The fourth installment of Legendary's MonsterVerse begins with a distinctly troubling opening credits montage. Not troubling in terms of plot or theme, but troubling in terms of franchise: apparently five years have passed since the events of the magnificent Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and all the recorded Titans are eliminated. It's not totally clear if they have been, like Kong, isolated in secure facilities for observation and containment, or if they have been killed (by humans) or defeated (by Godzilla). The opening credits wind their way through a bracket, like sports teams, in which each loser is marked with a red X, until apparently the only two remaining are the giant ape and the giant lizard. After such beautiful and suggestive renderings of other Titans in the previous film, it's horrific to me, as a fan, that they'd so quickly kill everyone off simply so they can get to the "showdown" fight between the god and the king.

At least they could have given us a Monster Island movie first.

But without the inherent creepiness of some of the kaiju, Godzilla vs. Kong works best as an action film on the scope of a disaster movie. Its woefully thin story begins innocuously, with Kong held in a Monarch observation dome on Skull Island (and a strange aside suggesting that, for some reason, the encircling violent storm nearly destroyed the island before dissipating). Kong appears to have a nice enough life, and has developed a friendship with a little native Iwi girl who is deaf and uses sign language to communicate. Meanwhile, Godzilla attacks a facility in Pensacola, Florida, owned by Apex Cybernetics, apparently drawn there by mysterious experimentations and power surges.

A former Monarch scientist (Alexander Skarsgard, who has no business in a movie where he shows no skin) is approached by Apex to lead a term into the Hollow Earth to prove the theory of its existence as the homeland of the Titans and to search for other potential threats as well as alternative energy sources. He joins up with Rebecca Hall (I don't remember the character names, but they don't really matter anyway) and the Iwi girl and they transport Kong to Antarctica, where they plan to enter the Hollow Earth. Godzilla, drawn to Kong, attacks them en route and almost eliminates him. Round one goes to the lizard.

All this is fairly interesting plotting, and it works especially well as a development of the human organizations associated with the monsters. Monarch now fully represents the "good guys," the vindicated crypto scientists seeking to study and contain the Titans; Apex appears to be the new baddies, secretively experimenting and building something to combat the Titans. The human element poised to bring them down is led by a hilarious Brian Tyree Henry and Millie Bobby Brown, who infiltrate the Pensacola facility, get trapped in an underground high-speed train, and are shipped to another Apex facility in Hong Kong. It's all a little weird, but their discovery is one of the more exciting thrills of this movie, even if we see it coming hours in advance (I mean, Godzilla is the apex predator, so obviously the industrial machinists of Apex are doing something a little, well, mechanical to rival him).

If the first Godzilla was a Spielbergian encounter with a wondrous and dangerous Other, the first Kong was a Vietnam-era fever dream of violence and fun. Then, in King of the Monsters, we got a transcendent view of the apocalyptic possibilities these sacred kaiju could wreak on an abused and tortured Earth. The series worked hard to stress its theme of humans corrupting the world and nature fighting back, even as it repeatedly demonstrated that the monsters themselves are not intentionally killing humans for sport. The MonsterVerse fabulously manages to ground its movies in real, existential horror, allowing us glimpses of extinction-level events through the eyes of relatively inconsequential humans who nevertheless fail to understand that the only way forward is coexistence. The main characters are complex and conflicted, who grow even as they fail. When the army trucks roll up, it's often laughably silly, and we are well aware that most or all of the fighters will die.

But Godzilla vs. Kong, for all its energy and intensity, fumbles its characters. It doesn't know what to do with its own shadowy organizations, its complex human relationships, or even the parts of the plot it completely sacrifices on the altar of spectacle. I choked on my own incredulity during the impressively stupid journey Kong and his human handlers take to Hollow Earth; they fall through a black hole that becomes a weird, neon-blue jet, and it's all so fantastic, so utterly unbelievable, that I wasn't sure it belonged to the same movie, or even the franchise. Similarly, when Kong retrieves his weapon from Hollow Earth and activates the cosmic power source Apex is hunting -- that might actually allow him to defeat Godzilla -- Godzilla senses it and, in the most laughably absurd scene, blows his atomic breath straight down from downtown Hong Kong, through the crust, and into the Hollow Earth right where Kong is standing. What about the black hole and antigravity? Does anybody care?

And that's not to say Adam Wingard's (You're Next, The Guest, Blair Witch) installment in the franchise isn't without its pleasures. But, for me, they were a little too few and far between, laced thinly with excessively messy and dull action. The Hollow Earth scenes were a beautiful throwback to psychedelic fantasy standards of the '80s, and I wanted more of that. Brian Tyree Henry, Rebecca Hall, and Demian Bichir were fun to watch, even if they didn't get to do much, while everyone else was clearly squandered. Actually, part of me wonders if the film would have simply been better as a straight-up buddy monster mash, as Godzilla and Kong are here treated as anthropomorphized boxers in a ring. They get about three chances to knock each other out, and between their impressive physicality and cartoonish facial expressions, the movie seems determined to make them the primary characters in human terms. I don't love that at all, and can easily see this as a turning point for the franchise into self-parody.

Let's just hope the next torch-carrier chooses to respect the awe and horror of this franchise without settling for spectacle.

The Unholy (2021)

 Score: 3 / 5

Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays the unfortunately named Gerry Fenn, a disaster of a journalist. The sort of world-weary, washed-up mess of a guy he plays so very well (Desierto, The Possession), Gerry is eking along as an outcast reporter, traveling long distances to "investigate" ridiculous and bizarre things. His most recent trip brought him to a rural Massachusetts town, where a farmer is a little too ignorant to know that the apparent mutilation of his cows are really just Metallica logos painted on by bored kids. Naturally, he's drinking a lot, and his grungy, grizzled manners are off-putting to just about everyone.

Well, almost everyone. Young Alice (Cricket Brown), niece of the local priest, is known to be deaf and mute, but after a supernatural encounter at a gnarled old tree next to the Catholic church, she miraculously can hear. She claims to have seen the Virgin Mary in the tree, and the oracle will use Alice as her mouthpiece. She speaks shockingly well, too, and determines that Gerry will be her exclusive outlet for delivering her messages to the masses. Because hers is not the only miracle: she performs healings and blessings in the name of her beloved Lady. Gerry sees her as his ticket back into business, but his gruff charm belies a heart quickly warming to the otherwise faithful and innocent girl.

Gerry's protective -- dare we say fatherly? -- relationship with Alice is one of the several things the film does not handle well. It's believable, and that's a definite plus, but it's interesting and unusual in the genre, and I wanted more insight and drama from it as a result. It's almost treated as a given that Alice needs an outlet, and that he is the natural choice. His desperation isn't made as clear, in the film, as his eye for opportunity. Moreover, the film clearly doesn't understand journalism, as there is no way he can afford motels and travel expenses on the bizarre stories he writes for, what, $150? And there are two or three early bits of dialogue that suggest he intentionally rewrites reality to skew the story for wider readership and sensationalism; the last thing we need now is more examples of fake news.

But, for whatever reason, the relationship works, and soon the masses descend on the town, convinced it is a new Lourdes or Fatima. The sick and downtrodden hope for miracles; the pious hope for proof it is either a hoax or the real deal. Alice's uncle summons a bishop (Cary Elwes with an ungodly Boston accent) and monsignor (hunky Diogo Morgado) to investigate, and suddenly global interest focuses on the creepy-ass dead tree where Mary appears to Alice. But Alice is in charge, or rather Mary is, and she controls the circus like a pro. "Doubt weakens faith," she declares, quelling any naysayers by harnessing the virtue and intervention of her faithful followers. She goes viral, and we're treated to online videos of girls feeling "seen" as they watch and react to videos of Alice's speeches and miracles. This fascinating montage deserved a lot more time and consideration in the film, as the tension slowly rises for our main characters: Is Mary really the Blessed Virgin? Is the Emperor actually wearing any clothes?

It's a fun release for Holy Week, and has some really cool ideas about the nature of religion -- especially popular religion in the age of information -- in a postmodern world. It has a lot of heart between the two leads, and it has a lot of suitably scary bits that mostly rely on jump-scares and a creeping sensation of dread. And despite some really clever, moody-broody cinematography, it's largely a standard exercise in diabolical horror. Its greatest source of tension, the question of Mary's true nature and intentions, are undermined from the very beginning, which makes the proceedings feel inevitable and morose rather than thrilling and disturbing. I'd watch this movie as a counterpart to The Exorcism of Emily Rose, by far by favorite in the subgenre, and I will continue to wish this movie took more leaves from that book. The most original ideas in The Unholy are mostly left unfertilized, so the hints of thematic and theological depth are as suggestive and engaging as they are ultimately disappointing.

The Courier (2021)

 Score: 3 / 5

British businessman Greville Wynne is surprised to be meeting two rather uptight people for an exclusive lunch. When he finds out one is with MI6 and the other is with the CIA, he seems both amused and bewildered. When they attempt to recruit him to help smuggle secrets out of Russia, he's completely dumbfounded. The year is 1960, and fears are growing about nuclear weapons in communist countries; Wynne is more interested in succeeding in his work to support his wife and son than in frequently flying to Moscow. But the agents are convinced that he, with no ties to the government and the theatricality inherent in salesmanship, is a perfect secret agent. They connect him with a secret Russian agent named Oleg Penkovsky (Merab Ninidze), and the two embark on a dangerous mission to help President Kennedy as the Cuban Missile Crisis looms.

Benedict Cumberbatch plays Wynne with somewhat atypical flair. Usually typecast as a introverted brainiac with unsavory social tendencies, here Cumberbatch seems to relish a more emotionally-driven character. The movie is, frankly, worth watching almost solely for the unexpected drama he proves himself adept at conveying. As he attempts to become the titular courier of intel, we never doubt that he's in pretty far over his head. His frequent conversations with his intelligence agent "handlers" -- Angus Wright and Rachel Brosnahan -- reveal his discomfort with lying to his wife and being constantly in danger of arrest. The Russians in the film are clearly ruthless, and fears of being thrown in a gulag are almost debilitating to the proper British gentleman. Well, "proper" when he's not schmoozing with potential clients; it's a joy to watch a loose Cumberbatch confirm for the Russians their worst suspicions about capitalist Westerners in raucous barrooms.

Remember Bridge of Spies, back in 2015? This movie reminded me of that, and of earlier movies in the genre, especially Hitchcock's. Based on true events that revolve around Cold War spies between Russia and the West, these films are most accessible as a character study, delving into the personal costs of espionage in service to your country (and, of course, the world generally). While I doubt The Courier will ever be considered an iconic or even particularly memorable entry in this genre, there's still a lot to be said for a smartly produced picture (Sean Bobbitt's engrossing cinematography feels as though it could have been made back in the 60s, while never feeling less than contemporary) with bankable stars who make a movie that comforts and interests and entertains us, even through and perhaps because of the clichés it relies upon.

Director Dominic Cooke and screenwriter Tom O’Connor work hard to strike a balance between spy-thriller action and character drama, and they mostly succeed. The movie's heart seems to be given to Wynne and Penkovsky, whose scenes together are often both fraught with tension and brimming with warm feelings. As the two men work together, they become entangled in each other's personal lives. Penkovsky even visits Wynne's family in England and becomes friendly with his wife and son. But Wynne's wife Sheila, played by Jessie Buckley, was the most interesting character to me. Patient and supportive and endlessly forgiving, she plays the dutiful wife even as she begins to suspect her husband is having an affair. He's exercising a lot, and trying new things in bed, and of course taking lots of long trips for work. When she finally learns what he's really been up to, she's utterly heartbreaking as she fights her own guilt for not trusting him and being unable to tell him, now that it's too late.

For it is indeed too late, when Wynne and Penkovsky are captured, imprisoned, and tortured by the KGB. The subsequent scenes are tired and morose, mostly taking place in dimly lit, grimy cells as they are deprived of food and sleep, beaten and abused, and isolated for two years. I found my mind drifting during these scenes simply due to their familiarity; the film renewed my interest for their final scene together, when Penkovsky's betrayal leads to his execution and Wynne is finally released after maintaining his innocence. Its sentimentality works as a result of the unpleasantness of the preceding 40 minutes or so, but I would have preferred more information about the spying and less about the incarceration, partly out of historical interest and partly because cutting out what is essentially stock footage of imprisonment would have made for a more engaging second half of the story.