Damsel (2024)

Score: 1.5 / 5

What in the made-for-television hooey is this? The era of exciting feminist reclamation sorely missteps with Damsel, a bizarre attempt at a twisted typical fantasy trope. Opening narration spoils the whole thing, letting us know explicitly that there will be a damsel, she'll be in distress, and she'll be rescuing herself, thank you very much. But the overwrought and annoyingly vague story, here, makes this entire exercise less an empowering cinematic experience than a mildly diverting bedtime story that could have been written on any free fanfiction website. Worse, it's far less than the sum of its parts, a glaring problem that constantly reminds us of its own inadequacies.

Titular protagonist Elodie, played by Millie Bobby Brown (who really should take some acting classes to branch out of her Winona Ryder-esque range of moody adolescent indignation), accepts an invitation to marry the prince of a faraway land called Aurea. Seemingly doing so to help her impoverished, unnamed snowy home -- where they sell drapes for food, a plot hole I will never understand -- Elodie and her family travel to the warmer, wealthier Aurea; her father (Ray Winstone) and mother (Angela Bassett) are woefully wasted characters who serve no real purpose, while Elodie's younger sister Floria (Brooke Carter) will prove the damsel in distress in the film's long-coming second act. Upon their arrival, Elodie and her betrothed charming Prince Henry (a clearly bored Nick Robinson) are cool towards each other, though they soon enough warm to the idea. Meanwhile, his mother, Queen Isabelle (a reliably icy Robin Wright) outright rejects the friendship of her new in-laws under the guise of matriarchal rule.

While the production design and wardrobe feel like a feast for the eyes, it also feels unmoored and uninspired throughout the film. Dodgy CGI and green screen settings are the name of the game in this fantasy romp, and multiple times this film felt visually like it belonged in television shows from the last decade (I thought of Once Upon a Time and Merlin, among others, more than once). That's not necessarily a bad thing, but for a film like this to be taken at all seriously -- which it patently desperately desires -- you can't have this cartoonish quality framing your action or drama. Director Juan Carols Fresnadillo (whose filmography is interesting but wildly unfit for this kind of project) doesn't seem to have purposeful understanding of how to present this material to any audience, let alone the Netflix crowd. Even thematically, the film makes far more suggestions than it ever satisfies: early, as Elodie is being fitted into her bridal gown, it's not a Cinderella moment of rags-to-glam, but this intriguing divergence from expectations is never explored beyond her own eventual gumption in fighting back.

The film dramatically shifts when, during a weird post-marital ceremony on a stone bridge above a cavernous abyss, the two newlyweds share their blood (it's not sex, unless you read a LOT into Grimms' fairytales) and Henry casts Elodie into the pit. She's the latest in a long string of female victims sacrificed to an enormous dragon in the cave for, apparently, centuries: an ancestral king of Aurea killed the dragon's babies and so the dragon seeks eternal recompense in the form of virginal descendants of his line in return for not destroying the kingdom. Despite this elaborate and unnecessary setup (there is a prologue of sorts that dramatizes this inciting incident, revisited by flashbacks anon), the film does not teeter further into fantasy at this point, rather engaging its action sensibilities as Elodie runs and ducks and hides in the labyrinthine caverns while being stalked by the dragon.

The dragon itself is well-designed and mostly well-animated, voiced with breathtaking skill by Shohreh Aghdashloo, whose smokey resonance gravelly brings the beast to life. She's not to be trifled with, and her predatory menace is the only thing that makes this film worth watching. Oddly, the film is structured in such a way that, once the monarchy's ruse is revealed, we are made to feel sorry for the dragon, a bizarre sensation that never amounts to much. Attempting to distract from the dragon is Elodie, though, tearing her dress apart to fashion tools and weapons while looking suspiciously stylish in a tattered sort of way. Her antics lead her to a wall of names of previous (deceased) princesses, who clearly had time and energy to sign their Jane Hancocks for no apparent reason; she also discovers a cave of glowing worms who light her path and also heal her wounds. Because nothing says incompetent screenwriting like multiple deus ex machinas less than halfway through your story! Not to mention the entire premise, which simply does not follow: the king of old killed three dragon eggs, but the dragon has now killed dozens (if not hundreds) of maidens?

For most of its middle section, the film grinds on more like a video game, as Elodie works and tries and fails and tries again to escape the cave, defeat the dragon, retain her health, etc. She is grimly determined and badass in the manner of a Tomb Raider type character who is neither prepared nor trained for this, making the whole thing increasingly unbelievable and utterly devoid of stakes. Other characters start popping into the cave, which allows more action and death at the cost of further absurdity and narrative gimmicks. Add to all that the finale's tired final message of sisterhood above all and healing the enemy to foster alliance, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. A reasonably competent film -- even one as far-fetched and often outright laughable as this -- can't always overcome a story without enough inspiration, craft, or nerve to follow through on any of its potential intrigues (mind you, this was penned by Dan Mazeau, whose only other feature writing credits are the criminally badly written Wrath of the Titans and Fast X), and this one simply tries too hard to be something it never takes the effort to define for itself.

P.S.: Since simply bashing isn't as helpful or thoughtful as I try to be, I'll note as a final thought my idea for a better film. Reformat the story as a medieval horror film, shot on location in a crumbling Carpathian castle. Increase the "weird fantasy" elements -- a la Gretel & Hansel but with more gritty action -- and dress it all with creepy, dark Gothic style a la The Castle of Otranto, considering the adolescent sexuality and bloodsharing and political angling inherent in its conceit. We wouldn't have even needed a dragon; use Aghdashloo's presence as a witch or spirit of the forest or even a stupid cave, a presence of malice playing with young girls swept into this world they don't know or understand their own significance in. Rewrite it as a real feminist existential horror story so that Elodie coming into her own to burn down the monarchy (literally) actually feels earned. That way, too, its derivative basis (clearly meant to be something like Andromeda being fed to the Kraken) would be sidestepped and it could actually be a novel piece. Hell, even a Gothic thriller about a queen trying manipulate three girls into marrying her son at the same time to satiate a monster or curse or bloodthirsty mob would have been more interesting than anything Damsel has to offer.

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.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The third installment in Legendary's MonsterVerse ushers in a smash-bang summer blockbuster season, and I'm here for it!

Following Godzilla's disappearance after the events of his first outing in 2014, the cryptozoological organization Monarch has redoubled its efforts to identify, locate, and study the race of dormant Titans around the world. One of its scientists, Vera Farmiga (the characters all have names but nobody cares), is present for the hatching of one named Mothra. She has also developed a device called ORCA which uses sound waves to influence or attract the Titans.

As is so often the case, the ORCA device is stolen by eco-terrorists led by Charles Dance, who kidnaps Farmiga and her daughter Millie Bobby Brown. Enter Kyle Chandler, the estranged father, to save the day. Or as much of the day as he can save, considering the massive size of destructive forces he faces. The film has more than a little heart, and at its center is this family drama framed with some surprisingly effective philosophy on the relationship between humans, our world, and the monsters we create vs. the monsters here before us. The story may be basic -- if drawn out effectively -- but its ideas are not, and it strikes a brilliant balance between action and meditation.

Balance is the key word for a film like this, in which so many things are juggled at once. First, there's the sizable cast, not even including the CGI characters. Then there's the monsters themselves, all but two of whom are brand-spanking new to this franchise. We've got the weighty ideas about terrorism and the environment, historical fantasy and geopolitics, dangerous new technology and the responsibilities we have to each other and our world. It's a lot for any movie to handle; the more Avengers movies we see, the easier it is to forget that most films can't perform at the same breadth and scope.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters works well on its own terms, though, and remains fabulously entertaining throughout. Drenched in a wet, gritty imagery and suffused with thick lighting, the film veers away from the realism of its predecessor -- and avoids they hyper-stylizations of Kong: Skull Island -- to craft its own brooding atmosphere. In fact, it seems that director Michael Dougherty is more in awe of these creatures than other filmmakers in this series; the grandeur inherent in calling them Titans and the dramatic flourish of lighting and effects frame them as almost godlike. Case in point: as the final showdown commences, Ghidorah poses regally atop a volcano while other Titans bow to him, and silhouetted in the foreground is a giant cross.

Dougherty seems to want us to feel a religious attraction to these creatures, a sort of sublime draw toward that which is great and terrible and utterly unconcerned with us. It's a delicious change in tone from the other films, and one that isn't necessarily more or less effective so much as a showcase for another artist's attitude toward the same subject matter. Gareth Edwards wanted his film shot primarily from the human perspective, and its realism meant there would be less direct access to the monster itself. Jordan Vogt-Roberts layered his film under lurid imagery, psychedelic colors, and period rock music, making it feel like a jungle fever dream. Here, we get a cold, wet vision of a world at war with forces of nature more than monsters running amok.

It's just a lot of fun, which is really all a Godzilla movie should be.