Director Report Card: Joe Johnston (1995)

4. Jumanji

In 1981, Chris Van Allsburg wrote and illustrated a 32-page children's book called “Jumanji.” It was a simple story about a magical, jungle-themed board game that brought dangerous animals into the kid's home. That probably doesn't seem like a very cinematic story but producer Peter Guber disagreed. After meeting Van Allsburg, Guber began to develop a film adaptation of “Jumanji.” Though Joe Johnston hadn't had a hit in a while, I guess having “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” on your resume – and showing a clear aptitude for effects-driven family films – meant something. Johnston would secure a starring role from Robin Willaims and “Jumanji” would become a big success, earning enough at the box office to be the seventh highest grossing film of 1995.

In 1869, two boys bury a mysterious box in the muddy grounds that will someday become Brantford, New Hampshire. One hundred years later, Alan Perrish – the bullied son of the town's leading employer, a shoe-factory owner – uncovers the box. It contains what appears to be a board game called Jumanji. Upon playing it with Sarah, a girl he likes, the board unleashes giant African bats on the house and sucks Alan inside. In 1995, orphans Judy and Peter are moving into the former Perrish home in the now impoverished Brantford. They discover Jumanji, thinking it's a simple board game. That's before they unleashes giant mosquitoes and a lion into the house. The same action returns Alan, now an adult who has grown up in a wild jungle. Realizing they must complete the game to undo this nightmare, they find the now adult Sarah and attempt to survive each new horror Jumanji unleashes.

With Van Allsburg's “Jumanji” having such a simplistic story, the makers of the cinematic “Jumanji” had to get creative. The trio of credited screenwriters realized the set-up could basically be a clothesline on which to hang a series of special effects sequence. This is essentially what “Jumanji” is, a collection of episodes devoted to what happens when various jungle animals and fantastical horrors are unleashed on a small New England town. This doesn't sound like an especially deep story and it isn't. However, “Jumanji” keeps barreling forward, moving the characters – and the audience with them – from one set-piece to the next. It's an exciting film that rarely slows down long enough for a viewer to notice how thin its script truly is.

What I really like about “Jumanji,” and what I might've responded to when watching the film as a child, is that it plays like a kid-friendly horror flick repeatedly throughout its run time. From its opening minutes, Johnston's film is playing with this style. The first scene is set during a rain storm at night, a pair of boys frantically trying to escape the thunderous drumming. From there, we have an attack involving wild bats. Huge mosquitoes swoop around and attempt to suck people's blood, resulting in multiple off-screen injuries. The sequence where a lion appears in the attic, its tail and paws crossing the keys of a piano, is surprisingly ominous. That horror-lite atmosphere peaks during a sequence when a group of creepy-crawly giant spiders attack our heroes. Johnston's direction, with its shot of bats ominously eeking in the dark or lions sneering out of an attic, is surprisingly tense at times.

Another reason to like “Jumanji” is that a lot of creativity is on display. The writers of the film have fun with the concept of transporting a jungle adventure into a suburban town. The creatures on display aren't just lions, elephants, and rhinos. Though we never see the Jumanji that exist inside the game board, it's clearly not a normal African jungle. Rather, it's a fantastical nightmare version of a jungle. Aside from the giant insects, the game also brings creeping vines that shoot venomous barbs into our world. That sequence concludes with a giant, Audrey II-style bud that is especially neat. Later, those vines transform the Perrish house into a foggy jungle. When a monsoon is summoned, water floods the house. When quicksand is summoned, Alan sinks into the floors.

It is easy to see why Joe Johnston was attracted to this job. This was another opportunity to balance gee-whiz adventure with cutting edge special effects. The effects are unquestionably the star of “Jumanji.” Lots of elaborate puppetry and animatronics are employed. The evil creeping vines are my favorite, an excellent example of a long overlooked and rarely well executed horror movie premise. A moment where the vines grab a police car and snap it in half is especially impressive. The giant spiders are also fantastically brought to life, their skittering and slimy appearance enough to send arachnophobes into a panic. Honestly, the alligators that appear in the monsoon sequence might genuinely be the scariest creatures in the film though, all fearsome sweeping tales and massive snapping jaws. The film sacrifices the absolute realism of the lion to give the elaborate puppet some personality, in the form an amusingly expressive face. seamlessly interacting with the actors.

However, “Jumanji's” commitment to cutting edge effects also means it features some of 1995's best CGI. Granted, some of these effects have aged better than others. The mosquitoes look pretty cool and even interact well with their surroundings, especially in the scene where they attack the kids while hiding inside a car. However, other elements are less convincing. The floor turning to quicksand looks pretty cheesy. The animals in the stampede obviously do not pass muster. The hyper-violent and mischievous monkeys look terrible. Their jagged fur does not look real. Neither do their faces, which are so artificial looking as to be unintentionally unnerving. I wish the film hadn't made these critters the stars of so many scenes. I will give the CGI team credit for giving the simian terrors some personality. There's a cute moment when the leader of the monkey troop tells the others to disperse in different directions.

Even though Johnston seems most focused on the special effects, “Jumanji” does attempt to include some sappy Spielberg-ian themes. “Jumanji's” scope includes the entire town of Brantford. When Alan disappears in the sixties, everyone assumes his dad killed him. This causes the shoe factory to close down, which causes the entire town's economy to collapse. In a cartoonish touch, huge stretches of the town are occupied solely by the homeless. Yet Alan's relationship with his dad takes precedence over the Decline of the Small Town. The father only believes confrontation can resolve problems and doesn't want Alan to be weak. Later, Alan finds himself attempting to pass this approach on to Peter, which he immediately regrets. (It's no mistake that the thing from “Jumanji” Alan fears the most is a Great White Hunter played by the same actor as his dad.) By the end, the town is saved and the Daddy Issues are put to rest. It seems pretty out of place, is my point.

Also out of place, at least some of the times, is the humor. The jokes in “Jumanji” that work the best are the ones that arise out of the characters' interactions. The way Judy spins wild yarns about her parents' death to anyone who will listen. Or Alan reacting to the modern world after leaving Jumanji behind. However, too often the jokes in “Jumanji” are overly gimmicky, winking too hard at the camera. More than once, something wacky happens on-screen – monkeys drive by on a police motorcycle, for one example – and a character has a smart-ass comment about it. An extended sequence in a ransacked shopping center is overly broad and wacky, featuring some random “Home Alone” style booby traps. One scene even has a character breaking the fourth wall with a look into the camera. It's a little overdone and takes me out of the movie.

Oddly, Robin Williams is not the main source of comic relief in the film. Williams actually restrains his trademark manic energy throughout most of the movie. Save for his earliest scenes, where Robin tears through the town in wildman clothes, he's mostly reacting in quietly terrified fear or bemusement to what happens around him. Which isn't to say Williams doesn't get some laughs in. He performs some very small but extremely funny moments here and there. Such as his reaction to being sucked into the house's floorboards, or when he tries to schoo a giant spider away with just his breath. Despite being less frenzied than usual, Robin Williams is still ideally cast as an overgrown kid in a man's body.

Judy and Peter have their own arc too, the kids coming to terms with their parents' untimely deaths over the course of their adventure. It's another one of the film's forced-in emotional beats. However, the talented actors in the part help salvage that. A young Kristen Dunst plays Judy. Though she's mostly there to react to special effects, Dunst's sense of humor and ability to depict both wide-eyed wonder and sarcastic cynicism makes Judy into more of a character. Peter is played by Bradley Pierce – who also voiced Tails in “Sonic SatAM” which is, ya know, very important to me – and also does a good job. The kid spends about half the movie under extensive make-up, after the board game punishing him for cheating by turning him into a monkey humanoid. It could've been easy for the kid to act under that but he succeeds.

When I nit-pick about actors in the film making dry comments about something wacky that just happened on-screen, I'm mostly complaining about Bonnie Hunt as the adult Sarah. This is no fault of Hunt, who actually gives a solid performance. In the scenes conveying panic, such as when Alan re-appears for the first time in twenty-five years, invalidating all the years of therapy she underwent, are very good. She also has decent chemistry with Willaims, when the two get to bickering. David Alan Grier has a thankless job as the film's straight man, the cop who is constantly battered around by the film's crazy events. Grier at least gets laughs out of it though. Jonathan Hyde is Van Pelt, the big game hunter and the film's human antagonist. Hyde clearly enjoys hamming it up at the unhinged Victorian stereotype. It's to the film's credit that the character isn't made into a goofy joke but allowed to remain intimidating.

”Jumanji” was a frequent presence in my childhood VHS player. I was so fond of the film, that I actually wrote up a detailed description of a video game adaptation for the Sega Genesis, with levels and boss battles based on the various incidents in the film. (This is a testament to my childhood nerdiness though I'm really surprised the film wasn't actually made into a 16-bit platformer, as it has all the elements necessary.) While that didn't exist, there were a few spin-offs. An animated series ran from 1996 to 1999. Despite ugly character designs, it was a well-written and fascinatingly bizarre show. Naturally, there was a real “Jumanji” board game created. I had it as a kid and was disappointed by how convoluted the rules were. More films would eventually follow as well. As for the original, it's no masterpiece and is a fairly shallow film in many ways. Yet it's fun too and fun counts for a lot. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Joe Johnston (1994)

3. The Pagemaster
Co-directed with Maurice Hunt

The Disney Renascence of the late eighties and early nineties showed that feature length cartoons could be popular with audiences. Sometimes, they could even score Best Picture nominations. Many studios would rush to replicate this success, creating what animation historians call the Toon Boom. The decade of my childhood saw a number of animated films filling theaters. Few of them were box office hits and many were mistaken for Disney productions anyway.  One of the more curious Toon Boom offspring was “The Pagemaster,” a combination of live action and animation. Joe Johnston would direct the live action scenes while Maurice Hunt is credited with directing the animation. Like many cartoons of the time and type, “The Pagemaster” would fail to find an audience in theaters before being enjoyed by many more kids on home video.

Ten year old Richard Tyler is afraid of everything. Due to his chronic fears of injuries, he won't play with the other kids. Thus, he has no friends. His dad sends Richard off to the hardware store to grab some nails. After being caught in a sudden thunderstorm, he takes shelter in a library. After slipping and hitting his head, he awakens in a fantasy world where books and the characters inside them come to life. An entity known as the Pagemaster urges Richard to seek out the Exit. He teams up with the personifications of the Adventure, Fantasy, and Horror genres, journeying through their corresponding worlds on the way to the Exit. 

The relationship between film and the written word has always been somewhat competitive. No matter how much literature inspires movie, people will complain that things watched on a screen rots your brain while stuff read on the page makes you smarter. “The Pagemaster” is another one of those films that somewhat awkwardly attempts to peacefully correlate the two mediums. It's a movie about the joys of reading books, which is kind of funny. Richard has no particularly strong feelings about books to begin with but he learns about how magical reading can be through his adventure. In turn, the film clearly hopes, the kids in the audience will have their eyes opened to the magic of books. Already being a reader by the time I saw “The Pagemaster,” I have no idea if this worked. However, the film was clearly made with some love and care towards the written word.

“Reading is fun” is not the only message “The Pagemaster” hoped to impose on its young viewers. At story's beginning, Richard is basically a coward, with more neurotic fears than any kid should have. Over the course of his adventure, he discovers his own courage. He protects his friends, stands up to people and things that frighten him, and faces his own failures. This is a much more standard kid's movie moral, as lots of children's media is about bravery and such. Some credit must be given to Macaulay Culkin. He gives Richard enough personality and a sense of humor, keeping the kid from coming off like an obnoxious wienie.

Calling “The Pagemaster” a Joe Johnston movie is probably slightly misleading. With most of the movie being animation, he probably didn't work very long on it. However, Johnston does make his framing device count. He creates probably his most visually rich movie thus far. The idyllic, Spielbergian suburban setting is brought to life in rich detail. Several scenes are set during a thunderstorm, meaning Johnston takes advantage of the nighttime shadows and the flashing lightening in the sky. When Richard hits his head and slips into the animated world, Johnston even employs a neat trick of the camera spinning around his unconscious head. It's pretty neat and shows his visual palette growing.

Perhaps the director was drawing his cues from the animation that makes up most of the movie. One of the benefits of the Toon Boom was a lot of money being poured into animation. Which resulted in a number of visually gorgeous motion pictures like “The Pagemaster.” The painted backgrounds are so pretty. The animation is lively. Mostly, the film makes a great use of color. When Dr. Jekyll transforms into Mr. Hyde during the horror segment, crazy greens and blues wash on-screen. During Moby Dick's appearance, dark reds and blacks fill up the viewer's eyes. There's a lot of cute and clever touches in the design work as well, as the spines of books make up various parts of the landscapes. It's a nice looking film.

Building the film around three separate genre-themed adventures is a smart way to keep “The Pagemaster's” story moving quickly. Naturally, when I was a kid and now, the horror sequence is my favorite. Seeing a spooky mansion, covered with gargoyles and ominous vines, brought to life in such vivid animation is a real treat. The interior of Dr. Jekyll's home is characterized by strange chemicals bubbling in glass tubes and flickering flames. While the scene isn't scary, not even when I was a kid, the sequences are nicely spooky. Hyde's transformation, his fatal fall into a hole in the floor, and the appearance of several ghosts are pretty dang cool. “The Pagemaster's” horror sequence could be a good introductory course to would-be young horror fans.

The film probably peaks early in this scene. The adventure sequence, largely devoted to an adaptation of “Treasure Island,” is probably my least favorite of the movie's three episodes. There are things to recommend about it. Moby Dick's appearance or sharks gathering in choppy water are decently thrilling. The scene ends on a decent note, with Richard standing up to Long John Silver. However, far too much of the sequence is devoted to cartoon pirates being used for goofy comic relief. A sequence devoted to deciphering a treasure map is especially embarrassing. The scene also ends on a belabored note, with an extended epilogue devoted to Adventure and Horror
learning to be friends.

If “The Pagemaster” has a serious flaw, it's that the film's comic relief leans a bit too hard on the wacky side of things. Adventure is a boastful pirate who does things like get sprayed with a burst of water or zapped into dressing in drag. Horror is a pathetic gothic grotesque, which would be endearing on its own right. However, Horror is prone to goofy outbursts of physical comedy which aren't especially amusing. Fantasy is sometimes characterized as a Sassy Black Woman, which is significantly less funny than the movie hopes it would've been. During these moments, when “The Pagemaster” is really aiming for the kiddie crowd, is when the film is at its weakest.

If the Adventure episode is the film's weakest, things do perk back up for the concluding Fantasy segment. Most of the sequence is devoted to fighting a dragon and, yeah, that's pretty cool. The dragon is another expressive character, the giant fire-breather becoming intimidating through his body language and angry eyes. When the heroes leap on a flying carpet, it leads to an exciting mid-air chase. There's even some especially creative touches here, such as when Richard uses Jack's Beanstalk to escape from the dragon's gullet. While the sequence lacks a specific literary reference – there's a few nursery rhyme characters but the dragon doesn't seem to be from any specific story – that centered the other two episodes, it does wrap the film up on a decent note.

While modern animation can be overly dependent on celebrity voice work, “The Pagemaster” has a pretty good balance of known names and professional voice actors. The central trio of Horror, Adventure, and Fantasy are voiced by Frank Welker, Patrick Stewart, and Whoopi Goldberg. Stewart disguising his traditionally Shakespearean delivery to play a comical pirate, talking in a typical comical pirate voice, is a nice change of pace. You can tell the actor enjoyed hamming it up in the part. Goldberg certainly brings that Whoopi-esque vest and zigour to Fantasy, even if the character is a little grating at times. Welker, one of the most experienced voice actors in the industry, makes Horror a lovably pathetic creation. All three of the books are, if nothing else, entertaining presences.

Besides Culkin, the only actor to appear in both the animated and live action scenes is Christopher Lloyd. In the wrap-around sequence, Lloyd is Mr. Dewey, the enthusiastic librarian that introduces Richard to the world of reading. In the cartoon scenes, he is the titular Pagemaster, some sort of god-like entity representative of all literature. Lloyd excels in both parts, having a good time being theatrical as the libraian while being more mythic and wise as the Pagemaster. Leonard Nimoy voices both Jekyll and Hyde, bringing diginity and a sense of caution to the prior part and being effectively unhinged in the later. Another veteran voice performer, Jim Cummings, voices Long John Silver. Cummings has voiced plenty of characters like this before but he's pretty good at it, so it's no problem at all. (If you think the internet let it go unnoticed that many of the film's actors have appeared in the “Star Trek” universe, you severely underestimate the internet's collective nerdiness.)

The behind-the-scene story of “The Pagemaster” has a little more intrigue than the actual film. Production on the film was supposedly quite disorganized, scenes being cut well into production which is unusual for animation. (An excised moment from the Horror episode, involving Frankenstein's monster, even appeared in some of the trailers.) Before the release, producer David Kirschner sued to claim sole ownership of the film's story, essentially screwing original screenwriter David Casci out of credit. Largely due to the Writer's Guide of America not covering animated films, this court case would result in the most expensive investigation in the WGA's existence at that point. Sounds like a lot of trouble for a movie that didn't even gross 20 million dollars in the U.S. By not means a masterpiece, “The Pagemaster” is still a movie I enjoy... I must, as this is the second time I've reviewed it. [Grade: B-]

RECENT WATCHES: Honey, I Blew Up the Kid (1992)

After “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” became the surprise hit of 1989, Disney obviously realized they had a potential franchise on their hands. A sequel came about after Disney acquired an unrelated screenplay named “Big Baby,” which involved a toddler growing to enormous size after being zapped with a laser beam. It seemed like a logical enough idea for a follow-up. If kids and families turned out for a movie about youngsters shrinking to tiny sizes, it seems reasonable that the same audience would be interested in a movie about a baby growing to enormous size. “Honey, I Blew Up the Kid” would reach theater screens in 1992. “Grease” director Randal Kleiser, who previously made “Flight of the Navigator” and “White Fang” for Disney, would replace Joe Johnston in the director's chair.

Following the accident that shrank his kids, the Szalinski family has moved to a pleasant suburb outside Las Vegas. Wayne has taken his shrink ray to a new company, who are currently attempting to convert it into a enlarging ray. Nick is now a teenager, desperate to appear cool for a girl he likes. Amy is headed off for college. And the family has a new addition now, two year old Adam, who proves to be a surprising handful for Wayne and the others. After a stroke of inspiration about the size-changing ray strikes, Wayne sneaks into the lab, taking his sons with him. Unknowingly, Adam and his favorite plush bunny are zapped. Slowly, the boy begins to grow larger and larger. Soon enough, Adam is approaching giant proportions but retains his little boy enthusiasm and propensity for mischief.

If “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” was a family film that occasionally leaned more on wackier humor, “Honey, I Blew Up the Kid” aims more for the five-and-under crowd.  The film focuses on a giant-sized toddler and the goofy antics he gets into. So there's lots of sight gags involving the big kid being disguised in big-and-tall clothes, being mistaken for an adult but continuing to act like a child, or suddenly exiting the house right through the wall. Weirdly, there's rarely a crass or obnoxious side to these jokes. “Honey, I Blew Up the Kid” is refreshingly light on poop jokes or grating slapstick. It's sense of humor is juvenile but amiable.

“Honey, I Blew Up the Kid”  is a major downgrade from the original in one department. Shrinking humans down to a tiny size and having them interact with their suddenly enormous backyard is a much more novel concept than making one two year old forty feet tall. Granted, the movie does have some impish fun with its concept. The kid's stuffed bunny and everything in his pocket grows with him. So a toy Indian becomes involved in the proceedings, while Nick, his crush, and the sports car they end up in take the place of Adam's favorite toy car. The Las Vegas finale features some decent sight gags. Such as Adam picking up the giant guitar outside the Hard Rock Cafe, interacting with the neon cowboy signs, or chasing after an ice cream truck. If you're expecting some kid-friendly kaiju action, you'll be disappointed. Adam manages to wreck very little actual destruction, which is probably for the best. There is an inevitable shout-out to Toho's King of the Monsters though.

Surprisingly, most of the original film's cast returns for this sequel. Even Robert Oliveri and Amy O'Neill return, both allowed to grow up some between movies. O'Neill's part is reduced to a cameo but Oliveri is basically the film's secondary star. He shows some decent comedic chops, playing the character's frustration without becoming an obnoxious teenager. Mostly, this is Rick Moranis' show. If he was ever underwhelmed by the material or felt silly playing second-fiddle to an enormous two year old, he never shows it. In fact, Rick even appears to be having a good time. The scenes where he sings songs to the little kid or plays with the bunny are actually adorable. A subplot involving John Shea, as the corrupt executive eager to take Wayne's invention away from him, is totally disposable though.

“Honey, I Blew Up the Kid” did not match the original's blockbuster success, breaking even at the box office without going into the profit margin. However, I'm betting it was popular on video. As a kid, this was my favorite of the series and I watched it more than once. It's a decently entertaining flick, though best for the little kid crowd. And one more thing before we go: Am I having a personal Mandela Effect thing or does anyone else remember this movie being called “Honey, I Blew Up the Baby?” They even say it that way in the movie! I guess Disney wasn't comfortable releasing a movie with a title that implies infant-related explosions. [6/10]

Director Report Card: Joe Johnston (1991)

2. The Rocketeer

Thirty years ago, Hollywood got its first taste of the superhero craze that is currently dominating the box office. 1989's “Batman” was a phenomenon that broke records and packed in audiences all over the globe. Hollywood, as it usually does, took the wrong lessons from this success. Instead of immediately greenlighting films based on other beloved superheroes, film studios somehow decided specifically retro comic book heroes was what the kids of America were hungry for. Thus, an oddball wave of films that included “Dick Tracy,” “The Shadow,” and “The Phantom” flooded theaters. The best of this group was “The Rocketeer.” Not technically a retro property, as the character premiered in 1982, creator Dave Stevens had been trying to get his comic turned into a movie for years. After Disney scooped up the project, Joe Johnston, a huge fan of the “Rocketeer” comics, would step into the director's chair.

The time is 1938 and the place is Los Angeles. Howard Hughs has designed an experimental jet pack for the U.S. military. A group of gangsters steal the rocket pack. During a shoot-out with G-Men, the rocket is stashed in an airfield operated by Peevy Peabody and his best pilot, Cliff Secord. Discovering the rocket and immediately fascinated by it, Cliff ends up using the device to rescue a pilot from a stunt plane accident. This draws the attention of the gangsters, who are working on behalf of Hollywood-star-turned-Nazi-spy, Neville Sinclair. Cliff's girlfriend, an aspiring actress named Jenny, just happens to be working on Sinclair's new movie. Soon, the Rocketeer leaps into action to rescue the girl and stop the bad guys.

More than any of the other contemporary attempts to capture the art-deco spirit of Golden Age adventure serials, “The Rocketeer” does the best job of grabbing that sense of gee-shucks heroism. In Johnston's films, good guys are good because they operate with an innate selflessness, doing the right thing because it comes to them naturally. Upon discovering the rocket pack, it doesn't take Cliff long at all to use it to help people. The villains, meanwhile, are driven by self-interest and cynicism. That old school flavor of adventure, corny but utterly sincere, runs through the entire movie and powers every story decision it makes.

The film achieves this classic atmosphere by featuring many deliberate throwbacks to thirties and forties Hollywood. Many of these elements are carried over directly from Stevens' comic book. The Rocketeer, of course, is directly inspired by Republic serial hero Commando Cody. Cliff's girlfriend is visually patterned after Bettie Page. (This being a PG Disney movie, she isn't a pin-up model, like the real Page and her comic book counterpart were.) Neville Sinclair is based off Errol Flynn, and inspired by unfounded rumors Flynn was a Nazi. We see one of his swashbuckling adventure movies being filmed. A fittingly Fleischer-esque animation reel puts in an appearance. In a touch that especially tickled me, hideously deformed and physically intimidating henchman Lothar is directly patterned after Universal Monster star Rondo Hatton. All of this is in addition to in-universe walk-ons from W.C. Fields and Clark Gable. “The Rocketeer's” world is one of fedora clad G-Men, tommy gun-wielding gangsters, flighty dames and hot-shot reporters.

Tying the retro feeling together is some absolutely gorgeous production design. Firstly, the Rocketeer costume is taken directly from the comic book with few alterations. The iconic helmet looks especially fantastic when transferred to live action. The airborne hero is often set loose on elaborate sets. Clilff and Peevy's favorite hang-out is a diner located inside a statue of a bulldog. The nightclub that puts in an appearance is an art-deco wonder, prominently featuring a huge clam shell. The Hollywood sets and Nazi zeppelins are similar wonders to the eyes. “The Rocketeer” looks great, every aspect of the film directed towards that goal of recapturing the 1940s spirit of adventure.

Befitting of that approach, and the period setting, “The Rocketeer” is full of catchy and fast-paced dialogue. I especially like lines about stealing, the difference between lying and acting, the way the titular hero receives his name, or Jenny's reaction when Cliff tells her he's the Rocketeer. The best joke in the film is the way the gangsters react to learning they've been working for the Nazis. However, sometimes the film's sense of humor veers too much towards the corny. A sequence where Cliff uses the jet pack to push a pick-up truck along at super-speed is a bit too goofy for comfort. So are several brief moments during the Rocketeer's shoot-out in the nightclub. A jokey reference to the Spruce Moose is a little too much. In many ways, the movie's corny sense of humor is perfectly suited to it. Yet, at other times, the movie leaning on comedy makes its hero look incompetent.

Compared to modern superhero movie spectacle, “The Rocketeer” can't help but come off as hopelessly quint. However, it's action scenes are generally quite exciting. Early in the film, a shoot-out, car chase, and airplane stunt all combine into one thrilling sequence. Cliff's rescue of the stunt-pilot escalates nicely, growing more tense as it goes along. The fight scene atop the Nazi zeppelin is wonderfully orchestrated, the movie getting in some “Indiana Jones”-style Nazi blasting beforehand, the story going out on an especially exciting note. Joe Johnston's whiz-bang visual sensibility is most apparent during a fist fight in the diner, when the camera collides directly with a sternly thrown fist.

The action scenes are still sound but some of the film's special effects have aged better than others. The Rocketeer takes flight largely through model work and green screen shots. The seams show from time to time, the model work not blending perfectly with the elements around it. Other times, you can tell too readily the hero flying through the sky is a fancy dummy. All of this was cutting edge at the time and I'm sure Johnston, considering his effects background, made sure everything in the film looked as good as it could have. Perhaps only watching through modern sensibilities reveals the flaws.

Disney wanted an established star to play the Rocketeer. Many recognizable names, including some not-bad picks like Kurt Russell and Bill Paxton, were considered. Ultimately, Stevens and Johnston fought for relative unknown Billy Campbell. And they were absolutely right. Campbell not only has the look – the heroic chin, the dreamy eyes – but he perfectly nails Cliff Secord's personality. He has a boy-next-door sense of humor, a slight sense of mischief in his smile. Ultimately though, Campbell achieves the wholesomely heroic quality absolutely necessary to the character. So much of the film's success relies on his effervescent charm.

As good as Campbell is, the show is unquestionably stolen by Timothy Dalton as Neville Sinclair. Dalton turns his smoldering appeal around, playing an extremely likable and cool guy who just happens to be a totally self-interested and feckless villain. Dalton has the exact kind of grace and style required of the part, totally believable as a swashbuckling 1940s matinee icon. Yet he is also extremely smarmy, planting the root of duplicitous attitude. He sneers and smirks through all his dialogue, hitting the correct note each time, creating a delightfully hateable cinematic villain.

The film's supporting cast is full of notable names giving likable performances. Jennifer Connelly is astonishingly beautiful. Her raven hair, alabaster skin, and plunging neckline would not be out-of-place during the time period at all. More importantly, Conelly brings a lot of humor to the part, making Jenny as likable as she is lovely. Alan Arkin, as Peevy, is something between a mentor and a straight man, Arkin bring the required level of grumpiness to the part. Paul Sorvino is exceptionally well utilized as the head gangster, blustering his way through a role that requires an exactly Sorvino-esque level of bluster. Lastly, Terry O'Quinn does a good job playing one of the more benevolent cinematic depictions of Howard Hughes.

As a film directly concerned with flying, a soaring musical score was required. James Horner was happy to deliver. “The Rocketeer's” nostalgic roots is reflected in the simple piano melody that forms the basis of the main theme. From there, layers of sweeping strings grab a classical feeling of Americana. That's before we take off for the skies, the melody growing even bigger and more powerful, with more strings and horns propelling us – the viewers and the characters of the film – upward into a militaristic, action-adventure theme. It's the perfect music for this character and among the most underrated superhero movie scores.

Disney primed “The Rocketeer” to be a major blockbuster. The film's launch included the fast food tie-ins, video games, and merchandising you'd expect. (An example: My mom showed me a picture once of four-year-old-me wearing a “Rocketeer” t-shirt.)  Yet, like most of the attempts to replicate “Batman's” art deco comic book popularity, “The Rocketeer” would be a box office disappointment. The film was lost in a summer dominated by “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” and “Terminator 2.” Yet “The Rocketeer's” good-natured charm and old fashion thrills would win it a faithful following on home video. Disney was even kicking around a reboot a few years back, though it's doubtful the studio has much room for a project like this amid all their other tentpole releases. Either way, the original “Rocketeer” holds up as a goofy but none-the-less totally effective popcorn flick. [Grade: B+]'

RECENT WATCHES: Captain America (1990)

Marvel’s superheroes took a long and knotted road to the big screen, almost as convoluted as their comic book histories. Around 1984, a near-bankrupt Marvel optioned Spider-Man and Captain America to legendary schlock factory Cannon Films. While “Spider-Man” was prepped for Tobe Hooper and then Joseph Zito, a “Captain America” film was prepared for Michael Winner. When Menahem Golan left Cannon in 1989 to head 21st Century Film Corporation, he took the “Cap” rights with him. Albert Pyun, another Cannon regular who was also attached “Spider-Man” at one point, would direct the finally-in-production film. Though intended for a 1990 theatrical release, ready to capitalize on the post-“Batman” buzz, Pyun’s “Captain America” would sit on a shelf for two years. Limping onto VHS and cable in 1992, the low-budget film would be quickly forgotten and overlooked. Today, Marvel fans treat it as an odd curio in the character’s history.

In Mussolini’s Italy, a child piano prodigy is kidnapped and turned into a deformed super soldier named the Red Skull. The project’s head scientist flees to America, helping the allies create their own super soldier. Polio-stricken artist Steve Rogers is the test subject, becoming the superheroic Captain America. While stopping a Red Skull plot to launch a missile at the White House, Cap goes into the Alaskan ice. Fifty years later, Steve awakens in modern America. While trying to put his life back together, Cap uncovers a plot by the still-alive Red Skull to kidnap and brainwash the current president.

Golan and Globus’ approach to Marvel’s characters was less than faithful. They originally conceived “Spider-Man” as a monster-filled horror movie, for example. Pyun, working with a script that was more faithful than earlier drafts, doesn’t go that far with “Captain America” but still makes many baffling changes. I don’t know why the Red Skull was changed from a Nazi to an Italian Fascist. More pressing, after the time jump, the villain’s skeletal features are covered up. So he’s just a normal mafioso dude with a scarred face for most of the movie. The film doesn’t draw from any comic storyline and largely has an out-of-costume Steve fighting generic bad guys in even more generic locations. At least Captain America’s suit and shield are comic accurate, though they look extremely rubbery.

Yet the deviations from established lore are among the film’s lesser problems. “Captain America” is largely troubled by a low budget. The film is so determined to get to the modern day setting, that Captain America learns his entire history in the course of a plane ride. The fascist base he infiltrates is composed of that fake rocket, a big flag, and a catwalk. That’s it. Once he awakens in the modern day, Steve is chased through the Canadian countryside, the Los Angeles suburbs, and an Italian villa. The action scenes have similarly low stakes. One of the film’s action highlights involves Cap awkwardly wrestling with a nun-chunk wielding karate guy in the (very dark) basement of an anachronistic diner. The chase scenes and shoot-outs are largely listless in their execution. That is when they aren’t goofy as hell anyway. The many blurry shots of Captain America throwing his mighty shield, which wobbles through the air like a dollar store frisbee, induces chuckles, not thrills.

I might’ve forgiven the skimpy production values if the script wasn’t so cheesy. When discovered in the modern day Arctic, Captain America just gets up and casually walks away. The villains’ plots, trying to blow up the White House with a cartoonish rocket or brainwash the President, strike the viewer as childish. The way the script links Captain America and the Carter-esque President Kimble are similarly ham-fisted, Kimble spotting Cap when he was a boy. (The kid-friendly tone is occasionally interrupted by burst of ultra-violent gunshot wounds.) The conspiratorial elements of the story — the Red Skull is apparently responsible for the Kennedy and King assassinations — are interesting, especially with how the military-industrial complex is conspiring against the president. Yet it’s rendered fangless by rooting itself so solidly in 1990, with the bad guys hating the president’s environmentally conscious policies. And these are just the broader plot issues. There are other little bits of sloppy writing, like a journal sitting undisturbed for fifty years or a loose screw in a cell door going unnoticed.

More than anything else, the underwhelming treatment of its titular character is “Captain America’s” biggest undoing. This Captain America is kind of wimpy. He’s tossed into combat with little training and goes into hibernation after his first mission. He spends a chunk of the movie pinning for his now geriatric former girlfriend. The film then teams her up with her sassy valley girl daughter, who is in many ways a more motivated and interesting protagonist but also a hilariously campy artifact of the time. One of Cap’s favorite strategic moves is to feign car sickness, leap out of a vehicle, and then leap back in after the driver goes to check on him. He does this twice! Matt Salinger, most famous for being JD Salinger’s son, has the right look for Captain America: Broad shoulders and stout chin, blonde hair, dreamy blue eyes. Yet his characterization is maudlin and lacking in confidence, playing Cap as a lovelorn puppy who stumbles into most of his greatest achievements.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this “Captain America” is most of interest for its unintentional humor. There’s several hilariously sappy songs on the soundtrack. The supporting cast includes hammy turns from Ned Beatty and Darren McGavin. (Ronny Cox is unusually sincere as the president and Scott Paulin mugs hideously as the Red Skull.) The unsteady special effects are funny, such as when the Red Skull has his arm chopped off. But I found the story’s small scope more dispiriting than amusing. A Pyun-directed and Golan-produced “Captain America,” a low budget and cheesy predecessor to Marvel’s later cinematic success, sounded like a fascinating proposition. The truth is, though not without moments of campy laughs, this “Captain America” is as forgettable and unenergetic as its reputation suggests. [4/10]

Director Report Card: Joe Johnston (1989)

If you're reading this blog, you probably know who Joe Johnston is. However, the director is far from a household name. His directional style is not especially memorable and most of his films belong to the special-effects driven blockbuster genre, rarely a format that allows for great art. Which is fitting, considering he began his career as an Oscar-winning effects supervisor and Spielberg's protege.

Yet, for film nerds my age, Johnston is a secret architect of our childhood. The guy directed so many movies I grew up watching and loving. Moreover, most of Johnston's popcorn flicks are pretty good, his boys-adventure style finding solid footing in a number of entertaining motion pictures. So let's indulge a little nostalgia as I watch my way through his films. (Plus, a few of the franchises he started.)

1. Honey, I Shrunk the Kids

In the late eighties, Stuart Gordon and Brian Yunza would bring a script called “Teeny Weenies” to Disney. Gordon and Yunza, of course, were best known for gory, kinky horror movies like “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond.” Not exactly the kind of content you associate with the Mouse Factory but I guess Gordon and Yunza wanted to branch out. Gordon had originally intended to direct but became sick just as filming was about to begin. Brought in as the last minute replacement was Joe Johnston, making his official switch from special effects to directing. After realizing “Teeny Weenies” was a terrible title, Disney changed the name to the generic “Grounded” and non-descriptive “The Big Backyard.” Eventually, the studio touched upon the grammatically incorrect but nevertheless catchy “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.”

Wayne Szalinski is an absent-minded scientist. His latest obsession is with a shrinking ray, which he hopes to sell to NASA and other industries that would prosper from the ability to shrink large loads. Yet his fixation on getting the device to work is causing trouble with his wife, real estate agent Diane. Their schism leaves the two kids, teenager Amy and nerdy youngster Nick, home alone for a day. A mishap with the neighboring kids causes a baseball to fly into Wayne's lab, accidentally activating the laser. Amy, Nick, and the neighbors' kids – Russ and Ron – end up getting zapped by the beam. Now shrunk down to the size of ants, the kids have to survive the dangers of their now super-sized house and backyard.

Beyond wanting to expand their talents into the lucrative kids market, there's another likely reason Stuart Gordon and Brian Yunza came up with “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” Since both have displayed a love of classic sci-fi films in their work, one can presume that both were fans of “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” Though not very many attempts have been made, the shrinking movie a premise with a fairly evergreen appeal. “Fantastic Voyage,” “Innerspace,” and “Ant-Man” have all proven that. The idea of the world around us remaining the same but made into a massive metropolis by us getting smaller is a fascinating one. “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” certainly takes advantage of that. Here, the backyard becomes a massive jungle. Bugs become giants, oatmeal cookies become a feast, puddles and raindrops are deadly obstacles. It's an interesting premise with a lot of potential.

Whatever pulpy appeal the premise had, “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” is also very eager to conform to kids movie cliches. (I want to blame that one on Disney, Johnston, and screenwriter Ed Naha and Tim Schulman but Gordon/Yunza are both more than capable of following stereotypes.) This is another kid's movie about workaholic parents that need to spend more time with their kids. Wayne is fixated on perfecting his invention. Sue is working so hard, that she's away from the house for long periods of time. Neither seem to have time for their offspring. After coming close to loosing them to the mircoverse, that will change. I don't know why but this story type was endemic to kids movie of the decade of my youth.

Beyond that, “Honey, I Shrunk the kids” has an even more general moral that you often see in kid's movies. The Szalinski kids do not have the best relationship with their next door neighbors. Nick is a nerd and Ron is a jock that loves baseball and fishing. He actively bullies the smaller kid a few times throughout the film's early half. Russ Jr., meanwhile, has a crush on Amy the minute he sees her. However, she only has eyes for some other boy, who is kept off-screen. Throughout their adventure, all four kids will open their eyes to these new buddies. Ron and Nick work through their differences, learn to appreciate each other's skills, and become friends. Amy and Russ, meanwhile, develop a romance after he proves his bravery to her. This is the sort of wholesome message – overcome your difference and don't judge books by their covers – you also saw in a ton of kiddie movies at the time.

Yet none of these points really get at why “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” is a cool little movie. It's easy to see why Joe Johnston was both interested in and allowed to make this movie. The film is essentially an extended special effects reel. The film is an impressive achievement in production design, special photography effects, and advanced puppetry. Massive sets make the floor of an attic or the backyard into exotic locations. The dust in the cracks in the boards, the huge pollen in a flower, and the towering blades of grass are all highly memorable images. The film brilliantly blends effects, such as the way a kid leaps over a giant nail that probably wasn't there to begin with. The special effects in “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” hold up surprisingly well specifically because it depends on physical effects that never really age.

And when the effects have aged, they remain charming. “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” especially delights in giant insects. (Or, more accurately, insects that are normal sized but rendered giant by perspective.) When not brought to life with elaborate puppets, the big bugs are created with ever-charming stop motion effects. A really fun scene involves a bee swooping up some of the kids, buzzing them around the yard. Along the way, the gang befriends an ant. Dubbed Antty, he becomes their steed and pet. The way the ant squeaks at the kids, refusing to leave when pushed away, makes him surprisingly adorable. Antty even gives his life, protecting the kids from an also vividly brought-to-life scorpion. Johnston shows his inner monster kid by paying homage to “The Black Scoprion” in these scenes. Moreover, Antty's death is genuinely a tear-jerker. He was a good little buddy.

Another thing to like about “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” is, despite a wacky new invention starting the story's troubles, it's not another anti-science fable. In fact, the film embraces invention. Nick is just as creative as his dad, creating a pretty cool remote controlled lawn mower and a convincing miniature version of the shrink ray. After everyone is returned to normal, the family is eager to keep inventing and studying, using the size-changing ray to make their lives better. And just from a coolness factor, the device looks really beat. The shrink ray is a fantastically rough-hewn device, exposed cables everywhere. The magnifying helmet Wayne wears is another classic too.

For a family film from the late eighties, “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” is consistently amusing. Most of the jokes land, the literally oversized sight gags being solidly delivered. Like the particular way the gang leads Antty along or the way they fashion a bed out of a massive Lego brick. There are other funny jokes too, such as the neighbors' bemused reaction to a pair of apathetic cops. Yet some of the jokes become too aggressively wacky. Like a misbegotten sequence where Wayne spins around in a hammock and is eventually tossed through the air, a moment of overdone physical slapstick that really doesn't seem to belong in the movie.

A talented cast ties the film together. The four kids that star in the film are never mugging or obnoxious. Amy O'Neill is likable as Amy, who nicely straddles the line between being a girly teen and a more grounded person with practical concerns. Robert Oliveri as Nick is sweet as a super nerdy kid. While Oliveri's delivery can sometimes be a little goofy, you get the impression that this type of character lines up with his own personality. Jared Rushton, as Ron, is enjoyably hammy as a rowdy kid that is perhaps overconfident. Lastly, Thomas Wilson Brown projects a wholesome heart as Russ Jr., a teen struggling to figure out who he is.

“Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” was made during that funny time when meek-seeming Rick Moranis could be considered a genuine box office draw. Of course, a quiet and exceedingly nerdy guy like Wayne Szalinski is comfortably within Moranis' wheelhouse. I like the excitement Moranis brings to the character's interest in science and the sweetly dissolving tension he has with his wife. Speaking of which, Marcia Strassman is pure sweetness and suburban-mom-charm as Diane Szalinski. Matt Frewer is a delightful contrast to the geeky Wayne, playing a glorified redneck dad with his typical eccentric energy. I also couldn't help but notice Kristine Sutherland – otherwise known as Buffy's mom – as Frewer's wife.

Nostalgia may be coding my enjoyment of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” The film unquestionably makes me think of my childhood. It has a feeling and atmosphere that is hard to pin down but immediately identifiable as coming from the late eighties or early nineties. James Horner's score is light-hearted, whimsical, and frequently heavy on comedic melodies. I can't exactly tell you why this music is so indicative to this time and place but it definitely is, perhaps if only because so many other family movies sounded this way. “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” also has an animated opening credits sequence, another hallmark of the day. And it's a fun one too, showing cartoon kids being attacked by everyone objects – a record player, an oscillating fan – turned deadly by their shift in size.

It's hard to say if Disney had much confidence in “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” The film was packaged theatrically with the Roger Rabbit short, “Tummy Trouble,” suggesting an extra incentive was needed to get people into the theaters. It was released the same weekend as “Batman,” a pop culture juggernaut that would dominate the entire summer. Despite that, or maybe because it was positioned as counter-programming, the film turned into a surprise hit. Grossing 222 million, the film would remain Disney's highest grossing live action production for quite a few years. An entertaining family film, it would establish Joe Johnston style as a director: A fantastic utilization of special effects and a tone of fun, nostalgic adventure. [Grade: B]

Series Report Card: Godzilla (2019)

35. Godzilla: King of Monsters

Given his sixty year legacy in cinema, Legendary Pictures and Warner Brothers were obviously eager to launch a franchise with 2014's “Godzilla.” After developing a new “King Kong” film, Legendary even decided to form their own cinematic universe: The simply named Monster-Verse.  Yet a direct sequel to their “Godzilla” was slow-going. Gareth Edwards, initially set to return, jumped ship to Disney to make a “Star Wars” movie. After finding a more-than-antiquate replacement in the form of “Krampus'” Michael Dougherty, the release date to the perfectly entitled “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” kept being pushed back. After a five year wait – during which Toho released one live action and three animated Godzilla flicks – the King has finally returned to American theater screens.

In the years since Godzilla and the MUTOs rampaged through San Francisco, monster-tracking government agency Monarch has discovered dozens of massive beasts – dubbed Titans – hibernating around the globe. Dr. Emma Russell has developed a device nicknamed the ORCA which can pacify or even communicate with them. During the first test on a newly hatched Mothra, Russell, her teenage daughter Melinda, and the ORCA are taken by eco-terrorists. They intend to free all the Titans, letting the monsters reclaim the Earth. They first release Monster Zero, the most dangerous of the newly discovered creatures. Monarch, working with Emma's estranged husband Dr. Mark Russell, track Emma, the ORCA, and Godzilla, the only Titan strong enough to stand against the fearsome King Ghidorah.

I loved 2014's “Godzilla” but it was clearly a divisive film. Following its release, fans complained that the movie didn't have nearly enough giant monster action. That the film's tendency to cut away from the action was irritating, not interesting. Dougherty's “King of the Monsters” can only be seen as a direct response to Legendary's previous G-flick. The film has four marquee monsters, assembling Toho's most well-known and beloved kaiju. Aside from those creatures, the movie has even more original monsters in it. Such as the mammoth-liked Behemoth, the spider crab inspired Scylla, and a dozen other beasts named for other mythological beings. Huge chunks of the film's runtime is devoted to monster action. This is a sequel clearly designed to appease fans who were underwhelmed last time.

While such course correction could've been overzealous, “King of the Monsters” is so clearly made by fans. The film is peppered with homages to Godzilla's greater cinematic legacy. The score features segments of the beloved “Godzilla” and “Mothra” themes, a fantastic inclusion as Akira Ifukube's music was sorely missed from the 2014 film. The film is as faithful to the monster's established origins as possible, putting clever spins on many of them. Mothra's priestesses, Ghidorah's cosmic origins, and Rodan being born of volcanic fire are maintained but in delightfully unexpected ways. Even more fantastically shocking are homages to the original film's ending, “Godzilla vs. Megalon” and “Godzilla vs. Destoroyah.” (And even unexpected shout-outs to other films, like “The Giant Claw” or “The Thing.”) Edwards and Dougherty's styles are united by a key ingredient. Both approach the famous kaiju with as much respect as possible.

You can see this in how the movie treats it titanic characters. Godzilla's characterization is different from what we see in the Japanese film. Instead of being the Earth-searing embodiment of nuclear annihilation or a chaotic neutral force of nature, the American Godzilla is mostly a good guy. He's a cinematic superhero, in keeping with the big budget Marvel and DC films that dominate the modern box office. Yet there are hints that this Godzilla's tolerance of humanity has its limits. He still has no regard for the little things under his feet. More than once, Godzilla sends an intimidating signal to human scientists or a grouchy sneer towards a ship. It's different but as valid an interpretation of Toho's beast as any other that has existed over the years. Most importantly, even if he is something of a guardian to humanity, Godzilla is still a mythic figure.

That the creatures are allowed to maintain so much of their personality is vital. Let us examine King Ghidorah. The tri-headed dragon is surprisingly expressive. His heads frequently feud among themselves, bickering for control. (This is something I've been wanting to see in all the years I've spent watching “Godzilla” movies.) If Godzilla is the movie's hyper-destructive superhero, Ghidorah is its truly diabolical supervillain. His characterization is nothing less than Satanic, such as when he poses darkly against a cross. His necks slithers across the ground like the serpent of Eden and he is locked in ice like Dante's Satan. In a touch I truly loved, Ghidorah is connected with the global archetype of the multi-headed serpent. He brings massive storms, like the dragons of old. Ghidorah is a grand villain, an almost sadistic glee shining through his reptilian eyes as he rains devastation down on the cities of man.

“King of the Monsters” has its hands full, introducing three iconic creatures in one motion picture. As a short cut, it applies the same grand but simplified characterization to its other monsters. The airborne creatures maybe get the shortest sticks. Mothra has a fantastic introduction, the giant larva crawling from her cocoon and filling the humans with both awe and terror. After metamorphosing into an enormous moth, Mothra continues to be a striking visual. The enormous insect's beauty and majesty is played up. She rains healing pollen from her wings and glows with brilliant color. Disappointingly, the film reduces Mothra's personality to basically being Godzilla's girlfriend, which definitely undersells how complicated the two kaiju's relationship is in the Toho films.

In the Japanese films, Rodan is the monster with the least well defined personality. Mothra was a benevolent protector of nature, Godzilla is an unpredictable force of nature, Ghidorah was a genocidal maniac from outer space. And Rodan was pretty much just a big pterosaur. So “King of the Monsters” makes the decision to turn Rodan into an all-purpose hench-monster. After receiving a quick beat down from Ghidroah, Rodan becomes subservient to the interstellar dragon. From that point on, he functions as the villain's second-in-command, even fighting with Mothra while Ghidorah is occupied with Godzilla. He serves his purpose in the story and it must be said that Rodan is still an incredibly expressive creature. However, as with Mothra, I do wish he was given a slightly more complex motivation.

While I have my qualms about the way the monsters are handled, I have no complaints from a design perspective. Godzilla was given a fantastic rework in 2014, lent a bear-like stature and crocodilian features to ground him in reality while still maintaining everything we visually associate with Godzilla. The same benefit is extended to the new introductions here. Rodan heavily resembles his Heisei-era “Fire Rodan” form, his stone-like tail feathers always trailing volcanic ash. Mothra looks more like a giant insect, combining elements from moths, wasps, and various flies. Ghidorah is given an incredible weight and heft. All the designs strike a perfect balance between gritty realism and the trademarks of the creatures as we know them.

That same realism is what directed most of Gareth Edwards' previous reboot of “Godzilla.” That film strove to establish the truly awe-inspiring scale of these mega-sized beasts, placing them in a real world setting. Michael Dougherty's approach is very different. He seems to draw direct inspiration from the “Godzilla” films of the Heisei period. The plot is directly concerned with human organizations tracking or seeking to exploit the giant monsters. This bends the film into a more outrageous direction, with contrived plot devices like the ORCA. That approach is also reflected in the film's dialogue, which frequently veers towards the campy. Some of these lines are kind of funny but others, like a fortune cookie reference, are real groaners.

Visually, Dougherty's approach is very different too. Early on, I was a little worried. The sequence devoted to the eco-terrorists gunning down Dr. Russell's associates or some of the military scrambles are full of the shaky-cam action theatrics that I just can't stand. I was getting worried. Luckily, the camera is crystal clear during the monster battles. (Which is a good thing, since most of the movie is composed of them.) The kaiju fights are never anything short of spectacular. Godzilla and Ghidorah's first melee among the arctic ice is enormous in scale, with gravity beams flying and monsters pushed through the air with atomic breath. Rodan's unleashing in Central America is one of my favorite action set pieces in the film. The giant pteradon levels the city with gale force winds, spinning through the air and snatching jets out of the sky. Godzilla and Ghidorah then have a rematch in the water, with a surprisingly frank decapitation.

By the time we reach the last act, the action has reached a truly apocalyptic scale. Ghidorah drops Godzilla out of the sky, using his necks as arms. The film finds constantly inventive ways to keep this titanic struggle fresh. The movie makes it clear that a giant monster invasion would mean the end of civilization as we know it. Entire cities are destroyed. DC is lost among massive flooding, generated by Ghidorah. Boston is completely wiped off the map. As Godzilla and Ghidorah wail on one another, with a scuffle between Mothra and Rodan going on at the same time, the immense power of these beasts is clearly established. Only a last minute writing decision – another of the film's more contrived touches – spares all of humanity.

And if you'll allow me to get a bit nitpicky... An extremely minor problem I have with the film is its loose approach to science. Edwards' film established that this Godzilla exists in a more realistic world than previous films in the series. Though a direct sequel, “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” pretty clearly does not. I'm not even talking about the more fantastical monsters that are introduced. More times than I could count, characters in this film are tossed backwards by massive explosions. Nobody is knocked dead by concussions. Even more egregious is how often characters stand next to enormous fireballs or gigantic explosions of nuclear energy. Convection would burn everyone near-by to toast and all survivors would immediately be riddled with cancer. Of course, this is a ridiculous complaint, as most big blockbusters can be accused of this. But the weird push-and-pull the MonsterVerse has with reality took me out of the movie a few times. 

The most common complaint about Edwards' “Godzilla,” aside from there not being enough monster action, is that the human protagonists was a deeply un-charismatic block of wood. The sequel seeks to correct this by casting a colorful character actor in nearly every part and letting them play to type. In other words, the entire principal cast is populated with Bryan Cranstons. Vera Farmiga is a stern and slightly unhinged matriarch who spouts a lot of exposition. Kyle Chandler is a perpetually fed-up dad full of gruffly observed wisdom. Millie Bobby Brown is an adventurous and strong-headed teenager. Bradley Whitford is a deeply cynical smart-ass who often observes the action. Charles Dance is a villain who pairs his calculating nature with a colorful British accent. Zhang Ziyi is a wise Asian with unique insights. In this line-up, the returning Ken Watanabe and Sally Hawkins stand out a lot less, though both are still excellent. I, for one, think this was an excellent strategy. The human characters in “Godzilla” movies have always been of secondary importance to the monsters so slotting them into easily understood archetypes is a great short-cut.

You'll notice most of my complaints with “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” haven't amounted to much more than bitchy fanboy nitpicking. And that's because I couldn't be more in the bag for this motion picture. However, I do think there is a serious flaw. “Godzilla” movies, even the silliest ones, are always about more than they appear. The original was about the atom bomb. “Shin Gojira” was about the Japanese government's mishandling of the 2011 Tohoku disaster. Edwards' “Godzilla” was awash in all sorts of millennial anxieties. So what is “King of the Monsters” about? It's not very clear. Nuclear energy is nothing but a plot device in this film, the real world ramifications stripped away. This becomes especially queasy during a sequence devoted to re-charging Godzilla via nuclear bomb.

The best I can tell is that Dougherty is making a movie about coming to peace with our place in nature. Mark and Russell lost a son during Godzilla's previous fight in San Francisco, splintering their relationship. Mark begins the film hating Godzilla but eventually helps save him. Likewise, the massively destructive Titans are as capable of saving the Earth as they are destroying it. Perhaps Dougherty is spreading a message about mankind living in balance with the natural world? But it's not very clearly expressed. This is a big, comic book-style, effects-packed blockbuster and I'm fine with that but I wish it didn't sacrifice some of the series' trademark substance.

Ultimately, I can't complain too much. I enjoyed this motion picture immensely. You can tell that Michael Dougherty is a true monster-loving Godzilla fan and that affection is evident all throughout “King of the Monsters.” Even though the sequel seeks to address the complaints of 2014's film, it has also received a wildly divisive reaction. The box office has been underwhelming too, probably due to the five year wait between films, that previous movie's mixed reception, or a packed summer movie environment. This has cast the future of the MonsterVerse into doubt. (Though not that much into doubt, as the heavily-foreshadowed “Godzilla vs. Kong” has already completed principal photography.) Whether the King of the Monster's latest adventure is commercially successful is still being decided but I absolutely had a blast watching it. [Grade: A-]