I love movies. More importantly, I love seeing movies before almost everyone else. Certain movies will get me to the theater at midnight, so I figured I’d see them first and write a review the next day so you can get a real review from someone that isn’t a Hollywood hack.
In this installment… Pacific Rim.
Transformers Vs. Godzilla. Michael Bay’s hyperkinetic toy commercial robots versus a guy in a rubber suit.
Whenever I’ve discussed Pacific Rim (and I’ve discussed it A LOT), that’s the comment I see and hear most often, usually followed by a derisive snort. It’s ironic, in that the Transformers movie trilogy made $2.7 billion dollars and the franchise it’s based on continues to be relevant after almost forty years, and Godzilla is probably the most well known Japanese export after sushi. It’s meant as a dig at otaku, obsessed fans of Japanese culture, especially anime. The truth is that Kaiju and Mecha, the twin Japanese film genres about giant monsters and giant robots, respectively, have been influencing Western cinema for years. Critically and commercially acclaimed Directors like George Lucas, James Cameron, J.J. Abrams, Steven Spielberg, Stanley Kubrick, Peter Jackson, and Neill Blomkamp have all used elements of Kaiju and Mecha in their films. So why is it that Director Guillermo del Toro’s latest film is met with such derision?
The truth is that nothing like Pacific Rim has ever been brought to Western movie screens before. Influences are one thing, but what was the last Giant Robots Versus Giant Monsters film you saw? I consider myself a cinephile, at least as it relates to summer blockbusters; I’ve seen more alien invasions, global disasters, and superheroes than should be legal. I’ve seen the White House destroyed so many times, I’m honestly surprised when I see it intact on the news. Yet I cannot remember a single instance of a giant robot fighting a giant monster. Giant robots, sure. Giant monsters, absolutely. But never the twain have met, until now.
Hollywood is notoriously risk averse. It’s why every summer is packed with about a dozen different tentpole movies based around similar ideas. I wrote an article several weeks ago, explaining why I thought Pacific Rim and Elysium are this summer’s two most important films. Simply put, it’s because they’re unique. Elysium doesn’t come out for a few more weeks, but Pacific Rim is here now.
Admittedly, when the initial tracking leaked, showing Pacific Rim on track for a $30 million opening weekend and lower name recognition than Grown Ups 2, I was nearly despondent. Then the reviews started trickling out, and I was hopeful. Now we’re here, and Pacific Rim looks to be on track to own the box office this weekend, has a ton of buzz, and some great critical reviews.
So, what did I think of Pacific Rim?
To properly explain it, I’d like to share a story.
I am twelve years old, sitting on the couch in my grandfather’s house on Long Island. I have the chicken pox, and I am miserable. One of my uncles comes in to cheer me up, and tells me he has something he thinks I’ll like. He puts Godzilla 1985 on the TV. I am mesmerized, and for the first time in three days, I am not itchy. That night, we go to the video store and I spend the rest of that vacation watching old Godzilla movies, inbetween oatmeal baths.
Flash forward seventeen years. I am twenty nine, sitting in an IMAX 3D theater watching Pacific Rim, and in an instant I am twelve years old again, watching giant robots battle giant monsters.
This movie is not Transformers Vs. Godzilla. Pacific Rim is what Transformers Vs. Godzilla WISHES it could be when it grows up, the same way we want to be astronauts or ballerinas or, in my case, a marine biologist.
Simply put, Pacific Rim is the most cinematically stunning two hours of film I’ve ever witnessed.
In the year 2013, a monstrous creature emerges from a transdimensional breach beneath the Pacific Ocean and lays waste to San Francisco. Six days later, the U.S. Military manages to kill it. A few weeks later, another monster emerges, destroying Manilla. A few weeks after that, Cabo is destroyed. The monsters emerge, destroy coastal cities, but are eventually defeated at terrific cost. Over the next few years, humanity builds giant robots, called Jaegers, to fight the monsters, now called Kaiju. Humanity appears to be winning. Then something terrible happens, the Pacific Rim nations decide to erect a giant wall around the Pacific Ocean, and the Jaeger program is shut down. With resources dwindling, Stacker Pentecost marshalls the last of the Jaegers for a final, last ditch assault on The Breach in the hopes of ending the Kaiju threat once and for all.
This is the setting for Pacific Rim, and in it director Guillermo del Toro and writer Travis Beacham create a world that has been profoundly influenced by the Kaiju. Coastal cities are abandoned to the poor, as the rich move inland. Cities grow in, around, and through the bones of fallen Kaiju. Black market dealers sell Kaiju organs as remedies for a variety of ailments. It’s incredibly well fleshed out, more so than the vast majority of summer blockbusters I’ve seen. The story is simple, but effective: destroy all monsters. There is tragedy, desperation, triumph, loss, shock, and awe as the main characters, played by Charlie Hunnam (Raleigh Beckett), Rinko Kikuchi (Mako Mori), and Idris Elba (Stacker Pentecost) weave their way to the final confrontation. If you’re expecting Citizen Kane in a Gundam suit, you’ll be disappointed. That being said, it’s probably the best story out of any movie I’ve seen this summer, precisely because it doesn’t try to do too much. The main character’s motivations are either clear or eventually revealed; the only real mystery left is the Kaiju themselves, which is exactly how it should be.
The inevitable cinematic comparison for Pacific Rim is Transformers. They’re both about giant robots, right? WRONG. The reason Pacific Rim succeeds where Transformers (sort of) failed is entirely in the cinematography. The robot and monster fights are beautifully lit and easy to follow, and everything seems to have the appropriate mass and momentum. You FEEL it when Gipsy Danger, one of the Jaegers, ignites a rocket on it’s elbow and smashes Leatherback, a Kaiju, with an elbow rocket punch to the face. When you see the Kaiju from the ground instead of the cockpit of the Jaeger, there is a sense of scale that is awe-inspiring and terrifying. The Jaegers themselves are solid, lacking the unnecessarily detailed elements of Michael Bay’s Transformers, and the Kaiju feel familiar, yet alien. Moreover, the Kaiju are smart; they aren’t bumbling movie monsters waiting for a trap. They react and adapt, coming at the Jaegers in new and different ways. No two Kaiju fight the same, forcing the Jaeger pilots to improvise and come up with innovative solutions to beat them.
In years past, we’ve seen zombies, aliens, natural disasters, superheroes, and probably a dozen more archetypes take over Hollywood. If Pacific Rim is any indication, we may be headed for a new golden age of Robot and Monster movies. Pacific Rim is genre defining, a benchmark for everything that summer blockbusters should and can be. It is the best movie I’ve seen this year, and one of my new personal favorites. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
Consequently, I am awarding Pacific Rim the first ever Golden Banana, for excellence in blockbuster filmmaking.
