Mister Minutes' Cinema Circus

Kong: Skull Island is actually the best of the three current MonsterVerse movies — which isn't saying much — but is also the most frustrating because of that fact. Unlike the two Godzilla films, Skull Island at least tries to have a little sense of style in its cinematography, even if that style is just replicating every other Vietnam War movie ever made. But of course, it must balance out the good with the bad, so nearly everything else about this movie sucks.

Every failure plaguing the MonsterVerse stems from one simple but integral problem: the sheer lack of respect and awe shown to the monsters. You’re working with 300-foot-tall, incredibly ancient and powerful god-like beings that tower over humans and which now rule the world — but, aside from one single good shot in Godzilla’s Honolulu scene, the movies never treat these creatures with any kind of spectacle. There should be a half-hour of build up, of hushed whispers and furtive glances, before we even glimpse Godzilla; but in the MonsterVerse, these fuckers just appear on screen with no pomp or circumstance, which is indicative of the full failure of these movies. They’re so impatient to get to the monsters already that they don’t care how or why they show up. Genre films have specific rules in order to create an effective atmosphere and convey feelings to the audience. One of those rules is “don’t show too much of your monster!” Jaws is terrifying precisely because we barely see the shark at all until the final act of the film; Alien is scary because the xenomorph sticks to the shadows, it’s only seen in flashes until finally showing itself fully in the very end. Peter Jackson’s King Kong doesn’t show the great ape until like an hour into the movie, after spending the first hour with its human characters. That time spent without the monster is critical, so we can get to know the characters, do some world building, so that the danger threatening our heroes feels real and important later. You’re supposed to be scared of Skull Island as a place, long before you meet its king. A monster’s introduction is just as important as what it does for the rest of the movie. Jackson’s King Kong features an incredibly tense sequence where Ann Darrow is strung up as sacrifice for Kong; the night air is filled with smoke and fire, beating drums and loud chanting from the island natives. It’s a huge goddamn production, and only then do we finally see Kong in all his glory.

In Skull Island, Kong shows his fucking face before the opening credits. In broad fucking daylight. It’s the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.

This series has no respect for its monsters as monsters. I know these aren’t horror movies, but these creatures should be given some kind of kick-ass, or scary, or awe inspiring reveal. The film should tell the audience “These things are a big fucking deal!” — instead, the MonsterVerse relies on the audience already being familiar with these creatures, and so neglects to give them any kind of important introduction.

Goodbye Godzilla, Hello Vietnam

Despite it shitting the bed in the first two minutes, I was intrigued by Skull Island’s story. After the opening credits, we transition to 1973 Washington, D.C.; the Vietnam War has (literally) just ended, and two agents from the clandestine monster-studying agency Monarch weasel their way onto a geographic survey mission to the mysterious Skull Island (which is of course shaped like a goofy cartoon skull on the map). They claim they need military helicopters to drop seismic explosives to read under the island’s surface, and so enlist the help of an Army platoon shipping out of Vietnam. The soldiers are led by Lt. Col. Packard (Samuel L. Jackson), and here is where the movie showcases something that genuinely caught me off guard: namely, the use of visual storytelling and stylish cinematography. It’s pretty sad that in three movies, I was surprised by somebody trying to use the language of cinema to, y’know, make an interesting movie. As Packard’s company learns that the war is over and they can go home, his men generally celebrate, talk about what they’ll do once they get stateside. Packard, however, sits alone in his office and retrieves a box of dog tags and medals from his desk, which he looks at with a sense of fondness, but also emptiness. This one single shot tells us that Packard is a sentimental man, who’s lost a lot to this war, but he is also reluctant to pack up and leave for home. This one image holds more intent and purpose than any shot in the entirety of both Godzilla movies.

The sequence where the soldiers arrive on Skull Island is also pretty good, with some cool shots of helicopters in formation, fun Vietnam-era rock music to get everyone pumped up, a weird Icarus monologue from Packard, and a genuinely funny Nixon bobblehead encouraging the soldiers into a massive storm (a storm which completely and totally disappears after this scene). The soldiers don’t get much in the way of character depth or development, but they have some fun chemistry, and feel like they’re actually friends. If the movie had just been about these soldiers surviving on Skull Island, it would have been infinitely better.

‘Twas Bad Writing Killed the Beast

King Kong is emblematic of the idea of finding humanity within a monster. A recurring aspect of his character is that he is a lonely creature underneath his fearsome exterior, who is struck by Ann Darrow’s beauty; his vulnerability is what humanizes him, and his infatuation with Ann is ultimately his downfall (we could talk about the racial implications of a pretty blonde white lady "taming the beast" within Kong, but I’m sure people much smarter than I have already examined the subject). It’s sad to see movies like Skull Island ignore or outright eliminate this vulnerable facet of his character; in this movie there’s a bit of throwaway backstory about Kong being the last of his kind, a former apex species on the island, but let’s be honest, that’s just a flimsy way to justify Kong being a Titan in this universe.

There’s a moment where Chapman, one of the soldiers, is washing blood off of himself in a river, when Kong suddenly appears (none of these giant monsters make footsteps until they’re on camera) and begins to clean his own wounds in the water. Kong sits in the river and examines his palm, torn up by a helicopter’s blades. He’s contemplating this new kind of wound, from a weapon he’s never encountered before; he looks hurt, and possibly sad, as he dips his hand in the water. He cries out from the sting as he cleans the cuts, and for a moment there’s a sense of humanity within Kong; this creature, who killed so many of Chapman’s friends hours before, feels pain and sadness just like he does. He’s alone, and scared, aaand the moment is ruined by a giant octopus that suddenly attacks Kong because these movies can’t have feelings or themes, only GIANT MONSTER FIGHTS BAY-BEEEE. Kong can’t be humanized because he is a mascot, he’s the main attraction!! In retrospect, the film's existence is analogous to Kong being captured and put on display in the original story; he’s dehumanized, stripped of his power and freedom, shown off as a sideshow by greedy scam artists trying to make a fast buck. Jordan Vogt-Roberts is Carl Denham, who yanks us away from seeing Kong’s vulnerable side in favor of “Wow aren’t monsters kick-ass??”

The MonsterVerse Avoids Character Development Like I Avoid Covid.

Kong isn't the only one who suffers from shallow characterization, though. Jackson’s Packard actually has some interesting depth, depth which is hastily filled up and paved over at the very end. When Monarch and their escorts reach Skull Island, Kong shows up within seconds (again, no buildup or suspense before blowing the reveal) and kills most of the platoon, leaving only our main characters alive. Throughout the movie, it becomes more and more clear that Packard’s goal isn’t to get off the island - he has a score to settle with the big ape, and it consumes him to the point where he’d rather endanger his surviving soldiers than leave Kong alive. That’s a great angle! Seriously, that has so much potential; not only with Packard’s anger towards Kong, but the guilt he must be feeling at leading his men to their deaths, just when they’d been released from the grips of war. The climax of the film involves Packard forcing his men to build a trap so they can kill Kong. It’s a tense standoff between a man consumed by hatred and revenge, and a seemingly unstoppable powerhouse creature. But fucking of course we can’t end with a meaningful man vs. nature, soldier vs. king, Ahab vs. Moby Dick battle for the ages — you fucking idiot!! People only come here to see monsters! So Magilla Gorilla just kills Packard in the laziest way possible, cutting his villainous arc short with no meaningful end, all so Kong can duke it out with a couple of stupid looking skull lizards.

It’s doubly sad because Jackson was one of the actors who actually seemed to give a shit about this movie. Sam Jackson never phones it in, but I was surprised that most of the cast was actually trying. John C. Reilly gives a great performance as Hank Marlow, a WWII fighter pilot who was shot down over Skull Island and has been living there ever since. He’s a comedic actor who isn’t giving an overly comedic castaway performance. He’s kooky, but not annoying, and when he slips into a somber moment, it’s believable. The same cannot be said for Tom Hiddleston, doing his best impression of a plank of solid wood in a Nathan Drake costume. His character looks and sounds so out of place among the rest of the cast, it’s ridiculous. He’s among kitted-out soldiers and scientists in passable expedition clothing, and Loki’s over here in a blue t-shirt and an across-the-shoulder holster. And once again the MonsterVerse shows that it has no idea what to do with women; Brie Larson is here as an anti-war photographer who doesn’t actually say anything anti-war in the film (probably to keep it safely marketable to as many demographics as possible), and ends up just being arm candy for Hiddleston; they spend the majority of the movie staring blankly at each other and we’re supposed to pretend they have any semblance of chemistry whatsoever. There’s also Jing Tian, the team’s, uh... token Chinese person. Seriously, she does literally nothing and has no substantial dialogue whatsoever; it’s embarrassingly obvious that she was shoved into the cast at the demand of Chinese tech conglomerate Tencent, which helped finance the film.

The MonsterVerse: In Conclusion. (In Memoriam?)

And with that, it's finally over. My ordeal with the cinematic dumpster fire that is the MonsterVerse is finally done — at least until Godzilla vs. Kong comes out in May.

Look, I know I’ve done nothing but rag on these movies for a month now. They’re frustrating and they make me angry, because I know they could have been better. There are glimpses of good ideas within these movies that could have been great if given time for proper development. But it’s clear to me that these films were made with a fundamental misunderstanding of what makes monster movies entertaining. In the end, it’s not about how many monsters you can get to punch each other at the same time, or how expensive your CGI looks. That stuff is hollow when there isn’t a good story to go with it, and no characters for us to care about.

If you like these movies, that’s 1000% okay. I’m happy that you like them, and I’m not trying to take that away from you. A friend of mine on Facebook said “I’m just here for the giant monsters. I’m a simp for Godzilla”, and that’s fine! You can be a simp for Godzilla; but why shouldn’t these movies give you something more than just the most base, boring, thoughtless action? Action is fun, I want action! But there should still be context, a good reason and meaning for us to care about the giant monster fights. The people making these movies should give us more, and we should expect more; we shouldn’t have to accept movies with no consequence or forethought, where characters disappear within their own movies, where monsters appear and die without any importance. These movies should matter. The people should matter. The aftermath should matter. The monsters should matter beyond being poster candy to make Warner Bros. more money. Otherwise, you might as well just play a Godzilla fighting game. No one put any more thought into why these creatures have to fight than went into asking why Isabelle the dog is in the same arena as Solid Snake: “It’s just cool, take it and move on.”

Maybe Godzilla vs. Kong will finally give us something worthwhile, but I’m not holding my breath. We deserve better, and these monsters deserve better.