Godzilla (2004)

In 1977, Star Wars changed the world. It took the universe by storm, completely redefining everything everyone knew about movies. But then, in 1980, The Empire Strikes Back changed Star Wars.

Sequels were not as well regarded back then as they are today. Other than 1974’s The Godfather: Part II, sequels were typically seen as mere cash grabs that couldn’t possibly match the quality of the original, let alone exceed it. In the same way that George Lucas’ Star Wars fundamentally changed everything with its release, The Empire Strikes Back shattered this stigma, proving that there were endless story possibilities for more Star Wars.

Directed by Irvin Kershner, The Empire Strikes Back was released on May 21, 1980 — forty years ago today (article originally published 5/21/2020 by Nathanael Molnar). It’s amazing to think about how much time has passed since this seminal film was released, and how much has changed in its wake. We live in an age of franchise movies, where ongoing cinematic stories are ever evolving. Star Wars was essentially the first movie franchise to break into the mainstream. There were theatrical series like Planet of the Apes and Godzilla, but nothing had the simultaneous commercial explosion that Star Wars experienced.

The Empire Strikes Back introduced the concept of an expanded universe by referring to itself as “Part V” in the opening crawl, insinuating more story preceded 1977’s Star Wars. With this, the floodgates were thrown open for large-scale cinematic franchises. This has ultimately grown into what we have today with the Marvel Cinematic Universe; Avengers: Endgame itself just turned one year old. Looking back on Empire, it’s fascinating to examine how the sequel cemented the legacy of this new forming franchise.

With COVID-19 cases on the decline and vaccinations on the rise, more and more movie theatres are reopening their doors. If you're anything like me, though, you're still working through the backlog of content on all those streaming services you subscribed to during quarantine. So far, HBO Max has impressed me the most with the size and caliber of its library. Before you cancel your subscription, check out these movies and shows that earn high marks for both quality and diversity.

This critically acclaimed Brazilian film offers an unflinching look at organized crime in the titular "city," a suburb of Rio de Janeiro. The vast majority of the cast were unknown prior to City of God. In fact, some of them (particularly the child actors) were residents of favelas: rural slums in Brazil that date back to the expulsion of formerly enslaved African people from major cities. Casting people from the setting that the film portrays results in a raw realism that may not have been achievable with professional actors. Douglas Silva stands out as Li'l Dice, a deeply disturbed and deeply disturbing child who grows up to be a sadistic drug lord. However, while City of God doesn't shy away from the horrors of organized crime, it also emphasizes the systemic failures that lead people to commit crimes in the first place.

(This article contains minor spoilers.)

On the morning of Easter Sunday, my housemates and I celebrated the start of spring with a brunch fit for Godzilla himself. We had everything: waffles, frittatas, bagels, fruit salad, cake, sausage, and three different kinds of bacon, including a vegan “bacon” that we’d never tried before. My housemate and I laughed as we prepared it. The stuff looks like a Looney Tunes character’s idea of bacon: perfectly rectangular with bright red “meat” and evenly-spaced white stripes. When I bit into a slice, though, I stopped laughing. Despite its objectively hilarious appearance, the vegan bacon tasted uncannily like the real thing. Sweet and salty, smokey and savory, it even nailed the texture with crisp edges and melt-in-your-mouth pockets of fat. “How can something look so stupid,” I wondered aloud, “and taste so good?”

That night, I found myself asking a similar question as I watched Godzilla vs. Kong on HBO Max. As a writer, I laughed at the cheesy dialogue and contrived plot. As a huge fan Ishirō Honda’s original Godzilla, I balked at the ongoing depoliticization of a character so deeply rooted in Japan’s post-war trauma. Nonetheless, I had more fun watching Godzilla vs. Kong than I’ve had in recent memory.

Early on, Godzilla vs. Kong asks the audience to check any disbelief at the door and take a lot of junk science at face value. The Hollow Earth theory—the belief held by many ancient cultures and some modern conspiracy theorists that our planet contains a hidden subterranean world rather than a molten core—is completely accurate. Okay. Godzilla and Kong originate from Hollow Earth and are biologically compelled to return there (“Like spawning salmon,” a character helpfully comments). Sure. The two monsters hate each other because their ancestors clashed, and that rivalry lives on in their genetic code to the point where they can detect each others’ proximity. Cool. Also, gravity inverts upon entry to Hollow Earth, but fortunately, the Obligatory Shady Corporation invented a vehicle that can safely transport humans through this gravitational disruption. How does it work? The film doesn’t elaborate, and honestly, who cares? Show us the monsters!

With the coronavirus pandemic cancelling virtually everything, including movie releases, I had to scout Netflix for something to review. Fortunately, it wasn’t a difficult feat, as Netflix always has new releases, but sometimes those new releases aren’t too great…

Altered Carbon: Resleeved is a Japanese animated film which is based off a TV show, which is based off a book. Unlike the movie, the TV show — Altered Carbon — is actually an American live action series. It’s quite a change, but it’s an interesting way to give the story more representation. If only said story left a lasting impression, but we’ll get to that.

The movie takes place in between seasons one and two, but stands on its own as it expands on the story’s universe. Though it felt like I needed to have seen season one to understand our protagonist in order to care for him.

…I didn’t really care for him.

Our protagonist is Takeshi Kovacs, a former solider turned investigator who has to protect a girl from danger, while at the same time, investigate the murder of a yakuza boss. The premise is set in the distant future where consciousness can be transferred into a different body, essentially making anyone immortal until the stack — a chip embedded into their spine that carries their consciousness — is destroyed.

Offering several snapshots into the hopes and fears of two college roommates, Small Talk explores the uniquely young-adult experience of vulnerability and asks the tough questions through the trials of growing pains.

Sky (Laurel Wong) and Jade (Precious Prado) open up in brief conversations about a multitude of issues circling the minds of college-age students since the dawn of time: family, mental health, and life’s ultimate purpose. Though the two girls come from different styles of upbringing and their individual goals are quite different, writer/director Prado emphasizes their commitment to one another as empathetic advisors and friends — a unifying comfort many of us long to see on-screen during these times.

The most impressive aspect of this film is the honest and natural performances given by the on-screen duo. The hesitation surrounding their insecurities plays effortlessly, as well as does their genuine platonic love. The technical elements of this film, though not flawlessly executed, aid in the emotional journey of their story.

The film opens with a “woozy” freehand shot that is reminiscent of the lost and uneasy feelings that come with the territory of young-adulthood. The cyclical nature of this film reinforces the uneasiness felt when there is a lack of concrete resolution, again driving home the major themes of this piece: uncertainty and longing.

A note must be made, however, on a surprising bit of dialogue during the climax of this film. In a seemingly misguided attempt at hyperbolic reasoning, or perhaps dark humor, a reference to Hitler is made in, what I consider, poor-form. Coming from way out of left field, Sky’s comment elicits a complacent reaction from her on-screen counterpart. Unfortunately, this particular interaction distracts and detracts from a major point being made at a pivotal moment of the film.