I’ve been meaning to watch Hideaki Anno’s Shin Godzilla (2016) for the longest time, but I never really got around to it. At least, not until now. Truth be told, it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. As a child, I was obsessed with the Goji films and subsequently all the Toho kaiju, but in all my years, I’ve never seen an incarnation of Godzilla so hell-bent on leveling cities and killing people. Needless to say, it was awesome. Even if Shin might not be my favorite Godzilla, it’s still one of my favorites given the fact that it sports a sort of theme: evolution. Throughout the course of the film, Shin grows and adapts as it crawls out of the ocean and clampers onto land, gaining new powers with each stage before finally growing into the gargantuan kaiju that we all know and love – only more twisted and strangely hostile towards humanity. In a sense, one could compare it to Destoroyah, another Toho kaiju with a similar gimmick. This version of Godzilla is menacing, to say the least, and it shows in its appearance in the sense that it looks far more monstrous, bleeding as it walked and splitting its lower jaw in two whenever it readied the trademark Goji Atomic Breath. To date, Shin remains the only Godzilla capable of firing atomic energy from its tail – which doubles as a second mouth – and its dorsal fins. None of this might seem particularly interesting to whoever might be reading this, but I just thought it’d be something worth mentioning. It goes without saying that Shin is one of the most antagonistic incarnations of Godzilla to date.

My only regret is that I wasn’t able to stick around long enough to see the film in its entirety. Apparently, Shin was defeated by a joint operation between the Americans, the Germans, the French, the Chinese, and the Japanese by freezing the monster. However, at the very end, humanoid creatures emerged from its body. This could perhaps be the next and final stage in Shin’s life cycle – splitting into several little organisms as opposed to one giant one, tying to Shin’s penchant for adaptability. This might have been the only way for the creature to survive – and because Shin was able to survive, it isn’t totally out of the question for it to return in a sequel. Curiously enough, there were no other kaiju in the film, though this was possibly intentional so that the film could highlight how Shin Godzilla might be nature’s revenge against mankind for polluting the ocean, much like the original Godzilla film from 1954.

The Kaiju aside, Shin Godzilla – like all other Godzilla films – featured a cast of human characters who worked together to try and maintain damage control and stop the Kaiju from destroying the city. This time, however, the humans are working together to destroy Godzilla as opposed to working alongside it to defeat a bigger, badder monster. However, like the other Godzilla films, I found myself completely unattached to the human characters primarily because the more they showed up, the less screen time the kaiju would have. I watch these films because I want to see giant monsters toppling buildings and firing lasers, and I’m certain I’m not the only one who feels the same way. Still, the characters did bring another layer of depth to the film, promoting a  

Shin Godzilla also seemed to jab at the Americans a lot, painting them in a rather negative light. Of course, this is completely understandable given the history between the two countries. America was responsible for bombing two Japanese cities, after all, and the radiation from these bombs often serve as the source of Godzilla’s energy. Shin Godzilla is of no exception given the fact that it was accidentally born from American nuclear refuse. With that said, Shin was the result of excessive weapon testing and now it has resurfaced to wreak havoc on humanity, whether it means to or not. This anti-Americanism is arguably intentional given how excessive and blunt it is, ranging from snide remarks about Americans all the way to how the Americans decided to try and drop a nuclear bomb on Shin, mirroring how they dropped bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Despite this, Shin Godzilla also seemed to criticize Japan just as much as it did America. The incompetence of the Japanese government was a crucial point for the human characters as it led to the deaths of numerous civilians before Shin itself eventually killed the Prime Minister and his cabinet. Throughout the film, the government kept reassuring people that the problem would go away eventually, but as Shin rampaged throughout Tokyo, the government kept having their meetings. In a sense, the film highlighted the inefficacy of bureaucracy and how standing idly by, worrying about politics and formalities can actually be harmful to the country, especially in times of crisis such as a Kaiju attack. Shin serves as an allegory for natural disasters much like earthquakes and tsunamis, and this is rather timely as the film came out only three to four years after Japan was hit with a devastating tsunami. Perhaps Anno was attempting to call out the government for failing to properly assist the public in a timely and appropriate manner.

In the end, Shin Godzilla was certainly one of the darker Goji films, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. Even if I wasn’t able to catch the entirety of the film, I was able to appreciate the parts of the film I did see and I look forward to seeing if Shin Godzilla ever returns to the big screen.

From its non-linear plot all the way to its puzzling yet crisp dialogue, Steven Soderbergh’s Schizopolis (1996) is nothing short of strange. There’s no doubt that it’s one of a kind. Truth be told, attempting to make heads or tails of this film has been an absolute nightmare. Even though I left the classroom after watching the film with a huge dumb grin on my face, it was clear that I just didn’t get Schizopolis even if I found it thoroughly entertaining. The writing was original and captivating, if not a little odd. I appreciated how the film was split into three interconnected acts, each from the perspective of a certain character. The first act was about Fletcher, a man tasked with writing the speech for his boss who must simultaneously deal with his failing marriage. After this is the second act, which features Fletcher’s doppelganger, Dr. Korchek, who is revealed to be having an affair with Fletcher’s wife. The third and final act was a mish-mash of scenes from the first and second act, though calling it a mish-mash doesn’t do it any justice. This act focuses on Fletcher’s wife and how she perceived the events that transpired over the course of the film.

It’s arguable that each of the acts represent problems related to communication. The first act featuring Fletcher revolves around dialogue, specifically how one person can say one thing that actually means something else; it focuses on what is meant as opposed to what is said and this is reflected in the conversations between Fletcher and his neighbor.

Fletcher: “Is your wife coming over tonight? Because her big ass always leaves me satisfied.” Neighbor: “Nice of you to mention her. She enjoys sex with you much more than she does with me.” Fletcher: “I’m sure she says that to all the men in the neighborhood.” Neighbor: “You may be right about that one.” Fletcher: “I’ll see you later.”

Let me put this into context. If one were to ignore the dialogue and instead focus on the body language, the tone of voice, and the general flow of the conversation, one could see that the two are simply conversing as neighbors generally would: by exchanging friendly greetings and making idle small talk. Despite this, the lines of dialogue showcase what each character means because what they’re saying is actually irrelevant. They could engage in small talk as much as they want, but that’s not what’s important. What’s important is the underlying message behind the small talk. Or at least, that’s how I perceived it. There’s certainly more to this film than meets the eye and I wouldn’t doubt it if Soderbergh had an entirely different message in mind, or possibly none at all, during the film’s conceptualization.

Another interesting dialogue quirk worth mentioning is that during the third act, Dr. Korchek spoke solely in Italian and Fletcher spoke in Japanese and French while the rest of the cast spoke English. Dr. Korchek’s ability to speak Italian is also briefly brought up in act 2 by one of his clients. Although it’s debatable if this little throwaway line could be considered foreshadowing, it’s still something that should be considered. Just how deliberate and meticulously crafted is this seemingly nonsensical dialogue? On the topic of dialogue, it’s worth stating that despite the fact that the cast spoke different languages, everyone understood each other just fine. The same could not be said for the viewers, however. Regrettably, not all of us can understand Japanese, French, or Italian, so whatever Dr. Korchek and Fletcher said in the third act remains a mystery. Again, this is most likely a deliberate choice and our inability to understand them has some sort of deeper meaning. Perhaps it could it be commentary on how everyone speaks but nobody makes an effort to understand.

Although Schizopolis was pleasantly unique, I don’t think it’s for me. Not right now, at least. Perhaps I would appreciate it more if I viewed it a second time. Still, it’s just as Soderbergh himself said at the very beginning of the film: “In the event that you find certain sequences or ideas confusing, please bear in mind that this is your fault, not ours.” Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll give the film another go and write a follow-up to try and expand on what’s already been said.