She-Wolf of London (1946)

Director: Jean Yarbrough

Alright, that's it!! I’m tired of this bizarre phenomenon of movies whose titles completely mislead their audiences. “She-Wolf of London” is probably the best (or would it be the worst?) example of a film doing such an unspeakable act. I'll try not to spoil too much, but this film attempts a more psychological approach to the whole werewolf genre of films, all the while staying seemingly hell-bent on keeping anything interesting or exciting completely under wraps -- literally.

It involves a young heiress, named Phyllis Allenby (June Lockhart), her cousin, Carol (Jan Wiley), and her bitchy, overbearing aunt, Mrs. Winthrop (Sara Haden), who behaves (and even looks) not unlike Snidly Whiplash. Right away, a truckload of exposition is dumped in our lap: It turns out that Mrs. Winthrop and her daughter, Carol, are not in actuality related to Phyllis. They're just common folk living off of her inheritance, disguised as relatives -- and frankly, Mrs. Winthrop's gotten pretty accustomed to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. So, from there on out we know that she has (at least in her mind) the proper motivations to engage in various pseudo-Lycanthropic hijinks, much to the frustration of Phyllis, whose impending marriage threatens to disrupt Mrs. Winthrop's little scam.

Phyllis feels as though she’s been the one turning into the She-Wolf, and terrorizing London by killing innocents in the park. The violent murders pop up the next day in the paper, and Phyllis discovers blood on her hands, and mud on her shoes. Mrs. Winthrop keeps reassuring her that it’s all in her mind, and not the works of "The Allenby Curse,” as Phyllis believes. She tells Phyllis that if she goes to the cops to turn herself in, she'll be committed to an asylum for the rest of her life for thinking she's a werewolf. It's pretty obvious at this point that some sort of head games are going on, and that the thing we want to be happening is merely an illusion. It's sort of like discovering that the Easter Bunny doesn't exist. Phyllis begins to shut herself off from everyone including her fiancé, in an attempt to control the curse and protect those around her. Given that the three main characters are all female, and not to mention their housemaid as well, the film has a promising enough set-up to at least have made an attempt at a few red herrings. Unfortunately, the film wastes this opportunity by using stock characters, and leaving an absurd amount of gaping plot holes in its wake. And let’s not forget the She-Wolf herself. We see her wander around the ridiculously foggy “park”, that looks like someone’s backyard with a few house plants strewn haphazardly. Unfortunately (the word “unfortunately” pops up a lot in this review), the She-Wolf is dressed head-to-toe in what looks sort of like a Muslim burqa. Look closely at her hands (the only part of her we ever see that's not completely covered up) and you may get yet another clue/mistake. On the rare occasions that we do get to see the actual She-Wolf, we only see her fleeting image wandering aimlessly in the background, and drifting in and out of the frame as though she were a crew member who suddenly realized they were on camera.

The main problem (and it's a big one) is that the whole movie is devoid of impending menace or even the vaguest semblance of a driving force to keep it moving along as any self-respecting horror film should have. It's dead on arrival. It’s set in about two locations, and even THEY aren’t visually interesting. Since it takes place in turn of the century London, it looks like the Universal horror rendition of “Pride and Prejudice,” minus the horror. There are several scenes within the mansion itself that dissolve to other scenes of identical locations in the same house. Location number two (the park) was a chance for real set design. Unfortunately (there’s that word again), it’s uninspired and stripped of the stylistic visuals that Universal’s “Wolf Man” used to great effect several years earlier. Lay off with the fog machine, already. It makes it look like they had something to hide. Well, I guess I would've tried to hide that set too, so I guess I can't blame them... too much. Bottom line: It’s not a werewolf film, and it’s not even interesting or engaging. The banal sets and scenes make it hard to enjoy on even a campy, B-movie level. It had a potentially intriguing idea, but unfortunately (that’s the last time, I swear), mangled the story into a barely coherent rough sketch of a plot. I’ve played games of “Clue” that were more interesting and intellectually stimulating: Turns out it was the She-Wolf with the lead pipe in the observatory -- see, it's not that hard. My advice to the She-Wolf: Change your name. It’s only going to further enrage the select few viewers who happen to run across you. Bravo, Jean Yarbrough.

I Walked with a Zombie (1943)

Director: Jacques Tourneur

Much like the titular creature, this film starts off nearly dead, but is quickly resurrected. It’s a creepy, stylistic psychological thriller that plays out like a Greek tragedy. Director Jacques Tourneur meticulously crafts a visually stunning and hauntingly bizarre atmosphere that heroically saves this film from being merely the loosely based “Jane Eyre” skeleton frame of a plotline that it set out to be, which attempts in vain to hold the whole thing together.

Betsy (Frances Dee), recently graduated from nursing school, heads for an assignment on the fictional island of St. Sebastian, set in the West Indies, to care for the wife of a sugar cane plantation owner. The wife, Jessica (Christine Gordon), is in a non-stop sleepwalking state that renders her unresponsive and “zombie-like.” The husband, Paul Rand (Tom Conway), is desperately seeking care for his ill wife, all the while blaming himself for her current state, since she became ill upon arriving at the plantation. Also at the plantation is Paul’s alcoholic half-brother, Wesley (James Ellison), who also cares deeply for Jessica, and Mrs. Holland (Edith Barrett), who's the mother of the two men, and may have ulterior motives. A love story hangs in the background between Betsy and Paul, but this interesting idea needs to be fleshed out a lot more in order for it to earn any reaction it's attempting to induce.

Rumors swell around the island about the tribal people that coexist with the family and their bizarre practices. Believing she's out of options, Betsy is intrigued by this, and wants to take Jessica to their witch doctor. It’s here that the movie takes a considerable step up. Much has been praised (deservedly so) about the eerie, dream-like walk that Betsy and Jessica take on their way to the voodoo village. The soundtrack is replaced by a howling wind and native drums as the two silently make their way through the rustling sugar cane fields, encountering several eerie voodoo symbols, and a lanky and stoic "zombie" guard, in one of the most frightening reveals in horror film history. This walk is appropriately symbolic of the tone of the rest of the feature. It repeatedly plays with our psyche as we’re kept on edge and always left unsure as to what’s really going on. We wander though the story, much in the way the two girls wander through the field, all the while knowing that we’re approaching something that's so unknown that it’s shockingly halting. And once the village is revealed, we’re not rewarded with what we would expect (it actually looks not unlike the plantation), increasing the idea that something else must be going on… something that’s purposely left undefined, since it’s not the voodoo practitioners themselves who are frightening, but something in the atmosphere itself that’s causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. While in the village, the villagers discover that Jessica does not bleed. They now want her for their ceremonies, but Betsy carts her back to the plantation after discovering the seemingly “snake oil” cure that the village had to offer. Back at the plantation, we get the rest of the plot that seems underwritten, and ultimately left a little vague, as the screws begin to tighten around Paul and Wesley when it’s figured out that something underhanded was involved in Jessica’s illness. Another effective detail is when the voodoo guard begins to wander onto the plantation like a stray dog, in an attempt to capture Jessica. He shuffles his feet and stares vacantly, as his shadow floats menacingly along the walls of the plantation house. Ultimately, he fails, and the villagers attempt to get Jessica to come to them by using a voodoo doll they've fashioned in her likeness. Eventually, Wesley opens the plantation's gate and allows Jessica to mindlessly set off for the village, before changing his mind and stopping her. The rest of the story plays out tragically, and we’re still left a little unsure as to what was actually occurring on a mystical level.

It’s not your typical “zombie story”, and I liked that about it. It plays more on the mind than on typical knee-jerk, fright reactions. And when it actually uses visual scare tactics, it’s to great effect, since they're well earned and appropriate for the setting. There are definitely flaws, but when it gets it right, its unlike anything I've ever seen. The token plot seems intriguing, but ultimately has one foot in its grave. This gorgeous set-piece of a movie keeps the mood a haunting one, and provides the perfect backdrop for the psychological terror that runs through it. Voodoo and Caribbean culture has a unique depiction in this film, and offers something that flirts with realism and audaciousness by blending classic horror elements with urban legend devices. The general atmosphere has aged quite well, and still packs a punch, since it goes much deeper than its beautifully designed surface elements and strikes an almost subliminal chord.

Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Director: Guillermo del Toro

If you were one of the millions of people who were scarred for life by watching the flying monkeys in “The Wizard of Oz”, it’s probably best to watch “Pan’s Labyrinth” with your eyes closed and with the sound off… and in a different room entirely. This film is a grim (not Grimm) fairy tale that's mired in horrific imagery and brutality, and ultimately offers way more "fairy" than "tale." Director Guillermo del Toro doesn’t shy away from showing any of it either, and almost takes sheer delight in systematically taking the horror up a notch with each scene. The plot is an attempt at simultaneously telling a story set during post-Civil War Spain, and a fantasy epic that ends up looking like “The Chronicles of Narnia”, if it were directed by… well, if it were directed by Guillermo del Toro.

Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) is a wide-eyed, imaginative young girl who arrives with her pregnant mother, Carmen (Ariadna Gil), at a makeshift military base/abandoned mill, manned by her new wicked stepfather, Captain Vidal (Sergi López i Ayats),who is also the father of Carmen’s unborn child. Captain Vidal is, basically as I mentioned, the wicked stepfather. He tortures, beats, abuses and terrorizes just about anybody he encounters, whether it be a spy in his midst, or innocent civilians. All the while, Ofelia is having visions of magical creatures swarming around the mill, and wanders into a Labyrinth, whose ruins stand nearby. It’s here that she encounters an ominous goat-like creature, who informs her that she is the princess of a magical world, who has finally returned. At the beginning of the story we’re informed that a princess went missing from this land, entered the human world and became mortal. Yet, someday she would return in another form. That form, apparently, is Ofelia. In order to make sure she’s qualified for the job, however, she needs to complete three less than interesting tasks to prove herself.

The other part of the story (that gets way too much of the attention) is the meandering Civil War tale involving Captain Vidal fighting the seemingly last throws of a resistance, while rooting out a traitor in his midst. Both stories are underwritten attempts at depicting loyalty and honor in an increasingly harsh reality, that feel like could have been closer tied, and better meshed. Ofelia’s plot thread takes a back seat through much of the middle section of the film causing it to lose its steam. And once we finally get back to the story, you’re reminded that it wasn’t that interesting to begin with.

There’s no denying that this film looks beautiful, and the make-up and effects blend seamlessly into the murky and overgrown scenery. On a horror film level, it works better than a lot of films. Del Toro creates some truly horrific and stunning visuals (i.e. the Faun, and the Pale Man). The Pale Man is a child-eating, eyeless (except for on his hands, of course), chicken-legged demon, whose lair and subsequent attempt to capture Ofelia works as its own mini-horror film. Although, I can't for the life of me figure out why Ofelia would eat from the banquet table if every character went out of their way to tell her that it was absolutely imperative not to. It's like those grapes were just calling out to her... hey, maybe that was it. The rest, sadly, is less than interesting, though. I wanted to like it, but was a little bored by what was being said. The two stories don’t add up to one that will engage its viewers in many ways, other than to shock or wow them with its imagery.

Black Snake Moan (2007)

Director: Craig Brewer

With reason pitched clearly out the plate glass window, this film will keep your eyes glued to it, even though they may be rolling in disbelief. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching “Black Snake Moan,” but I can’t help but think that it may overstay its welcome. Unabashedly showcasing in-your-face metaphors, writer/director Craig Brewer (writer/director of 2005's "Hustle & Flow") makes his bid for cult status. I guess people already know what this film is about, and if not: A nympho-girl gets chained to a radiator by a has-been musician, in an attempt to cleanse her of her "sinfulness." Together they conquer their respective demons and learn to give each other the things they had been missing (no, not those things).

I think this film is really brave, and was glad to see that it didn’t simply use its gimmick in an excuse to just film scenes of a girl in her underpants chained to a radiator (a noble cause in its own way, I guess) in order to merely shock viewers. Viewers that get a kick out of the premise will be delighted and snicker (obviously the reaction the film was stoking) as they see Lazarus (played by Samuel L. Jackson) taking his captive, Rae (played by Christina Ricci), for a walk out in his field like a bloodhound. This shows that Brewer knew the film he wanted to make, respected the sensationalism genre he was dabbling in, and wasn't afraid to push the limit, or comment on the audacious premise. All the performances were really strong, and rose to the heights they were required to reach in a charmingly hammy way. They would reel it in when they needed to convey emotions, and be over-the-top when they needed to hammer a point home (the latter type of performance works beautifully hand-in-hand with the visuals, which are used like exclamation points on the overly dramatic scenes). It’s all drenched in a dark, exploitative and surrealistic "Southern" feel, with blatant Biblical overtones that’s reminiscent of Russ Meyer’s “Mudhoney,” and comes across as more of a nod to exploitation films, much the way Tarantino’s “Death Proof” used the grindhouse cinema as a springboard to explore new territory. Incidentally, this film could have easily been included as part of the movie "Grindhouse" to create the ultimate, modern day schlock triple-feature.

This film won’t bore you, which is more than I can say for most movies, and the performances make it that much better. A lot of it seems superfluous, however. There’s a love story involving Lazarus and another woman that basically plays itself out the way you think it will from the moment the two characters begin conversing. There are a lot of iconic images in this film that I loved. There’s a scene where Lazarus plays Rae a song on his guitar amidst a lightning storm in his old abandoned house that’s really quite impressive and memorable. Another musical interlude involves Lazarus playing his first gig in years, and the characters all converge for a great scene. I think this films main problem is that it needed another trip through the editing room. There are some characters and plotlines that didn’t seem necessary, and the philosophy of the film would have been more effective if the story moved along a little smoother. It's almost like it tries to cram in too much to what should have been a simpler story, and that causes it to lose a little of its effectiveness. On the plus side, Brewer creates a great Southern atmosphere (You know, the kinds of places where people have cigarettes surgically attached to their hands, and speak a language that's almost as intelligible as Klingon).

There’s a lot of good stuff in this film (i.e. the music, the performances, and the stylish imagery), and it’s definitely worth sussing through to find it. The characters are all handled with care, and aren't there to simply amuse us. They go through honest emotions, and trials and tribulations amidst an equally chaotic setting and premise. It feels a little odd barely even mentioning the whole chained-to-a-radiator section of this film, but that’s not even the reason to see it at all. It’s just used as an homage to sexploitation grindhouse films, and the imagery that they utilized that really works in the deep South backdrop that Brewer creates so authentically (except for the whole "prostitutes-getting-chained-up" thing -- at least I hope that's not authentic, but what do I know?). Realistic dialogue and a mixture of stock characters and truly original and brave ideas make this film very rich and entertaining. I say, “See it,” and keep and eye out for Craig Brewer, whose best work is, I think, yet to come, and probably going to be quite a ride.

Once (2007)

Director: John Carney

I’ve always thought that my ideal film would be a great documentary about music and, at the same time, have excellent music in it. And while “Once” isn’t a documentary, it’s filmed in such a way as to provide a filmically minimalistic and voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of these two seemingly anonymous musical talents. Set in Dublin, Ireland, this film stars non-actors Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova as the respective “guy” and “girl" -- they’re listed as such in the credits. That only adds to the candid look we get into their lives by giving us a safe distance to watch the events unfold as strangers. There’s not a lot of (hardly any) back story, or shameless character development that would bog it down. Nothing that we wouldn't overhear at a dinner party is revealed to us, and thus, the story floats peacefully along like Richard Linklater’s “Before Sunrise" meets "Lost in Translation" set to music. The characters meet and fall for each other, and establish a real connection through the music they create.

Hansard plays a street musician working for change part-time, and working for his father in his vacuum repair shop the other part of the time. It’s during one of his performances that he meets a charmingly scatter-brained, street merchant girl, who is immediately intrigued by him. And as the events unfold, he turns his intrigue towards her (a musical savant, herself). Together they experiment with a sound that’s both haunting and powerful, that grows organically like their relationship. Soon after, they form a makeshift band for a weekend in a recording studio, and create something beautiful that's, although fleeting, captured forever in the music. Some of the most powerful and effective scenes involve the couple's first collaboration together in the music shop, and "the guy's" usually stoic father's reaction to the recordings: "It's fucking brilliant," he simply states. That reaction hits you much the same way as the scene where the musically elitist recording engineer is immediately endeared to the band's sound hits you. He's not a character by any means. He's realistic and believable. He's not the greedy studio head that they have to grapple with, or that tries to capitalize on their sound. They collaborate, and it works. It throws unconventional, and not at all unbelievable, "twists" like that at you that make it feel familiar and yet refreshing, all at the same time.

And even though it may not end the way most hopeless romantics would want it too, it's not bleak by any means -- in fact, it's the opposite. It's very hopeful and inspirational. It’s the tragic story of a great band/love that never was, but only once, came together to create something truly beautiful. Last, but certainly not least, the music in this film is, thankfully, excellent (if it wasn't, this film probably would have been forgettable), and the main reason for experiencing it. It may not be perfect, and overall, I felt, a little uneven, but there aren't nearly enough problems with it that should ultimately deter viewers… or listeners for that matter, since, as writer/director John Carney describes it, it’s a “video album." I don’t think I could have phrased it any better.

Kill-bot (ART)

King Kong (2005)

Director: Peter Jackson

No, it’s not too long. It’s long, yes, but not too long. Got it? Good. Now I can proceed with my review. With Peter Jackson at the helm this time around, we know it’s capable of reaching giant action adventure status. It truly is all about Kong, and we never forget that as the film unfolds. He's heroic, but he is just an ape acting out of instinct after all. It’s more than a re-imagining, it’s a love letter that Jackson finely tuned to honor a great piece of cinema.

I realize that if I read this review many years from now I’ll sound like a moron, but the special effects in this film have neared perfection for the industry. It’s seamlessly blended into a beautiful canvas of huge backdrops such as the mythic Skull Island and a depression-era New York City. From the boat that our protagonists board, to Kong himself, there’s a fitting sense of scale throughout this film. And that really pays off when the action takes center stage. Peter Jackson’s a big fan of close ups, and he really showcases that “I’m seeing/realizing something that you’re not” technique that Spielberg pioneered. There are a lot of ominous zooms, and eye-widening stares that help this film not get drenched in emotion, but retain a sort of “comic book” surrealism. After all, we are dealing with a giant ape fighting dinosaurs here. The actors push back against this, by delivering realistic and “non-winking at the camera” performances. With all that said, I think they pulled off the emotion quite well. Kong comes off as a real character, and it delves into poignant, inter-species scenes between Naomi Watts and Kong that would make even Ted Nugent weep.

So what does it all add up to? It’s a high flying action film that, dare I say, has meaning behind it. And even though we know what will happen in the end, we’re stunned by how Jackson can flawlessly recapture and re-imagine it, without bastardizing it, or turning it into a film solely about computer generated images. The relationship between Watts and Kong grows naturally as we see them become friends and look out for each other through really unique scenes. (Yeah, I can be sappy too.) Now when I recommend it as an action flick, I know action fans will grow weary of the love story, but it’s a nice blend that I think works. It’s always a challenge in fantasy films to try to ingrain some realism while fantastic thing are occurring. Certainly effects that don’t take you out of the picture help, but the universal emotions will kinetically guide you through this entertaining adventure.

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)

Director: Clint Eastwood


This movie is all about heroes, and our definition of the word “hero”. It's like a behind the scenes story of a classic World War II film. Jumping back and forth between the real events and it's aftermath, we get to see what most war films leave out -- the war at home and the intense moral ambiguities everyone wrestles with while simply wanting their loved-ones back in one piece. At times it weaves around, not entirely flawlessly, but each part has a lot of meaning. First off, it looks beautiful. It’s realistic and epic in scale. The three main characters (played by Ryan Phillippe, Adam Beach, and Jesse Bradford) return from planting the famous flag on Iwo Jima, and they’re carted around the country like a rock group by their "label". But instead of albums, they’re promoting war bonds. And much like most "rise to fame" stories, they find out it's not all it's cracked up to be.

I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but the main characters aren’t given a lot of big scenes to show off their acting chops, like you would expect in an epic and emotional war film. It's more concerned with just getting the story right. I thought there were great performances (less is more), but I think it was done this way to create a surrogate character for the audience. We see things through their eyes, and we’re forced to think of what we would think or do in each situation, with great effect. In the end there is no right or wrong, and it doesn’t really matter who raised which flag, or who was in the photograph. Once the details of the famous photo begin to surface, people find out that what they had envisioned was much easier to digest than what the true facts were. The soldiers may have had to blur the lines of what actually occurred on that island, but they're trying to raise money for their comrades in arms. They try to balance using their fame to help a noble cause, all the while trying to let people know the truth, which could undermine their social status as "heroes". Nobody ultimately knows what will result from their decisions. They just feel this is the right thing to do at the moment in order to help save the lives of their fellow soldiers. And in the end, that is what makes it an intelligently crafted (and not to mention an extremely relevant) story.

The best scene (for me, anyway) is where Doc (played by Ryan Phillippe) is asked to point out to a grieving mother where her son was in the photo. He knows her son wasn’t really in it, and it seems as though she might know this too. It doesn’t matter though, because it was real to her. I think that scene probably best encapsulates this film. Be forewarned that this film is, in a sense, a flashback within a flashback. It jumps back and forth, and it’s a little unclear at times when and where things are happening, and who’s who. Ultimately, it’s balanced well, and there aren’t dull areas that could have used a little punching up in the script department. It’s a little like “Citizen Kane” meets “Saving Private Ryan.” Much like “Kane”, it uses an interviewer in the shadows (at first) asking about the true events of one man’s life (in this case, Doc’s) in order to unravel a secret as its main plot thread. And in comparison, the “Rosebud” in this film is the famous photograph. In both films, the actual object means almost nothing, but what it represents is what the entire film revolves around.

King Kong vs. Godzilla (1963)

Director: Ishiro Honda (Japanese version), John Beck (U.S. version)

Release Year: 1962 (Japan), 1963 (U.S.)


Well, let’s see. What do we have here? It looks like a guy in a lizard suit wrestling around on the ground with a guy in a monkey suit. Now either this is a “Furry” convention gone horribly wrong, or it’s a Japanese monster movie... gone horribly wrong. Ah, Toho. Where would cinema be without you? This is the film whose mythic reputation precedes it, and will most likely make the actual film end up being a colossal disappointment. Despite urban legends about its finale, “King Kong vs. Godzilla” has only one ending. There is only one apparent victor, and it’s not the viewing audience.

So this is my first (one hopes there will be many) attempt at reviewing a Godzilla movie. First off, I love Godzilla, but his films can be frustrating to watch. We all know what people want to see, but unfortunately we’re treated to interminable scenes featuring scientists and Army officials yammering away in dull office buildings, surmising which attack will best stop a giant fire-breathing lizard (Somehow the ineffectual answer is always tanks and airplanes). It’s hard not to grow restless as the supporting characters are carelessly crammed into the many open areas of the plot like foam packing peanuts. The film attempts to be self-aware by commenting on the ensuing battle, and providing characters that are taking bets on which monster will come out on top. They gather around for ringside seats as their commentary falls harder than Kong does. The dialogue seems grossly unnecessary, since we all know why we're watching this film. We get it, the underlying themes aren't hard to pick up on. The plot is pretty implicit in the title.

Godzilla is freed from an iceberg, and King Kong escapes from a crew that wanted to exploit him for fame and money… hmmm, that sounds strangely familiar. Oh well. The following scenes involve various scientists tracking Godzilla and King Kong as they each make their respective ways towards the always vulnerable Tokyo, as if they were tropical storms (Incidentally, watching this film is about as exciting as watching the weather channel). Godzilla is the guy we all know and love, but the Japanese rendition of King Kong makes Godzilla look like a work of art. A good hour into the film, the two meet. Kong throws a rock at Godzilla, and that’s it. And am I crazy, or did I see Kong bat his eyelashes at Godzilla? God, I hope I’m mistaken, otherwise this film’s gunna take an ugly turn… or uglier turn, as it were.

The final battle is the only thing that saves this movie, and is the only reason for its existence. After the embarrassingly hapless, and perpetually in-over-their-heads Japanese Army essentially “throws” Kong at Godzilla, (No, I’m not kidding) the two behemoths finally have it out, or at least their costumes do, on a Toho soundstage. There are several scenes of empty Godzilla and Kong costumes rolling down mountains, and stop-motion characters kicking at each other that look not unlike when a toddler mashes together two action figures, engaging them in imaginary fisticuffs. Kong actually knocks himself out after rolling around and taunting Godzilla. I won’t go into too many details of this melee, since it just needs to be seen. In the end, there is only one that comes out on top (and no, that's not meant as a double entendre), but you’ll have to watch it to find out who wins… or I guess you could just take a stab at it. You’ve got a 50/50 shot. Go ahead, I guarantee you any resolution you can picture in your head will be more satisfying than what actually happens. I can’t speak for the Japanese release, but the U.S. version (which was re-dubbed, re-edited, and re-tarded) is quite possibly the worst of the Godzilla films. Sorry, Godzilla. I didn't really mean it. I still love you.

She is the Slayer (ART)