Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part VI)

Episode 7 – Leviathan

As a white-bearded, New England sea captain (complete with a little anchor on his hat) nervously checks his watch, Drs. Prolorne, Hoffman, and Sopler explore the mysteriously-pulsating alien starship they’ve found lodged in the Atlantic seabed. “Radio carbon dating confirms my hypothesis,” Prolorne tells us. “This ship is over ten thousand years old.” Unfortunately, its security systems (complete with pink, wriggling tendrils that seize our Scientists and drag them, screaming, into the darkness) remain spry as ever.

On the other side of the credits we find H.E.A.T. steaming toward what Monique Dupre calls “the Hazard Abyss.” Seems Dr. Mendel Craven’s locked on to a suspiciously terrestrial source of tachyon transmissions. “That’s impossible,” team-kid Randy Hernandez declares. “For human science, maybe.” Mendel counters. “So…what? Little green men?”

Indeed, as we see, once H.E.A.T. finds that stereotypical sea captain, and his boat, floating above the transmission source. Mendel recognizes it as “Dr. Prolorne’s ship,” though last I checked, xenobiologists weren’t exactly running around burning money on research vessels…except in Michael Crichton novels. But what do I know? In any case, Mendel has a professional chubby for Dr. Prolorne, and he’s sad as anyone to discover that the good doctor is now three days lost below the waves.

And so goes any chance for H.E.A.T. to discover where Dr. Prolorne makes his paper. (Probably the same mysterious source that puts gas in the Heat Seeker’s tank…unless H.E.A.T.’s burdening the French taxpayer through Monique’s Hearstian expense accounts). “ ‘Under no circumstances are you to come down after us,’” the unnamed Sea Captain quotes. “Those were Dr. Prolorne’s exact orders.” And if you recognize that voice, give yourself two points; that’s Ron “Hellboy” Pearlman commanding Prolorne's tub. The Good Doctor must be rollin' in it like Scrooge McDuck.

Before Dr. Nick can grow any more indignant at Captain Pearlman’s obedience of orders, Godzilla arrives, scaring the bejesus of everyone not named Tatopoulos. "Relax people,” Nicky says. “There’s no reason to panic. He only looks dangerous,” a patent lie, and a fruitless exercise in cross-species understanding. Godzilla (oblivious to Nick’s shouted commands) sniffs at the ship, casts his head about, and dismisses it with a straight-arrow dive, down, down, down…to the bottom of the sea.

Following in a secondary submersible (commandeered with a little help from Monique and her concealed weapon…no, really; that’s not a double entendre at all—she actually walks around with a gun under her arm, much to Nick’s further indignation), it’s not long before H.E.A.T.-proper encounters problems. Mendel does nothing to help Randy’s latent claustrophobia, reminding him (and us) that, once you drop past two miles, “the spray from a hairline crack will cut you in half.” Then the dinosaur arrives.

Identified as a Cryptocleidus by team-paleontologist Elsie Chapman, its menace is somewhat countered by the fact that human technology will always move faster than natural organisms sixty-five million-years-adapted to their environment. Always. Oh, and Godzilla arrives—convenient, considering his last known location. Our human heroes presently descend, leaving the Big G to fend for himself and thus disappear from the remainder of the episode.

Below, a massive, spine-ridged hulk of an alien ship lies, half-buried in the silt. Docking, it’s not long before equally-spiny, scale-skinned, guard dogs (“bred from ancient dinosaurs”—as opposed to all those new ones) assault the team. Fleeing through a conveniently-opened portal (which seals shut behind them) they find Dr. Prolorne…who warns them to leave, “immediately.”

“This is a very delicate First Contact situation,” Prolorne declares…though he’s willing to spare time for some exposition. "This ship crashed near the end of the Cretaceous Period. They’ve spent most of that time in stasis, of course; broadcasting an automatic distress beacon…human technology had to reach a level advanced enough to detect it.” Monique questions the intentions of their "hosts.” Dr. Nick requests some face-time. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Prelorane deadpans, sealing H.E.A.T. into their anonymous-looking room with a masterful command of these alien control panels.

But not for long. With N.I.G.L.E.’s tachyon-detector guiding them, H.E.A.T. soon finds the control room—and the bulb-headed, Sumo-bodied, six-limbed, dual-tusked, telepathic beings within. “[Y]our race,” one of them declares, floating over for a meet-and-greet, “is ready to be assimilated. Your cities, machines, infrastructure, will serve my people well….Those who cooperate will find the new order satisfying…even stimulating.” (Ewww…) Those who do not will, apparently, receive telekinetic bitch-slaps and forced brain-drains.

Here we have the classic “Aw-shit-alien-invasion” situation. It’s the end of the world as we know it. Will anyone feel “fine” by the time these aliens are done? Will aliens “assimilate” (oh, that word) the earth? Will Dr. Craven’s professional respect for Dr. Prelorane turn him into a planetary Benedict Arnold? Will Godzilla show up in time to deliver unto us a climactic, underwater fight sequence? And just where the hell is he, anyway? Isn’t this his show?

Well…yes and no. And while H.E.A.T.’s moody, atmospheric travails inside the alien ship are all well and good, they begs the question: Why is Godzilla here at all? Omit him, and you’re left with a fairly decent, half-hour, sci-fi/horror show, complete with action, betrayal, and a creepy, cliff-hanger ending that practically broadcasts itself…while sliding right by Dr. Nick and his little band. They’ve obviously never watched a monster movie, or alien invasion film, in their whole freakin’ lives (not even Randy, Token Urban Youth that he is).

H.E.A.T.’s ignorance and Godzilla’s relative-absence are the only real causes for griping I can find here. Both elements are, in their own ways, necessary—the latter because of budgetary and time constraints; the former because…well, we’ve got to set up future episodes and reoccurring villains somehow. Can’t turn all of Nick’s old college buds into Evil Geniuses. Someone’s got to pick up the slack. And there is no trump card in the whole of Kaiju eiga quite like the Alien Invasion.

Japanese speculative fiction would have us believe that aliens are simultaneously Out There…and relentlessly scheming to get Here, take over our planet, strip its natural resources, and convert us all into chattel slaves…or three-course meals. During the original series (1954-78) Godzilla (and his “friends” among Earth’s terrestrial monsters) beat back no less than five separate alien incursions. Since the New Millennium, G’s put three more notches in his figurative belt (most recently in the derivative, over-hyped, headache-inducing, Fiftieth Anniversary blowout, Final Wars), and that’s just film. Godzilla’s video games and comic books inevitably throw down the Alien Invasion card as a framing device, with good reason. Simple and direct, it bolsters what might otherwise be a sorry excuse for a plot, allowing Godzilla to play Hero by providing a credible threat much more dangerous to humanity than he is, or could ever be.

Now’s not the time or place to plumb those depths. (Plenty of time for that once we come to this series’ vision of the Monster Wars.) At the moment, I’ve got the creeping suspicion that episode-writer Michael Reaves (veteran writer of Gargoyles, the under-appreciated Phantom 2040, and the best Batman movie in all creation, Mask of the Phantasm) had no idea what to do with Godzilla for the balance of this episode. Our titular character is, once again, left (literally) floating on the margins. Human stumbling around is all well and good but the best daikaiju creators keep their monsters well integrated into the main action…or, at the very least, well-occupied off screen.

While G’s underwater battles against the Cryptocleidi (once the episode gets around to them) are novel, they suffer from the slow pace and low drama common to cinematic scuba-diving scenes. James Bond and Creature from the Black Lagoon fans know what I’m talking about: it’s terribly hard to make a fight scene riveting when everyone’s moving at half-speed. Episode director Tim Eldred does his best to counter this by keeping the episode’s twin fight scenes short and to the point…robbing them of the visceral impact we get inside the alien ship.

It’s obvious all the eye candy went into the Leviathan and its pisonic crew of mind (if not body) snatchers. Bully to the design team for going all out on the place. They’ve obviously seen a few alien invasion pictures, and do a fine job bringing us their own (albeit in miniature, and sanitized for The Children's protection). The episode title is itself a nod to 1989’s Peter “Robocop” Weller vehicle of the same name, and the darkened corridors of this Leviathan echo that one in tone if not substance. H.E.A.T. brings a cloying sense of claustrophobia with them, into the ship. Randy’s freak-out allows us, the audience, permission to share his psychosomatic feeling, and few things put Fear in the stout of heart like the thought of all that water… pressing down…on you…burr, baby. Very burr.

Profiting, not in spite, but largely because of Godzilla’s absence, “Leviathan” stands as a high point of a first season, paradoxical and shambling, much like Godzilla himself. Jesus, I’m already into overtime and longing to be get back to safe, solid ground, where I can take easy potshots at the series obvious flaws.

For that join us next week, when the going shall get Weird, courtesy of Len Wein, co-creator of Swamp Thing.

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis

Episode 6 – Cat and Mouse

Plot: As New York City slowly but steadily rebuilds itself in the wake of Godzilla’s first “attack,” our pre-credit teaser finds an unfortunate homeless man beset by a giant, mutated rat.

Cut to…some mid-town restaurant, where Dr. Nick Tatopoulos and WIDF News Correspondent Audrey Timmonds attempt to have A Talk. You know, one of those annoying “Don’t You Think Its Time We Defined Our Relationship?” talks, gratefully interrupted by separate calls to both participants.

While Audrey and cameraman “Animal” Polatti chase down rumors of giant monsters making life hard on Bowery bums, Dr. Nick and H.E.A.T. deploy into the subway, where something is literally chewing its way through Con-Ed’s best-laid pipes, plans, and walls. The inevitable complaining and clowning around ensue, proving too much for H.E.A.T. Token Badass, DGSE Agent Monique Dupre.

Back at base, Monique tells Dr. Nick, ”I am tired of being the only professional on this so-called team.” Nick’s all-too quick to let his French Secret Service agent go but, “Alas," she says, "it is not your permission I require.”

Godzilla’s arrival paves over this potential team schism, once again almost crushing his nominal human companions as he climbs out of the East River. How he avoids that, or something similar (like sweeping them into the East River as he climbs over their heads, pushing walls of water ahead of himself) is a miracle of cartoon physics.

Further miracles abound as Godzilla peruse the first of the giant rats that’ll miraculously evade him throughout the episode, causing “comical” mishaps on par with old Warner Brother’s cartoons. For example: the rat (big as a small horse) manages to sneak its way uptown, where Audrey and Animal are on location, handing out cash for monster stories. Reversing to dislodge the rat from its perch on their Ford Newsvan’s roof, they succeed in backing right up the top of Godzilla’s foot—he having stealthily arrived on the scene without so much as a fleeing populous to proceed him.

In fact, the New York of this crazy, parallel dimension is eerily deserted, making it that much easier for three rednecks—Bill, Dale, and Earl—to sneak into the city with their pick-up truck full of rocket launchers (helpfully labeled “Army Surplus”). Finding Godzilla in the midst of his rat-hunt, lead-redneck Dale aims to bag the Big G, and succeeds only in re-destroying the Chrysler Building, which suffered so much during the summer of 1998.

Still, Major Hicks attempts to calm the City’s excitable Mayor (no longer named “Ebert”) with humanitarian caveats. “Our options are limited until the city is evacuated,” he says…riii-ight. I’m sure the Pentagon might have a thing or two to say about that, Major. For all their talk of “defense” and “honor,” I hear they’re still big on “acceptable losses” down there. I doubt they’d hesitate to give the green light with Godzilla on a rampage…in New York…again…Still, somehow, Hicks manages to buy H.E.A.T. the two hours necessary to track the rat to its subway home…or their home, as it turns out.

Yes, there’s a whole colony of giant rats quietly breeding below New York’s streets…what else is new? With the team separated by mass rat attack, it's up to Audrey, Animal and Randy to save Nick and Monique from the jaws of death. Meanwhile, above ground, Godzilla fights his own, over-long battle against ever increasing numbers of rodents, human and otherwise.

All threads align in an abandoned subway platform somewhere below the city, with Godzilla literally bringing the house down, leaving human Heroes and Rednecks alike trapped below ground. It's Audrey who leads Major Hicks to their burrow, saving the day. And all without resolving a single issue raised earlier in the episode. The credits find our lovers standing alone under a New York streetlight, right back where they began, going their separate ways.

Analysis

What should be a rip-roaring good time of an episode instead becomes a testament to the true limits of this series, pulling its punches at every turn. Few things were harder in pre-computer animation than crowd scenes, or the kind of complex visual effects we take for granted now a’ days. This episode, then, is a relic of late twentieth-century, the Age of Pokemon, when American imaginations were not so well acquainted with images of death and destruction, and we worried about the effects realistic portrayals of such would have on The Children.

The result is a—dare I say it—childish little romp that robs its audience of excitement by robbing its subject of dramatic weight. Nothings appears at stake here; so what if Nick paints nightmare word-pictures of a rodentine apocalypse? He and his little band appear to be the only people left in New York City anyway. Even without pressure from the area’s top reptilian predator, the rat’s will dissolve into cannibalism soon enough.

As always, I have my questions to fall back on. Like what keeps Audrey from cashing in on her…ahem…intimate relationship with H.E.A.T.? Nothing held her back during the movie, where she flagrantly abused Nick’s trust for the sake of her career. Should we assume her continued silence indicates growth, as a character? If so, it’s made her an even less-interesting figure, and she has every right to have an official Talk with Nick about the state of their relationship.

In the Tarot deck of Giant Monster Movie Protagonists there is no Major Arcana more superfluous than The Chick. You know the type. Faye Wray set the Golden Age standards for the role, with Momoko Kochi’s Emiko Yamane the first Chick in Godzilla history. It’s taken sixty years for stronger women to inhabit the role, attempting to flesh out its barebones requirements, the easy way being to combine The Chick with that other, often-superfluous Arcana, The Reporter.

Audrey is not the first Chick to play the dual role, but she is an uneasy mixture, a volatile chemical. Having literally no place in the show’s format or Nick’s life, her presence strikes a sour note in what was fast becoming a harmonious symphony of destruction. I am grateful that writer Steven Melching reversed the usual Cinderella role here, with Audrey coming to Nick’s rescue (leaving Godzilla to once again do all the work for none of the credit). But I’m also saddened that, after this, The Series’ creators would find only one other role for her to play—the role of Damsel in Distress.

Monique, for all her temporary bitching, at least has a role to fill, and skills to contribute to the team, and proves herself invaluable against the rats. She leaves the episode convinced H.E.A.T. is much better led than not, realizing what everyone in the audience already understands: only a sad sack like Dr. Nick could possibly control this unruly bunch of teenagers.

I very much include Godzilla in this. He comes off the worst for the whole episode, barred by children's television censorship from actually catching his prey. Wouldn't want an explosion of rat gore spoiling The Children's Saturday morning. I certainly hoped for it, and it was sadly disappointed. My snarky comments during the synopsis should reveal my feelings as well as anything...though I'll state it plain if there's any doubt: Cat and Mouse is a low point early in the first season of a show obviously hobbled at the gate.

Tune in next week for greener pastures, and the coming of Leviathan...

What if the American People Learned the Truth?

An uplifting series of rhetorical questions from Rep. Ron Paul (R-TX 14th)

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part IV)

Episode 5: The Winter of our Discontent

We open in New York City’s seemingly-endless harbor, with the World’s-Number-One-Monster-Hunting-Team, H.E.A.T., in hot pursuit of Godzilla, their itinerant seventh member. (Can’t really call him “a silent partner” with all those roars, now can we?) Godzilla, in turn, pursues the call of an unidentified signal beacon straight to a pile of fresh-caught fish. Whatever Godzilla’s cognitive powers, I can easily see him wandering into such an obvious trap. I expect better from Our Human Heroes, who nonetheless react with shock when a flight of ten-foot-long, mechanical insects begin to strafe the Big G, mightily pissing him off.

These “Cyber Flies” arrived courtesy of the series’ first human villain: Cameron Winter (David Newsom), described by H.E.A.T. member Elsie Chapman (channeling her inner twelve-year-old) as “the world’s richest, most-hunkiest CEO, not to mention the biggest techno-guru.” Such hunkiness is beside the point for team lead Nick Tatopoulos, who spent more than enough time with Cameron Winter at their (unnamed) mutual college. Indignant, Nick accuses Winter of “drawing Godzilla out for target practice.” Cameron owns up to his little trap, which Godzilla easily muscles free of, enjoying a fine fish dinner on Cameron’s time after scrapping the last Fly.

But this trap has the dual purpose of, as Cameron says, “Confirming [Godzilla’s] connection to the illustrious H.E.A.T. team.” About time somebody fucking noticed. “Why don’t you come ashore and tour my facility? I always prefer discussing business face-to-face.”

“I have no business with you, Cameron,” Dr. Nick retorts via-bullhorn, warning his teammates: “Anything Cameron Winter has to offer always has strings attached.”

Nevertheless, Nick yields to the democratic process. “Nobody’s ever seen the inside of Solstice Technologies,” Randy Hernandez informs us. (Not even its employees?) DGSE Agent Monique Dupre casts the tie-breaker, offering to breech the place herself, dig up whatever there is to dig on Cameron Winter, and scratch “Penetrating Solstice Technologies” off the French Secret Service’s Spring 1998 "To Do" list.

The rest of H.E.A.T. gets a guided tour from “the man himself” as a distraction. Cut straight from the Lex Luthor mold, Cameron wastes no time making his guest feel unwelcome. “Nickels was too busy dissecting garden slugs to hang out with the rest of us,” he explains when Dr. Mendel Craven makes the mistake of asking into his and Nick’s past. “We called him 'Nickels,'” Cameron says, “because nickels were all he was ever going to earn.” He insults Craven’s pet robot, N.I.G.E.L. (“I can’t imagine what you could do with a budget”), freaks everyone out with talk of advancing mankind to the “next stage…once Congress comes to its senses about that cloning thing,” and captures Monique in mid-spy with the aid of remote-controlled Doberman Pinschers. “Neural stimulators,” Cameron explains, calling the dogs off with the touch of a button. “Makes for much happier pups.”

With the full team before him, Cameron makes his pitch: “I want you and your little band," he tells Dr. "Nickels," "to come work for me. I can offer you full government cooperation, first-rate facilities, and very generous salaries. I can even make your academic problems go away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Randy says.

Cameron, undaunted, continues, even as the team walks out en masse. “We both know mutation-biased weapons are the next wave,” he says to H.E.A.T.'s collective back. “Why not be ahead of the curve for a change?” Gee, Cameron, could it be all the death and destruction waiting just around the bend in that curve? I think so.

Godzilla, as is his want, tables any further philosophical debate with an ill-timed attack on Solstice’s walled-off, private inlet. Casually butting the wall aside, Godzilla seizes an unfortunate mini-sub, shaking it like a dog with a rat in his teeth. Fortunately for all involved (or, at the very least, for Nick’s conscience) that predatory head-shaking dislodges a man-sized neural stimulator from Godzilla’s ear-canal. Instantly, the Big G halts, his rampaged nipped in its technological bud. With a wave and a shout from Nick, Godzilla drops the sub and returns to sea.

Enraged, Nick and Co. storm out. “It’s a wild animal, Nick,” Cameron shouts after them. “How long before it turns on you?” (About ten more episodes, but don’t worry, we’ll get there.) Cameron, being eee-vil, spends the rest of the episode wasting valuable company time on a clandestine torture campaign meant to rile Godzilla all the way up. It succeeds, with ultrasonic, underwater signals driving the Big G so batty he nearly roasts H.E.A.T. HQ—just as Randy’s academic adviser drops by for a check-up.

Seems there’s more to Young Master Hernandez than meets the eye or ear. “He’s been looking out for the environment with my organization,” might sound good coming out of Boss Nick’s mouth, but it won’t move your GPA up. Or make those pesky “prior disciplinary actions” disappear. A certain hunky techno-guru just might have the cache for such a feat…to say nothing of a handy little device that’ll ensure Godzilla’s continued loyalty...but that would be wrong. Right?

Faster than you can say, “Judas Goat,” Randy’s hijacked N.I.G.E.L. for a midnight, monster ear exam. Discovered just as the neural stimulator comes online, Randy walks out of the resulting row with his boss/mentor. Tres pissed, Nick orders Mendel to extract Winter’s hardware…but it’s already too late. Neural stimulator installed and ready, Cameron Winter begins literally pushing Godzilla’s buttons, directing the Big G up from the depths (thirty stories high) and straight into the klieg lights and sirens of (fictional) Fort Berkley, on the Jersey shore. Monster, meet the U.S. Armed Forces. Insert scenes of fiery destruction here.

Secure inside his super-secret science fortress, it’s no wonder Cameron gets cocky enough to Monologue. All he has to do is wait for the audience—Nick and Monique—to attempt another break-in. They do so, get captured, and here we are. “Now,” Cameron says, “imagine an arsenal of Godzillas. Not just Weapons of Mass Destruction but, more importantly, my own personal cash cow. If I had a partner to help me work with these critters…well…it would be mutually beneficial.”

Nick throws this second deal back in Winter’s face as he must, being the hero and all. But we’re down to the wire so it must be time for Randy to show up and redeem himself. Presently he does, sending a flock of confiscated Cyber Flies out to destroy the neural stimulator and draw off the military’s fire. Returned to the Free Will Brigade, Godzilla escapes the Combined Forces full wrath. Cameron Winter goes to jail. “I put in a call to Major Hicks,” Randy informs us. “He’s real interested in you.” Let’s see: what is the minimum mandatory sentence for throwing a giant monster at your friendly, neighborhood military base? Does it depend on how much lobbying money you can throw around on Capitol Hill?

Winter doesn’t even bother with the question, having eyes only for Nick…and Nick’s scaly protégé. “Be seeing you, Nickels,” he says as uniformed MPs lead him away. “You can bet on it.” So can I.

Analysis:

Well, it’s about damn time we had a real, human villain with real human motivations to spice up the show. Every one of the six and a half billion people on the planet this show calls home is effected by Godzilla’s presence whether they live near coast or desert. That’s the power of science fiction: the ability to chart and graph the social, the historical, and most importantly, the human effects of random, radical element; a bastard child of Science and Technology, say.

Godzilla remains that through and through, the one constant element in a series that swings wildly in terms of quality. This is one of the higher-caliber episodes, if for no other reason than the Big G’s rampage through Fort Berkley. This is the first overt action Godzilla’s taken against human opponents. Unfortunate, that, but here it is. The show’s producers removed Godzilla in his natural moral environment episodes ago…which, if you’ve never watched a Godzilla movie (what the hell are you doing here?) is largely a landscape of slate-grays. This forces the audience to chose which side it’s really on and rare is the person who won’t go for a vicarious thrill by rooting for the monster to win…which he does, undoubtedly killing more than a handful of servicemen and –women, decorously off-screen, in the process.

And even that’s alright, since the G-man’s exempt from responsibility due to mind control from afar…not for the last time, either. Villainous monsters are the only beings on this show allowed to place humans in jeopardy…and those monsters need-not be multi-eyed, giant worms. They can look just like you. Or me. Or Dr. Nick, with white hair and a Van Dyke covering up any lack of design originality.

I kid series character designer Fil Barlow. Winter is obviously designed as a foil for Nick in every respect, visibly and philosophically. Hard science vs. the quick buck; Mr. Moneybags vs. Dr. Nickels; there hasn’t been such a clear-cut division between these two opposing forces since Peter Parker and Norman Osborn duked it out atop the Brooklyn Bridge. Consider this exchange:

Nick (pointing to the neural stimulator, recently ejected from Godzilla's ear): You mind explaining that?

Winter: The neural stimulators work like a charm on my attack dogs. Only made sense to try it on yours.

Nick: Where do you come off?

Winter: Like he’s your property.

Nick: Goodbye, Cameron.

Winter: It’s a wild animal, Nick. How long before it turns on you?

How long, oh Lord, how long? Not long, since Cameron’s already arranging that by the time he asks. His “arsenal of Godzillas” is exactly the kind of thing I imagine when I consider the science-fictional implications of a giant monster’s co-existence with the so-called “real world.” Monique, too, is right on the money when she strings Cameron along during his monologue with a question: “What do you gain from attacking your perspective clients?”

Cameron affects shock at the idea. “Me? Godzilla’s attacking them. I’m just the guy who’ll get the contract to replace all that damaged weaponry. Ka-ching.” Gotta admit, here’s a man after my own heart, and I love him as I can only love a good villain.

But if you want to talk about turning, let’s talk about Nick’s true pet: Randy Hernandez, who here proves himself the weakest link in H.E.A.T.’s chain, selling his team (including Godzilla) out, and placing the entire world in Hey-Some-Rich-Asshole-Has-Godzilla-on-an-Electronic-Leash Jeopardy. (A little known round of the game, held between Double and Final.) For their own good, of course. People usually do their worst with the best possible intentions. I know I do.

What, exactly, does Dr. Nick intent do to? Zip, zilch, and bupkiss, it appears. Where other shows might string the fallout from such a betrayal over the course of several episodes you’ve got to remember we’re in the land of Fox Kids. No problem exists that cannot be solved in under twenty-two minutes. The episode’s coda finds Randy back at his “low-rent, community college,” doing some “catching up.” We’re to assume all lingering trust issues lie settled with no hard feelings anywhere, least of all in Saint Nickel's heart.

If Nick Tatopouls really does intend to lead the world’s Number One Monster Hunting Team, he’s got a lot to learn about personnel management. The only member he seems to focus on is Godzilla and that creates its own problems. Cameron Winter is only the first to exploit Nick’s connection to the big lizard. This little incident should’ve served as the “wake-up call” Monique identifies.

Come to think of it, just how strong is that connection? And what in God’s name is it based on? Does Godzilla understand English? Nick seems to think he does. He speaks to the creature VERY LOUDLY …AND VERY…SLOWLY…as if addressing a brain damaged football player. Hate to break it to you, Doctor, but that’s a giant, fire-breathing lizard you’re fucking shouting at. I’d think you of all people would appreciate this fact and treat it with some fucking respect. No need to go with the Brain Box: how about a microphone? Have Monique wire up a cufflink or a shirt-mic or something and just talk to Godzilla for God's sake, like you’d talk to any member of your team. Better security. No more bullhorning your way into every damn situation. There are worse men and women out there that Cameron; people that make your old college classmate look like Barney Fucking Rubble. Frankly, Nick, you’re putting the world at risk every time you stand out there like Joshua and try to shout down that three hundred foot wall. A wall that stares right back at you with all the puzzled amusement of an untrained mutt.

Is Godzilla laughing at his adopted parent? To quote a Hernandez of my acquaintance, “I think so.” You don’t need to get up very early to have a good laugh at Dr. Nick’s expense.

Next: Godzilla vs. The Rednecks

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Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part III)

Episode 4: D.O.A.

Plot: After the usual prologue/pre-credit teaser, the full strength of H.E.A.T. (including N.I.G.E.L. the Doomed Robot) lands in “Costa Roja,” the first of several fictional Central and South American countries exploited explored in the course of this show. “So how come I’ve never heard of this place?” Token Youth Randy Hernandez asks. Agent Dupre rises to demonstrate why she’s my favorite character, rhetorically replying: “Because you were educated in America?”

Dr. Elsie Chapman jokes that Dr. Nick Tatopoulos may find his holy of holies inside this steamy jungle: a giant worm, reportedly making life miserable for the local farmers (as we saw in the credits--way to built suspense, show). This is just about the last mention made of Nick’s pre-Godzilla life, and another instance of the show’s idiotic attitude toward Science. We can safely assume Nick’s abandoned his research into Chernobyl’s finer invertebrates, the better to run his freelance, monster-hunting road show—to be the leader of, as Randy said, last episode, “the world’s number one monster hunting team.”

Said team, after the obligatory machete-hacking, comes upon a scene of pastoral devastation: crop fields (what crop? Surely not cocaina. No…that would be wrong. Drugs are bad, m'kay?) turned into giant trenches by the passage of “El Gusano Gigante.” “Humongoid Worm,” Randy translates for Dr. Mendel Craven…who’ll spend today’s episode living up to his last name.

Because we’re only a twenty-minute show, El Gusano soon makes his presence felt for our heroes. Running, screaming, and the usual close-calls ensue, until (with an unbelievable level of stealth) Godzilla arrives to save everyone’s bacon.

Ah, but “the G-man’s” did not approach unobserved. With El Gusano distracted, the local military (in a response so rapid it shames the American response to the first Godzilla) pulls our heroes to (relative) safety before opening fire on both combatants. Nick’s pleas for sanity (“General, your weapons aren’t going to slow down those creatures. At best, they’ll only provoke the winner into attacking your troops.”) fall on deaf ears. The local generale has a brand new biological weapon on-site and he’ll be damned if some jumped-up team of Norte scientists is gonna tell him what to do with it.

On the (unnamed) generale's order, the troops fire a checker-board-patterned missile into the monster melee, releasing a cloud of yellow gas. El Gusano retreats after a bout of spontaneous mutation (warping its already out-there physiology to include horns and claw, along with the teeth and eyes--yeah, that's a "worm" alright). Godzilla, in what amounts to a surrealist parody of human inebriation, performs a short “Dude-I-am-so-wasted” dance before falling into the sea.

It’s time for Science to swing into action. After many moments of analysis, H.E.A.T. discovers…it’s cancer (dun-dun-DUN!). Well, no, not really cancer…but el generale’s “bio-weapon” is slowly but surely killing Godzilla. Without a fresh sample to poke at, the prognosis is negative: Godzilla will die within hours.

Ticking Clock firmly established, it’s time for some espionage, courtesy Monique Dupre. With a stoic, workwoman’s sensibilities and backup from the amorous Mr. Hernandez, Monique penetrates el generale’s jungle base, conveniently located within easy driving distance of the shore.

Meanwhile, back on the Heat Seeker, anchored alongside Godzilla’s unconscious bulk, Drs. Nick and Craven hold a little palaver. “I’m not cut out for this,” Mendel informs his nominal boss. “I’m a thinker, not a doer.” Nick agrees that, once this is over, he’ll be happy to cut Mendel loose—“no hard feelings,” no strings attached.

Unfortunately, Monique and Randy’s little adventure in provoking international incidents was all for naught: it’s impossible to synthesize an antidote from the “tainted” samples they pilfered. So it’s back to the jungle, where our heroes (including the reluctant Mendel) search for the rare orchid el generale used to create his little “bio-phage”. Shocker of shockers—H.E.A.T. finds hundreds of the little things growing in the rich, brown earth of El Gusano’s wake.

”If we burn the rest of these plants,” Nick says, “we may at least slow down el generale’s weapons program.” Unfortunately, this attracts the Humongoid Worm, setting up our last action sequence. While the rest of the team keeps El Gusano busy, Dr. Craven voluntarily runs through the jungle (never looking back to see) on a mission to revive Godzilla and save the day.

Analysis: This being the second full episode produced, we see a series in the midst of defining itself. Themes and issues established here will haunt the rest of the show, to be handled or miss handled in turn. Monique and Randy’s relationship is only the most obvious example…with Godzilla and Dr. Nick’s relationship running close behind. In the former case, we see annoyance on the one hand, and horiness on the other, merge into the kind of instantaneous, mutual respect found only in action movies…like the ones Randy describes as he and Monique flee Costa Roja’s forces: “Did you see us in there? We were like Butch and Sundance, Thelma and Louise…uhhh—Sundance and Louise.” Indeed. The latter case is a bit more complicated.

Better to ask the question Mendel’s (all-too-brief) crisis of consciousness trips over: Is anyone really “cut out” for professional monster hunting? Just what are the effects of such a high-stress job? What kind of person would chose to spend long hours of strenuous field work in godforsaken hellholes full of monsters, week in, week out? Why does Mendel Craven chose this life at the end of the episode? Odd that episode writer Richard Mueller didn’t chose to answer this question with Elsie. No, it’s not love, but a near-life experience that triggering Mendel’s epiphany, leaving me to wonder, Why? I mean, I know I’d probably be driven away by a close encounter with Godzilla’s foot. Mendel crawls all over the capillary-filled tissue of Godzilla’s mouth in an attempt to revive the Big G. Hope you never planned to have children, Mendel—Godzilla’s probably putting out enough rads to turn your seed into popcorn. If Audrey Timmonds ever wants kids, she better get real friendly with an adoption agency. For that matter, everyone at H.E.A.T. better watch out for the Big C, king of real life monsters. I’m amazed Dr. Nick hasn’t instituted mandatory radiation suit procedure.

Then again, Nick’s already lost his objectivity with regards to Godzilla. His comment at the big guy’s first appearance, make this obvious: "Godzilla followed us thousands of miles out of an instinctual need to protect…me.” Elsie’s response is priceless: “Give yourself all the credit, why don’tcha?”Good for her, bringing this up. How, exactly, does Godzilla track his adopted parental unit over hill and down dale? And air? And sea? “Instinct” is no answer, let me tell you . “Instinct” is a bullshit, catch-all phrase, translated from television-speak to mean, “Well…our writers were too busy, too harried, and/or too uncreative to come up with a good explanation. So we shrugged our shoulders, chalked it up to ‘instinct,’ and hoped no one would notice or think about it too awful much.”

Well, tough, guys. These are exactly the kinds of questions your audience will think about, assuming they’re smart. And daikaiju fans (no matter which side of the Pacific) are some of the smartest, most persnickety sci-fi fans around. We’re not Trekkies (yet…at least, not in this country) but we are a critical bunch, and we dearly love nothing a good round of pie-in-the-sky bullshiting. Having endured more crap in pursuit of our entertainment you’re your average bear, we know (if only on a subconscious level) a good explanation when we hear or see it. We know what works and we know what doesn’t. More often than not, we can even tell you why.

“Instinct” fails to explain Godzilla’s behavior because instinct (to make a bald-faced, oversimplification) is the product of evolution…mind-numbingly slow evolution. Birds fly south for the winter because, over the course of millions of years, their species “learned” that this behavior guaranteed survival. Pack animals form bonds, hierarchies, and familial units for the same reason, and they will rush to protect their genetic compatriots at a moment’s notice. But whatever rough, bestial process created Godzilla, it had absolutely jack to do with what the so-called Scientists in this show casually call “evolution.” As if we all know what that word means and all agreed on its definition. We don’t now, didn’t at the time this show premiered, and the creeping terror of Creationism and has only muddied up the waters.

Without going down that road...let me say, then, that Godzilla and his ilk are not “evolutionary” beings. The Series’ label for them, “mutations,” is about as accurate as you’re going to get without Latinizing. They are the rarest of the rare—spontaneous, beneficial mutations, so divorced from Mother Nature she won’t even give them visitation rights. The Series’ creators, relying on buzz words like “instinct” and “evolution,” created a plot hole wide enough for the Godzilla to walk through...and then only filled it up inadequately and haphazardly.

Each daikaiju story invents its own excuse for the titular monster’s presence. Times were Godzilla went where he wanted, when he wanted, for reasons known only to him—a popular track, revived in the 1990s. In the 1970s Hanna Barbara cartoon, Captain Majors of the research ship Calico literally had Godzilla at his beck-and-call, thanks to the ultrasonic pager on his belt (derived, no doubt, from the same technology running Jimmy Olsen’s wristwatch). H.E.A.T. will eventually resort to a similar technique for emergencies…but in a way, this feels like backsliding, in an Alcoholic’s Anonymous sense of the word.

Let me explain: giant monster storytellers (print or film—and I very much include myself in this) are addicted to lazy storytelling. It’s our own damn fault, and I’m sad to see it. We do not challenge ourselves. We wait for audiences to challenge us once our work is complete and it’s no surprise audiences pay so little attention to the finished product. By and large, we’re all producing generic crap, from the heights of Toho Studios to the depths of my own hard drive. We do it because it’s easy—audience expectations are so low, anyway, something like Cloverfield can come along and be like unto a revolution…even though it’s not.

In Nick and Godzilla you sense there’s a chance for the Series to strike out in a new direction, take this whole Monster As Friend To Man thing beyond the perfunctory waves and shouted commands we see here. I just find it sad to see that opportunity missed. Missed opportunities always get me a little misty.

Tune it next week for Cameron Winter and the Monster As Villain...and Victim.

Michael Crichton and the Boundaries of Scientfic Prognostication

The author of Jurassic Park, Congo, Sphere, and a half-dozen others much better than State of Fear or Next, speaks at a National Press Corps event in 2006. This is about an hour and a half with the obligatory question time.

Tune in Saturday night for part three of our continuing quest through Godzilla The Series.

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part II)

Episode 3: Talkin’ Trash
Plot: With a garbage strike seizing New York City in the wake of Godzilla Mark I's rampage, a pair of eggheads at the Manhattan Institute of Advanced Technology (MIAT?) struggle to find a “scientific solution.” The subordinate one, Felix (Faust?) (Grant Shaud—who will forever be, to me, the voice of Murphy Brown’s old boss boss, Miles Silverberg) has an answer in his still-to-be-perfected “Nanotech drivers”: a “colony of microbes” that consume petroleum-based products, manufacturing copies of themselves from the result. Visible to the human eye as a red-and-orange, candy cane-striped sludge, the drivers are unstable…and more than a little ravenous. Nevertheless, Felix (Faust)'s as-yet-unnamed boss insists on a field test for New York’s (unnamed) Mayor tomorrow. What could possibly go wrong...right?
Back at casa Tatopoulos, Randy Hernandez—punk, hacker, punk-hacker, and Odious Comic Relief of the series—busies himself painting eyes and a mean set of jaws on the tub of a boat DGSE Agent Monique Dupre secured in the last episode. “If we’re gonna be the world’s number one monster hunting team,” Randy pronounces, “we’re gonna need a mean looking ride.”
Ah, yes but--teams need names. “High-Performance, Environmental Attack Team,” Randy forwards, prompting Dr. Nick to poke his head out of the boat and ask, “How about, ‘Humanitarian, Environmental’...”
“—Analysis…” Elsie finishes “…Team?” Ah, the great debates of contemporary science…so applicable to me and my life today…
Meanwhile, across the Hudson, something goes terribly wrong. Big surprise. And Audrey Timmonds is there, once again getting the kind of story real journalists only wet-dream of: “Live from the Hudson River, where a high-tech, garbage-eating microbe has spun out of control.” Like Raymond Burr’s Steve Martin, Audrey is everywhere, an observer to every giant monster attack in the New York metro area. Won’t be long before, in the true spirit of Gonzo, Audrey becomes a participant as well.

Not in this case, however. Now’s the time for H.E.A.T. (really? “H.E.A.T.”? Really? The entire development department of Fox Kids sits around for what was probably months and comes up with “H.E.A.T.”? Gimmie a fucking break, please) to save the day in their own, roundabout fashion.
Attempts to disable the ‘drivers with physical force only encourage microbial violence….which, in turn, draws Godzilla out of his new lair under the floor of New York harbor, obvious pissed at a nap interrupted. Thus the Monster as Friend to Man vs. the Monster of Science Gone Awry—a protracted kind of fight by the standards of later episodes, carrying Godzilla and the ‘drivers into one of New Jersey’s finer refineries.
While Godzilla keeps the monster busy, its up to H.E.A.T. to actually solve something. Echoing Independence Day, Randy and Mendel cease their on-going Prank War (called by Elsie, who's an enabler) long enough to devise a computer virus capable of crashing the Nanodrivers before they eat enough oil to swallow Manhattan. “Crashing,” in this case, appears to mean the creatures miraculously loose all the moisture they’ve gained in their travels, providing Godzilla a solid target to smash. With only a few tens of millions of dollars in damage to the New Jersey shore, it looks like a home run for the good guys…fuggitaboutit.

Unfortunately, Godzilla’s very public appearance shatters any illusions Nick and Maj. Hicks might’ve held about keeping the Big Guy, in Hicks’ words, “our little secret.”
Analysis: This episode solidifies elements that dominate the rest of the series: Randy and Mendel’s “prank war” via N.I.G.E.L. the robot (whom I refuse to talk about yet), Maj. Hicks’ ambivalent relationship toward Godzilla, and H.E.A.T.’s semi-magical ability to instantly assume control of any giant monster-related situation despite their complete (or, at the very least, never addressed) lack of government, military, or even corporate support.
This last is most interesting. That boat, the "H.E.A.T. Seeker" (much like Godzilla himself) goes where it wants with little regard for jurisdiction or procedure. Perhaps this whole imprinting thing runs both ways and a wee little bit of the Big G has already rubbed off on Dr. Nick. With one phone call “the guy who saved the City from Godzilla” muscles his boat through harbor patrol and into the thick of the “nano-tech feeding frenzy” (never thought I'd heard Miles Silverberg say that). Future episodes will make much of H.E.A.T.S. on-again, off-again powers of carte blanche. Now...if only our intrepid scientists could decide on a name for their new branch of vertebrate biology. “Mutationology” doesn’t sing, and “the study of biological anomalies” lacks visceral brevity. Kaijuologist is too Japanese for American T.V. and “Heat Seekers” just sounds creepy…the name of a monster in and of itself. Come to think of it, I don’t believe this question is ever officially settled by the series. Sigh.
Monique raises a more interesting one once Godzilla arrives to mix it up with the Orange-and-Red-Striped Goo: “Would you be cheering of there were people in those warehouses?” Wait...you mean there aren’t? It’s the middle of the day on the Jersey shore and ain’t nobody workin? Have the Teamsters been that successful? Or have the Americans of this universe finally wised up enough to copy a few of Japan’s disaster-preparedness protocols? Say what you want, but the Japanese know how to do quick, orderly mass movements...particularly in crowded, metropolitan areas. I can (reasonably) believe in Japan’s ability to evacuate her cities at the drop of a hat…but America’s? Not so much. Not so much anymore at all, in fact.
On one level, I understand the necessity of having Monique ask her question…on the other, I’d rather the producers snuck the fact that there aren’t any people in those warehouses under our noses…instead of rubbing it in our face. Some of us like to pretend the people making this series actually cared enough to avoid insulting our intelligence, or the intelligence of our hypothetical children, who (I’ll tell you right now) can be just as bloodthirsty as we are…if not more so. I was a wicked little child, regularly wished gloom and doom upon my foes, and when Godzilla stepped into a crowded street full of fleeing onlookers I knew each and every one of those fuckers had been ground into paste. And I loved it. I bloody loved it, and if you’ve got an American child who doesn’t he’s either lying to you…or he’s a Quaker.
We’ll detour there, past the whole ghettoized issue of Violence and Death and all that other depressing shite…and talk about Godzilla, the show’s, peculiar relationship to Science…Though integral (it being, nominally, a “science fiction” show) Godzilla’s writers and producers play fast and loose with the laws of physic, chemistry, and engineering, as anyone dealing with giant monster’s must.
Or must it? Really? I’m not suggesting that so-called “hard” science fiction writers invade the giant monster genre. Personally, their work leaves me limp, and I’m sure their presence would only drain the material of inherent humanity. I’m suggesting that, perhaps, giant monsters be taken seriously as concepts and as threats.
Example: the Nanotech Drivers—a crossbreed of two potent, modern techno-phobias: the actual nightmare of nanotechnology, Gray Goo, and every environmentalist’s nightmare: the plastosphere. What’s to stop anything that eats plastic from eating its way across the face of the earth? Writer Perry does a wonderful job building a credible threat…only to jump the shark with Randy and Mendel’s quick-fix computer virus. Seriously—does no one write code by hand anymore? I know they did back in ’98 and let me tell you what: it’s not a dramatic process no matter what television tells you. It lies.
It also numbs the mind with style whenever it can. The sight of Dr. Nick dangling from a helicopter is supposed to distract me. I’m not supposed to think about this stuff. But I am and I do. As should be obvious.
See you next time for another round of thought, space cowboys.

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis

Episode 1 + 2 "A New Family."
Plot: After a low-budget recap of Godzilla (1998)’s final moments, biologist Nick “Worm Guy” Tatopoulos (Ian Ziering) and Major (nee, Colonel) Hicks (Kevin Dunn) set out into the unstable warren of Godzilla-created tunnels formerly known as the Manhattan subway system. A well-timed cavein separates Dr. Nick from his military minders, sending him, like Alice, down a hole and into a strange new, topsy-turvy life. Nick lands in a small puddle of orange-yellow goo not five feet away from the object of his search: the last remaining Godzilla egg, miraculously intact after the aerial bombardment of Madison Square Garden.
Right on the cue, the egg hatches. Its issue—a bobble-headed, spindle-limbed version of his asexual progenitor—sniffs at Nick, licks his face, and retreats when the spark of a broken high-voltage line stuns its widdle, newborn eyes.
Maj. Hicks is nonplussed at Nick’s news of the newborn. “Now it’s time for the hunters to hunt,” he says, “and the lab rats to go back to the lab.” Frustrated, Nick recruits fellow-Drs. Elsie Chapman (Charity James) and Mendel Craven (Malcolm Danare) for a little freelance monster hunting. “We’re the only ones who can track it,” Nick says. “You wanna help me see this thing through, or would you rather wait for the army to screw it up?” Joined by Nick’s “research assistant” (re: Odious Comic Relief) Randy Hernandez (Rino Romano—now the voice of Bruce Wayne on The Batman), Our Heroes take over Nicks’ “research facility” (re: converted warehouse) on Staten Island as a “staging area,” while Hicks and his military cohorts fruitlessly plumb the Atlantic’s depths. Expecting a human-sized monster, it’s not long before Dr. Nick’s intrepid little band receives its first surprise: a T-Rex-sized Godzilla bounding out of the bay, making scrap-metal of Our Heroes’ improvised cage. Making a b-line for Dr. Nick, Godzilla stops short of popping the 90210-voiced scientist into his mouth. Instead, the visibly-calmed monster gives Dr. Nick a friendly-puppy lick, sets him down, and waits patiently for…what?With three PHDs between them, Our Heroes quickly deduce that Godzilla's imprinted on Nick, strange as it sounds. “I had this gunk from the eggs all over me,” Nick remembers. Yeah, that’d be afterbirth, Doc…something you, as a biologist, could’ve guessed at the time. But c’es la vive…In true Movie Scientist fashion, Nick decides to study Godzilla rather than bomb the lizard back to the Stone Age. Convincing his colleagues to go along with this proves far too easy, but, again, c’es la vive.
Too bad Nick makes no move to tell his erstwhile girlfriend, WIDF reporter Audrey Timmonds (Paget Brewster). This leaves Audrey and cameraman Victor “Animal” Polotti (Joe Pantoliano) to accidently come across Godzilla curled up on Nick’s doorstep. The two argue across Godzilla’s flank for awhile (prompting a very adverse reaction when Audrey raises her voice to Nick) when, suddenly, the army descends form out of an overcast, cartoon sky.
With Godzilla seemingly destroyed and Our Heroes (including Audrey and Animal) under house arrest, Nick grows suspicious. He accuses Audrey of calling in the task force. Audrey denies this. “Well, if you didn’t call Hicks, who did?” Audrey accuses Elsie, Elsie snipes back, and I’m sure Nick takes a moment to wonder why every woman in his life is a psychological fourteen-year-old.
Hicks and Nick take a walk outside, on Nick’s balcony, Twin Towers of the World Trade Center visible across the bay. They have a small debate on the ethics of live giant monster research. Calling it a draw, they depart as friends, Nick avoiding a charge of treason, and a stint in Guantanamo Bay.
That night (Twin Towers still visible, by God) Elsie and Craven make plans to visit Jamaica, where ships and swimmers have recently developed a bad habit of vanishing. While packing up for the trip, Nick and Odious Comic Relief (I’m sorry—his name’s Randy) discover Monique Dupree (Gargoyles and Red Shoe Diaries regular Brigitte Bako) breaking into the house computer. A Special Agent from Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure, Monique presents herself as weapons master, bodyguard and (un)official liaison with…who? A good spy never tells. “Don’t know ‘bout you, jefe,” Randy, the human goliwog, comments, ”but I feel safer already.”
Nick takes Monique's offer and it’s off to Jamaica. Elsie and Craven, meanwhile, have a run in with some giant squid. Nick finds them cocooned in tar…the same tar congealing around their boat’s propellers. Giant squids have invaded Jamaica’s very waters. (Where they stirred up by the original Godzilla’s swim past the island?) Godzilla Mark Two--now over three hundred feet tall--makes short work of them on Nick’s behalf, returning from the dead just in time. Nick projects loyalty on Godzilla’s actions, but the implications of this are ignored…if, for no other reason, than the appearance of Crustaceous Rex.
This, first of Godzilla’s reoccurring foes, sets the tone for the remainder of the series both in its striking visual design, and its complete biological impossibility. (Legs and tentacles? Somebody, somewhere, got a little greedy.) A well-animated monster fight ensues, with Maj. Hicks and U.S. military arriving at the last minute. But it's okay: after violating all kinds of Jamaica’s territorial sovereignty, the military stands around while Godzilla does their job for them (pretty smart move, in terms of hardware losses). After triumphing over C-Rex, the Big G conveniently rescues all those tar-entombed missing-persons in the process. Nick triumphs over Hicks by arguing that Godzilla is “the only thing that stands between us and every other mutation that comes out of the woodwork. And believe me, Major, there will be others.” With a reluctance totally within character (and an authority out of all proportion to his rank) Maj. Hicks agrees to spare Godzilla's life.
Parting shot from Dr. Nick: “Just be thankful that whatever we have to face in the future, we won’t be facing it alone.”
Analysis: On the positive front, this series presented unrepentant junkies (like your humble narrator) with weekly giant monster action, the hour-long first episode serving this up right off. Its producers knew exactly what they were doing in a way Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich did not. While maintaining continuity of characters and relationships, the series succeeded handsomely in gradually expanded its mythology to include almost every imaginable cliche in the daikaiju genre. Sooner or later, they get to everything here. And I'm going to have a damn good time pointing everything out.
Here we see the first shoots of that growth: the Monster as Friend to Man vs. the Monster From the Deep, set against the tropical backdrop of Jamaica. While Nick’s relationship with Godzilla dances on the edge of Gamera Territory…and I’m willing to let it slide since their "bond" really is the dramatic axis of the show, keeping Our (Human) Heroes involved in a way most giant monster film protagonists are not...and never will be so long as directors think it’s okay to have characters finish up a story blithely watching the monsters fight from minimum safe distance.

If anything, Dr. Nick and his followers are more proactive than Godzilla himself. Our Heroes showcase an ad-hoc, improvisation style of giant monster fighting that’s inventive by necessity—never the same trick twice. Surely the show's writers realized you can only have Godzilla blast the Monster of the Week away with a gust of Atomic Breath so many times before your audience cries out for…something more.
Put simply, like Justice League after it, Godzilla: The Series spent its run successfully mining its parent genre for every conceivably useful idea, eventually managing to distill at least fifty years of daikaiju movies into their purest, most ridiculous essence…and I mean that as a compliment, because if you’re into this sort of thing you couldn’t ask for more. What we have here is an animated, one hour, giant monster made-for-TV movie. Name another from the last ten years. Go on. I’m so desperate for human communication I’m actually daring you to name one. Go on.
Right. Pure, ridiculous essence. Every once in awhile, the producers of this series make with The Creepy. Better yet, they make with The Creepy at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning on Fox. Fucking Fox, man. This feat cannot be underscored often enough. These days you just can’t start the day with the sight of men being dragged to a watery grave by giant squid. More’s the pity.
And mores the pity this series suffers from all the idiotic constraints of American “children's” television, including but not limited to: a relative low budget (see below) and a general squeamishness—re: death.
The series has not aged well—computer technology was in its infancy during Godzilla’s run, and the uneven quality of animation testifying to this, lending the whole works one more layer of unbelievability than it needs. With my suspension of disbelief already stretched to the limit, I don’t want persnickety issues of scale to distract me…but good Lord, sometimes Godzilla and his monster rivals look tall as the Rockies…sometimes, not. Sometimes fight scenes become less like action sequences and more like surrealist interpretations of such. Witness Godzilla vs. C-Rex. The “G-man’s” very dimensions—his…ahem…anatomical proportions—have all the stability of a Salvador Dali watch. The same is true of every monster in the series. It’s annoying, distracting, and ever present. You’ve just got to learn to live with it if you want to enjoy this show. Should be no problem for men (and women) raised on rubber suits made in the dark heart of the 1970s…though we’ll be laughed at mightily for giggling over these little daikaiju nuggets. But fuck the uninitiated.
For one thing, it’s obvious this series takes place in a fantastic parallel dimension where giant monsters just appear, popping into existence like Mother Earth’s own acid flashbacks. The possibilities of such a place immediately fires that part of my brain that reads hard science fiction: obviously, no 9/11. But who knows what the U.S. government of this crazy, parallel world will do in its self-proclaimed War on Monsters? You’re telling me the CIA just allows some jumped-up DGSE Agent to attach herself to Dr. Nick Tatopoulos, Savior of New York City, the Man Who Destroyed Godzilla (well…the first one, anyway)? Where’s the FBI or the NSA or the Pentagon or somebody on something like that? Where’s the new, Cabinet-level post created specifically to deal with the “imminent threat” of a giant monster attack? Where’s the new Executive Department designed to funnel money to Congressional and Presidential cronies under the guise of “keeping America safe from giant monsters”? Where are the speeches, the debates, the pomp and the circumstance? Where is this show when we really need it, to help explore the fractured, fucked-up character of our times here, in the dark heart of the early twenty-first century?
I overhead someone a bus stop the other day wondering about the pre-9/11 world…she was in fifth grade on That Day, and really has no memory of the Time Before. Well, little girl, watch this cartoon and stare in slack jawed wonder at the naiveté of that time…the conventions of American Saturday Morning television notwithstanding.
The main characters overlapping love triangles (Nick like Audrey, Elsie likes Nick [or she just likes to piss Audrey off—and more power to you, Red], Mendel likes Elsie; Randy, true to his name, has a crush on Monique, for which I do not blame him) are annoying, but not disastrously so. Godzilla receives the dignity due him, remaining a straight lizard throughout. Human characters always supply the annoying faux-comedy. Learn to love playful splashing—there are more wet T-shirts on Nick’s team than in the titty bars down my street. No wonder all the characters seem to brim over with displaced aggression—they’re all horny teenagers trapped in adult bodies, further ensnared by the constraints of the Fox Kids Network Department of Standards and Practices.
I’ll derail that little train of thought right now, before it escapes my control, and meet you in the next episode.