When you see a child staring into space, you have to wonder, “what is the spark in there?” You ask yourself the same thing when you see a child laugh or jump up and down at the prospect of over-gorging on ice cream or watching cartoons. When I was young, I had that same spark when I watched monster movies.
The monster movie genre was one of my favorites. Some giant beast, upset over who knows what, decides to kick the shit out of human cities, shrieking and flailing. There was no rhyme or reason, just chaos. I suppose the reason I liked it so much is that none of those movies had much in the way of plot twists. Maybe there was a love story, maybe there was a mad scientist. Maybe, if I was lucky enough, there were some space aliens along with the beast to help melt the cities with a death ray.
These simple stories packed enough unbelievable violence to keep me engaged and even taking sides with the monster. Such was the case with my favorite monster, Godzilla. This monster, in this writer’s opinion, was my favorite. Always angry, always willing to bash architecture, always willing to kill. What was even better, it was Japanese, so I was slightly confused by the strange acting. Oh, and radioactive, glowing breath.
Godzilla will always spark my interest. When I found out that there was to be a remake of the movie that paid attention to the Japanese concept, I felt 4. I am now old enough to appreciate the message of nuclear peace and collaboration between countries, but I more look forward to the mayhem that the giant lizard will bring to my chosen home, San Francisco.
When you are done kicking the shit out of my city, Godzilla, fulfill this young child’s dream. Melt me with your radioactive breath, and then stomp on the charred remains.