Primeras reacciones tras la premier anoche. Twitter primero y algunos textos publicados.
"Shin Godzilla was brilliant. A fast-moving satire on Japan's Bureaucracy and post-war politics/infrastructure. Like Contagion or Zodiac, but a kaiju movie."
"Shin Godzilla is light on action, but it packs a punch. Mostly though it’s a political satire. Super weird but good."
"Shin Godzilla is talky, but delivers. Giant monster devastation plays out amid modern day political power plays."
"Shin Godzilla is talky, but delivers. Giant monster devastation plays out amid modern day political power plays."
"Very different from the other films, refreshingly so."
"My favorite movie about bureaucracy since Brazil. A+"
"Heads up - Shin Godzilla is fucking phenomenal."
"Smart, satirical, thrilling, a mega-scale Japanese monster flick with an unconventional focus. Bravo."
"Come for the laser breath, stay for the bureaucracy jokes. Very much a Godzilla movie, even in its flaws."
"Great fun. The only thing that takes a bigger beating than Tokyo is Japan's gridlocked bureaucracy."
"An often talky treatise on Japanese law & politics. When the mayhem begins, it's glorious. Shin Godzilla > Godzilla 2014."
"Giant monster movie that condemns war & critiques the political system. Was this made for me?"
"What a massive disappointment. I was so excited for it, and it's a dry political procedural with 15 mins of Godzilla coolness."
"Shin Godzilla is not at all what I expected. It's like a pseudo documentary look into the Japanese government and solving a massive disaster."
"1970s-style disaster movie. 90% politics & 10% monster, but the non-monster stuff is good."
"Hilarious showcase of endless Japanese bureaucracy with occasional scenes of Gojira laser-blasting Toyko."
"I can't tell if Shin Godzilla is a good movie, but I definitely enjoyed watching it."
"Shin Godzilla is too weird to ignore. Only Japan could have made it."
"The Aaron Sorkin of Godzilla movies."
Variety:
The Original Gangsta Lizard gets a largely satisfying reboot in “
Shin Godzilla,” a surprisingly clever monster mash best described as the “Batman Begins” of Zilla Thrillers. Director
Hideaki Anno ( working from Anno’s genre-respectful yet realpolitik-savvy screenplay, draw basic elements from Ishiro Honda’s original 1954 “Gojira” and its many follow-ups — to the point of including a wink-wink, nudge-nudge reference to Goro Naki, a character who loomed large in two sequels — but update the familiar
kaiju mythos to a 21st-century world where the sudden appearance of an immense, fire-breathing reptile in Japan can generate all sorts of inter-agency political wrangling, revive terribly unpleasant memories of the country’s militaristic past, and really, really wreak havoc on the value of the yen in global monetary markets.
In short, Anno and Ishihara operate according to a classic sci-fi game plan: This couldn’t happen. But if it did happen, this probably is what would happen. During the extended stretches between Godzilla’s sporadic assaults on all urban areas in his path, the film takes an almost documentary-style approach to depicting the bureaucratic dithering and political infighting that, in the alternative universe imagined by Anno and Ishihara, would be rampant among Japanese government officials faced with a literally monstrous threat to homeland security.
The complicated relationship between Japan and the United States is exploited more cannily here than in most previous Godzilla films. Which may explain why “Shin Godzilla” will kick off a limited theatrical run.
Idigital:
Shin Godzilla (first marketed in the U.S. as
Godzilla Resurgence) tries something different. Instead of escalating the human side of the equation to the silly heights of the monster itself,
Shin Godzilla distributes its manpower across the bureaucracy of Japan, leveraging an entire nation and its people against the greatest threat the world has ever faced. Rather than building up any single character,
Shin Godzilla ennobles us collectively, as a species.
The results start out comedic, but end up profound. In the first few minutes of
Shin Godzilla — as a giant blood geyser erupts in Tokyo Bay — the various committees surrounding the prime minister change conference rooms three or four times. Flustered men in suits look at their phones, anxious for updates. Various functionaries, themselves representing whole floors of government processes, fail at every turn to properly evaluate the Godzilla threat. But
Shin Godzilla isn’t about government inadequacy or malice (as is so common in American films). As the crisis grows in scale and scope, it’s committees of career civil servants who rise to the challenge.
Godzilla’s actual screentime in
Shin Godzilla might be a little scant (but more than 2014’s obscurantist American
Godzilla), but it’s counterbalanced by storytelling so expansive in scope and vision that I can’t think of another movie like it.
Shin is divided into three large-scale encounters, each radically altering the terms of engagement. In between, we see the full scale of societal response. While it always centers on a core group of bureaucrats,
Shin Godzilla hops all around the country, spooling out troop positions, disaster responses, social media reactions, international brinkmanship and political jockeying in an overwhelming torrent of information. By the time the military begins firing on Godzilla we understand the full scale of the battle with an intimacy completely alien to most action movies, where destruction is opportunistic and forgotten the moment it’s offscreen. When Godzilla burns the neighborhoods of Tokyo, you feel it in your stomach as powerfully as you would a real-world event on CNN.
SlashFilm:
Think of this as Godzilla the way of The West Wing.
This is often fascinating, particularly in the opening act. When Godzilla first emerges, the film explores the government response from every angle. Meetings are held. Committees are formed. Everyone talks and talks and talks, with countless named characters being introduced via onscreen text that tells us their position within the Japanese government. As a portrait of bureaucratic red tape, it is funny and surprisingly effective – we meet dozens of men and women with fancy titles who simply do not know how to respond to the giant sea lizard tramping their city. The onscreen text continues as running gag throughout the film, introducing new characters, new locations, new anti-Godzilla think-tanks, and every single piece of military hardware.
Shin Godzilla is frustrated by government gridlock, focusing on the minutiae of committees being formed to approve subcommittees in the face of a creature that threatens the entire human race. That onscreen text is constant and deliberately overwhelming, wrapping the movie in red tape.
A typical human government,
Shin Godzilla says, simply isn’t prepared to face an extinction-level threat like this. This is is the chief focus of the film and it is frustrating and fascinating in equal measure. The lack of Godzilla is this
Godzilla movie is entirely the point, but this satire will misfire for anyone hoping for a traditional kaiju story.
Killscreen:
It is with pleasure that I can report that the upcoming
Shin Godzilla, which translates roughly to “New” or “True Godzilla,” is the first Godzilla movie since
Gojira (1954) to feel relevant to contemporary issues.
Also, hey, it’s extremely good. Co-directed by
Neon Genesis Evangelion creator Hideaki Anno and
Evangelion assistant director Shinji Higuchi, and written by Anno himself,
Shin Godzilla reconfigures the kaiju film as a satirical kaleidoscope of bureaucratic bullshit. “Open fire” orders have to run through 15 people before the Prime Minister can give his OK. Conferences on conferences are held to determine what Godzilla is or isn’t. Rapid response teams come together and collapse just as quickly.
Anno’s script doesn’t have characters, just recurring faces as it follows the Japanese government’s frantic attempts to deal with the appearance of Godzilla in Tokyo Bay. Every single person repeatedly gets their title splayed onscreen in massive kanji. Every location and makeshift HQ gets the same thing.
This becomes a running joke, a self-reflexive commentary on what we’re seeing: two men argue whether under the Constitution, Japan can ask the US to just take Godzilla out for them. As they argue, the entire text of the articles they’re referencing is superimposed over arch low-angle shots of their faces. Anno and Higuchi find innumerable ways to make a film that’s 75 percent stern Japanese men bloviating in office spaces visually interesting and witty, from smash-cut punchlines to a surprisingly goofy “first form” for the big guy himself. The destruction—very satisfying, very cataclysmic—is similar to their “Giant God Warrior Appears in Tokyo,” a short prequel to/adaptation of Hayao Miyazaki’s
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984).
About halfway through, the film twists into something darker. If
Gojira was a response to the atomic bombings,
Shin Godzilla speaks to current anxieties: the Fukushima meltdown, Japan’s place in an aggressively militarized modern world. There is a lot of
Evangelion DNA in here, to no one’s surprise. Trust no one about this movie, not even me. See it for yourself—prostrate yourself before the one true Godzilla.
Joder como pinta esto!!!
Si es mi tema favorito de la OST de Evangelion 2.0! La versión que mas me gusta es la que incorpora guitarras eléctricas y suena en el principio del pequeño como se hizo que trae el Blu-ray de You Can Not Advance, Rebuild of Evangelion 2.02:
