The Importance of Being Pacific Rim

A lot of people will assume it's easy for me to say there aren't enough movies like Pacific Rim. It's a giant monster movie. How could I not? And while the effects of enjoying a big-budget, Godzilla-esque film are not lost on me, it's also not exactly why I think we need more.

I think there is a lack of understanding for this movie. Both some fans and people who cry "terrible movie" don't seem to understand where this film is coming from and why. I don't expect my answers to change opinions, but I do hope it helps them look at it differently. And for those who have yet to see it, I hope you are motivated to do so. Pacific Rim is the most lovable blockbuster of many summers.

Minor spoilers after the jump.

1954 and Beyond

In 1945, after the surrender of Japan, came the occupation by the Allied Powers. During this time much of the Japanese film industry was devoted to pro-capitalist propaganda. At the end of the occupation, in 1952, Japan began operating on its own as a capitalist state. With the film industry in disarray, Toho, Co. Ltd. was the film studio that gave its industry a strong, Japanese rebirth. In 1954 three movies were put in production that were very far removed from the western propaganda that had saturated the screens. One of them was Godzilla.

The original Godzilla is not the film people think it is. As a dark, science fiction giving way to the fears of atomic horror, Godzilla was more than a giant monster movie. It was a post-war masterpiece and the accidental birth of a prominent, Japanese sub-genre.

After Godzilla other daikaiju (giant monster) films with post-war sensibilities were put in production: Rodan, Varan: The Unbelievable, Godzilla Raids Again...etc... Eventually these movies became less about the fears of nuclear war and more about exciting monster battles and the characters trying to survive them. Godzilla vs. Mothra, War of the Gargantuas and Ghidorah: The Three Headed Monster highlighted the 1960s' iteration of the genre. 

Many of these were directed by Ishiro Honda, director of the original Godzilla. He inadvertently became the torchbearer of a sub-genre that is a cultural staple. His films' amount of imagination and heightened realism has been cited as inspiration for George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, J.J. Abrams and, of course, Guillermo del Toro.

The 1960s is the era Guillermo del Toro was emulating with Pacific Rim. The giants are the true stars, whereas the actors play likable and heroic caricatures, instead of introspective minds. What really takes center stage is an intrinsic world of fantasy that encourages imagination and wholehearted fun.

2013

The Japanese Godzilla series is all but dead. Very few daikaiju movies get made these days. Occasionally the Ultraman series will deliver some new material, but the age of indie-daikaiju has been one of drought. Enter Guillermo del Toro, the man known for creating fairytales out of nightmares (Pan's Labyrinth, Hellboy) and Pacific Rim is no different.

To create a big budget film based on a dead, niche sub-genre was a gamble. One that, as I write this, sadly hasn't paid off at the boxoffice. Yet it delivered something that has never been seen. A massive budget kaiju film with the same spirit, imagination, absurdity, fun and flaws as the the 1960s golden era. This isn't Cloverfield, which was simply inspired by the concept of the sub-genre. This is an American production channeling all of the creativity and heart that made older kaiju films so fantastic.

Pacific Rim opens with one of my least favorite narrative styles: chronicled backstory. And yet, it worked. It built its world beautifully and gave a clear backstory leading directly to the prologue's meat-- Raleigh Beckett and his brother pilot the giant "jaeger," named Gipsy Danger, against the deadly kaiju, Knifehead. A battle sequence hasn't been this jaw dropping since the Star Destroyer flew over the audience in 1977. It would've taken a crane to scoop my jaw off the floor. My close friend leaned in next to me during the battle with a question already worth asking, "When are we going to see this movie again?"

As the movie continues we're introduced to character archetypes that have a shared lineage with players throughout the Godzilla series. Mako Mori is an aspiring pilot with with a personal hurdle in front of the cockpit. Marshall Stacker Pentacost (fantastic name) is the typical, inspiring military leader. And then there's Dr. Geiszler, a modern day, comedic take on Dr. Yamane from the original Godzilla. He's not quite as respectable, but equally as noble. Even if we never see how some of these characters overcome their demons, their aspirations remain strong enough for us to infer their journey's end and enjoy the movie when monsters aren't slugging it out. This isn't an apology, mind you. I understand the characters are underdeveloped, but the fact is the genre has sustained this flaw for almost sixty years. It would be a shame to complain about it now.

Besides, there's still plenty to love about the human cast. Idris Elba's performance as Pentecost, for example, is more than enough to keep all eyes and ears on him. And as unnecessary as Ron Perlman's ham session was, he's still a riot. There's much for these characters to do while the titans do battle, which is important for pacing in this genre. Far too many times have I seen movies end with the main characters watching a battle from afar. Interesting that the jaegers require two pilots to immortalize as titans within the robot chassis. It assures the characters will always be in the thick of the action while making them monsters as well.

A more creative, albeit traditional, subplot involves Dr. Geiszler running for his life from a kaiju. It's a mandatory image in all of these movies, but the twist is that he's being hunted by one of these enormous creatures. His face-to-face encounters with these monsters keep him center to the mayhem while the Gipsy Danger goes to war.

A surprising addition to the movie's storyline is the revelation that the kaiju are being sent by intelligent beings to attack our world. This insane plot point is as absurd as it is wonderful-- a fantastic homage to many Godzilla movies. To date Godzilla has fought off seven alien invasions, all of which used monsters to destroy the world. Del Toro's insistence to use this device shows a go-for-broke attitude that is decidedly absent from most movies these days. 

The fact is the story, the names (Marshall Pentacost, Gipsy Danger) and the world are absolutely absurd, but the movie doesn't apologize for it. Instead of making the mold more "hip" with sexy models, bathroom humor and two hour marine commercials thrown at the screen (Transformers), Pacific Rim embraces everything it is and del Toro treats it like an art form. It's not uncommon to adopt such absurdity. Star Wars, for example, is equally as silly. If "Boba Fett" can be accepted as an appropriate name, so can "Gipsy Danger."

Pacific Rim dares to dream big and do it without restraint. It's straightforward and predictable, but it's not suppose to outwit the audience. It's suppose to entertain and inspire. As a result, the real battle isn't between the towering jaegers and kaiju. It's against something more dangerous.

Gipsy Danger vs. Cynicism

Dark, introspective films have a clear place in today's cinema. Minority rights, terrorism and overseas conflicts tend to dominate news channels and many movies base their existence on this reality. Superhero movies are typically front and center when it comes to real world application. Its almost become tiresome. While I don't believe there is a shortage of movies to love, gone are the days of Spielbergian fantasy where innocence inspires novelty. Thank God for Pacific Rim.

Guillermo del Toro classifies himself as an optimist. This is why his movies, including Pacific Rim, are labeled fantasies. He delivers stories of conflict and horror, yes, but only as a hurdle for his leading characters. The manner in which these characters overcome dark entities is far more important to him. Exploration of the dark is best saved for Christopher Nolan's Batman movies. With del Toro we have no doubt the heroes will come out on top, but we're compelled by the excitement that leads them to victory.

Star Wars, Jurassic Park, E.T. and Independence Day are a few movies that tell stories with a similar kind of optimism. They refuse to spend time debating ethical conflicts within heroes (The Dark Knight) or applying real world violence to legitimize themselves. (Transformers) Instead, Raleigh, Stacker and Mako believe in the common goal of defeating a dark force and we accept it without fail. 

I like how the movie's violence is subdued by fantasy. In Star Wars lightsaber battles are bloodless because the blades cauterize every wound they inflict. While the monsters in Pacific Rim certainly get injured, their blue blood instills a less violent, and thus, less terrifying impression on younger viewers.

The film is in a constant battle against everything dank and drab. If we were to create giant robots to fight monsters I highly doubt we would spend time giving them sleek looking visors. But how dashing does the Gipsy Danger look with it? I also enjoy how the hinted romance between Raleigh and Mako is nothing more than that. A hint. It's an innocent crush that we never see flourish. It's both refreshing and enjoyable to see such an impeccable take on would-be romance.

Pacific Rim is not only at war with the standard exploration in film today, but also the Hollywood love for branding. It is not an established franchise like Iron Man or Star Trek. It is not a star vehicle like World War Z. It is not a sequel. It goes against the grain of everything expected in a summer blockbuster today. Proving originality and lack of star power wins audiences may be irrelevant. Del Toro was willing to put up the fight for a labor of love and I can respect that even over Nolan's Inception.

As cinematically whimsical as Pacific Rim is, the innocence promotes something I haven't experienced in a film since I was young. My desire to become a filmmaker stemmed from my experience with Jurassic Park. Like del Toro's latest, Spielberg's classic evoked innocence within the framework of imagination. It was a jumping point for me. Very few movies have come after it that feel the same.

What Dreams May Come...

In film, typically, a main character will receive a call to do great things. I've outlined this pretty clearly in my Iron Man 3 write up. I don't think there is a movie where the main character doesn't accept the invitation for adventure. If there is its probably a pretty boring movie.

In reality it's different. We can say no to these calls and our story is fairly uneventful until the next bid. I do wonder how often these invites are inspired by movies. Jurassic Park was my inspiration to become involved in film. My girlfriend cites movies as a reason she wants to have an adventurous life; a "live it" instead of "watch it" attitude. I've known people to choose careers because of childhood impressions from movies. Call me naive, a dreamer or a sentimentalist, but the films that spark imagination speak to the heart.

Peter Sciretta of /Film, believed the Hong Kong battle scene toward the climax of Pacific Rim is, "the best summer action set piece since the T-Rex paddock in Jurassic Park.” Astounding observation since it's exactly what I was thinking as I watched Hong Kong get leveled. I thought back to the T-Rex breaking loose and the amount of horror, enjoyment and spectacle that drove me to my decision to get into film. I did wonder if there was another young boy becoming transformed or inspired as Gipsy Danger saved Hong Kong. 

Devin Faraci called Pacific Rim, "...Star Wars for a new generation..."While del Toro's epic won't be anywhere near as popular, there is merit to this comparison. Star Wars is another friendly epic plagued with similar logic flaws, but gifted with crazy character names and influenceable visuals. Star Wars birthed a new generation of filmmakers and fans. I'm sure Pacific Rim could be responsible for the same one day.

Being unapologetically absurd works to inspire. When the jaegers and kaiju rise from the ocean one might wonder what they're standing on beneath the waves. But it doesn't matter, because the spectacle is so impressionable. 

Sadly, some critics don't see that. Mick LaSalle condemned the movie as being a, "case that extinction might not be so bad... If this is the best we can do in terms of movies - if something like this can speak to the soul of audiences - maybe we should just turn over the cameras to the alien dinosaurs." It saddens me that such purity can be received with such harsh criticism by some. Not that his opinion is unanimous by any stretch. Overall critics have been very friendly to Pacific Rim and the audiences that see it tend to like it. It's relieving that, in an era where over-bloated, soulless pieces like Lone Ranger are green-lit, something like this can occasionally crop away the name brand cynicism of Hollywood.

Like Jurassic Park was for me, Pacific Rim is someone's dare to dream big. A few of us may be too old, too grumpy or too far removed from naivety to give in to the films' dreams, but it's effective in briefly reawakening them. Mr. LaSalle strikes me as a man who has lost those dreams. He may have asked why the Gipsy Danger didn't use its sword until the most awesome moment in the movie. I think those who accept it have more joy in their life.