Zero puts mayhem and heart centerstage
Much as he did with Godzilla Minus One, writer, director and visual effects artist Takashi Yamazaki focuses on the human toll of war and natural disasters in his follow up Godzilla Minus Zero. No new ground is broken regarding the structure of the film and this is a sequel in every sense of the word. The narrative beats are the same as the previous entry, many of the conflicts are echoes from the first and the returning characters hardly change from their original motivations or purpose.
Be that as it may, Zero remains pertinent as it continues to examine the stigma that remains in Japan as it remains the only nation to suffer the dropping and fallout from an atomic bomb, an event that continues to resonate some four generations later. As its resident metaphor, the titular creature continues to be an effective presence, the weight of this historic disaster resting firmly on its scaly shoulders. That he continues to be a figure of terrifying power and menace is due to Yamazaki’s incredible renderings of him, a creature of the atomic age, lashing out over his cruel fate, indiscriminate in the carnage he wrecks, in the end a sympathetic monster who simply wants to be left alone.
The time is 1949 and the Japanese populace is still recovering from the atomic blasts that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki as well as Godzilla’s initial attack. The makeshift family of pilot Koichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki), his now-wife Noriko (Minami Hamabe) and their adopted daughter Akiko (Sae Nagatani) have found a degree of stability and are slowly getting on their feet. However, this is to be shattered by the emergences of another monster.
A giant winged creature is spotted laying waste to the town of Matsumo. Using its atomic breath, wind gusts created by its wings and a magnetic pulse that allows it to raise objects and destroy them by dropping them from great heights, he proves to be a formidable creature. A timely mutation reveals him to be King Ghidorah, the three-headed monster and perhaps Godzilla’s most worthy foe. Yamazaki dispenses with previous origin stories, this creature seen emerging from an asteroid that’s crashed to earth and absorbing any animals that cross his path. The result is a fearsome, hybrid monster able to withstand any human effort to destroy it.
Those at the Disaster Response Bureau, led by Dr. Noda (Hidetaka Yoshioka), learn all of this the hard way, their efforts to kill it coming to no avail. When the good doctor’s plan to kill Gidorah fails, he’s forced to turn to two colleagues who have radical solutions to this particular monster problem. Aoyama (Masami Nagasawa), an over-eager meteorologist, contends that weather patterns hold the secret to predicting the monster’s movements and suggests lightning be used to combat it. Meanwhile, Professor Murakami (Min Tanaka) wants to employ sonic waves to attract Godzilla and then pit him against Gidorah. Just how he plans on getting the two gigantic beasts to go toe-to-toe is ingenuous yet employs a pair of moral compromises that would give any sane person pause.
This is the first Godzilla film with an R rating, as Yamazaki insisted upon displaying the effects of the Hiroshima blast as realistically as possible. Murakami is a survivor of that atrocity and in flashbacks we see him finding the remains of his family after the attack. Far from gratuitous, this moment drives home the horror of this weapon and others made in its wake, powerfully underscoring the notion the knowledge to create such things should not be in our hands. It comes as no surprise then that Murakami has a personal agenda relating to corralling Godzilla, one that involves revenge on a massive scale.
Yamazaki examines other ripple effects of the bomb by addressing the biggest plot hole from the previous entry. In that film, Noriko pushes Shikishima to safety yet miraculously survives a radioactive blast dispensed by Godzilla. How she was able to do so and its effects on her are explained and serve as a way to put the long-term physical effects of the fallout from the bomb blast into perspective. It also serves as an inventive and convenient plot device.
Yamazaki’s effects work is truly astonishing, these creatures taking on a lifelike appearance that is at once awe-inspiring and terrifying. Meticulous detail is given to their bodies and faces, each fluid and expressive in ways that defy expectations. Filmed with IMAX cameras, the visual compositions and battle choreography demands to be seen on the biggest screen possible to appreciate the grandeur of the kaiju mayhem.
And while the monsters are the draw, the humanity in Yamazaki’s script is what gives it heart. We come to care for all involved as they struggle to contend with forces beyond their control and the seemingly futile effort to start again. Yet, in the end, it’s the resilience shown by Shikishima, Noriko, Akiko, Noda and the rest that stands out. Zero winds up being a poignant tribute to the human spirit, undaunted in the face of the inexplicable, tenacious in its efforts to succeed. In Theaters.
Apa’s sincerity elevates Jimmy
James Stewart’s military service was truly commendable. Unlike some of his movie star contemporaries who served on the homefront or did so overseas but away from the frontlines, the Indiana, Pennsylvania native led 20 bombing runs, putting himself in peril along with the men in his command. Taking personal responsibility for those who died on his watch, by the end of the war he was an emotional wreck, suffering from survivor’s guilt and PTSD, uncertain how to progress with the rest of his life, viewing his profession as frivolous and without merit. He was a man at a moral crossroads, hobbled by trauma.
Aaron Burns’ well-intended Jimmy takes a reverential look at the actor’s days in the military and, despite its shortcomings, succeeds in its effort to cast him a heroic light. Though certain liberties are taken, scenes showing Stewart on the frontlines ring true, for the most part adhering to historic accounts. However, the movie stumbles in its portrayal of the Golden Age of Hollywood, taking liberties that will likely elicit laughter or eye rolls from any film aficionado, while an effort to mirror the actor’s experiences in his art prove awkward and ham-fisted.
Thankfully, much of the film takes place in Europe, specifically England’s Old Buckenham Air Force Base. It’s here that Stewart finds himself in November 1943, after ignoring the offer of a deferment and serving stateside as a flight instructor. Eager to contribute but worried he won’t be taken seriously, he struggles initially to connect with his men. Yet, once he takes to the air and displays his willingness to sacrifice, those in his command are won over by his humility and down-to-earth manner.
Burns’ recreation of the conditions Stewart and his man had to contend with are as harrowing as a PG-13 rating will allow and as realistic as computer-generated graphics can render. We’re placed in the barebones cockpit, rattled and shaken with every bit of flak that explodes around the B-24 Liberator, ducking the various enemy aircraft swarming about it. The casts’ looks of terror and tremulous line readings effectively add to creating the atmosphere of terror.
Equally effective are the moments on the ground, thanks in large part to KJ Apa. Portraying an icon is a daunting task, but the actor is more than up to it. It would have been easy to simply do an impression of Stewart, but Apa gives us so much more. His mannerisms and voice are spot on but it’s the sincerity he brings to the role that makes the difference. Apa excels in scenes in which the character doubts his ability to lead, anguishes over the deaths of his comrades and struggles to acclimate to civilian life, driving home the pain Stewart was suffering from without resorting to melodramatic tropes.
Thankfully, Justin Strawhand’s script gives us a vision of Stewart as a man with feet of clay. Seeing himself as a man without substance and unworthy of praise, ultimately having to deal with his post-war trauma on his own, the movie presents the actor’s trials in an unvarnished manner. As a result, his efforts to get back on his feet come off as more heroic than any actions in a battle scene ever could.
While these sequences ring true, those taking place in Tinsel Town are the kind of sanitized moments that were part-and-parcel of films from the ’30s and ’40s. The head of MGM, Louis B. Mayer (Jason Alexander) is seen as a benevolent and only slightly mercenary studio head, Frank Capra (Max Casella) comes off as a blue-collar working stiff and Lionel Barrymore (Christopher McDonald) is no longer afflicted with polio. All of this and many other bits simply are not true, yet in the long run, they don’t detract from Apa’s fine work.
While casting iconic moments from It’s a Wonderful Life as reflections of incidents from Stewart’s life are cloying and lazy, in the end Jimmy’s message shines through. As with all dramas of this sort, it’s expected that liberties will be taken with the facts and the truth will be stretched. Fortunately, these aren’t so egregious they detract from the film’s overall message. By presenting Stewart as a man struggling with doubt yet able to find the best parts of himself to act heroically, our following in his footsteps is an attainable goal. In Theaters.
Awkward songs cause Boy to stumble
Sports rosters, building renovations, corporate restructuring and so many other grand plans all look good on paper when first proposed. Data is looked at, costs are considered and time management are all taken into account when major overhauls such as these are planned and when the greenlight is given to put them into action, everything looks good on paper. Of course, this doesn’t guarantee a successful outcome and when things go sideways, head scratching ensues and questions are asked in an effort to figure out how the best-laid plans could go so wrong.
I’m sure all of this took place during the pre-production process of Ben and Joel David Smallbone’s Drummer Boy. Talent, in this case the Australian pop group For King and Country was hired, a budget of $10 million was procured, locations were chosen and a cast was assembled. All in the service of a faith-based musical set during the American Revolution. Yes, you heard me right.
Seeing such a movie certainly wasn’t on my bingo card for 2026, yet here we are. Having sat through it, I can say it’s just as awkward and misguided as you might suspect. Cringeworthy in its sincerity and, like every musical every made, too long, the film struggles to find its footing, lurching from one ill-advised scene to the next.
Like so many before them, the Clem family has traveled to the British colonies in America to build a new life. However, when the patriarch of the clan is killed during the crossing, the family is adrift. Actually, I am left to assume they were rudderless as the film jumps forward 12 years after the incident and somehow the two Clem boys have grown into men and are owners of a successful mill. It truly was a new world of endless opportunities!
Jeremiah (Joel Smallbone) is the eldest and more levelheaded of the two, mindful of how business is done, while setting his social goals high, pining for the cold but beautiful Lady Elizabeth Balfour (Beth Easdown). He’s oblivious to the fact that her slave, Emmaline (India Brown) is in love with him. His brother, Benjamin (Lucas Leach), a drummer with a game leg, is more impulsive and lacking in confidence. He makes the mistake of expressing his political views – that the colonies of the New World should pull away from English rule – in front of the mill’s customers one day. This sends the business in a tailspin and drives a wedge between the siblings. When war does break out, the brothers find themselves on opposing sides, Jeremiah fighting for the redcoats, Benjamin for the rebellious colonists.
Unfortunately, Richard Ramsey’s script is overstuffed. The brothers’ ideological conflict competes with the forbidden love that develops between Jeremiah and Emmaline, as the Belfour’s’ heinous behavior emerges, while the Clems’ mother (Melora Hardin) frets for them on the homefront. It all becomes a bit exhausting, the musical interludes slowing things down unnecessarily.
Giving credit where its due, the film has the feel of a period epic and is visually stunning at times. How the Smallbones were able to produce this on their meager budget is astonishing and they’re to be commended. Also, the performances across the board are sound and the story itself is compelling in spots.
Yet, it’s the musical interludes that undo the film. The artificial nature of these moments and the melodramatic tone of the songs clash with the genuine nature of the dramatic scenes to disastrous effect. Were Drummer filmed as a historic piece without the songs, it may have been successful. Unfortunately, how it looked on paper, doesn’t coincide with what’s on screen. In Theaters.
