All language subtitles for Horrors.Greatest.S01E02.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH[EZTVx.to]

Why do people
love giant monsters?

I don't know.

Why I love giant monsters
is because they wreak havoc.

I love monsters a lot.

And to have a monster that's
the size of a skyscraper

is just the best
thing in the world.

There isn't
a culture on Earth that doesn't

tell stories about monsters.

I think because they
represent part of ourselves.

It's that constant battle
between our more elevated

human nature and are much more
animalistic, ferocious, feral,

and violent, and scary nature.

With most giant
monster kaiju films,

there's some upset
giant creature

that is getting from
point A to point

B, whatever its
purpose is, and just

messing up things in its path.

It's as simple as that.

What are the must see
giant monster movies?

Horror film,
science fiction films,

they mirror the
anxieties of the age.

And the 1950s was
the Communist menace

and fear of nuclear
war, atomic war,

and the effects of radiation.

So you had all of these
movies like Invasion

of the Body Snatchers...

They're after you.

They're after all of us, our
wives, our children, everyone.

They're here already!

...I Married A
Monster From Outer Space.

So people look the
same, but they're not.

There's some thing that
crept into Bill's body.

They're evil like your neighbor.

It could be an alien, or
a pod person, or a commie.

Or giant bugs, because
of radioactive fallout

from mankind's messing
with atomic energy.

Them! is probably the
one that leaps to mind.

Them!

Them!

Them!

Them! is a classic
giant bug movie.

One of the family
of Formicidae, an ant.

An ant? I don't believe it.
It's not possible.

When these creatures
become so big,

that they can dominate
the human race,

I mean, how do you fight that?

How do you fight this creature
that has zero interest in you

other than as maybe food?

The practical
effects that were used,

seeing those giant mandibles
in frame and people

touching the hairy
bristles that were just

giant porcupine quills,
that stuff really,

really was quite visceral.

You think
about a movie like Them!

and you think about the
look on people's face.

The performance is
everything, right?

Because we can't
linger our camera

too long on these
creatures because you're

going to really quickly see
that this is pretty ridiculous.

I can only imagine how
difficult it was to perform

amongst those physical props.

So as an actor, you have
to give it your all.

It's very cool to
watch how they did this.

And what they did with
the budget they had.

And it makes you wish that a lot
of these movies that came out

in the next few years
had as much of a budget

because some of them
didn't quite look as good.

We just made
spiders big, ants big.

Whatever it was, just
made them bigger.

Was it as creative
as it could be?

Not necessarily, but
it was more effective

in that each of these giant
creatures was totally relatable.

We know what a spider is.

We know what an ant is.

And to imagine them that big,
that's the horrifying part is we

know what it is.

I have never seen a
black and white film

about a irradiated giant
animals on the attack,

which I haven't loved.

There is something some eternal
10-year-old inside of me that

just wants to see giant spiders
or giant ants march on Santa Fe.

Jesus!

What the hell is going on?

I mean, what the
hell is going on!

They might not be very
big compared to King Kong

or Godzilla, but one of
my favorite giant monsters

are the Graboids
in Tremors, which

are these underground slugs
that basically have the ability

to like jet propel themselves
underneath the Nevada desert

and then pop up and eat
people whenever they please.

Tremors is the best monster
movie of the '90s, full stop.

Probably one of the
smartest monster movies

you're going to get
just in general.

The characterization in
that movie is fantastic.

The ensemble is amazing.

It's scary.

The humor works.

Roger that, Burt,
and congratulations.

Be advised, however,
there are two more,

repeat, two more mother humpers.

It takes two guys that we

all can relate to in some way.

They're are good old boys.

They're guys that, like, you
would have gone to high school

with.

They have no special
skills, really.

They are not scientists.

I don't even know
if they're bright.

Well, I'll tell you.

Nobody handles garbage
better than we do.

And then it puts them
in a monster movie.

Tremors also capitalizes
on the Jaws POV

like you were in the
killer perspective.

No way!

And that is horrifying.

And the practical effects
of that movie still hold up.

When they trick the one Graboid
into smashing into the cement

wall, and then they, like,
dig up one end of it,

and Kevin Bacon picks it up.

I found the ass end.

You feel the scope.

You feel how big that thing is because
they created that thing, you know?

And it just feels real.

When the Graboid comes smashing
through Burt Gummer's wall,

and the tentacles come
out, it's just so good.

It does kind of take that
old school Western idea

that if anybody tries to
invade us, we've got guns,

and we're Americans, and
we'll blow your ass away.

It's got that message,
but done in an amped up

kind of satirical way.

Broke into the wrong
goddamn rec room, didn't you,

you bastard?

There is a
gleefulness to the movie

that's very hard to recreate.

It's been often imitated,
but very hard to recreate.

There's just something
very genuine.

It was coming from
a genuine place.

And no one saw it coming.

I want to watch
this movie tonight.

So good.

Get inside!
Get inside!

Cloverfield is a perfect
Godzilla film for America

because you care
about the people.

There is nothing
I can do about that.

The girl that I love more
than anything is dying,

and it's my fault. She should
have been with me tonight,

and I let her go.

Cloverfield makes

you care about this
romance falling apart

and these goofy young
people in Manhattan.

...and bring some
guy to my party?

You haven't talked
to me in weeks.

- God, man.
- Sorry.

Come on.

And you're seeing
these emotional dramas between people.

This soap opera element
of it is very American.

Rob and Beth
totally had sex together.

I knew it.

And it's about their survival.

Cloverfield showed you
can be a successful American

young person, your
life is great,

and at the drop of a hat...

And hang on to the people
that you care about the most.

God.

God.

What the hell was that?

What was that?

It can all be taken away by
terrorists, or giant kaiju, or

an invading army, or whatever.

Like, you are not safe.

No matter how much money
they put into the military,

it's not going to last forever.

And it's coming.

And partly, it already
has come with 9/11.

I think without
taking into account 9/11

as context with
Cloverfield, you're

missing the point in the way
that you would miss the point

if you didn't talk
about the atomic bomb

when watching Godzilla.

It's the same connection,
and it's why it works.

It works because
we're exorcizing

demons through this film.

Cloverfield, for me, is one
of those movies that just feels

about as close as you can get
to seeing a giant monster attack

because the way it was shot.

You're in it.

Doing a found footage
approach to that, I think,

was absolutely brilliant because
it's putting you on the ground.

You're basically
looking at eye level,

looking at soldiers
running around,

and all the camera
has to do is go...

and you're just
seeing a giant monster

face looking down at you.

That's really horrifying.

The most important part
of the Cloverfield creature

that I think dare I say
why it was successful

was the fact that we
understood his motivation.

The common trait with kaiju
type creatures, giant monsters,

is that they are just
knocking over buildings

with no specific reason
other than violence.

And Cloverfield was a newborn,
brand new baby hatched out

of an egg that found
itself in an environment

that it was afraid of.

So it was never really
trying to destroy New York.

It was just trying
to find its mom.

Are you guys seeing
this shit right now?

My god.

God.

If you can imbue a creature
with a motivation, one

that works for the
story, it makes

everyone's job so much easier.

And it makes the
consumption of that creature

by an audience so much
more easy and rich.

Nope.

Nope, my gosh.

I haven't seen a
movie in so long

where something as simple
as a cloud became menacing.

OJ, it's in the cloud.

It's like the other side of
a Joni Mitchell song, right?

Like, clouds, when I
see them up and down.

And now, I'm fucking terrified.

In Jordan Peele's Nope,
you've got this spacecraft that

is ultimately revealed
to not be a spacecraft,

but to actually be
this interdimensional,

interstellar creature
that has just decided

to live above the desert.

And then once we get
into that creature,

as it devours those people,
it squishes them in the mouth.

It was so good and so singular.

I had never seen anything
like that before.

Once you realize that
people are getting sucked up

into this thing and then going
through its digestive tract,

I was just like,
this is awesome.

And then it, like,
when it regurgitates

all of that blood on the house,
that's nightmare imagery.

You never imagine a farmhouse
being covered in blood.

Jordan takes you inside
and you're living what

this character is experiencing.

then you pop out for the wide.

Every kaiju movie
is about nature.

And this is absolutely
a kaiju film.

Even though there's not a fight,
it's still a giant monster

and it's eating people,
but there is no expectation

that they're going to kill it.

Website like Cyber Dominion will

pay $5,000 to $100k for
photographic evidence

of UFOs and shit.

They just want to
take a photo of it.

But it opens up,

you know, into this
kind of butterfly.

It's more dangerous
because it's beautiful.

But yet, it becomes more lethal
when it really reveals itself.

It's a film about the
feeling of being observed

and the observer.

You can identify with the alien.

You can identify with
the band of heroes

because we're all
in that space where

we're going back from being the
subject to being the watcher.

Are we behind the camera?

Or are we in front
of the camera?

That's a weird
position to be in.

And that drives you crazy.

And you see what
happens to the monkey.

You see what happens
to the monster.

And you see what happens
to people of color

when they're treated
like cattle to be herded

or anything that
takes your difference

and makes it a gimmick,
something to sell.

So people who say that that
movie didn't have the same kind

of cultural, or socioeconomic,
or racial undertone the other

two of his films had are wrong.

It's right there.

They're somewhat slow
and lethargic until inflamed

by the smell of blood.

What if circumstances
magnified one of them

in size and strength?

Then expect something
that's fiercer,

more cruel, and
deadly than anything

that ever walked the Earth.

There's nothing out there.

Nothing in the mist.

Man, as the dominant
species of life on Earth,

will probably be extinct.

You know, King Kong and Godzilla

are not just film history, but
they are cultural iconography.

You know, like, they almost
represent like America and Japan

in various ways, but, like,
they just are pop culture.

Like, they transcend just being,
here's these great movies.

My all-time
favorite giant monster

film from the classic era,
you've got to go with King Kong.

There's a magic to that movie

that is really timeless.

It's still galvanizes
you when you watch it.

Did you ever hear of Kong?

It's pure fantasy at a time
when things like John Carter...

you know, Burroughs
and all that stuff...

was still so popular.

So the idea of going
out into the jungle

and finding dinosaurs, and
giant spiders, and King Kong,

it still felt like
that was possible.

There were unknown parts of the
world that you could discover.

King Kong is worshipped as a god

on this island of natives.

And he's not a bad guy.

He's just a misunderstood
big giant ape

who happens to fall
in love with Fay Wray

because she's just so beautiful.

And he actually saves her life.

And the human men are
horrified by this romance

because he's a giant ape.

But we've got
something he wants.

Yeah, something
he won't get again.

One of the elements of the
original film that isn't given

the credit that it's due is
the set design of that jungle

and the matte paintings.

It didn't look like a jungle.

It looked like a fairy tale.

And that allowed... the
audience's suspension of

disbelief went along with that.

The 1933 Kong, it still holds up

and it's still a pinnacle.

And it's still like a masterwork
not only of like storytelling

for the era, but like,
technically what they were doing

on display in terms of, like,
creating this like fully living,

breathing creature, you
know, that really was cotton

and rabbit fur, you know, Kong
brought that to life in a way

that I don't think anything
else had done before.

There's something so moving

about him lost in the city
and fighting for his life.

He's destructive.

He's killing people.

He's smashing planes
out of the sky,

but we're rooting for
him the whole way.

It's not really so much
about, no, we were

attacked by a giant monster.

It's really more about we
kind of brought something

here that shouldn't
have been here

that was out of its element.

And we shouldn't have done that.

And it's kind of sad and
it's kind of our fault.

A really bitter
sweet kind of movie,

and that's why I think it really
resonated with so many people

and still does.

What does it matter?

Airplanes got him.

It wasn't the airplanes.

It was beauty killed the beast.

Peter Jackson's King Kong
was a work of art, technically.

I think the smartest thing
about that particular King Kong

was the performance
capture utilized

to get that King
Kong to be emotive

and to be humanized,
have the audiences feel

the empathy that
we had only felt

with the original King Kong.

He spanned that
distance of time.

And it's like Peter Jackson did
what the first King Kong did,

which was make you feel for it.

Peter made a great movie

that was sort of a modern
retelling of the original film

with modern special effects.

The thing that was
lost for me in it

was the fact that Kong was no
longer a capital-M Movie Monster

who stood upright
and was bipedal,

and instead was just
turned into a giant kind

of silverback gorilla.

One of the things that
was really important to me

Skull Island was

bringing back that capital-M
Movie Monster vibe.

Early on in my
thought process, it

was almost like what would
have happened if Kong didn't

get taken off the island.

Could this Kong actually
just be an extension

of the older version?

Truly, the first
image in my mind

was Kong just silhouetted by the
sun set against that orange sky

with the choppers flanking him.

And I've never seen
a monster movie

where you bleed
in, apocalypse now

over some insane kaiju battle.

I've just never seen that.

And I think so much
of cinema right now

and preserving the
religious element

of the theatrical experience
is like giving people something

they haven't seen before.

I don't know what it
is about Godzilla that

is so compelling to
people that it's still

much more so than King Kong I
think, in a pop cultural sense.

People love him and
are drawn to him.

It appeals to something
primal that much

more so than King Kong.

You know, Frankenstein is
more popular than the Wolfman.

I don't know why.

American audiences know
this character as Godzilla,

but the name "Gojira" actually
is pretty self-explanatory

because it's a
combination of "gorilla,"

the Japanese
pronunciation of gorilla,

and then "kujira," which is the
Japanese pronunciation of whale.

So it's this large creature,
you mash them together,

and you have a creature that
can traverse land and sea.

There would be no
Godzilla without The Beast

from 20,000 Fathoms.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

The idea of atomic power

unleashing a natural
predator was really

most potent in that film.

When we released
the bomb, the heat

generated melted the
ice in which this beast

was imprisoned and freed it.

There's a bomb testing.

This ancient dinosaur
comes out and wreaks

havoc through America.

And from this kind of humble,
but very popular movie,

you get Godzilla.

And Godzilla takes this
idea of nuclear power

unleashing a natural predator.

And gives it a resonance that
Beast from 20,000 Fathoms

didn't really have.

Godzilla might be one of the
quintessential examples of using

horror or sort of
fantastic elements

to deal with trauma in a
way that maybe if you dealt

with it more directly,
then people wouldn't just

wouldn't want to talk about it.

This is nine years after
the end of World War II.

Think about the atomic bombings
of Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

And I don't think it was even
a complaint that the weapons had

been used against Japan
so much as the realization

that there was now a
new terror in the world.

And the representation
of this terror

would be in the form of
this giant monster figure.

When you go to the
original '54 Gojira, it is

a dark story of cultural PTSD.

Then Godzilla became, in
the ensuing years, a toy.

They sort of redesigned
the Godzilla a little bit

to seem more kid friendly.

Eyes became a little bit rounder
and a little bit more cartoon

like because they
realized that Godzilla was

becoming a sort of
superhero that kids

really latched on to and loved.

And I was one of those kids.

So I still have a soft
spot for that design.

As a kid, you want the giant
monster to be your friend.

And with Godzilla, it was fun to
cultivate sort of that feeling

that he's on our side and
he loves us, which is not

really where it started at all.

To be a little kid and getting

to see this stuff on TV and
these bright insane colors

and this music just, you know,

it was just overwhelming.

To this day, if they're
on, I watch them.

There's this tendency to want
to dismiss the silly films,

but even the ones that maybe
don't have a deeper meaning,

I also enjoy.

I mean, I'm someone
who likes, you know,

Godzilla versus Megalon.

Some people just
aren't fans of that.

The Godzilla of
Godzilla versus Megalon

is not the Godzilla of
the original Gojira.

It's an arc in that
series where it starts

off very gritty and realistic.

And over time, it becomes
a parody of itself.

They go through this cycle.

And then they have to reset.

And then they do that a lot.

When I was a kid, Godzilla
was more like a hero, you know.

And he was fighting and
beating up all other monsters.

And that's what I wanted.

And I knew that,
back in 2004, this

is the last opportunity to
make old school, man and suit,

Godzilla, which I love.

I knew that, you know,
they're going to reboot it,

you know, but it's not going
to be like the Godzilla

that I loved when I was a kid.

Godzilla can be hero, can be,
you know, scary, can be fun.

It's just like the final
big firework carnival.

So let's have fun.

A great Japanese kaiju
has a mixture of creature

that comes from nature.

So there are elements
of reptiles or mammals,

but they also have a
mythological elements to them,

almost a fantastical
aspect to their design.

Typically, they don't
just take an animal

that we're familiar
with and just, you know,

make it 200 feet tall.

There's always
flourishes to them.

What I find so compelling
about the Japanese point of view

is that they are fearless
in respects to aesthetics

and certain choices about these
creatures because they go crazy.

I mean, some of them
are absolutely zany.

Did you ever see the
movie Big Man Japan?

That is nuts.

The stuff makes no
sense whatsoever

biologically speaking.

But that's
what's so wonderful about it.

As a creative person, I realize
how stifled my creativity must

be because I could never
come up with that kind

of wonderful lunacy.

For me, Mothra always

has a special place in my
heart because, ultimately, she

ends up being a mother, right?

So there you go.
Come on.

You got to go with the mother.

The idea of, yeah, big moth.

That'll be scary.

Well, how do we summon it?

Let's have identical twin
tiny people and they'll sing.

Mosuraya, Mosura.

It's like, wait, what?

I remember watching
Mothra, and they were on,

and my dad coming in, like,
what the hell are you watching?

Because it is hard to explain.

Ghidorah was always my favorite

of the entire Toho stable.

Back in the first run,
they tended to, like,

give the monsters
human qualities,

and anthropomorphize
them a little,

and kind of made
them almost cuddly.

Ghidorah was the one who didn't.

Ghidorah was a vicious bastard
in every film he appeared in.

And, you know, it's
a great design.

It's like a classical
dragon with three

heads and the golden color.

It's just a very striking
creature to look at.

Gamera is my
second favorite giant

monster kaiju from Japanese
kaiju monster movies.

He is a turtle.

He's essentially like
Mothra, represents

the good and the heroic.

And he inspires
hope in people that

are being attacked
by other giant kaijus

or other forms of evil.

Now those films are
really kind of silly,

and Gamera is fighting
a monster that

was basically a giant butcher
knife with eyes and legs.

And then Shusuke Kaneko
came along in the '90s

and completely reimagined
the character, put him

into a series of serious,
mature, beautifully

crafted films
starting with Gamera:

Guardian of the Universe.

Then Gamera 3, I
think is, out of all

the Japanese kaiju films from
any studio, it's my favorite.

It has a really powerful story.

It has some really
interesting themes to it.

It has amazing monster action.

And it is just shot and composed
and dramatized in a really,

really powerful way.

The Gamera 3 takes a
goofy impossible character

and turns it into a
pretty serious film

about the poisonous effects
of anger and revenge

on the human soul.

Japan had a closed
society for 400 years

in which access to the
country was strictly

limited that
undoubtedly has shaped

a kind of cultural sensibility
for many, many years, centuries

after.

And maybe kaiju are a
place where some of this

gets worked through
and worked out

this idea of things coming from
outside, from beneath the ocean,

from the sky.

So all of these things being
dislodged from the Earth

and coming strangely
enough at Japan.

Before Bong
Joon-ho directed Parasite,

he directed The Host, which
is a giant monster film which

is actually about income
inequality in South Korea,

but by extension, and throughout
the industrial capitalist world.

And so you do get the thrills
of a giant monster movie,

but you also get this kind
of touching, funny, slightly

heartbreaking story about people
who are living on the margins

because they're
living, you know,

making it paycheck to paycheck.

You know, the first
30 minutes of that film

from meeting the family
and the river attack,

that's perfect filmmaking.

And the creature, that
in itself feels fresh.

And it was so inelegant
in the way that it moved

and the way that it almost
tripped over itself.

And you just had this sense that
it lived a pained existence.

The beauty of his
filmmaking is all of the set

pieces relate to character.

When this monster
starts tearing through things,

in the panic, he loses
track of his daughter,

tries to rescue her, grabs
the wrong girl's hand.

Looks behind him
and the one thing

that he was supposed
to do right,

which is protect
his daughter, fails.

And you
have that great shot of her just

there, as like, you
know, it's framed

in a way where the creature
isn't even fully in the shot.

Its tail grabs her and
rips her out of the frame.

So this family who have had
this rough patchy relationship

now have to come together to
break away from the government

that's trying to
keep them quarantined

to go find this missing girl.

It was layered with great
creature design, cool ideas,

and then this Korean
point of view that was...

all of it was different
than what I was expecting.

So the film kind of left me
gobsmacked at the end of it.

I was like, this was powerful.

Bong Joon-ho and
that movie, like,

it's just such an incredible
piece of filmmaking where all

of the spectacle,
all of the genre,

all of the things that people
would normally write off

as, like, it's just monsters
running around, whatever, like,

it's all based in
character, and it's all

based in like relationships.

Let's do this.

The less said about the Roland

Emmerich Godzilla, the better.

But I have to say,
I was very impressed

with the first American
Godzilla of the trilogy

that came out more recently,
Gareth Edwards' film.

Gareth Edwards
made this film called

Monsters before Godzilla.

It was really one
of those DIY efforts

where Gareth had a
hand in everything

even the VFX and creation
of the monsters themselves,

but it was one of those
kind of handheld, you know,

found footage movies.

The monsters were
just used sparingly.

And, you know, he
did the same thing

with Godzilla for better or
for worse or to the detriment

of some fans.

Open fire!

But it was smart, you know.

It was just smart to blend
that kind of docu style

to both movies.

I really enjoyed the fact
that it was shot from kind

of a human's eye
view in a sense where

you don't quite see everything
that's going on as you wouldn't.

If Godzilla was really
rampaging through your city,

you would not get a
great look at him.

Edwards really kind of
choreographed the whole thing

in such a way that
you really identified

with the people looking
at this giant monster

that's come to destroy them.

We've just been wired and coded

that when we see a
giant monster movie,

we got to get the spectacle.

And so I respect Gareth
for doing what he did.

And then, of course,
Mike Dougherty steps in,

and he's like, here we go.

Let me give you...

let me give you
all the monsters,

and you're going to
see them all the time.

It's tough because there's

a lot of baggage.

Whenever you're dealing
with a legacy character,

there are expectations
that the fans have.

But at the same time, you can't
craft a movie just for the fans

because then you're alienating
your larger general audience.

So you have to find the right
balance between the two.

Dougherty's movie, I
mean, I don't know what

else you could want, you know?

I mean, I still watch
every once in a while.

I'll throw the Rodan
attack scene where Rodan

shows up for the first time.

Bear McCreary's music is just
like, boom, boom, boom, boom.

We got jet fighters flying in.

Rodan doing spins.

I get chills even
thinking about it.

I'm like, this is exactly what
I want from a kaiju movie.

This is incredible.

When I came on board, they said,

well, we want to do a sequel.

Would you mind using Rodan,
Mothra, and King Ghidorah?

And I was like, yes.

Like, no, I would not mind.

I mean, that's just like
the best party in the world

this to go hang
out with that crew.

I actually wanted to use more.

But then Adam Wingard just
went, I'm going to top that.

I'm going to give you a buddy
movie, where King Kong is

the hero, and he's
John McClane, and he's

going to take on Godzilla.

Godzilla versus Kong has

a gorilla that uses a magic ax.

It's like... and it's funny.

I believe King Kong.

I don't believe he
would use an ax.

You draw your own line.

Godzilla versus Kong, I thought

was very fun and a welcome
surprise, but it just...

we haven't figured out how to
make you feel anything the way

that you felt something
with the first Godzilla.

We just haven't figured it
out because he's not ours.

He doesn't belong to us.

He belongs to them.

He belongs to the Japanese.

I think any good franchise, it's

able to constantly
reboot itself to reflect

the fears of the time.

And so if the
first Godzilla film

was reflecting fear
of the nuclear age,

then you get to like Hedorah.

You know, he was called
the smog monster which

is way less cool in America.

But, you know, Hedorah
is technically an alien,

but he feeds off pollution.

And that was coming
out in the '70s

when, like, Tokyo was
famously gross polluted city.

And to me,
in addition to Hedorah being,

you know, symbolism for,
like, Tokyo and pollution,

he's just a great
foe in that canon.

The Godzilla films always
started as a response

to things that were affecting
the Japanese people.

And the same thing
with Shin Godzilla.

It's hard
not to see that film, which

was released in 2016, as a
reflection on Japan's response

to 2011, the earthquake,
tsunami, and the nuclear crisis

with the Fukushima
nuclear reactor.

And Japanese government's

inability to respond
quickly, and swiftly,

and protect its citizens.

It is a funny movie, but
it is about almost like

Terry Gilliam
Brazil-esque in terms

of the madness of bureaucracy.

Like, let's have a meeting to
have a meeting about having

a meeting about how we deal with
a giant kaiju in this country.

Godzilla's outside, and
I'm stuck in meetings.

But that was part
of the point that we

have to deal with bureaucracy
and decision making.

And I get it, and it's great.

But Godzilla Minus One is
a whole different level

of Godzilla movie.

And if it weren't for
the original Godzilla,

I would say it's the best.

It's really, really delving

into characterization, and
not only that, but the waste

and the horror of war itself.

You can almost take Godzilla
out of Godzilla Minus One

and you would still
have a hugely compelling

story, the devastation of war
from the Japanese point of view.

I really haven't seen that
many films that I think really

tackle what it felt like to have
gone through this experience.

Midway through, there's possibly

the greatest Godzilla
destroys a district

in Japan sequence ever filmed.

There's this thing that
happens with this tail

where his spikes jut out.

And, you know, like, something really,
really bad is about to happen.

It had me crying, which
I had no idea would be

happening in a Godzilla movie.

The Godzilla monster
effects are so much fun.

The devastation is,
of course, everything

you want from a Godzilla movie,
but it has this beautiful core

that you walk out of the theater
feeling like, yes, human life

is precious, every single one.

And that's not what you
expect from a Godzilla movie.

Ultimately, there's
something about kaiju

that is very cinematic, right?

You go to the movie theater.

You look at the big screen.

And so things were better
suited to the big screen

than big monsters
destroying cities, right?

The appeal of giant
monsters and kaiju

is that these are forces so
big, so beyond our control

that we can't even
begin to truly

defend ourselves against them.

In fact, they sometimes don't
even really notice we're there.

Like, it gives us the impression
of how we treat insects,

how we crush their
houses, and step

on them like they're nothing.

I think this is very true of
most monsters and most kaiju,

which is that at
the end of the day,

there's actually like an
intense tragedy to them

and an intense
loneliness to them.

Whether be King Kong, or
Godzilla, or any monsters,

everybody, every day,
the most painful thing

that happens over and over again
is that you're misunderstood.

And to me,
kaiju and monster films just

fundamentally tap into that core
feeling of being misunderstood.

I believe he is the power.

Mothra.

Gamera.

Have you found anything yet?

Say over.
- I just said it.

- I know. Say it again.
- Over.

I know an enemy when I see it.

Two, three.

We can capture him alive.

Why, you're crazy.

There's been a lot
of great Japanese horror films

that are very moody and subtle.

And then on the other side
of the coin,

you have movies that are
absolutely out of their minds.

This guy has been
shoving metal into his own leg.

40 kids or whatever
killing each other

in the most brutal of ways.

You could just feel
everyone just be like,

"Oh, my God."