Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 83

Godzilla: Planet of Monsters

For decades, GODZILLA and other daikaiju have ravaged the earth. In the year 2048, the surviving members of the human race—along with members of two alien races that had also attempted to battle Godzilla—take to outer space to search for a suitable new home. For twenty years, their interstellar vessel, the Aratrum, has searched unsuccessfully for a habitable planet, and having exhausted supplies and morale, the crew make the fateful decision to return to Earth and attempt once again to battle Godzilla for domination of the planet.

Shortly after the release of Shin Godzilla (a.k.a. Godzilla Resurgence ) in 2016, Toho Co. Ltd. announced their plans to make an anime version of Godzilla, to be animated by Polygon Pictures, written by novelist/anime screenwriter Gen Orubuchi, directed by Kobun Shizuno (the Detective Conan series) and Hiroyuki Seshita ( Symbol , Blame , Knights of Sedonia ), and featuring a musical score by veteran anime/Godzilla film composer Takayuki Hattori ( Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla , Godzilla 2000 ). In March 2017, Toho announced that the new film, titled Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters , would be the first part of a trilogy and, in November 2017, released it to theaters in Japan. It made a relatively strong showing at the box office and was thus slated for worldwide release on Netflix on January 17, 2018.

Being one of the planet's most enthusiastic daikaiju (and, at one time, anime) freaks, since I became aware of Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters , however many moons ago, I figured I could be persuaded to actually give this one a look, maybe even without the promise of excessive wine. Now, my initial reactions to the trailers I watched and the synopses I read were none too positive, but I figured I could remain guardedly optimistic. Today being the release date, and being snowbound at home, I judged it the perfect time to give the film a look. And so I did.
Was it worth it?
Why, yes. Yes, indeed. That said, it was far, far from perfect, but on the whole, it was an enjoyable Godzilla experience. I cannot say I'm overly fond of the Godzilla design—it's cloned from the 2014 Legendary Godzilla, which is better than, say, the Godzilla vs. Megalon or Son of Godzilla Godzilla, but it remains, in my book, anything but the most desirable (I could spend way too much time on this individual topic). All things considered, I was far more taken with Toho's Shin Godzilla design, which is essentially a variant of the original 1954 Godzilla maquette on steroids. Still, in the context of the film, this Godzilla presents itself as a massive elemental force, which, at the end of the day, is a fine way for Godzilla to be presented.

Prior to viewing the film, I felt some skepticism regarding the storyline, what little I knew of it. Since I had intentionally avoided learning any plot details, my only real knowledge of it was that the film's events would take place on Earth 20,000 years in the future—which, for at least partially subjective reasons, didn't sit right with me as, too often, such a significant distance in time results in diminished relatability to people, places, and things in a story. However, the plot, as it unfolded, followed a strong, agreeable internal logic and, over the film's running time, allayed most of my fears regarding its setting. I'll also mention that the character drama being at the forefront, with a long absence on the part of the title monster, began to worry me a bit because the character drama never hit on all cylinders (in fact, at times, quite the opposite). However, when Godzilla did make its appearance, it ended up being worth the wait. Some spectacular, tension-filled moments ensued during the man-v-monster confrontation, and it was here, in that last third, that the movie all came together.

And the climax... it worked. Oh, yes, it worked.
"Fantastic and Exciting!"
The film's CG animation is engaging from start to finish, featuring many of the hallmarks of classic anime along with many superb visuals—particularly in the outer space scenes—that put to shame the CGI in any number of big-budget live-action movies. Given the high achievement of sheer audio-visual spectacle in this film, there's no question that Godzilla can and does work as an animated entity—and I say this as one of the world's foremost proponents of "suit-a-mation," the traditional man-in-suit method of bringing Godzilla to life since its first film in 1954.

The film's mecha is classic anime, with hardware designs that hearken back to Macross , Mobile Suit Gundam , Orguss , Dougram , and countless other anime series from the 1980s and beyond. Most notably, the film pays more than the usual attention to physics, at least cinematic physics, which adds some sense of believability absent from too many SF spectacle films—Godzilla films not the least of them. From the design and execution of the space vehicles, to scenes of combat aerobatics, to the convincing conveyance of scale of Godzilla and the other monsters, the film excels.

Takayuki Hattori's musical score, while reasonably effective scene-by-scene, is unmemorable, a charge frequently leveled against his prior two Godzilla scores, though I find those on the upper side of satisfactory. Perhaps another listen to this soundtrack might give me a little more to chew on, but virtually nothing about the score stood out as exemplary during my first viewing.
Shut the Fuck Up, Already
As I have insinuated, the film's most serious shortcoming is its reliance on character drama for the first half to two-thirds of its running time. While there are, without doubt, some tense, engaging moments, the focus on protagonist Haruo Sakaki, a young military officer who lost his family to Godzilla in his childhood, could hardly be more tedious (one more "I'll kill you, you bastaaaaaaaaard!", screamed at Godzilla with all kinds of melodramatic venom, and I'd have probably shut off the film). Now, toward the end, some of the focus on Sakaki finally pays off, but prior to that, the overwrought portrayal of his personal grudge against Godzilla reaches the point of ridiculousness. Toho has presented such a character, played much, much better, with Admiral Tachibana in Godzilla - Mothra - King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (a.k.a. GMK , 2001). In Tachibana's case, his rage at the monster is tempered by thoughtfulness, wisdom, and excellent, understated acting; in contrast, Sakaki, portrayed as youthful, reckless, and outspoken, is nothing more than a trope, and as such, his desire for personal retribution never rings true.

Balancing Sakaki's too-exaggerated character, some of the secondary characters do play far more convincingly and interestingly, most notably the alien, androgynous, soft-spoken, Mr.-Spock-cum-metaphysical priest, Metphies; the alien, Mr.-Spock-goes-macho engineer, Mulu-elu Galu-gu; Sakaki's junior officers, Lt. Adam Binewald and Major Martin Lizzari, whose understated courage help balance their CO's incessant blathering; and a young, brave but sensitive female officer named Yuko Tani, who could represent a love interest for Sakaki, though this possibility is left mostly unexplored, likely to the film's benefit.
What's Next?
Later in 2018, we should expect to see the second part of the trilogy: Gojira: Kessen Kidō Zōshoku Toshi , which, from what I have read, may be translated as something like Godzilla: The City Mechanized for the Final Battle , and is reputed to feature Mechagodzilla, an incarnation of which is briefly shown in this film.

So, all things considered, I'm going to give Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters an overall rating of very good, with caveats. I'll no doubt watch it a time or two prior to the release of its sequel(s) so I don't forget important details (I am old, and these things happen). And I think you should watch it too, whether you're a diehard daikaiju fan or just a casual viewer of things exciting and impressive.

A solid four out of five Damned Rodan's Dirty Firetinis .

Snow Day

First snowstorm of the season... and it's a-coming down. The office is open, but driving 20 miles one-way, twice, in this mess—especially after having my old Buick bashed up on just such a day a few years back—just isn't prudent. It's just snow, not ice, so theoretically, the electricity stands a better-than-average chance of staying on, but this is Greensboro...so hoping against hope for the best.

For now, got Kats and Krankies. That's all good.

A Delayed Auld Lang Syne

Somewhat wacky shot of a bunch of wacky people in hot tubMs. B. and I had planned to spend New Year's Eve with friends Terry and Beth in Winston-Salem (see "What Year Is This?"—Jan. 1, 2018 ), but things didn't work out due to illness. So this weekend, we got together for a slightly delayed celebration. I had Geocaching planned for today, so Ms. B. and I drove over separately on yesterday. As she ended up having to stop for a wine emergency on the way, I expected her to be late, but Terry had failed to leave me a map from the driveway to the back door, and I blundered about in broad daylight for some time. Thus, Brugger got into the house before I did, and I suppose I shall not hear the end of it, for she is mean that way.

Saturday turned into a day of wine tasting, shopping, and redneck tapas (visiting the sample tables at Costco). Come dinner time, we settled on a couple of appealing options, only to find the establishments in question closed for various reasons. Disheartened but determined, we decided to hit Di Lisio's , an Italian restaurant Terry and Beth are fond of, and now Kimberly and I are fond of it as well. She had baked ziti that was bigger than all of Napoli, and I had shrimp veggie, which was a concoction of shrimp, olives, lemon, garlic, red pepper, and capers over angel hair. And the wine was fine.

Back at Chez Nelson, we shed our clothes for bathing apparel, and moved ourselves to the outdoor hot tub. Now, I'm going to tell you, it was f'ing cold last night—low twenties, with a nice, constant breeze—but the scalding hot water, along with a nice bourbon-barrel red blend, kept us comfy for a good hour and half. Naturally, come time to return indoors, the scene became an intricately choreographed ballet of frenzied screaming, scrambling, and cursing, with the deck covered in black ice and certain of us shy of a towel because we are old and forget things. But survive we did, and once again happily ensconced indoors, we put on Cheech & Chong's Up in Smoke to warm us up. I hadn't seen that movie in thirty years or more, and Brugger had never seen it, so we had ourselves a good chuckle or two. Ahh, nostalgia.

This morning, we (or, more specifically, Terry) had a job separating our frozen bathing apparel from the deck, since we'd left it strewn around the place during our hurried egress last night. After a satisfying breakfast, we parted ways, and I made for Horizons Park , just a few miles north of their place, to get in some caching. As I anticipated, it was a cold, cold couple of miles of hiking, but as the trails are not what one would call flat, I worked up a good sweat. Most invigorating, and I picked up three nice caches for my effort (bringing my total find count to 9,792). As my regular blog followers may have been able to deduce, I love me some geocaching. In fact, it was ten years ago Friday that I found my first cache—"Groundhog Lane" ( GCNCNX , now archived), and I've been an addict ever since.

Got a deadline, so now it's time to write. Write, write, write!
Always nice to hear some Dark Shadows on Sirius XM while in transit A steamy hot tub scene, featuring Dr. Klaus von Tottenreich and sexy lady Terry attempts to separate our frozen bathing apparel from the deck. It took time and ingenuity. Frozen but happy Damned Rodan at Horizons Park

Something in the Mist...

On my way to Mum's this evening, I passed Lake Lanier just as twilight was falling, and the mist rolling over the surface was damn near eerie. Temps have been in the 60s for the past couple of days, but it had been so cold for several days, the lake is mostly still frozen. Stopped to take several shots while I was there; a couple of more down below.

The Post-Holiday Blues, Recycled

The boys are curious, for they are cats. The Joker is laughing maniacally from the Joker-Mobile!It's been a while since I've been able to attend a local Geocaching event. For various reasons, I've had to bomb out on the past few I'd hoped to attend, so it was nice to gather again with many of The Usual Suspects this evening at The Moose Cafe in Colfax, which is quite close to my office. This was the 5th Sometimes-Annual Holiday Blues Go Green event, where we have a Dirty Santa gift exchange of mostly "recycled" gifts (read "re-gifted"), which folks just couldn't quite find a place for in their own homes.

I ended up with a Fisher-Price Joker Mobile, which the boys seemed to appreciate. Pity I wasn't able to snag a couple of other items, which would have been fantastic for cats, such as... a stuffed cat... a cat Christmas ornament... and a propeller-driven flying ball. That would have made life at Casa de Rodan quite the hoot.
Night-Hawk and Ms. Loon fight it out over a box, while Skyhawk63 and Cow look on. L: Punkins19 can't quite process what she's seeing. R: Smashemups is confused too,
so Ranger Fox Googles it. Lord have mercy, it's Joel Freaking Osteen and his brother. They've been GNOMED! Night-Hawk was ready to fight someone for this. But... ...he got this instead. Don't let Night-Hawk come to your house to pee—he will leave this in your bathroom!

What Year Is This?

New Year's Eve/Day sure didn't quite turn out as we planned. Ms. Brugger and I had intended to head over to Winston-Salem last night to hang out with our friends Terry & Beth in their outdoor hot tub (in the nice 11°F chill), but they'd both come down ill this week, and getting together during the contagious stage just didn't seem prudent, especially since Ms. B. and I have suffered ugly illnesses of our own this past month. So after I enjoyed some frigid, early-evening geocaching at Greensboro's Revolution Mill , Ms. B. and I went to New Year's Eve dinner at one of our favorite Thai restaurants — Simply Thai in Elon — and then returned to her place, where we drank wine and watched the final episode of Stranger Things , followed by the double-feature of Mother and The Thing (2012). While hanging out in a hot tub with Terry & Beth would surely have been the most desirable option, our ever-so-mellow back-up plan proved nothing to sneeze at.

This morning, we slept late, drank serious coffee, had a delicious chicken sausage & egg scramble, and hung with cats. Then I returned home.

I must say, 2017 provided us with a generally fine holiday season, starting with Halloween and our trip to Gettysburg , which turned out to be one of the best things I've ever done. Thanksgiving and Christmas both turned out mellow and memorable. In early December, Ms. B. and I had an excellent time at her folks' place in Midland, MI , but for those days we were down with the stomach flu. Being the eternal pessimist, though, every New Year's Day tends to find me feeling a little depressed, since it spells the end of my favorite annual holiday time.

This year, I feel little remorse leaving 2017 behind, as in so many respects it was a garbage year, with my Mom's long-term health problems overshadowing every aspect of my life, and of course, 2018 — and likely many years beyond — will offer no respite. I've never hated anything as much as I hate what has happened to her, and unfortunately, sometimes that hate spills over into my day-to-day life, which, of course, I hate. The perpetually widening political divide in our country has affected me in no small ways; it's no secret I fucking despise Donald Trump and the GOP. They're the epitome of human garbage, the lot of them, and for them the guillotine would be too kind. I suppose the less said about that, the better.

My work situation, while not so different in its day-to-day routine, is in many ways more stressful than it used to be, with a long, ugly daily commute, resulting in considerably more personal expense (and risk), and certain HR issues, including a piss-poor time-off policy, which are several steps backward from what we used to have under our local ownership. I hope to God I can retire before I'm dead, and the sooner the better. But I do not like this aging thing. Sure it's better than the alternative, but an alternative alternative would be most desirable.

Whatever its hardships, I'm sure 2018, as every year has, will offer plenty of joys and wonderful things to counter the stressors. I do hope so. Right now, I've got a couple of great writing projects happening, and it is time for me to get back to them.

May the road rise to meet your wheels.

It's That Time Again...

JUST FOR NEW YEAR'S...

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A pleasant New Year's Eve outing becomes an experience in otherworldly horror when two close-knit couples discover a shocking secret in the darkest corners of the Appalachian mountains. At an opulent mountain inn, Warren Burr, his fiancee, Anne, and their friends, Roger and Kristin Leverman, encounter a religious zealot named John Hanger, who makes it his business to bear witness to them of his peculiar...and disturbing...faith. His efforts rebuffed, Hanger insidiously assumes control of the couples' technological devices, leading them to stumble into unexpected, surreal landscapes...landscapes inhabited by nightmarish beings that defy explanation and rationality. To return to the world they thought they knew, Warren and his friends must not only escape the deadly entities that pursue them but somehow stop John Hanger's nightmare-plague from spreading to the outside world.

"The Gods of Moab is a chilling novella of Lovecraftian horror by Stephen Mark Rainey, acclaimed author of Balak , Blue Devil Island , Other Gods , The Nightmare Frontier , Dark Shadows: Dreams of the Dark (with Elizabeth Massie), and former editor of the award-winning Deathrealm Magazine."

The Gods of Moab is just the ticket to put a little fear in your new year. Check it out from Amazon.com here: The Gods of Moab by Stephen Mark Rainey

Love it or hate it, Amazon.com reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!

Impressed Into Service

Since I was off work today, there was caching on the menu. Originally, I had planned to meet friends Debbie (Cupdaisy) and Bridget (Suntigres) at 10:15 AM at Costco across town to hunt a bunch of the newer hides in that area; but last night, a slew of new ones were published at geocaching.com , so plans shifted a tad. One of the new ones was in the woods near Lake Townsend, so I headed up that way bright and early, thinking a first-to-find (FTF) might be in the bargain. Intuition also told me it that friends Smashemups (Fred) and Skyhawk63 (Tom) were likely to have had the same thing in mind, so I was not surprised to find them already at GZ when I arrived. It took some doing, but we did manage to claim FTF on the hide, right at 9:00 AM.

I headed home just long enough to have some bacon, eggs, and coffee, and then set out to meet Cupdaisy and Suntigres at Costco. Not too far away, though, there was a new cache with a high terrain rating, and Skyhawk and I had decided that going after it would be workable, given our respective plans. So, after snagging a couple of caches near Costco, Cupdaisy, Suntigres, and I met Skyhawk, Punkins19 (Linda) Night-hawk (other Tom) at the newest high-terrain-rated cache, which we figured might require a specific tool of the trade (i.e., a ladder). As it turned out, it did not. All it required was an old dude being impressed into service to climb into the uppermost heights of a spindly tree. They'll tell you I volunteered, but the truth is I was forced against my will to climb up there and sign the log for everyone (which I admit that I did, dubbing us Team Dumb-Ass). They'll tell you I was pleased as a maggot with a smorgasbord of diseased flesh to go up there, but that's all horse-hockey. Truly, really, never would I do such a thing of my own free will. But hey, it was another FTF.

And after that, I tried to run away, but they caught me and made me go caching some more. Jeez, the rigors.

From there, after stopping for another quick FTF, we headed out to our other high-terrain-rated cache, which, based on information from Smashemups, who had visited the site but could not sign the log, we knew we would need one of these specific tools of the trade to retrieve. Happily, Night-hawk carries such a tool around with him wherever he goes—you know, in case of a geocaching emergency or some such. Getting to GZ required a little acrobatic maneuvering on a fallen log over a creek, but Night-hawk, who I guess felt guilty for being party to the extortionate antics at the previous cache, went up the ladder to claim the hide. I was even kind and supportive of this, as I did not tip the ladder while he was up on it. Hey, I would have been within my rights, wouldn't you say?

All done, Cupdaisy, Suntigres, and I parted ways with our tormentors and headed back southward to grab a few other caches—all of far simpler design—and find some lunch. The latter we did at Binh Minh Vietnamese Restaurant on Market Street, which I've always quite enjoyed. Today, it was a shrimp & pork spring roll and fried rice with tofu. Just the thing to satiate what has been a mounting craving for Asian food since watching those episodes of Anthony Bourdain's show when we were in Michigan a couple of weeks back.

Mind those shifty geocachers, or you might end up climbing a tall, spindly tree!
Relaxing with a much-needed post-geocaching Kraken-nog

Let Nothing You Dismay

I'll not sugar-coat it—things have been pretty rough lately, for many reasons, the majority of which involve my mom's failing health. As a result, preparing for Christmas was a bit more arduous than usual this year, but thankfully, our family gathering proved both relaxing and rewarding, with wonderful fellowship, food, and fun. And a wee bit of geocaching—very wee, alas, but geocaching nonetheless.

Ms. Brugger and I set out for Martinsville late yesterday morning, making a stop at Lowes Foods on Hwy 150, north of Greensboro, to pick up some provisions and snag a cache ( GC7278J )—my only Christmas (Eve) cache this year. Once we reached the Ville, we planted ourselves at Mi Ranchito for an excellent Mexican lunch, then made our way to Mum's. I spent a good portion of the rest of the day working on a new short story, while Ms. B. indulged in a big ol' nap. For supper, I made a pot of vegetable beef soup, which turned out all kinds of good. There was, needless to say, fine wine accompanying.

I was very happy to find that my little anticdote of no small amusement— "The Christmas That Broke the Clock" —had made its way into the pages of the Martinsville Bulletin (the Christmas Eve print edition, at least), and that it received many kind remarks from my friends and acquaintances on Facebook. Happy!
Ms. B. settles in for our annual viewing of A Christmas Story in Mum's sunroom.In keeping with our longtime Christmas Eve tradition, at 8:00 PM, Brugger and I settled ourselves in Mum's sunroom for the annual showing of A Christmas Story , followed by a migration to the den so we could enjoy a tad more wine and stream National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation on the computer. Spirits lifted? Good lord, yes.

Up pretty early this morning, I was, so I set right back to work on my short tale (tentatively titled "Hell's Hollow"). Brother Phred arrived around 11:30 AM, at which point Santa came out of the closet and started flinging presents around. Some fine items found their way into my stack, I must say, including a unique typewriter (see below), a CD of Stars of the Lid—And Their Refinement of the Decline, hiking boots, wine, and coffee.

Ms. B. and I prepared a damn satisfying dinner of ham, smashed cheesy potatoes, and sauteed squash & zucchini, while Phred brought us some wunnerful yeast rolls and apple pie. Afterward, we all spent some serious, much-needed quality time together, and thus Christmas became, once again, a source of joy for me.

Upon our return to Greensboro, Ms. B. and I put on Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown , another of our absolutely crucial Christmas traditions, delayed a bit by circumstances this year, but accomplished nonetheless. Then some fabulous store-bought-but-doctored-up pizza and a couple of episodes of Stranger Things 2 to round out the day.

Now it's dark.

Merry, scary Christmas, and happy horrordays to you and yours.
The stockings were hung under the oranges with care. I bet YOU didn't get one of these.

The Christmas That Broke the Clock

Christmas morning, 1969: it must have been around 5:00 AM; I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. In those days, at the height of the U.S. space program, the Major Matt Mason astronaut toys by Mattel were the big thing, especially for this nine-year-old science-fiction and space exploration uber-geek. I was anticipating receiving a Major Matt Mason space station, among other space-related goodies, and adrenaline had been coursing like magma through my weenie little body since early on Christmas Eve. We were at my grandparents' place in Gainesville, GA, and, as always, my folks slept on the pullout sofa bed in the living room — where all the toys lay waiting for us under the Christmas tree. My brother and I had strict orders not to set foot out of our bedroom until 7:00 AM, but come 5:30 or so, it became clear to me that something was wrong with the clock on the nightstand next to our bed. I had been lying there fidgeting for most of forever, and only a measly half hour had passed? What the heck? Thinking only of being helpful, I ran the clock up about ten minutes, thinking this would be a much more realistic time of morning. I lay back down, confident I had done the right thing. For the next hour and something I lay there, my body still blazing with adrenaline, my mind constructing all kinds of great scenarios for Major Matt Mason and his buddies Sgt. Storm, Jeff Long, and Doug Davis. When I finally looked back at the clock, it showed that only fifteen minutes had passed. Clearly, this clock was defective! So I ran it up another ten minutes for good measure.

Several more times this happened. I'd lie back down, wait and wait and wait and wait, and only a few minutes would have gone by. Impossible. If I didn't get this clock set right, I figured, I was really going to be in trouble.

Finally. Finally, 7:00 AM arrived. I woke my little brother, and the two of us went tearing into the living room. There it was — the Major Matt Mason space station! Yahoooooooo! It was beautiful, stunning, glorious. Not only that, the whole room was absolutely jammed with fantastic toys and games. Santa Claus had outdone himself! Mum and Dad, of course, stood no chance remaining in bed with all this ruckus and racket, but after a bit, Mum asked me, "Are you sure it's seven o'clock?" Well, of course I was sure. I had fixed the defective clock.

Next thing you know, I'm being sent back to bed, this time till 8:00 AM, since, according to all the other clocks in the house, it was only 6:15, and my folks, in a rare display of poor judgment, believed them.

This was perhaps my most memorable Christmas. If I remember right, Mum and Dad did let us come back into the living when 7:00 AM actually rolled around because they always were, at heart, very sporting and willing to make amends for their errors.

This little essay appeared in The Martinsville Bulletin, December 24, 2017.