And it's not just Taylor-Johnson, Watanabe and Hawkins who play paper thin, archetypical characters: everybody does. It's almost as if screenwriter Max Borenstein purposely set out to write a screenplay containing characters with absolutely no personalities for a dare: everyone just plays their job. We get "scientist," "other scientist," "soldier," "mean soldier," "wife," "kid," just like in a lot of generic blockbuster movies; the difference here is that you come away from the movie knowing absolutely nothing about any of them. Seriously: nothing. Sure, we know that Elizabeth Olsen's character is a nurse because she wears scrubs and we know that she loves her son because she looks like she does, but the movie never offers up anything else; she's a template, the sort of character any good screenwriter knows to avoid. What does she like? What are her fears? Ask these questions of anybody in the movie and you'll come up short. It's entirely possible that Godzilla's cast of characters are the most underdeveloped bunch in blockbuster memory; empty shells, every last one of 'em.
Sam Hill is an ardent cinephile and has been writing about film professionally since 2008. He harbours a particular fondness for western and sci-fi movies.
