(Way With Worlds is published at Seventh Sanctum, MuseHack, and Ongoing Worlds.)
In a strange bit of irony, Im still talking about originality here. Seems sort of weird to keep covering a subject on being more original by not shutting up about it, but here goes.
So there’s one more subject to cover for Originality, of that hard to find, illusionary yet somehow real, quest for “Originality” that so many of us seek, few seem to find, and fewer seem satisfied with. Perhaps thats the point- if we’re not always looking then we’ll not be original. Whatever that is.
In fact, the whole subject is “we.” Us, me – and specifically you.
As noted, I consider “originality” largely illusionary, something whose specter hovers over us only because we believe in it so much. What is more important in originality and world building is to bring your world to life. Even the most “unoriginal” world brought to life will intrigue and involve people. A seemingly boring person is probably far more interesting than a mannequin.
You bring the world to life.
Too many of us resort to tropes. to well known story elements, in our world creation. These bits of social, cultural, and literary elements are easy to use, but rarely connect and come to life unless you do things right. Frankensteining together a setting of previous pieces, much like the original Frankenstein, tends to result in trouble and is something not truly alive. It’s up to you to make it work.
Again it all comes down to you.
So if you want originality, want a world that’s alive and memorable and involving, you’re what makes it all unique. Original – whatever that is.
You’re the secret ingredient to get a good world, and perhaps even “originality” whatever rh shell that is. No matter what you make or do the one thing that no one else can do, no one else can bring in is you.
So let’s ask just what you bring to your world and your tale and your quest for originality and uniqueness.
A Unique Perspective
No matter how common your life may seem, no matter how boring it may seem, your life is your own. How you see things, how you view them, how you interpret them is going to be something no one else can have. Your world and all the works derived from it will reflect that.
Think about how you see something affects stories and world buildings. You may have a unique view on some given relationships, or a different take on cooking, or can relate to a character in a way few others can. Your work is infused by how you see things – and in turn, that affects how people see your setting.
I’m not saying your life is going to be fascinating or interesting, nor that your take on things will be as well, but it will be yours. Work with that because you know it better than anyone – and that lets you use it to infuse life into your creations. Real life.
Take It Farther: You can take this farther by understanding the unique view you bring to your world and world building, and the tales and games that follow.
Unique Skills
Then there’s your unique skillets that inform your world building and your creativity.
Now skills are important in world building because:
- You can write about people that use your skills. Ever read a story where someone clearly didn’t know the lifestyle and life experiences of some people? Yeah, you can avoid that embarrassment in your settings.
- You understand how that skill-based part of the setting you write may work. In turn, your world becomes more believable. For myself, I’ve found my love of cooking added an edge to understanding setting design.
- You might be able to use the skills right in your world building, writing, game development and so on. If you’re good at explaining technology, if you’ve got a flair for the poetic, if you know the right words for something, that works right into your world building and how you communicate it. Imagine being a programmer who writes games, in a cyberpunk setting, so you can make it even more believable as well as well coded.
- You have unique experiences with your skills, job, etc. that can provide inspiration. Much as you have a unique perspective on things in general, your hands-on experience may give you many ideas. One of my friends with military service used that experience to take a serious look at military SF and it’s many assumptions, and come up with new, unique take that was more informed.
Sure you may not think you have any unique or interesting skills. You may write, but so do many others. You may cook, but so do many others. You may code, but so do many others. However this is your unique set of skills, your perspective, and your huge list of abilities, knowledge, and talent that you can mine for a better world building experience.
Take it from a Program Manager who cooks vegan food and writes about Geek Careers and Creativity. We’re all unique in what we do, in some way. if only in combination.
Take It Farther: Ask what skills you have that relate to characters or settings in the world you build – can you better understand certain parts or better create certain characters. In turn, ask if any of them can just help your world building or how you implement the world.
Unique Experiences
Any writer saying they don’t use personal experiences in their world-creation and creativity is ignorant or lying. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on “ignorant” if you say you don’t do it.
We all use our personal experiences in our art. We really have no choice because our experiences are how we assemble a consistent story of our real life, so in turn we’ll use them in our world building. Our broken heart, our feeling that school is frustrating for so many, our knowledge of working in an ER, all those experiences inform what we make.
So we might as well admit it, realize it, and put it to use as world-makers.
Our unique experiences – and much like our perspective, they really are completely unique at least in combination – inform everything we do. We can’t get away from them because they’re us.
There’s a combination of events, unusual happenings, and so on that is unique to you. Use that in your world creation to bring it to life and make it “original” by realizing it and using it.
Take It Farther: What experiences do you have that stand out in your mind? Are any relevant to your world building? Are any “common” but you had something about them that made them unique?
So Go On And Be You
These things, perspective, skills, and experience are yours. No one has quite the background you do – and the combination of elements is probably very unique.
Even the things that seem common to you are probably unique in combination. Sure being a computer programmer may not seem unique, being into techno may not be unique, being into surfing may not be unique, and liking to do baroque may not be unique. But a techno-loving programming surfer who can make a mean set of ribs is comparatively rare.
Realize these things, put them to use, and appreciate them. They’ll help you grow as a world builder, provide unexpected tools, and finally give you another shot at worrying less about originality. When you appreciate your uniqueness, you might see just where your work is unique and “original.”
And stop worrying about it and get back to work making worlds.
– Steven Savage
Steven Savage is a Geek 2.0 writer, speaker, blogger, and job coach. He blogs on careers at http://www.musehack.com/, publishes books on career and culture at http://www.informotron.com/, and does a site of creative tools at http://www.seventhsanctum.com/. He can be reached at http://www.stevensavage.com/.
In light of my earlier article on dystopias, I thought it would be appropriate to bring back an aborted setting that I worked on a long, long time ago. The premise was that there was a great conflict by a number of groups, called the Utopians, who were each genuinely trying to better everyone’s lives. But they disagreed on methods and they disagreed on ends. Even though they acknowledged that they were all trying to do a good job they couldn’t work together because each of the others sacrificed or didn’t address something which they considered to be of vital importance.
That’s what this is about, by demonstrating and giving examples. Good Guys— or at least Decent Guys— who still can’t get along because they have such differing value systems, and the myriad ways that a utopia can take root. (more…)
(This interview also appeared at Muse Hack – and I think I’m going to resyndicate my interviews with creatives here because the Sanctumites could learn a lot too. In this case ElizaBeth Gilligan gives us a huge lesson in authorship!)
I met ElizaBeth Gilligan at ConVolution. She’s got a series called “Gypsy Silk” published through DAW, with a third book coming. She’s also a writer of short stories, a journalist, and more. So it’s time for us to get her secrets (and she managed to raise kids to boot). (more…)
Best summary I heard “In Riverdale Anything Can Happen.”
I think there’s something to that. Archie in concept is tethered to certain ideas and characters who are archetypical. This in some ways is limiting, but as the characters are about very human situations, it is a human tether. Archie’s situations are human ones – love, school, life, death, food (especially in the case of Jughead).
But because Archie has this tether, you can then go hog wild with it in a way. It always has a ground, so go nuts. Team Archie up with the Punisher, have him fight Predator, explore alternate timelines, create the Legion of Archie. Whatever works – Archie and company are still themselves.
In turn the series own limited focus – wholesome teams in their rather nice town – provides a limitation. In some ways the best thing to do is go a bit nuts – and you can, as you have themes to work with and return to.
Finally the human-humorous grounding gives you fertile ground to experiment. The message of Riverdale is “Everyone belongs,” as we’ve seen with the groundbreaking Kevin Keller. Everyone is a pretty wide berth to experiment with.
Glad to meet the new Archie, same as the old Archie, a difference we can all be glad is the same.
– Steven Savage
Steven Savage is a Geek 2.0 writer, speaker, blogger, and job coach. He blogs on careers at http://www.musehack.com/, publishes books on career and culture at http://www.informotron.com/, and does a site of creative tools at http://www.seventhsanctum.com/. He can be reached at http://www.stevensavage.com/.
Lost in Translation has taken a look at different movies based on Marvel characters, from the Avengers Initiative to the licensed characters like Spider-Man and Daredevil. The recent movies have all been well received for the most part. However, Marvel’s fortunes weren’t always so lofty. The first theatrical release featuring a Marvel character* laid an egg.
The character, Howard the Duck, was created by Steve Gerber and Val Mayerik for Adventure into Fear #19 in 1973. Howard was a duck who found himself stuck on Earth, pulled away from his life on his home planet of Duckworld, plucked from his life by Thog the Nether-Spawn. Thog wanted to collapse all realities into one under his control. Howard teamed up with several other heroes to stop Thog, but a misstep sent him to Cleveland. After a few problems with law enforcement and being mistaken for a mutant, he happened across the lair of the villainous Pro-Rata and rescued Beverly Switzer, a life model, with the help of Spider-Man**. Howard and Beverly would come to love each other across species differences.
The movie Howard the Duck, released in 1986, focuses on Howard and his arrival on Earth. Without access to other characters in the Marvel-verse, the movie shows Howard in his everyday life, establishing him as an everyduck, before hurling him through a wormhole to land in Cleveland, Ohio, outside a dive bar with live band Cherry Bomb. Howard bounces from trouble to trouble before finding a place to hide and gather his wits. Meanwhile, the lead singer of Cherry Bomb, Beverly Switzer, has wrapped up for the night and left the bar. Two “fans” intercept her and refuse to let her leave. She fights them off the best she can while calling for help. Help does arrive, all three-foot-two of him. Howard leaps in with his Quak-Fu and helps Beverly chase away her assailants. Not having anywhere else to go, Howard takes up Beverly’s offer to go home with her.
The next day, Beverly introduces Howard to Phil, a scientist and intern at a lab. Phil is ecstatic at meeting an living, breathing, talking example of parallel evolution. Howard gets overwhelmed and leaves. As he tries to adjust to Cleveland, he looks for a job. The best he gets a position as a janitor at a romance spa. The job and the boss soon get to him and Howard quits. He wanders around Cleveland, eventually returning to the dive where he first landed and met Beverly. Cherry Bomb is on stage inside. Howard goes inside, where he overhears Cherry Bomb’s manager talk about his plan to withhold the band’s money to get Beverly to go home with him. A barroom brawl breaks out with Howard outnumbered three to one by the manager and his friends, but the alien duck wins. Howard takes the money and forces the manager to stop managing Cherry Bomb. Later backstage, Howard reveals the cash to Cherry Bomb.
Meanwhile, Phil has been busy. He has spoken to Dr. Jennings, the lead researcher at the lab, and arrives at the bar. Phil wasn’t expecting Howard to be there, but takes advantage of the situation to take one of Howard’s tail feathers. The DNA in that feather matches the DNA on a feather that appeared after a laser-retrieval experiment. Dr. Jennings was responsible for pulling Howard across the galaxy to Cleveland. Howard reasons that if the laser could pull him to Cleveland, it could send him back to Duckworld.
An accident at the lab interferes with Howard’s plan. Dr. Jennings has been changed. The police arrive as a result of the alarm going off and wind up arresting Howard for being an illegal alien. Howard manages to escape from the police and meet up with Beverly and Dr. Jenning. In Dr. Jenning’s car, the researcher starts undergoing a transformation. The last experiment had pulled one of the Dark Overlords, one who is now occupying Dr. Jennings’ body. The Dark Overlord wants to free his comrades and plans to use the laser to bring them to Earth. His comrades need a body, and the Dark Overlord plans on giving them Beverly’s. Howard, with the help of Phil, rescue Beverly, defeat the Dark Overlord, and sends the other Overlords back.
As mentioned at the beginning, the movie bombed. However, as an adaptation, it works. There’s a change from the existentialism that Gerber had in the comic to a science fiction comedy, but the idea of a person ripped out of his home, his life, to an alien landscape is still there. The love between Howard and Beverly is still there, and builds subtly where even they aren’t aware of it even if the audience is. When two people can finish each other’s sentences without effort, there’s a true connection between them. The main issue is the design of Howard. The movie was made before CGI was commonplace. The Last Starfighter had been released two years earlier in 1984, but the techniques were still in their infancy. Thus, Howard was a man in a duck suit. Howard’s look in the comics was still very duck-like, and his stance would be murder on most people’s backs if attempted in real life. Industrial Lights & Magic did manage to create believable animatronics for Howard’s facial expressions.
As for tanking at the box office, Howard the Duck was an odd choice to adapt. George Lucas had found the comic, read it, then passed it on to Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck to write. The project sat for a few years before Universal needed a film to add to its line up. The original idea was to create an animated feature, but Universal needed one sooner than animating would take. This need led to Howard being live action. The other issue was that Howard, both comic and movie, wasn’t a children’s title. Howard smokes cigars and has sex. At the time of release, though, the movie received a PG rating, which allowed for saltier scenes and topless nudity without necessarily allowing much in language or violence. As a comparison, Airplane also received a PG rating with a topless woman shimmying with the plane.
In favour, the writers, producers, directors, even actors had read the comic. Lea Thompson, who played Beverly, was given copies of the comic after she was hired. The original idea of an animated film would have avoided some of the problems they had. With John Barry, of 007 fame, composing the soundtrack and Thomas Dolby writing songs for Cherry Bomb, the music fit. The original Howard the Duck was respected, even with the problems of doing Howard live. With Howard making a cameo in Guardians of the Galaxy, it could be time for his triumphant return.
Next week, The Wolverine.
* The 1944 Captain America Republic film serial was under the Timely banner.
** To establish a character within the Marvel Universe and to pull in readers, editorial frequently used Spider-Man as a guest star. In later years, the Punisher and the Wolverine would also guest in titles for the same reason.
I’ve talked about tropes as something that can kill a world because they’re unreal – yet at times tropes aren’t a problem. Let’s explore. (more…)
(Originally published at Ganriki, I thought the crew here would enjoy it!)
And while we’re at it, is light a particle or a wave? That one, we already have (sort of) an answer for: it depends on how it’s constrained. The same, I think, applies to anime too: it’s a genre and a medium, depending on which way the pie is being sliced, and who’s doing the slicing, and who’s doing the serving of the slices.
To me, the main distinction is in which eyes are doing the beholding. If you’re a fan, it’s easier to think of anime as a medium, because odds are you’ve spent enough time up close and personal with it to see how it manifests in too many different ways to be a genre. If you’re a non-fan, looking in from the outside, many aspects of it tend to blur together to present to an outsider the trappings of a genre.
Some of this, I suspect, comes from the way anime — more these days than before — is contrived to serve a certain self-selecting audience that expects to see certain things. Hence the endless parade of harem and moé shows — not that those things are automatically bad, more that what we get is designed more to fit a certain set of preconceptions than it is to tell a story or even be all that entertaining. (I’m glad the worst of those two trends appears to be over, but I’m not confident it’s being replaced with anything markedly better.) A non-fan looks at such things and sees a whole slew of traits that s/he can bundle together into a genre — making it all the easier to identify it on sight and, most likely, consign it to perdition.
Fans on the inside, though, see genres within anime, but they don’t automatically regard anime as a whole as a “genre”. They know that it’s a container, though, one which can enclose any number of different sorts of experiences. Nobody with enough experience thinks the works of Satoshi Kon, Clannad, the various Gundams, or the various Monogataris are coming from remotely the same places. Odds are no two of those things even have the same fanbases within anime fandom — but again, to an outsider, it’s all one big undifferentiated lump of Weird Japan. Labeling it as a genre makes it easier to not have to think about the possibility that it might in fact be not all that undifferentiated.
Understand something: I’m not blaming anyone for taking that approach. Most anyone outside of any highly trafficked fandom is going to feel baffled. But few people that I’ve run into think of Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, and Sherlock in the same “genre” of British Stuff I Couldn’t Be Bothered With. I suspect that’s because the main mode of delivery for those things didn’t necessarily start with its national origin, but with a concept. Anime is set apart first and foremost by the fact that it comes from Japan. If the West put one big label on it to begin with as a way to allow “us” to wrap “our” heads around it, is it really such a surprise that so many of those not deep in the thick of it are able to put it all in a box and sit on the lid?
I suspect the same goes for all those who can’t get into Hong Kong action pictures, or Bollywood musicals. And, while we’re at it, what about all those abroad who might well have the same shelve-it-and-shove-it approach to Hollywood tentpole productions (which might well all be a “genre”, given how formulaic they are), or the Marvel/DC axis of comic books? If people can call anime a “genre”, it’s not because of anything anime alone has done; it’s because of the way many of the mass-market entertainments created by any culture tend to breed in a good deal of uniformity that only falls away once you come closer.
What I’m saying here, then, is that the whole question of whether anime is a genre or a medium doesn’t just depend on who you ask. The very fact that such a question exists is a symptom of how any of us looks at another culture’s cultural products, and maybe even our own as well. (Many Japanese novelists, for instance, give anime and especially manga the same lump-it-together-and-forget-it treatment as Western non-fans.) We have a hard time not looking at such things without needing a label or a box of some kind, in big part because such things are consumption instructions. If we know something is comic-book-ish, we have some idea of how to process the material. If we know something is anime-ish, likewise.
But those instructions are not absolute. They don’t come down from the mountain on stone tablets, as it were; they come from the whole history of viewership for those things. They don’t have to be taken on face value, and most of the history of anime advocacy between fans and from fans to non-fans revolves around this. It’s not just a cartoon, we say to the wholly uninitiated. And to the initiated who already has some territory staked out, we tell them it’s not just a love story or a fight show. We would scarcely need to do this kind of advocacy if the existing labels — harem comedy, shōnen action show, shōjō romance — didn’t already carry such weight.
What’s more, neither mode — genre and medium — exists entirely apart from the other, certainly not as long as either viewpoint exists at all. Some anime embody anime-as-a-genre far more specifically than others, and ask to be looked at in that light; some embody it far more as a medium than others, and so that approach works best for the items in question. The genre tells us what kind of story to expect, and how it will be fulfilled. This medium is a way to look at something that empowers it in certain ways, that gives it a certain automatic suspension of disbelief that some stories need to embody as effortlessly as they can.
Knowing that we have these reactions puts us one step closer towards being able to approach these things entirely on their own terms, without needing to figure out first what part of the shelf to put them on. In the end, we don’t need a label of “genre” or even “medium” to justify anything; it’s the labels that need us to justify themselves. Would that we can see so.
(Originally posted at Muse Hack, I thought you Sanctumites would enjoy it as well)
I met Lillian Csernica at Con-Volution. She’s a professional author who’s written short stories and even warmed my worldbuilding heart with a guide to making magic systems. Of course I’m going to interview here, she’s one of us. (more…)
Hey everyone, hope you’re doing well!
Not much to update on Sanctum-Wise. I probably should only post these when it’s relevant, but I like to stay in touch.
Way With Worlds is still churning along – originality will be a focus for a bit, and then some more rewrites. Still debating if this thing should be one book or more.
Borderlands The Pre-Sequel is out. It’s good, if a bit unpolished in some areas, and the new mechanics are nice. So you can blame that for any delays on new generators.
I’ve gotten more suggestions on creating general fantasy names as a generator, along with the other queued up generators. Will be keeping that in mind – admittedly I don’t have anything generic for someone like Logaz Starbinder or Murdag Mudclub. Stuff that’s “fantasyish” but not like the Extreme generator.
– Steven Savage
Steven Savage is a Geek 2.0 writer, speaker, blogger, and job coach. He blogs on careers at http://www.musehack.com/, publishes books on career and culture at http://www.informotron.com/, and does a site of creative tools at http://www.seventhsanctum.com/. He can be reached at http://www.stevensavage.com/.
The atomic bomb has been used just twice in war, both times on Japan. The destruction the bomb wrought led to nuclear escalation between the US and the USSR, and a permanent change in the Japanese psyche. Post-war atomic testing on uninhabited islands still had fallout. Even now, nuclear energy isn’t trusted fully. In science fiction, atomic radiation leads to mutations. Marvel Comics’ X-Men are specifically called the Children of the Atom. Spider-Man gained his powers from a irradiated arachnid. Going back further, though, leads to the grandfather of atomic changes.
Gojira first hit Japanese movie theatres in 1954 and featured a monster that had been reawakened by nuclear weapons testing. The monster symbolized the destructive potential of nuclear weapons, something Japan had experienced first hand. Although not the first kaiju*, Gojira became the example of what giant monsters, daikaiju are. The movie starts with ships being attacked at sea near Odo Island by an unknown vessel, one that disappears as quick as it appears. The investigators discover that the islanders used to sacrifice girls to a monster called Gojira to appease it. During a storm that wracks the island, more destruction occurs, far worse than accountable by the storm. This time, there is a witness who can identify the cause – Gojira!
An archaeologist discovers large radioactive footprints and a trilobite that is normally found in the depths of the sea. An alarm sounds, and the archaeologist, along with the villagers, run to the hills, only to meet Gojira himself, towering over the island. A short, desperate skirmish breaks out long enough for the villagers to get to safety. Gojira returns to the ocean.
In Tokyo, the findings are given over to a commission. Nuclear explosions are responsible for reawakening and freeing the daikaiju. A discussion about whether to reveal the monster’s existance or not later, the public is informed. The Japanese Self-Defense Force sends ships to drop depth charges. Instead of killing Gojira as planned, the charges merely attract his attention to the ships and Japan. Gojira attacks Tokyo, emerging from Tokyo Bay, leaving a trail of destruction not seen since the Allied bombing of the city. Emergency measures are put in place, including a fence of electrical towers that will give off a 50 000 volt shock when walked through and the evacuation of Tokyo. Gojira returns. The electric fence does little to slow the monster down; Gojira destroys the wires with his atomic breath. Tanks fire but can’t penetrate Gojira’s hide. Once again, Tokyo suffers under the rage of the daikaiju until he leaves in the morning.
However, Tokyo may have a chance at surviving. Daisuke Serizawa has developed the Oxygen Destroyer, a side effect of his research into cleaner energy. The Oxygen Destroyer does exactly what it says on the tin – it destroys oxygen atoms. Anything needing to breathe oxygen is left asphyxiating. Serizawa is well aware of the potential misuse of his invention, though, and is hesitant to use it. Once he sees the extent of Gojira’s destruction, he changes his mind. To be safe, he burns his notes on the Oxygen Destroyer so that they can’t be used to create more. Serizawa is taken by ship to the last known location of Gojira. Finding the monster, Serizawa activates the Oxygen Destroyer, then cuts his own oxygen cable. Both he and Gojira perish.
The implications of Gojira, that the monster is more an unstoppable act of nature caused by nuclear radiation, is woven through the movie. The military is helpless as Gojira rampages through Tokyo. The destruction is immense. Nuclear weapons testing led to Gojira’s reawakening, which in turn led to Tokyo’s destruction.
In 1956, the movie was retitled Godzilla: King of Monsters and brought over to North America. New scenes with Canadian actor Raymond Burr were added to reduce the amount of dubbing needed. Burr played an American reporter who was on the scene when Godzilla first attacked Tokyo, telling the story as a flashback. This Godzilla was then released in Japan in 1957 and was popular like the original.
Despite being an actor in a rubber suit, Godzilla moved like the giant monster he was supposed to be. Part of this came from the sheer mass of the original suit. The added verisimulitude helped win popularity, which led to Toho producing /Godzilla/ movies through to 2004. Along the way, other daikaiju either fought or teamed up with Godzilla, inluding King Kong, King Ghidorah, Mothra, and Mechagodzilla. Godzilla also served as inspiration for other giant monsters, including Gorgo and Gamera. As mentioned, Godzilla wasn’t the first giant monster, but he was the most influential. Few other daikaiju had songs written about them. Over the years, Godzilla became less a danger and more the protector of Earth, defending the planet against would-be destroyers and conquerors, including humans.
In 1992, Tri-Star picked up the rights to Godzilla with an eye on making a trilogy. The first, Godzilla, was released in 1998. It starts much the same as the original, a fish canning ship is attacked by an unknown creature and is found washed ashore, this time in the Atlantic. The US sends the military to investigate, pulling in experts in biology and paleontology, including Nick Tatopoulos. Nick, played by Matthew Broderick, was pulled from his investigation of the effects of radiation on worms in Chernobyl, Ukraine. Meanwhile, Philippe Roaché, a French insurance investigator, is also looking into the attack on the canning ship, ostensibly for purposes of insurance payout. He tracks down a survivor of the attack, who is only able to say one word, “Gojira.”
Early appearances of Godzilla are brief; the most seen of the monster are the spikes along his back. It’s only when Godzilla arrives in New York City that the audience sees him fully. Instead of being an actor in a rubber suit, the new Godzilla is rendered with CGI. Jurassic Park, originally released in 1993, helped make great strides in rendering dinosaurs with CG, and the new Godzilla benefited. However, the new Godzilla was based on iguanas and lizards, creating a new look for the giant monster. Still, New York suffered the same fate Tokyo did in the original Gojira, with massive damage to streets and buildings. And, just like the original, the military was helpless to stop the monster.
As New York is evacuated to New Jersey, Mayor Ebert tries to stay on top of matters, more to help get re-elected than anything else. During the chaos, the military loses sight of Godzilla. As blame gets thrown about, the civilian specialists work out what happened just as an Army recon squad reports that one building they checked had no more floor. Godzilla went underground. Nick comes up with an idea to get the monster back above ground to give the Army another go at him – fish. A large pile of fish is dumped near Times Square and manhole covers removed to let Godzilla smell the bait. The plan works; Godzilla breaks through the street from underneath and goes after the fish, giving time for the squadron of Apache helicopters to move in and attack. The helicopters’ missiles are useless, missing Godzilla and destroying the Chrysler Building instead. The reason – the missiles carried are heat seekers and have nothing to lock on. Being cold-blooded, Godzilla is the same temperature as his surroundings. Switching to miniguns, the Apaches pursue Godzilla through the ruins of mid-town Manhattan. The tall buildings become a maze, and the pilots lose the monster. The monster, however, did not lose the helicopters, and prey becomes predator again. Hemmed in by the towers, the helicopter pilots aren’t able to pull away* from Godzilla and are made a snack. Godzilla disappears again.
Nick makes a few calculations and realizes that the amount of fish from the canning ship, from three fishing ships that disappeared, and from the pile he had the Army make was far more food than needed. He grabs a sample of Godzilla’s blood, then finds an open pharmacy where he buys every pregnancy test available. While in the pharmacy, he runs into an old girlfriend, one who had rejected his marriage proposal. He takes her back to his tent, doubling as a lab, catching up on old times along the way. Nick finds out that his ex works at a TV station, then finds out that Godzilla may very well be pregnant, either about to lay eggs or has just laid them. The biologist runs off to warn the Army of his discovery and to perform proper tests to confirm his results.
With Nick gone, his ex, Audrey, played by Maria Pitillo, takes a tape showing the path Godzilla has taken, including footage of the survivor saying, “Gojira,” to her station. The tape is immediately placed on the air, right as Nick is trying to explain the pregnancy. Nick is kicked off the investigation. As he leaves, he meets Philippe. Nick explains the problem and gets Philippe, played by Jean Reno, on his side. Turns out, Philippe isn’t an insurance investigator; he works for the Direction génèral de la sécurité extérieure, or the French Secret Service. Philippe has been tracking the destruction from French Guyana to New York with an eye on stopping the monster. Nick, Philippe, and Philippe’s small team head into New York to look for the eggs.
Back in New Jersey, the collective armed forces of the US come up with a new plan to kill Godzilla. Once again luring him out, the Air Force directs Godzilla towards the ocean, where two submarines wait. Torpedoes are fired, but Godzilla is not only able to out-swim them, he lures them into one of the subs, destroying it. A second brace of torpedoes is fired and this time, Godzilla is hit. Mayor Ebert hears the news and starts insisting on having the evacuees returned to their homes in Manhattan. Colonel Hicks, played by Kevin Dunn, wants to confirm the death of Godzilla.
Back on the island, Nick and the French spies discover Godzilla’s nest. All of seats in the stands of Madison Square Garden have an egg, each one on the verge of hatching. As the Godzilla-lings emerge, hungry, they go after the fish and anything that smells like fish, including Nick and the French. The group makes the only rational decision possible – to run, blocking the doors to the arena. However, they’re still stuck inside the building. Fortunately, Audrey and her cameraman, Animal, were following him and know where the broadcast room is. Philippe, the sole French survivor of his team, assists in unlocking the door to the broadcast room. Audrey forces a break into the TV station’s live feed, letting the Army know where the offspring are. Nick joins her and explains the problem; Godzilla’s offspring are asexual, born pregnant, and are hungry; basically, they’re less fluffy tribbles.
Colonel Hicks calls for an air strike, giving the survivors inside Madison Square Garden six minutes to escape. It’s close, but they do get out. The baby Godzillas are derstroyed, but Godzilla returns. During the chase, where the heroes have borrowed a taxi to try to outrun a monster that can hit 80mph, Nick gets a message through to Colonel Hicks about Godzilla. A last ditch plan is made; draw out the monster to a bridge so that the Air Force can use missiles without buildings being locked on instead. The first missile strike staggers the monster; the second kills it.
The first half of the movie does a good job recreating the events of the original Gojira. The problem begins when the tone of the movie switches from “giant monster” to “action”. The original Godzilla took extreme efforts to stop; the subsequent films either have Godzilla as an act of nature, impossible to stop, or a protector, one who inflicts a lot of collateral damage. The design of the new Godzilla is closer to Repitilicus and The Beast of 20,000 Fathoms, with a touch of The Giant Gila Monster. Toho, the company that created the Godzilla franchise, has renamed the monster in the movie “Zilla”, but hasn’t completely disavowed the film.
The scene involving Zilla chasing the Apache helicopters had an odd special effects failure. Nothing wrong with Zilla’s CG. New York just looked like it was a model, as did the helicopters. Given the nature of the movie, was it an error or was it deliberate, a callback to the use of a model Tokyo and model military vehicles in Gojira? Given that the rest of the movie didn’t show any problems, the choice seems deliberate.
Godzilla has issues as an adaptation, as pointed out above. The issues, though, do really start after Zilla reaches Manhattan. Until then, it does feel like a proper adaptation of Gojira.
* Apparently, the pilots forgot that they could go in three dimensions, specifically up. The Apache has a service ceiling of about 21 000 feet, much higher than even the tallest building in New York City.
