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It’s tough to impress a guy like me with Pacific Rim’s “monsters rising from the deep” premise. I’ve already been face to face with the worst the sea has to offer, and came out on top. Back in ’02, my high school buddy Regis and I were doing our normal Saturday night routine of signing on to AIM in hopes of getting invited to a party anywhere in the greater Los Angeles area. As usual, I tried to bait people into thinking I was cool, putting up away messages like “Pre-gamin’ wit my boy Reggie… ‘nuff said.” They didn’t bite though, and I went the whole night without hearing that sweet AIM message ping. So Regis and I settled into our typical plan B of checking out the latest DVD on TV installment on FX whilst drinking wide-mouth Miller Lites. That night’s feature was Deep Blue Sea, perfect for us lifelong Sam Jackson fans. We would often volunteer answers in American history class containing thinly veiled Jules Winnfield references, and then slap each other high-fives as soon as Mr. Steadman turned back to the chalkboard. Chicks dug it.
Regis and I had a lot of pep in our step that night, and we weren’t prepared to let the highlight of yet another weekend be Regis’ rapid-fire beeping and implicit eff-you to society when we exited the school parking lot in his sister’s Hyundai Accent on Friday afternoon. We were brooding young men, only in need of a catalyst and 2.5 beers to channel that youthful angst into action. Seeing Sam Jackson, our social touchstone, get eaten by a shark was just that catalyst. We deliberated for about three minutes, desperately checked our buddy lists one more time, and then both reached the same conclusion. We decided, that before the night was over, we would kill a shark. And we didn’t want a clean kill. We needed scars, so there would be no doubt amongst the alphas that we outcasts were also capable of having weekends that left one looking annihilated on Monday morning.
So we hopped on our longboards and rolled down to the Manhattan Beach pier, ready to hotwire whichever boat caught our inebriated eyes. We found a perfect candidate in The Swervin’ Earvin, Magic Johnson’s fishing yacht. Assuming he had long since been claimed by his immune deficiency, we figured a quick joyride was a victimless crime. Within minutes, we were halfway between LA and Catalina Island, going full throttle with the spotlight panning the strait in search of any sizeable sea life, but none was to be found. We needed bait, but the boat was barren. So we did the next best thing. First, we cranked up Regis’ Hoobastank CD and did 25 jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. Then, obviously, we slit all four of our wrists with fishing hooks. Blood gushed out like a Yosemite geyser. We calmly walked to the bow of the boat and spread our arms to the heavens, spraying our inviting plasma across the Pacific. It worked like a charm. Within a minute, a great white appeared. Awesome. Regis politely handed his Miller Lite to me and quietly muttered “I got this one.” He jumped straight onto the nose of the shark, opening up the epic man versus beast battle with a left jab and right hook. “Yea, Reggie!” I screamed, as I smashed his beer can on my forehead.
I never saw Regis again. The Coast Guard got to me just in time. I had apparently passed out from blood loss and fallen into the ocean. They say the only reason the shark didn’t eat me as well is because I was wearing the Michigan State Spartan armor that I found in Magic’s sleeping quarters. So while I lost my best friend, I consider the overall experience a wash, as my newfound notoriety at school managed to get an entire half of the inside cover of my yearbook signed by people other than teachers.
So while I went into the theater a bit jaded, Pacific Rim impressed me right off the bat. It wastes no time getting us knee deep in a decade-long war between humans and Kaiju, which are giant lizards. I’m sure the writers will tell you they’re oh so much more than that, but don’t indulge them. While the “giant amphibious monster” scenario has been done countless times over, this movie really makes you appreciate the sheer size of the antagonists.
Your first glimpse of a Kaiju is an archived news clip of humanity’s first encounter with one, shot from a car on the Golden Gate Bridge as the top of the creature’s scalp approaches from the west, making its intentions known by promptly destroying the span. A bit later, we see another news clip of a Kaiju breaking through Sydney’s defensive wall, towering over the eponymous opera house. Both of these scenes have been noted by this here reviewer because they have two excellent characteristics: they take place in daylight and make full use of 2013-quality visual effects. However, for the great majority of the movie, only that latter trait is exercised. This is a great looking film, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty scenes of humanity battling the giant lizards, those encounters invariably take place either at night or in terribly inclement weather. The sense of scale that Pacific Rim establishes is diluted by the fact that we often only see the Kaiju against a backdrop of dark sky.
The Kaiju have been systematically attacking Pacific coastal cities by appearing through some type of worm hole on the ocean floor. Humanity’s response, of course, is to build giant mechs (called Jaegers) requiring dual pilots whose left and right brains are melded via a neural link, with the mech mimicking the physical motions of the pilots. It’s never really explained why a single pilot’s brain would be overloaded by any attempt to go solo, or why they couldn’t just use a Sega Saturn controller. This contrived plot point does pay off though, as it requires both pilots to pull off some cool looking choreography. The cockpit is a well-done instance of flashy CGI, with the two pilots standing side by side as constantly evolving battle parameters are conveyed in colorful text and images floating 360 degrees around them.
The battles between the Kaiju and Jaegers yearn to be spectacular, but they end up only being very good. Besides the aforementioned dull battlegrounds, there is a distinct lack of variety in each sides’ combat mechs/monsters. This doesn’t make sense, because we are told explicitly that humanity’s Jaegers have been constantly updated over time, and that the Kaiju are able to evolve into any form they desire. Yet, all of the Jaegers look very similar, as do the Kaiju save for different skin colors (which you can’t see cuz it’s dark) or ear/horn/tail placement. You also check out of the battles pretty quickly, as they all follow the same formula. Things start out as an MMA fight, with each party pounding the other one into the ground/ocean. Then, as soon as the Kaiju gets the upper hand, the Jaeger rolls out a killer weapon that the pilots knew would bring things to a halt all along.
If you’re into giant lizards and mechs, you’ll love Pacific Rim, but if you’re into acting, steer clear. The producers seemed to make the conscious decision to avoid any A-list talent, and it doesn’t work. The lead Jaeger pilot is played by some no-name 30-ish white guy who would be about as effective at carrying any potential sequel as I am at carrying my bowels after a three-day weekend of Taco Bell and moderate drinking. I suspect director Guillermo Of The Bull wanted to turn this thing into a tweener of a box office smash with cult status street cred. In an effort to make the film endearing, incredibly cheesy dialogue is employed throughout, delivered by B and C-List actors who were apparently told to forget everything they learned at Tisch. Evidence of this is Idris Elba, the highest profile cast member, whose competence as a star of the silver screen is well-chronicled by his extensive filmography. While perhaps his Pacific Rim co-stars just aren’t that good, we know he is. Throughout the film, he inexplicably struggles with childlishly simple dialogue, as if Guillermo told him to dumb it down to avoid any tension with the lesser actors when they meet at the catering trailer for lunch.
If you’re going to go the bad acting/good action route, then you need to stick with the latter wherever possible. They don’t though, and far too much of the movie concentrates on the attempted drama surrounding the main white guy. This includes his cliché chance at redemption following his retirement from the Jaeger program, his cliché arguments with commanding officer Elba regarding when he’ll finally be allowed back into battle, and his cliché love affair with the token attractive female. Main White Guy and the deaf-mute Asian chick from Babel fall in love in their first scene together for no apparent reason, other than being the two best-looking people on screen. Must be nice to be attractive, something a perpetual butterface like myself would know nothing about, regardless of how many lunch hours I spend at Work Out World.
Pacific Rim’s spectacular displays of massive robots and lizards alone are nearly enough make this a very good movie, but the final verdict is close. If you’re unsure, there is a far superior alternative in Atlantic Rim, for which golden statues are surely pending.