Godzilla handles everything the military hurls at him: ships, guns, planes, rockets, even a squadron of HALO paratroopers. The only thing that can cut him down to size is being relegated to a supporting role in his very own movie.
Olive Oyl once sang a love song about Bluto. The refrain was, 'He's... laaaarge.' And there you have Godzilla in a nutshell. He's large, and the movie's largely a crashing bore.
'Godzilla' doesn't feel cynical; there's a sense of joy to the picture, of honest-to-God fun, which separates it from many of its summer movie brethren.
We're here to see the film's leading lizard, who is pretty gorgeously realized by an army of digitizers, even if he seems just a bit-player in his own movie for the first hour or so.
In a studio system that so heavily relies on playing all their cards at once, Edwards' restraint is half the fun -- the other half being the fully-satisfying climax.
