It is possible to applaud Pacific Rim for the efficacy of its business model while deploring the tale that has been engendered -- long, loud, dark, and very wet. You might as well watch the birth of an elephant.
After a long cycle of action movies in which the protagonists spend most of their downtime introspecting about their heroic obligations, Pacific Rim is something different: a heart-warming team-building exercise.
Pacific Rim's ability to make monster-walloping feel fun again will no doubt make Atlantic Seaboard (or maybe Mediterranean Coastal Region) as inevitable a follow-up as the return of the Kaiju through that pesky underwater portal.
Inadvertently makes the case that extinction might not be so bad... If this is the best we can do in terms of movies - if something like this can speak to the soul of audiences - maybe we should just turn over the cameras to the alien dinosaurs
It's the perfect summer spectacle, with giant robots pounding on monsters, monsters stomping on cities, and the kind of mayhem that only big theaters with big screens and big sound systems can truly convey.
Some of those catchphrases are mildly clever. The lab coat mumbo-jumbo is amusing. The noble sentiments touch sweet chords. And who does not delight in seeing a robot punch a dinosaur every now and then - or pretty much constantly for two hours?
That's exactly what the film feels like: a 48-year-old kid playing with gigantic action figures in the world's most expensive sandbox. Unfortunately, his deep-rooted passion never quite makes the leap from his imagination to the screen.
They don't let 14 year-old boys direct multi-million dollar feature films, but somehow Guillermo Del Toro has channeled the interests, attitudes and fears from that mindset with a clarity that far surpasses contemporaries like Michael Bay.
Whenever the jaegers and the kaiju throw down in Pacific Rim, it's at night in the pouring rain - unless they're both at the bottom of the ocean. What's the point, exactly, of cutting-edge CG monsters filmed in a way where we can barely see them?
The squarest, clunkiest and certainly loudest movie of director Guillermo del Toro's career, a crushed-metal orgy that plays like an extended 3D episode of "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers" on very expensive acid.