Like the process shots of old, Godzilla rages above a foreground of running people. What would Eiji Tsuburaya say?
Giant Lizard and Big Ape against Big Lizard and Giant Ape.
GODZILLA X KONG: THE NEW EMPIRE is another Monsterverse CGI glutfest that removes all gravitas, fear and nobility from the titular creatures and replaces it – with punchaboo.
Remember KONG: SKULL ISLAND? Where’s that enraged beast that brooked no interaction or interference from humankind? Remember 2014’s GODZILLA? Where’s that beast that killed threats to its planet without an inkling of thought to the human victims who ended up merely collateral damage… well, uh, actually, that guy is still here…
Kong, now a docile puss who needs to have a tooth removed by a human dentist pinup boy (Dan Stevens), goes exploring in his subterranean world and discovers a society of giant apes led by a tyrant red ape, who has enslaved a whole bunch of giant apes to move rocks from here to there. [Reason? No reason.] Red Ape carries a blade talisman that keeps a giant frost dragon under heel, who acts as his ride and his enforcer. Cute. (Kinda reminds me of those big “fluffy” creatures from HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2.)
Well, when Red Ape encounters Kong, he suddenly wants to invade our upper world. [Reason? No reason?] He’s not looking for territory – he’s already king of his domain; he’s not looking for mates (unless he has a predilection for tiny blonde humans); he’s not short of food – he’s the goddam tyrant of his subterranean world. Maybe he’s just looking for more rocks for his slaves to haul for reasons no reasons.
In this direct sequel to 2021’s GODZILLA VS KONG, beautiful Rebecca Hall returns as Ilene, the Kong scientist; still with an inconsequential role, but also saddled with a bowl haircut– Why do women (and producers who want to make women “strong”) DO this to women? And how come whenever a woman commits this abomination, she has to be told it looks nice? In this instance, the conspiracy podcaster Bernie (Brian Tyree Henry): “Oh, you cut your hair, highlights too, it’s nice.” Why this insecurity? If it was alluring in the first place, you wouldn’t need the constant affirmation.
Tyree Henry is once again comic relief, and thankfully not saddled with overactor Millie Bobby Brown as sidekick. Director/co-writer Adam Wingard explains that Brown’s role was just not needed – but in reality, her “role” (that of tween boy bait) is actually being fulfilled by someone else in the cast, and Wingard knows this, but is canny enough not to rankle the wokesters by saying it out loud.
Saddled with the role of tween boy bait is Kaylee Hottle as Jia, Kong’s sign-language human connection; in the previous movie, real-life mute Kaylee was a youngster, now a tween (with hips and those things and that), not only fulfilling Brown’s job description, but still being the best actor in the movie.
And who woulda thunk that Jia would be Mothra’s little human apprentice (a role usually fulfilled by twin girls)? The awakening of Mothra is one of the coolest aspects of this film; always a Godzilla sidekick/apprentice through the first three Godzilla Eras (Showa, Heisei, Millennium), displaying minimal power except the shooting of that sticky jism and the showering of her shimmering bling, here her powers have been brought in line with those of her compatriots (Godz and Kong).
“I’m just gonna stand upright like a reg’lar ole homo sapiens, if that’s alright with you.”
Suddenly – a bionic arm for Kong: a contrived piece of screenwriting that involved the pilot of the scientists’ underground craft dying without any fanfare, the dreamy dentist guy just “knowing” how to pilot the craft, flying it to a destroyed way-station that happened to be working on a giant bionic exoskeleton, and retrieving the iron arm as easily as picking up a rock, then installing the arm on Kong easier than installing Word on your pc. In one fell swoop, Monsterverse throws down more magic who cares fuck you than all four AVENGERS films combined.
Godzilla is so pink now, he looks delicious. It’s funny how Kong just walks around totally upright now. He’s as bad at emulating a gorilla as the actors who walked around upright in their gorilla suits in KING KONG LIVES.
Climactic scenes of protagonists battling against antagonists with exactly the same powers as them – Monsterverse learned well from Marvel – while buildings are being knocked down hither and thither with, I’m presuming, at least 100,000 casualties that are never seen nor mentioned. Against a backdrop of the most baffling needle-drops that throw us bodily out of the tone of the movie, including: KISS’s I Was Made for Loving you, Badfinger’s Day After Day, Golden Earring’s Twilight Zone, Loverboy’s Turn Me Loose…
GODZILLA X KONG is hella fun to watch (just that scene of Godz and Kong exploding from underground and running running RUNNING towards us together is simultaneously exhilarating and idiotic and juvenile and inspiring), but rated X for XTRA STUPID.
END
GODZILLA X KONG: THE NEW EMPIRE (Mar 2024) | PG-13Director: Adam Wingard.
Writers: Terry Rossio, Adam Wingard, Simon Barrett, Jeremy Slater.
Music: Antonio Di Iorio, Tom Holkenborg.
Starring: Rebecca Hall, Brian Tyree Henry, Dan Stevens, Kaylee Hottle, Alex Ferns, Fala Chen, Rachel House, Ron Smyck, Chantelle Jamieson, Greg Hatton.
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GODZILLA X KONG
See this review on Dunmore’s Movie Mania. Consider becoming a PATREON member on my YouTube channel, and SUBSCRIBE and SHARE with all your daikaiju pals! Poffy Approves!
11 Comments on “GODZILLA X KONG: THE NEW EMPIRE”
Poffy The “too cowardly to respond to criticism despite supporting arguments” Cucumber
You didn’t follow your usual modus operandi of simply copying my words and pasting them in your comments, so I didn’t recognize your midi-chlorian count.
By the way, being the daikaiju fan you obviously believe yourself to be, please also post your rejoinders on my GAMERA reviews as well. I welcome your fire hose of strawman arguments, misplaced wrath, and uninformed opinions.
Fret not, all your hosewater will be published.
Proof that my critiques are a ”fire hose of strawman arguments, misplaced wrath, and uninformed opinions”, please?
Special Thanks To:
Jon Dunmore – For being the undisputed king of unearned confidence.
First off, we have to start with this timeless display of Jon’s intellectual superiority:
“Thank You once again, NOYDB, for copying and pasting my review in the Comments section. I am impressed at your right-clicking dexterity with the mouse.”
Right-clicking dexterity. Truly, Jon, you’ve unlocked the secret to being an intellectual titan of the 21st century. Why bother with actual analysis or well-reasoned arguments when you can instead flex your mouse-hand skills? The next time I need someone to show me how to click a button on my computer, I know exactly who to call. Clearly, this level of digital proficiency is what separates you from all the plebs who, sadly, don’t understand that mouse skillz are what make you a true critic.
Then there’s Jon’s ability to pepper in Star Wars references, because nothing says intellectual depth like turning a film discussion into a half-baked geek-off:
“You didn’t follow your usual modus operandi of simply copying my words and pasting them in your comments, so I didn’t recognize your midi-chlorian count.”
Ah, midi-chlorians. That deep Star Wars knowledge, Jon! You’ve certainly cracked the code with that reference. Why engage with actual film theory or the content itself when you can throw out arbitrary references to other fictional universes? Maybe if you had paid as much attention to the films as you did to your obsession with Star Wars, we’d be having a more insightful conversation. But alas, you’d rather make vague references to something else you’re hoping will make you sound clever.
Next, Jon lays out his totally rational and reasonable approach to fans:
“By the way, being the daikaiju fan you obviously believe yourself to be, please also post your rejoinders on my GAMERA reviews as well. I welcome your fire hose of strawman arguments, misplaced wrath, and uninformed opinions.”
I mean, Jon, really—you’re inviting trolls to take shots at you and calling it “welcoming critique”? It’s almost like you’re hoping your superficial, dismissive comments will make you seem like a true master of discourse. The fact that you genuinely believe that people’s legitimate concerns are “strawman arguments” just shows how deeply entrenched you are in your own superiority complex. I guess when you can’t actually engage with the ideas, dismissing them as “uninformed” is the next best thing.
Then, Jon proves that he’s an intellectual force to be reckoned with by taking aim at…his own ass:
“I have never met someone so concerned about my ass before. Thank You for your service.”
What an absolutely breathtaking moment of insight. It’s honestly rare to see someone so completely out of touch with reality that they think crude jokes about their own body somehow elevate their argument. But you, Jon, you’ve found a way to make even the most juvenile remarks seem so profound and intellectually stimulating. You really are a beacon of enlightenment.
But don’t worry, Jon has endured far worse—mainly the intense physical trauma of being shot in the face:
“Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty.”
Wow. Just wow. What a humble and groundbreaking perspective on resilience. I think the world can now understand why you’re such a beautiful film critic, Jon. I mean, if you’ve survived being shot in the face, clearly your opinions on cinema should be taken as gospel. Forget humility or, you know, actual film analysis. You’re too good-looking for such things. Let’s all just bask in your face.
Now, let’s get to Jon’s groundbreaking analysis of Godzilla, which, as we all know, is only to be understood through Jon’s eyes and not anyone else’s perspective.
“People think they know Godzilla. Even you think you know Godzilla. No, you don’t. That goes for me as well. I’ve seen those culty Toho Company crap-fests with the guys in the rubber suits smashing toy planes, and as a youth I was exposed to GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS! (the barbaric American re-edit of the original Toho film, the only version available in English-speaking countries until the mid-80s). So I approached the original Toho GODZILLA/GOJIRA (1954) with the same tongue-in-ass-cheek flippancy I brought to all those B-movie monster mashes that salted our youthful Sunday afternoons. And I wept. I wept because this somber parable of nuclear abuse, this pioneer of monster moviedom, has undergone such a misunderstood legacy on the strength of its inferior successors.”
Ah yes, Jon. What a sophisticated take on Godzilla. You saw the American re-edit, which means you’re clearly the only one who understands the entire Godzilla mythos. Your reaction is so deeply emotional, yet it’s a shame that you fail to recognize the historical and cultural significance of the original film. But hey, why dive into any meaningful analysis when you can just dismiss decades of filmmaking history with an eye-roll and call it “flippant”? Bravo.
And now for your most profound reflection on Destroy All Monsters:
“DESTROY ALL MONSTERS was planned as the last Godzilla film from Toho Company, which is why, we presume, legendary GOJIRA director Ishiro Honda, Just Doesn’t Give A Fuck anymore.”
Jon, you’ve cracked the mystery! Forget all the actual behind-the-scenes context or the complexities of filmmaking—obviously, Honda just “didn’t care” anymore because you didn’t like the film. Why not just assume the entire team behind the movie gave up? It’s much easier than trying to understand the actual intent or context, right?
Then Jon delivers his usual, groundbreaking insight into his own “righteousness”:
“Now, I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to find the themes or moral layers or subtle messages, but that ain’t the truth. The truth is, Ringo: I’m the righteous man, and Toho – is the tyranny that creates evil men…”
Of course, Jon, you’re the righteous man standing tall against the oppressive empire that is Toho. We’ve all been waiting for your insight on the matter. The rest of us have been too busy actually analyzing the films, but you’ve been over here casting yourself as some lone hero in a world of film tyranny. Absolutely incredible.
And let’s not forget Jon’s deep understanding of Godzilla fandom:
“Which begs the question: What the hell is wrong with those fans?”
Truly, Jon. You’ve cracked it wide open. The fans are what’s wrong here, not the lazy dismissals of the films or the lack of serious analysis. They’re all small-minded because they like things you don’t. You, Jon, are above it all. Your towering intellect makes it impossible for you to be wrong—unless, of course, you can throw a line like this to deflect any responsibility for the garbage that comes out of your mouth.
Then Jon gives his incredibly nuanced take on Mechagodzilla in City on the Edge of Battle (2018):
“Fans were apparently disappointed in the last film’s representation of Mechagodzilla as a ‘city’ instead of a stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla. (CITY ON THE EDGE OF BATTLE, 2018.) Also, there was ‘too much talking.’ I guess these small minds are the same people who made those Godzilla puppet-headpiece abominations a success.”
Ah, Jon. What better way to demonstrate your sophisticated understanding of the fanbase than by calling them “small-minded” for not liking the new direction the franchise took? Why even bother engaging with the story or the themes of the film when you can just dismiss the fans as “stupid” and “wrong”? So much easier, isn’t it?
And then we have this breathtaking analysis of Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972):
“Godzilla and useless buddy Anguirus waddle back from whence they came, while humans wave to him as if he’s a special pony or something, ‘Goodbye Gojiraaaaaa!’ Ooooh, Gojira is friend to humans! We glad now we let Amehcans drop bomb Nagasaki and mutate lizard! All message of nuclear abuse forgotten. We reappropriate Gojira be loving savior mankind because either we stupid or audience are…”
Ah, yes. The perfect distillation of your expertise: mockery of the film’s deeper themes and the audience’s ability to appreciate them. Who needs to understand the nuanced layers of Godzilla’s story when you can dismiss it all as some childish fantasy of “good guys” vs. “bad guys”? Just because you refuse to engage with the complexities of the film doesn’t mean the rest of us are “stupid,” Jon. It just means you’re too lazy to even try.
And, of course, we have the all-important cucumber endorsement:
“Your comment has been approved by my team of Flagstaff University Cucumber Kineticists. Which must mean that Dunmore is, in fact, very smart, super strong and extremely good looking.”
Ah yes, the ultimate validation. If it’s been approved by your non-existent “team,” then obviously you must be the smartest and most handsome critic in the room. No one can argue with the cucumber kineticists. This level of self-congratulation is truly awe-inspiring.
Jon, thank you. Thank you for your unique perspective on cinema, fans, and the world at large. You’ve given us all a lot to think about—mainly about how much you’ve misunderstood, and how much you’ve somehow convinced yourself of your own greatness.
A Study in Dunmorian Idiocy: Jon Dunmore’s Cinematic Self-Portrait and the Delusions of a “Film Critic”
Introduction: The Dunmore Dilemma
Jon Dunmore—self-proclaimed film critic and internet raconteur—has spent the better part of his life patrolling the cinematic landscape, delivering remarks and insights with the level of care usually reserved for throwaway internet memes. His approach is often marked by the delusional certainty of a man who believes his personal lack of depth equates to intellectual superiority.
This study aims to dissect the most iconic and representative quotes from Jon Dunmore’s body of work, using them to reveal the fundamental flaws and misunderstandings that define his approach to both film criticism and discourse. What is revealed is not an insightful critic, but rather the overinflated commentary of a man too convinced of his own brilliance to ever notice the vast ocean of ignorance beneath his feet.
The Disdain for the Fans: Ignoring the Audience’s Voice
Jon’s most glaring flaw as a critic is his utter disdain for his audience. While most critics strive to connect with the people who consume their work, Jon prefers to dismiss his readers as misguided, small-minded, or—God forbid—having a different opinion. Take this excerpt, for example:
“Which begs the question: What the hell is wrong with those fans?”
— Jon Dunmore, Godzilla: Final Wars (2004)
In just these few words, Jon attempts to dismiss entire swathes of a film’s fanbase with an air of superiority so palpable that it’s practically dripping off the page. His patronizing tone reflects a critical ego so fragile that the mere existence of fans with different opinions on Godzilla’s mythology threatens his high-minded view of the series.
Jon’s ongoing habit of mocking fans for liking things he doesn’t is almost as tiresome as his attempts to portray himself as the only one who truly understands Godzilla. After all, why engage with the fans when it’s much easier to just mock them for their opinions?
Jon Dunmore: A Paragon of Self-Declared Brilliance
The self-congratulatory nature of Jon’s writing often leads him to make statements that suggest unshakeable confidence in his own genius, even if the logic is questionable, to say the least. This kind of bluster is best captured in this gem:
“Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty.”
— Jon Dunmore
This quote, which Jon uses to defend his opinions against critics, could easily be the punchline of a bad joke, if it weren’t such a glaring indicator of immaturity. Rather than offer anything of intellectual substance, Jon reduces the critique of his film analysis to bravado and a bizarre attempt at humor. It’s as though Jon believes that surviving a “shot in the face”—metaphorically or literally—somehow elevates his critique beyond reproach.
But this doesn’t make Jon an intellectual giant. Instead, it relegates him to the realm of self-deprecating comedy where he hides behind his humor to avoid facing any real intellectual challenge. If you really want to analyze Godzilla, Jon, maybe focus on the actual film instead of how “pretty” you are.
The Godzilla Paradox: Jon’s Inconsistent Analysis
Jon’s personal relationship with Godzilla is one of convoluted emotional confusion. On one hand, he declares himself an expert on the franchise; on the other, he frequently undermines its history and depth with a flippant attitude that’s as superficial as a rubber suit. His analysis of the original Godzilla film is a textbook example of misguided critique:
“People think they know Godzilla. Even you think you know Godzilla. No, you don’t. That goes for me as well. I’ve seen those culty Toho Company crap-fests with the guys in the rubber suits smashing toy planes, and as a youth I was exposed to GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS! (the barbaric American re-edit of the original Toho film, the only version available in English-speaking countries until the mid-80s). So I approached the original Toho GODZILLA/GOJIRA (1954) with the same tongue-in-ass-cheek flippancy I brought to all those B-movie monster mashes that salted our youthful Sunday afternoons. And I wept. I wept because this somber parable of nuclear abuse, this pioneer of monster moviedom, has undergone such a misunderstood legacy on the strength of its inferior successors.”
— Jon Dunmore, Godzilla (1954)
Jon seems to want us to believe that his sudden emotional reaction to Gojira is profound, but it actually highlights a deep misunderstanding of the very film he claims to admire. The fact that he mocked the movie’s legacy until it suddenly moved him to tears suggests a lack of consistent engagement with the historical and cultural significance of Godzilla. To Jon, Godzilla was a joke—until, suddenly, it was important. This whiplash reaction speaks more to his personal journey than any coherent analysis of the film itself.
The Disrespect for Honda’s Legacy and Jon Dunmore’s Intellectual Elitism
Ishirō Honda is often hailed as one of the most influential directors in cinema history, particularly for his work on Godzilla (1954), Mothra (1961), Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964), and other kaiju classics. His legacy is not just in the films themselves, but in the thematic depth, humanism, and cultural critique embedded in his work. He is considered the father of the modern monster movie, using the genre to confront post-war fears, especially the consequences of nuclear warfare—a subject intimately tied to the trauma Japan experienced after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
However, in Jon Dunmore’s study of Honda and his works, the director is stripped of nuance and reduced to a target for Jon’s self-congratulatory ridicule. This pattern of demeaning artists while simultaneously building a false pedestal of righteousness for himself is not only misguided but reflects a deep intellectual laziness—one that fails to engage with the historical, cultural, and artistic complexities that define both Honda’s work and the Godzilla franchise.
Ishirō Honda’s Influence: A Legacy of Cultural Significance
It’s important to understand why Honda’s work matters before evaluating how Jon misunderstands or trivializes it. When Jon claims that Honda “just didn’t give a fuck anymore” during the making of Destroy All Monsters (1968), it reveals an ignorance of both the creative and historical context of Honda’s career. This was not a time when Honda was indifferent to his craft—on the contrary, Destroy All Monsters was meant to be a celebratory conclusion to the early phase of the Godzilla series, as it brought together a number of beloved kaiju, while still attempting to deliver an allegory about the dangers of scientific hubris and the collective threat that humanity faces when it disregards its responsibilities toward the environment and each other.
Jon’s dismissal of Honda as simply “not caring” about his final Godzilla outing ignores the rich storytelling tradition that Honda had cultivated throughout his career. With films like Godzilla (1954), which was as much a cautionary tale about nuclear weapons as it was a reflection on the human spirit, Honda used his kaiju films to express a profound critique of post-war society and its shifting values. By dismissing this aspect of Honda’s genius in favor of mocking the light-hearted tone of Destroy All Monsters, Jon reveals his inability to engage with the deeper messages embedded in the genre—a genre, mind you, that Honda helped to shape in ways far beyond simple monster battles.
Jon Dunmore’s Intellectual Arrogance: The Righteous Man Who Sees Nothing
Jon’s tendency to see himself as the “righteous man” in his reviews, one who bravely fights against the evils of the kaiju genre, is both a comical and tragic stance. In his review of Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975), Jon claims:
“Now, I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to find the themes or moral layers or subtle messages, but that ain’t the truth. The truth is, Ringo: I’m the righteous man, and Toho – is the tyranny that creates evil men…”
This self-portrait as a moral crusader is, of course, absurd. By setting himself up as the lone voice of reason, Jon not only fails to recognize the deeper, complex moral and thematic elements in Honda’s work but also undermines the very notion of criticism. True film criticism involves respectful engagement with the material, understanding the intent behind the art, and discussing its broader cultural impact. Jon’s approach, on the other hand, consists of mockery, reductionism, and self-satisfied declarations that ignore these very complexities.
For example, his dismissal of Toho’s Godzilla films as “unworthy” of serious discussion in Destroy All Monsters—or any other part of the franchise—is a failure of analysis. By reducing Honda’s body of work to “tyranny” and labeling it as a “force for evil”, Jon presents himself as a patronizing outsider, too high above the fray to understand the deeper layers of cultural commentary embedded in the films. Yet it is precisely this cultural commentary that makes Honda’s work so vital. If Jon were truly righteous, he would engage with these themes seriously instead of reducing them to one-liners and shallow complaints.
The Absurdity of Jon’s “Righteous” Critique
The central contradiction in Jon’s critical approach is that he places himself in the position of righteous authority, while simultaneously lacking the intellectual curiosity required to grapple with the films’ true messages. Instead, he resorts to flippant mockery and disdain, which only reveals his insecurity in being unable to confront the layers of meaning that exist within the films he criticizes. This also explains his ongoing tendency to dismiss the work of legendary filmmakers like Honda.
In his response to criticism, Jon inexplicably writes:
“I have never met someone so concerned about my ass before. Thank You for your service.”
and later:
“Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty.”
These statements exemplify Jon’s tendency to deflect legitimate criticism with juvenile humor and snark, rather than actually confronting the substance of the arguments presented to him. At the same time, it underscores the lack of meaningful engagement with filmmakers’ work. Honda’s films, especially the original Godzilla, are laden with serious thematic elements, including reflections on human suffering, nuclear destruction, and international responsibility—themes Jon, by contrast, can only superficially acknowledge.
Instead of engaging with the historical and cultural relevance of the films, Jon defaults to shallow insults. If Jon had taken a moment to explore the context of Godzilla—perhaps he would have discovered the depth of Honda’s directorial vision. Instead, Jon continues to laugh at the films’ themes, dismissing them as “ridiculous” without ever investigating the complex real-world issues they reflect.
The Dogshit Critique: A Reflection of Intellectual Arrogance
In his review of Godzilla vs. Ghidorah: The Three-Headed Monster (1964), Jon Dunmore uses a particularly crude metaphor to dismiss the film:
“I wonder how these Japanese filmmakers and the cult of Godzilla that support them have enough discernment not to put dogshit in their mouths and chew on it like expensive steak. Because someone who cannot tell that this finished film resembles dogshit must surely be starving to death; how are they able to pay their bills or be trusted to stop at red lights?”
This statement, drenched in vitriol and contempt, serves as a prime example of Dunmore’s dismissive and elitist critique. Rather than offering any substantive analysis of the film, he reduces it to an insult, equating the filmmakers’ work with “dogshit”—a lazy and inflammatory metaphor. The sheer disrespect conveyed in this line speaks volumes about Jon’s approach to film criticism, as it reflects his tendency to deride rather than engage.
Cultural and Cinematic Dismissal
By invoking such crude language, Dunmore dismisses Godzilla vs. Ghidorah not just as a bad film, but as something unworthy of serious consideration. His remark paints the filmmakers and their audience as ignorant or misguided, insinuating that anyone who appreciates the film lacks the discernment to see how “bad” it truly is. This is a clear example of cultural arrogance, as it ignores the fact that the Godzilla franchise is one of Japan’s most important cinematic exports—deeply rooted in post-war anxieties, environmentalism, and nuclear concerns.
What’s particularly telling here is Jon’s failure to acknowledge the thematic depth embedded in Godzilla’s legacy. From its inception in 1954, the Godzilla series was conceived as a cautionary tale about nuclear power and its devastating consequences. While it’s easy to dismiss the kaiju genre as merely campy or simplistic, this dismissal fails to recognize the profound cultural significance of the films. In Godzilla vs. Ghidorah, the allegory of nuclear destruction continues, not just in the monstrous battles, but in the questions the film raises about human responsibility and the consequences of tampering with nature.
Intellectual Laziness and the Failure to Engage
Instead of discussing these complex themes, Jon opts to reduce the film to a mockable object. His reliance on crude, dismissive humor—calling the film “dogshit” and questioning the filmmakers’ ability to “pay their bills”—reveals an intellectual laziness that permeates much of his writing. There’s no effort to explore the artistic intentions behind the film or its place in the broader history of cinema. Instead, Jon relies on simple, pejorative language to serve as a stand-in for a real critique.
This approach betrays Jon’s lack of respect for the medium he purports to critique. While a critic has the right to dislike a film, this kind of blanket dismissal without examination or reflection reduces the role of a critic to that of an insult machine, spewing out venomous one-liners rather than offering thoughtful insight. It shows that Jon would rather opt for the cheap thrill of mockery than the intellectual challenge of analyzing why the film might be important to others or why it resonates culturally.
A Lack of Nuanced Criticism
Ultimately, Jon’s “dogshit” critique is a glaring example of how superficial, unthinking dismissals serve to close down the conversation, rather than foster it. The purpose of film criticism should be to engage with the ideas and craft of a film, offering a perspective that helps an audience understand why a film works or doesn’t work on both artistic and thematic levels. Jon’s approach does none of this; instead, it reflects his preference for broad, undifferentiated mockery over nuanced thought.
The Mechagodzilla Critique: A Dismissal of Fan Expectations and Nuance
In his review of Godzilla: City on the Edge of Battle (2018), Jon Dunmore directs a dismissive commentary towards fan reactions to the film’s depiction of Mechagodzilla. He writes:
“Fans were apparently disappointed in the last film’s representation of Mechagodzilla as a ‘city’ instead of a stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla. (CITY ON THE EDGE OF BATTLE, 2018.) Also, there was ‘too much talking.’ I guess these small minds are the same people who made those Godzilla puppet-headpiece abominations a success.”
This quote highlights several flaws in Jon’s critical approach, chief among them being his disdain for the fanbase and his reliance on sweeping generalizations to belittle their perspectives. Instead of engaging with the substance of the critique about the Mechagodzilla design, Jon chooses to dismiss it with a snide dismissal of fans as “small minds.” His immediate reduction of their concerns to simplistic strawman arguments (in this case, criticizing the film for its slower, more dialogue-heavy narrative) is an intellectual cop-out, showing that he’s more invested in mocking fans than in understanding their concerns.
Dismissal of Fan Engagement: “Small Minds”
The first major flaw in this comment is Jon’s dismissal of fan opinion. By labeling the criticism as coming from “small minds,” Jon asserts his own intellectual superiority over the very people whose enthusiasm has made Godzilla one of the most enduring franchises in cinema history. It’s almost as if Jon believes that his “enlightened” perspective—one that sees the film’s more contemplative tone and the conceptual reinvention of Mechagodzilla as valuable—should trump any disagreement or counterpoint from the fan community.
This elitist perspective ignores the fact that fandoms aren’t simply mindless devotees, but people who often bring their own insight and intellectual rigor to their engagement with a franchise. To dismiss them as “small minds” is not only condescending, but it also completely undermines the value of fan discourse, which can often illuminate hidden layers of a film’s themes, message, or subtext that critics like Jon may miss in their haste to make broad judgments.
Reductionism: The “Stupid-Looking Robot”
Another key aspect of this comment is Jon’s reduction of Mechagodzilla’s design to a “stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla.” This is a clear example of reductive critique, where Jon fails to engage with the film’s intentional reimagining of Mechagodzilla as a city-sized, mechanized monstrosity that represents not just the traditional robotic monster, but a more philosophical embodiment of mankind’s hubris and technological overreach. Instead of diving into why the filmmakers might have made this creative choice—perhaps as a reflection on the modernization of kaiju culture or the evolution of Godzilla’s cinematic identity—Jon merely dismisses it with the barest of insults. His “stupid-looking” comment reveals more about his failure to engage with new interpretations of the Godzilla universe than it does about the actual film itself.
Moreover, Jon’s reduction of Mechagodzilla’s design as a “stupid” version of Godzilla ignores the film’s central themes of technological ambition, post-apocalyptic desperation, and the transformation of the kaiju mythos in a new era. By focusing solely on aesthetics rather than the film’s larger thematic context, Jon fails to understand that City on the Edge of Battle is less about visual spectacle and more about narrative depth and the moral consequences of humanity’s creations. This shallow, “stupid-looking” critique showcases Jon’s lack of engagement with the intellectual substance of the film.
Condescension Toward the Franchise’s History
Jon also takes a jab at the earlier Godzilla films, particularly mocking the puppet-headpiece designs of the original kaiju films. He writes:
“I guess these small minds are the same people who made those Godzilla puppet-headpiece abominations a success.”
In this line, Jon belittles the history of the Godzilla franchise and the low-budget creativity that defined its early years. By calling the puppets and suits “abominations,” Jon dismisses the inventive craftsmanship that made those films so iconic. The original Godzilla (1954) and its sequels were not just “puppet-headpiece abominations”—they were groundbreaking in their approach to special effects and were rooted in the socio-political context of post-WWII Japan. These films had a huge cultural impact, creating an entire genre of kaiju cinema and influencing countless filmmakers around the world.
Instead of respecting the legacy of those films and understanding why they remain beloved, Jon reduces them to punchlines in his own self-congratulatory narrative. This is another example of Jon failing to recognize the value of earlier entries in the franchise. His refusal to engage with the historical significance of these films shows his lack of respect for the genre and a tendency to diminish the achievements of filmmakers who contributed to the long-lasting success of the Godzilla franchise.
The Intellectual Elitism of “Fire Hose of Strawman Arguments”
Perhaps the most revealing aspect of this man is Jon’s framing of fan feedback as a “fire hose of strawman arguments” and “misplaced wrath”. Again, rather than dealing with the criticism directly or attempting to understand where fans are coming from, Jon resorts to mockery—casting the fans’ voices as merely irrational outbursts. The use of terms like “strawman arguments” is an interesting choice, as it highlights Jon’s tendency to dismiss opinions he disagrees with rather than attempt to engage with them critically. He quickly labels any dissenting opinion as misinformed or unworthy of consideration, once again undermining the value of fan discourse and relegating them to mere noise.
In truth, many fans of Godzilla: City on the Edge of Battle expressed disappointment with the film’s decision to downplay the traditional giant monster battles in favor of a more meditative, dialogue-heavy plot. This wasn’t a case of misplaced wrath, but a legitimate concern about the tone and pacing of the film. Jon’s reaction—reducing this concern to a strawman argument—shows his inability to take the fans’ views seriously. Instead of considering why these fans might feel alienated by the change in direction, Jon brushes them aside with the ultimate intellectual shortcut: mockery.
The “Right-Clicking Dexterity” Insult
Jon’s Quote:
“Thank You once again, NOYDB, for copying and pasting my review in the Comments section. I am impressed at your right-clicking dexterity with the mouse.”
Analysis:
This comment, ostensibly a humorous jab, is emblematic of Jon’s disdain for any form of legitimate critique. When faced with disagreement, Jon resorts to mocking the methodology of his critics rather than engaging with their actual points. In this case, he reduces the act of quoting his own review to a triviality, undermining the importance of actual discourse. By focusing on something as superficial as right-clicking, Jon avoids confronting the substance of the criticism, deflecting from the fact that his own arguments may be weak, incoherent, or unsubstantiated.
Jon’s response to a reasoned critique is to attack the critic’s methods rather than engage with the content itself, which only reveals his lack of intellectual depth.
The Midi-Chlorian Count: A Misplaced Star Wars Reference
Jon’s Quote:
“You didn’t follow your usual modus operandi of simply copying my words and pasting them in your comments, so I didn’t recognize your midi-chlorian count.”
Analysis:
This is one of Jon’s many attempts to sound clever by invoking arbitrary pop-culture references, in this case, to Star Wars. While referencing midi-chlorians (the pseudo-scientific concept introduced in The Phantom Menace) might seem like a fun quip to some, it does nothing to further his argument. Instead, it reflects a baffling lack of relevance, as he relies on an out-of-context reference to mask the fact that he has no actual response to the critique being leveled at him.
Rather than engaging with the specific substance of the disagreement, Jon reduces the conversation to empty references, which signals a fundamental failure to address real criticism. His inability to recognize the importance of genuine discourse in film criticism becomes all too clear.
The Self-Aggrandizing “I Have Survived Being Shot in the Face” Defense
Jon’s Quote:
“Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty.”
Analysis:
This incredibly strange and self-deprecating statement is Jon’s attempt to deflect any meaningful engagement with criticism by presenting himself as an invulnerable critic—someone who has endured far worse than a mere “firehose of strawman arguments” or critical dissent. It’s meant to convey a sense of unshakable confidence in his own intellectual authority, as if surviving some metaphorical or literal “shooting” makes his opinions immune to scrutiny. This bizarre humor is a classic tactic used by those who are insecure about their arguments. When Jon realizes he’s not adequately addressing a critique, he makes an absurd, attention-grabbing statement like this to deflect, distract, and avoid any further examination of his positions. The deeper truth, however, is that this remark reveals his emotional fragility and inability to engage with criticism on its merits.
The Final Verdict: A Critique of Criticism Itself – Jon Dunmore’s Disengaged Intellectual Arrogance
Jon Dunmore’s approach to Godzilla and other films is nothing short of an exercise in intellectual self-satisfaction, where he casts aside any serious engagement with the content in favor of mockery, disdain, and self-congratulatory dismissal. His repeated attacks on the films and their fans serve as an exercise in intellectual egotism, where the films he critiques are little more than punching bags for his snarky, half-baked observations. Let’s take one final look at how his own words—often laced with sarcasm, disinterest, and lazy humor—reveal the hollowness of his supposed expertise.
In Godzilla (1954), Jon belittles the film’s impact by calling the Toho movies “culty crap-fests” and trivializing the cultural significance they hold in both Japan and global cinema. He undercuts the work of directors like Ishirō Honda, a legendary figure whose innovative storytelling made Godzilla a symbol of post-WWII fear and reflection. Rather than acknowledging Honda’s visionary status, Jon cynically remarks that Honda “just doesn’t give a fuck anymore,” undermining the cultural and historical relevance of Destroy All Monsters (1968), a film that concludes an era in Godzilla history with deliberate poignancy.
Jon’s repeated use of mocking humor is a defensive mechanism—a way to deflect from the fact that he has little substantive critique to offer. His dismissal of the Mechagodzilla film series, for instance, is framed as a grand artistic failure: “Mechagodzilla is re-forged by aliens, and Titanosaurus is mind-ruled by scientists, sent to kill Godzilla, who is ass-raped by moviemakers.” This crude line strips away any possibility of a meaningful exploration of the thematic depth that often runs through Godzilla films, such as the moral and existential dilemmas brought on by technological advancements and human hubris.
Jon, rather than treating the films with the dignity they deserve, seeks to mock their absurdities—and yet, in his own words, he reveals his inability to embrace complexity. He conflates moral righteousness with simplistic, half-baked critiques, like when he asserts, “The truth is, Ringo: I’m the righteous man, and Toho is the tyranny that creates evil men…” Here, he frames himself as a self-proclaimed intellectual martyr, elevating his own perspective while dismissing the work of a studio that helped redefine cinema for generations. His refusal to embrace the multi-layered narratives of the films in question reveals his failure to connect with what Godzilla represents, not just as a series of monster battles, but as an evolving cultural commentary on the perils of unchecked scientific and military power.
Furthermore, Jon’s consistent pattern of deriding fans who disagree with him marks him as a critic more interested in perpetuating his own superiority than in engaging with genuine conversation. His retorts like “Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty,” seem designed to humorously deflect rather than provide any substantive rebuttal to criticism. It’s a defensive posture—a defense mechanism—that aims to render his critics as insignificant by trivializing their arguments and deflecting their legitimate points with hollow, dismissive remarks. His boast about surviving metaphorical “attacks” betrays an underlying fragility beneath his tough exterior, one that finds validation not in addressing the substance of an argument but in shrugging it off with insults.
Finally, Jon’s favorite tactic—**reducing complex, beloved works to nothing more than “dogshit” or “crap-fests”—**is an ultimate failure of engagement. His failure to take Godzilla seriously, to view it with the respect it deserves as both a cultural phenomenon and a symbol of deep, often painful, commentary on humanity, renders his critique meaningless. While he continues to deride the films as “cheap thrills” or “crap-fests,” the world of Godzilla has continued to resonate with audiences and critics alike, growing and evolving with each new iteration, often prompting important conversations about the future of humanity.
In the end, Jon Dunmore’s criticisms fall flat not because of the content he critiques, but because of the attitude he brings to his criticism. His disdain for the films he reviews and his consistent avoidance of intellectual engagement render his critiques pointless, hollow, and ultimately irrelevant. As he mocks fans, ridicules filmmakers, and dismisses entire cinematic legacies with a flick of his metaphorical wrist, Jon misses the one essential truth that has driven Godzilla’s ongoing success: respect for its multifaceted cultural impact, its themes of humanity’s fragility, and its enduring legacy.
The ultimate conclusion of this study, then, is simple: Jon Dunmore’s critiques reveal far more about his own intellectual shortcomings and emotional fragility than they ever do about the films he so eagerly dismisses. The real monster in this equation is not Godzilla—but the critical laziness, intellectual arrogance, and personal insecurities that have led him to perpetuate such vacuous, dismissive commentary.
Jon, aren’t you gonna try to clown your way out of this?
Jon Dunmore,
Ah, Jon, once again I find myself in awe of your unique contributions to the world of film criticism. Every time I read your work, I’m reminded that cinema analysis has been elevated to heights I never even thought possible. It’s almost as if you’ve cracked the code to being the world’s foremost expert on… well, whatever it is you’re talking about.
“Thank You once again, NOYDB, for copying and pasting my review in the Comments section. I am impressed at your right-clicking dexterity with the mouse.”
You truly are a virtuoso when it comes to navigating the digital landscape, Jon. How you manage to extract the finest details from a film like Godzilla or Gamera while also remaining so deeply entrenched in your own ego is a talent that only a select few can comprehend. Clearly, the rest of us are just fumbling around with our inadequate left-clicks.
And this line right here is the pinnacle of intellectual rigor:
“You didn’t follow your usual modus operandi of simply copying my words and pasting them in your comments, so I didn’t recognize your midi-chlorian count.”
Ah yes, Star Wars—what better way to analyze Godzilla than by bringing in a galaxy far, far away? I’m sure the inclusion of midi-chlorians has opened a new door to understanding the hidden meanings behind a man in a rubber suit smashing a toy plane.
Speaking of fandom, your expansive knowledge of daikaiju is just awe-inspiring:
“By the way, being the daikaiju fan you obviously believe yourself to be, please also post your rejoinders on my GAMERA reviews as well. I welcome your fire hose of strawman arguments, misplaced wrath, and uninformed opinions.”
You’re absolutely right, Jon—fans are clearly beneath you. They don’t appreciate the deeper meaning of Gamera, and they certainly don’t deserve the honor of reading your definitive takes on the films. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ve granted us all a modicum of clarity with your profound criticisms.
Let’s take a moment to focus on something that’s clearly been on your mind for a while:
“I have never met someone so concerned about my ass before. Thank You for your service.”
A touching and courageous reflection, Jon. Film criticism and personal vanity, all in one neatly packaged observation. Truly, the entire world of cinema will be forever changed by your deeply introspective thoughts about your posterior.
Also, while we’re on the subject of self-reflection, I can’t help but admire your confidence:
“Many people have shot me in the face. That’s why I’m so pretty.”
Ah yes, that explains it. The countless facial shots have made you a paragon of beauty. Who needs academic credentials or film theory when you have such a unique outlook on life? I’ll make sure to remember this important lesson in film critique: aesthetic beauty is born from facial trauma.
Your insights on Godzilla, however, are even more groundbreaking. Your deep understanding of the cultural impact of the original Gojira (1954) is unmatched:
“People think they know Godzilla. Even you think you know Godzilla. No, you don’t. That goes for me as well. I’ve seen those culty Toho Company crap-fests with the guys in the rubber suits smashing toy planes, and as a youth I was exposed to GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS! (the barbaric American re-edit of the original Toho film, the only version available in English-speaking countries until the mid-80s). So I approached the original Toho GODZILLA/GOJIRA (1954) with the same tongue-in-ass-cheek flippancy I brought to all those B-movie monster mashes that salted our youthful Sunday afternoons. And I wept. I wept because this somber parable of nuclear abuse, this pioneer of monster moviedom, has undergone such a misunderstood legacy on the strength of its inferior successors.”
Clearly, Jon, you’ve arrived at the ultimate conclusion: Godzilla was nothing more than a tragic, misunderstood masterpiece that suffered at the hands of inferior sequels. I’m sure no one else has ever seen through the “B-movie monster mash” veneer of Gojira. Who needs context or history when you can just make sweeping, dismissive generalizations about an entire filmography?
Of course, Destroy All Monsters (1968) holds a special place in your heart for entirely different reasons:
“DESTROY ALL MONSTERS was planned as the last Godzilla film from Toho Company, which is why, we presume, legendary GOJIRA director Ishiro Honda, Just Doesn’t Give A Fuck anymore.”
Nothing says profound analysis like assuming a legendary director “didn’t give a fuck” because he was making a film that didn’t meet your high standards. It’s not about the context of the industry or the pressures of the production—it’s simply that Honda didn’t care. This is the kind of deep dive we’ve all been waiting for!
You continue to show unparalleled insight into the minds of the fans:
“Which begs the question: What the hell is wrong with those fans?”
Yes, Jon, what indeed? How dare they enjoy the Godzilla franchise in all its flawed glory when you’re here to correct their misguided perceptions? Truly, your scorn for their ignorance is a masterstroke in film criticism.
Next, you take aim at City on the Edge of Battle (2018), showing how small-minded fans are for not appreciating the finer details of Mechagodzilla’s design:
“Fans were apparently disappointed in the last film’s representation of Mechagodzilla as a ‘city’ instead of a stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla. (CITY ON THE EDGE OF BATTLE, 2018.) Also, there was ‘too much talking.’ I guess these small minds are the same people who made those Godzilla puppet-headpiece abominations a success.”
I see now—fans should really just stick to rubber suits and simplistic monster battles, as clearly any other creative direction is beyond their comprehension. You, of course, are light years ahead of them in your ability to reject anything that doesn’t fit your narrow vision of what Godzilla should be.
“A sad fact: Original GODZILLA writer-director Ishirō Honda was slated to direct this film, but died in 1993. 1992’s GODZILLA VS. MOTHRA director, Takao Okawara would take the reins. To be honest, Honda’s Godzilla productions (in the Showa series) after his initial 1954 dambuster were ignominious to say the least; the reason his death is so tragic is that in this serious Heisei series, Honda might have redeemed himself. So it is ironic that Okawara directs this Heisei Godzilla like a Showa series yes-man.”
It’s hard to ignore the sheer waste of potential here. Honda—once a towering figure of Japanese cinema, capable of bringing complex social commentary into a genre mostly concerned with rubber-suited monsters—could’ve, just maybe, reclaimed the Godzilla franchise for something more meaningful, something closer to the poignant anti-nuclear parable of the original GOJIRA. But instead, we’re left with this mockery, and it’s clear the franchise was never going to recover. Not from the mindless exploitation that followed, and certainly not from your apathy toward the franchise’s once-sterling legacy
When it comes to Godzilla vs. Gigan, you spare no mercy:
“Godzilla and useless buddy Anguirus waddle back from whence they came, while humans wave to him as if he’s a special pony or something, ‘Goodbye Gojiraaaaaa!’ Ooooh, Gojira is friend to humans! We glad now we let Amehcans drop bomb Nagasaki and mutate lizard! All message of nuclear abuse forgotten. We reappropriate Gojira be loving savior mankind because either we stupid or audience are…”
Ah, yes, irony. The ultimate weapon in Jon’s critical arsenal. Who needs to actually engage with the film’s themes when you can just tear down every emotional moment with sarcasm and mockery?
And this gem, which truly cements your place as the pinnacle of film criticism:
“Your comment has been approved by my team of Flagstaff University Cucumber Kineticists. Which must mean that Dunmore is, in fact, very smart, super strong and extremely good looking.”
I, for one, am certainly relieved to know that your approval process is so scientifically rigorous. You’ve truly created a peer-reviewed standard for everything you write. Surely, your insights will be enshrined in film history.
Finally, your deep reflection on director Ishiro Honda’s later career is simply mind-blowing:
“The tragedy – the utter tragedy – is that the man helming this dungcastle brought the one true GODZILLA to life in 1954. We can see intimations of director Ishiro Honda’s past greatness in some of his ambitious shots, like a spaceship landing on an alien planet with Jupiter in the background. But all the creative shots in the world can’t save him from the hot mess of the wretchedly constructed story. Apparently, after his shining moment in ’54, director Honda would degenerate to Good Company Man, and produce whatever turd the Toho Company put in front of him without question. As proven by this dogvomit. We have to ask ourselves: was GODZILLA 1954 a fluke? Literally, every single other Godzilla movie that Honda worked on – and he worked on many – is a testament to atrocious filmmaking. And again I say – IT’S NOT THE GUYS IN SUITS. It’s the guys in the other suits – the business suits. The executives at Toho Company. And the poor guys in the rubber suits became the most identifiable factors when the other execrable aspects of these movies made them nigh unwatchable.”
This analysis blew me away, Jon. Why bother respecting a director who created one of cinema’s most iconic monsters when you can call his later work “dogvomit” and tear apart his legacy with snide, uninformed cynicism? Surely, this is the pinnacle of thoughtful film discourse.
And to wrap it all up, your take on Godzilla’s Revenge (1969) is the final touch in a career-defining critique:
“Honda would go on to direct the next installment GODZILLA’S REVENGE (aka ALL MONSTERS ATTACK), which seemed like he was giving Even Less Of A Fuck, as that movie was made up of stock footage stitched together with new cheap scenes. Only after that embarrassment would Godzilla be partially redeemed with writer-director Yoshimitsu Banno’s socially-conscious GODZILLA VS. THE SMOG MONSTER. Then four films in succession that marked the nadir of Godzilla’s Showa Series (still using Cookie Monster), until the Heisei Series reboot (replete with vicious new headpiece) in 1984 with THE RETURN OF GODZILLA. It wasn’t too late for Godzilla to regain his cred; it sadly was too late for Ishiro Honda.”
Thank you for this revelation, Jon. I’m sure the legacy of Godzilla will forever be shaped by your tireless work in unmasking the true intentions of every film maker involved.
What Can We Learn from This?
There are many conclusions we can derive from the work of critic and self-proclaimed expert Dunmore:
It’s proof that you don’t need actual expertise to critique a beloved franchise. Just repeat a few catchy phrases like “rubber suits” and “dogvomit,” and suddenly you’re a voice to be reckoned with. Who needs research when you can just let your laziness shine through?
It’s proof that you can have a loud opinion without any logical basis. Dunmore’s reviews are peppered with sweeping generalizations that provide no actual insight into the films he’s criticizing. What’s better than claiming that the entire Godzilla franchise is a “hot mess” because of a few bad films? Who needs nuance when you’ve got all-caps rants?
It’s proof that a lack of self-awareness can make you an “internet personality.” If Dunmore didn’t realize how much of a joke he was making of himself, we wouldn’t be in this position. His ability to mock others while offering nothing of substance is a masterclass in intellectual laziness.
It’s proof that you can tear down something beloved with cheap shots. Dunmore’s approach to Godzilla and other kaiju films involves belittling them with insults about “dogvomit” and “cookie monster,” conveniently ignoring the artistry and historical significance of the films. But hey, who needs respect for culture when you’ve got a keyboard and an endless supply of bitterness?
It’s proof that you can glorify ignorance and still get attention. While Dunmore criticizes the Godzilla franchise for its use of rubber suits and stock footage, he misses the larger picture—how the franchise evolved, its impact on pop culture, and the unique stories it tells. But why bother with that when you can just parrot “it’s a mess” and get your views?
It’s proof that a bitter, self-important critic can’t see the legacy of the creators they so eagerly condemn. Dunmore’s dismissal of Ishirō Honda—one of the greatest filmmakers in the history of Japanese cinema—because of his later work is not just ignorant; it’s a complete refusal to understand how legacies are built. What can we learn from that? We learn that criticizing a legend without seeing the broader picture means you end up as a footnote in someone else’s story.
It’s proof that you can miss the point entirely and still get applause from the wrong crowd. Dunmore’s “reviews” are aimed at the lowest common denominator—those who are happy to nod along with his contrarian rants, all while completely ignoring the deeper meanings of the films he mocks. But hey, why explore a film’s themes when it’s easier to reduce it to “lizards in suits?”
Warm regards,
An “small-minded” admirer of the Godzilla franchise who you’re too stuck in your ass to actually respond to
Ah, Jon Dunmore, the self-proclaimed Godzilla oracle, and the undisputed king of film criticism, as long as you don’t count anyone with a modicum of respect for nuance, context, or historical perspective. Every time I stumble across one of your reviews, I’m reminded that film criticism doesn’t need to be thoughtful, analytical, or even remotely well-informed; it just needs to be loud, brash, and full of unearned self-importance. You’ve turned your opinions into a brand, Jon, and I can’t help but admire the audacity it takes to elevate such petty snark into high art. Let’s dive into this latest masterwork of yours and see what pearls of wisdom you’ve bestowed upon us this time. Spoiler alert: it’s mostly condescension, bile, and the subtle art of dismissing entire filmographies with the grace of a bulldozer.
On Knowing Godzilla:
“People think they know Godzilla. Even you think you know Godzilla. No, you don’t. That goes for me as well. I’ve seen those culty Toho Company crap-fests with the guys in the rubber suits smashing toy planes, and as a youth I was exposed to GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS! (the barbaric American re-edit of the original Toho film, the only version available in English-speaking countries until the mid-80s).”
Ah, yes, Jon. It’s clear now. You’ve seen the “culty Toho Company crap-fests,” so naturally, you’re the only one who truly understands Godzilla. Forget the countless experts, historians, and fans who’ve spent decades analyzing the cultural, political, and environmental implications of these films. You, Jon Dunmore, have cracked the code. The rest of us have been stumbling in the dark, confusing giant rubber monsters for a thoughtful metaphor on nuclear war, while you’ve been there all along, alone, weeping for Gojira’s misunderstood legacy. It’s almost poetic.
“So I approached the original Toho GODZILLA/GOJIRA (1954) with the same tongue-in-ass-cheek flippancy I brought to all those B-movie monster mashes that salted our youthful Sunday afternoons. And I wept. I wept because this somber parable of nuclear abuse, this pioneer of monster moviedom, has undergone such a misunderstood legacy on the strength of its inferior successors.”
Oh, you wept? How moving. A grown man crying over a 1954 monster movie? Truly, Jon, you’ve unlocked the secret emotional core of Gojira that the rest of us missed. It’s clear now that no one has ever really understood the film’s anti-nuclear message quite like you. I’m sure it wasn’t the scholars, historians, and critics who have been unpacking these themes for decades. It took a man like you—someone so steeped in the high art of B-movie trash—to see the deeper meaning. Thank you for enlightening us with your epiphany, Jon. We all needed that.
On Destroy All Monsters (1968) and Honda’s “Decline”:
“DESTROY ALL MONSTERS was planned as the last Godzilla film from Toho Company, which is why, we presume, legendary GOJIRA director Ishiro Honda, Just Doesn’t Give A Fuck anymore.”
Ah, yes, Jon. I see now that Destroy All Monsters (1968) is only a “hot mess” because Ishirō Honda just didn’t care anymore. Forget the fact that the movie was part of a grander shift in the Godzilla franchise, trying to stay relevant to changing tastes in cinema and audiences. No, Jon. It’s far simpler than that: Honda just “didn’t give a fuck,” and all the evolving socio-political factors of the late ‘60s had nothing to do with it. You’ve cracked the case wide open.
“The tragedy – the utter tragedy – is that the man helming this dungcastle brought the one true GODZILLA to life in 1954. We can see intimations of director Ishiro Honda’s past greatness in some of his ambitious shots, like a spaceship landing on an alien planet with Jupiter in the background. But all the creative shots in the world can’t save him from the hot mess of the wretchedly constructed story.”
Oh, Jon, your “insight” into Honda’s career is truly heartbreaking. You’ve decided that every film Honda made after Gojira was “atrocious,” that his entire body of work—Godzilla and beyond—was just a series of mistakes. Forget the fact that Honda’s later films tackled issues like pollution, war, and environmentalism. No, Jon, it’s far more compelling to reduce him to “a Good Company Man” who “produced whatever turd Toho put in front of him.” Your disregard for history and context is only matched by the depths of your condescension.
On the Fans:
“Which begs the question: What the hell is wrong with those fans?”
Ah, yes, the fans. The unwashed masses who dare to love these films without your superior understanding. How quaint. How utterly beneath you. Apparently, the fans—those small-minded creatures—were disappointed in City on the Edge of Battle (2018) because Mechagodzilla wasn’t a “stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla.” Of course, we just don’t get it, Jon. You do. After all, how could anyone fail to see the brilliance of a city-sized Mechagodzilla? Or the fact that the movie was about more than just mindless action? It’s clear that the fans are just too small-minded to appreciate these intricate details.
“Fans were apparently disappointed in the last film’s representation of Mechagodzilla as a ‘city’ instead of a stupid-looking robot version of Godzilla. (CITY ON THE EDGE OF BATTLE, 2018.) Also, there was ‘too much talking.’ I guess these small minds are the same people who made those Godzilla puppet-headpiece abominations a success.”
You’ve truly cracked the code, Jon. The fans are a bunch of ignorant fools who can’t appreciate the deeper layers of Godzilla. How can they not understand that a city-sized robot is a stroke of genius, and how dare they criticize a film for “too much talking”? Of course, you’re the only one who sees the brilliance in all of this. The rest of us are too busy making “puppet-headpiece abominations” successful. We should all be thanking you for gracing us with your superior taste.
On Honda’s “Degeneration” and Godzilla’s Revenge:
“The tragedy – the utter tragedy – is that the man helming this dungcastle brought the one true GODZILLA to life in 1954… Apparently, after his shining moment in ’54, director Honda would degenerate to Good Company Man, and produce whatever turd the Toho Company put in front of him without question. As proven by this dogvomit.”
Oh, Jon, you’ve really outdone yourself with this one. Honda’s entire career after 1954? Just a string of dogvomit films that you—the true Godzilla expert—can’t possibly stomach. Forget about all the other aspects of Honda’s filmmaking career; the man went from hero to “Good Company Man,” producing “whatever turd” Toho put in front of him. Because that’s the simplest explanation, right? No room for nuance here.
“Honda would go on to direct the next installment GODZILLA’S REVENGE (aka ALL MONSTERS ATTACK), which seemed like he was giving Even Less Of A Fuck, as that movie was made up of stock footage stitched together with new cheap scenes.”
Yes, Godzilla’s Revenge (1969) was, without question, a deeply divisive film. But instead of engaging with its thematic elements—like childhood trauma, escapism, and the power of imagination—you simply dismiss it as “cheap” and claim Honda just “gave even less of a fuck.” You could’ve acknowledged that Godzilla’s Revenge was, in fact, a film that tried to bring Godzilla to a new generation, but instead, you took the low road: call it “dogshit,” mock its use of stock footage, and move on. Subtle.
On His “Enlightening” Responses to Criticism:
“Thank You once again, NOYDB, for copying and pasting my review in the Comments section. I am impressed at your right-clicking dexterity with the mouse.”
Jon, you truly have mastered the art of condescension. Here, you’ve reduced a fan’s entire argument to right-clicking. Surely, this is the pinnacle of intellectual discourse. You’ve destroyed their argument without ever addressing it, which is, I’m sure, your definition of winning. What a brilliant strategy.
“You didn’t follow your usual modus operandi of simply copying my words and pasting them in your comments, so I didn’t recognize your midi-chlorian count.”
Your wit knows no bounds, Jon. It’s so clever to reference Star Wars in your critique, as if that somehow elevates your point. Clearly, only someone with a vast understanding of film can insult their critics in such a precise, niche manner.
“I have never met someone so concerned about my ass before. Thank You for your service.”
You see, Jon, when you run out of meaningful rebuttals, you just turn to the ancient art of deflection. Nothing says “I’m intellectually superior” like making a quip about someone’s “concern” for your posterior. What a masterclass in debate.
“Your comment has been approved by my team of Flagstaff University Cucumber Kineticists. Which must mean that Dunmore is, in fact, very smart, super strong and extremely good looking.”
A peer-reviewed comment section? My, how humble of you, Jon. You’ve surrounded yourself with a team of Kineticists, no less, to validate your every word. I can’t think of a more prestigious way to confirm one’s intellectual brilliance.
Conclusion:
If anything, Jon Dunmore’s Godzilla reviews have taught us some valuable lessons.
It’s proof that loud, arrogant opinions are often mistaken for deep insight. You’ve managed to turn your dismissive sarcasm into some kind of high art. The problem is, your “critique” never actually engages with the films. Instead, you simply belittle everything that doesn’t align with your narrow vision.
It’s proof that mockery is easier than thoughtful analysis. Instead of exploring what makes Godzilla tick—culturally, historically, or thematically—you’ve decided to take the easy route: mock, ridicule, repeat.
It’s proof that ignorance can be dressed up as expertise. You may think you’re the Godzilla authority, Jon, but all you’ve done is shout from a soapbox, hoping people mistake your venom for truth.
In the end, Jon, you’re not a critic. You’re just a guy with a microphone, desperately trying to make sure everyone hears your opinions, no matter how uninformed they are. Congratulations on being loud and obnoxious, though. You’ve certainly made an impression.
Warm regards,
A “small-minded” admirer of Godzilla who laughs at your absurdity.
No but seriously why can’t there be opinions that aren’t yours in this world? Is this your delusional power fantasy website or something?
Plz make these available.
Well, my guess is that you’re the literal embodiment of Dunmore’s twisted mind and all that….
Why aren’t all of the other films “hella fun to watch”? I’d call most of the Godzilla Films “hella fun to watch”, why not the older ones? Oh wait, they don’t use cgi! Totally reasonable!