After last summer's unceasing barrage of destruction, I'm certainly not the only one suffering from special effects exhaustion. Godzilla should be more of the same, and it often is. When the buildings start falling, they fall repeatedly, incessantly, and in monotone. The film is dark, marked by accent colors that highlight the din in often startling ways. At times, it's boring to watch, and there's something about the dull chaos of the action sequences that makes it all feel at arm's length. We're watching, but we're not participating. We're understanding, but we're not feeling. This isn't the same as the fun, harmless destruction of the Toho B-movies. Instead, Godzilla seems to force a weird type of unfeeling and beg our disinterest in the human elements of the story. Where we're introduced to a happy family unit in the film's opening scenes, and made to read Bryan Cranston's half-mad scientist in a particular way, the film takes pains to repeatedly redirect our focus. Characters we think could be protagonists are killed off or removed, actors we recognize are forced into minor supporting roles, and the closest thing we have to a 'hero' is Ford Brody (Aaron Taylor-Johnson): the milquetoast white-boy military hero to end all milquetoast white-boy military heroes. That Ford is so bland, so devoid of a personality is both a massive misstep for the film as well as an interesting possibility.