Colossal

Colossal (2016)
Voltage Pictures / Route One Entertainment / Union Investment Partners / Sayaka Producciones / Brightlight Pictures
Director: Nacho Vigalondo


Reminder: This blog contains plot spoilers, possibly in the main body as well as in the plot summary section. Read on at your own risk!


This film debuted in September 2016 at the Toronto International Film Festival. It didn’t win any awards, but it was picked up for cinema release in the United States, which eventuated in April 2017. It was distributed by Neon – not the streaming service owned by Sky and based in New Zealand, the other Neon – which has successfully distributed several Cannes Palme d'Or winners in the years since, but which was then only three months old. Colossal was, in fact, the very first film they distributed. I don’t think it was marketed very well, although the fault may be ignorance on my part. The fact that Toho sued over early press around the film that compared it by name with Godzilla probably had some bearing on its subsequent low media profile. It tanked at the box office, but to judge by online reviews and comments among the kaiju fan community, it’s generally well thought of.

The remarkable thing about Colossal is that it takes the principle that giant cinematic monsters aren’t just there for their own sake but symbolise something – a principle frequently overlooked in American monster movies and embraced in Japanese kaiju eiga – to a personal extreme. The gigantic creature and robot that terrorise Seoul don’t represent existential real-world threats or some significant recent event, but the faults of the individual characters. For what I think might even be the first time, the skyscraper-sized forces of destruction are external manifestations of destructive behaviour on the human, personal level – Gloria’s alcoholism and Oscar’s control freakery.

The difference between the two is that Gloria is essentially self-destructive, at least up until the point when she discovers she’s also responsible for hundreds of South Korean deaths. I get the impression that she was content enough with her life in New York, and even potentially in Mainhead – it’s only when she realises she’s harming other people after all that she’s driven to go sober and take responsibility for her actions.

Oscar, by contrast, thrives by controlling, possessing and harming others. He’s clearly delighted to learn that he has the power of life and death over the people of Seoul – it’s something that not only gives him more power directly over other people but gives him another means to control Gloria less directly, by playing on her guilt and by threatening to go on the rampage if she doesn’t do what he wants. The relationship between Oscar and Gloria is transparently meant to put us in mind of more conventional abusive relationships – the stalking, the gifts, the insinuations, ultimately the coercion and the violence. Gloria is fortunate enough that a never explained supernatural force has granted her the power to confront Oscar and bring home the consequences of his behaviour.

This wouldn’t be the first overtly feminist monster movie, although I can’t think of very many others. (The Heisei era Godzilla and Gamera films are pretty good on female representation, but that’s not quite the same thing.) There’s Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman (1958) – a straightforward revenge fantasy which also centres on an alcoholic woman and a manipulative, abusive man – and its 1993 remake – in which Daryl Hannah literally grows as a person by asserting herself. Colossal belongs to the era of the “NotAllMen” hashtag and meme, which started to take off on social media in 2013. This was a way of satirising men who get all defensive, sometimes in bad faith and sometimes obliviously, in response to women’s complaints about institutional misogyny. The foundational example was a tweet in which the female writer complained about how men habitually interrupt her and was interrupted by an anonymised man who asserted that not all men do that. Colossal also makes something of a point out of the notion that Oscar’s behaviour isn’t anomalous.

Oscar is clearly a model of toxic male behaviour. But Gloria’s ex-boyfriend Tim doesn’t come out of this too well either – having dumped Gloria for pretty good reasons, instead of moving on he continues to police her behaviour and attempts to reinsert himself into her life when it suits him to do so. His standoff with Oscar in the bar presents us with two controlling men in parallel, offering more of a comparison than a contrast. Joel doesn’t fare too badly, appearing as an attractive and slightly naïve alternative romantic interest for Gloria, but in the final analysis he’s subordinate to Oscar, quietly enabling him from the sidelines. The best of the men in this story, as far as I can judge, is probably Garth, who disappears from the film after Oscar actively forces him out of the bar with insults.

The plot has its problems. It’s too fantastically convenient that Gloria’s old home, which she says her parents have been renting out (apparently at a distance, since they’re nowhere to be seen), should have been completely vacated just in time for her to move back in. Assuming that that’s true, of course – but if not, who’s been keeping the old place spotlessly clean? It’s not clear where Gloria finds the money for a plane ticket to South Korea – surely Oscar isn’t paying her that much for her bar work? The ending requires a bit of a leap of faith from the viewer, but is explicable – the earlier scene with the helicopter shows us that there’s some sensory connection between Gloria and her avatar. But how does she pinpoint the right spot? And how much of Mainhead and its surroundings has her giant creature demolished? Mind you, these are the sorts of convenience that films and TV programmes tend to be riddled with, so perhaps we shouldn’t take too much exception to them.

The cast is small but fairly stellar for a giant monster movie. Character actor Tim Blake Nelson as Garth is probably the least surprising of the big names. Anne Hathaway was a huge catch for this film – she was reportedly drawn to the script for artistic reasons, having reached a point in her career where she could afford to pick and choose. She’d recently been Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises (2012), won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Les Misérables (2012) and starred in Interstellar (2014), all significant cinematic performances. Her leading roles go as far back as her debut on film in The Princess Diaries (2001) and on American TV in Get Real (1999-2000). Jason Sudeikis, meanwhile, plays against type as the abusive Oscar – he’s better known for his comedy roles. He did a stint as a Saturday Night Live writer and regular, won some supporting film roles then got his film breakthrough starring in Horrible Bosses (2011) and its 2014 sequel. He’s probably best known internationally for co-creating and starring in the sports-themed feelgood comedy/drama Ted Lasso (2020-23), which is a world away from his performance here.

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