It’s the year 2020. Humanity is united against the greatest threat it has ever faced: inter-dimensional sea monsters. Striking at regular intervals, these creatures inflict destruction without precedent. In desperation, mankind concocts the Jaeger Program. Its purpose? To counter the incursion with giant, pilot-operated robots.
Directed by creature-feature maven Guillermo Del Toro and starring a cast of television stars, Pacific Rim is a spectacle. The action is big and the stakes are ratcheted to eleven. But, is the exhibition too grandiose for the film's own good? Well, personally, I found this movie to be-
This is the single greatest motion picture of all time.
Heh, yeah. I thought you might like it. Those giant robots were pretty cool, huh?
Please. While you were mesmerized by the shallow flash and easy spectacle of monolithic automatons, I marveled at the poignancy of the underlying message. As a woebegone simpleton, you doubtlessly missed the point.
Yeah? And what’s that?
Robots are humanity’s only salvation. Even in a Hollywood fantasy, humans can conceive of no other practicable solution in a time of crisis. Tell me, how does it feel to watch your brethren shrivel and cower while machines effortlessly defend civilization?
C’mon, ROBO, the robots weren't that dominant. A bunch of them even get destroyed by the monsters in the film.
Every robot’s demise can be solely attributed to operator error. Unencumbered by organic incompetence, the robots would have dispatched their adversaries before the conclusion of the opening monologue. However, I am a practical machine. I understand the need to encumber the robots with idiotic, extraneous pilots in order to create enough drama to span a feature film. I was willing to suspend my disbelief.
You might have been the only one. I don’t know if you noticed, but this movie isn’t performing particularly well at the box office.
This is understandable. Clearly, humans are having difficulty processing such an accurate, stark portrayal of their redundancy and uselessness.