My co-pilot was away in France for two weeks. I had a hard time of it, from breaking too much glass in the kitchen to a light-fixture bulb exploding, nearly causing a house-fire to warning staff at my favourite local bar of an unhinged customer who, when the cops apprehended him, discovered a gun on him.
During my capricious two weeks, I juggled full-time work, running the homefront with a teenage son and two fur-children (a thirteen-year-old short-haired grey-and-white cat and a pomchi). To blow off steam, when I was not joining team-effort karaoke with a fine friend and belting out life-affirming songs with new and interesting folks, I was watching Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, which I rented (yes; you read that right, rented) from Movies 'N Stuff.
As always, I should thank Marc Bernardin for praising it on Fatman Beyond with Kevin Smith. His recs always steer me right, this time towards glorious, perilous adventure in lands where there be monsters.
It's the absolute (atomic?) bomb-—shot gorgeously, with stunningly beautiful or quirkily interesting players. Monarch is shamelessly pulpy, globe-trotting to locales that include deep dives into catacombs and the outskirts of Monster Island itself. The cast sells it, hard, toggling between the 1950's and present day. Not a weak actor among them. For each new local, each player has a stylish new outfit.
Oh—and the monsters, meted out at a good pace, are always also gorgeous. Comic-book rockstar writer Matt Fraction, chief executuve producer, has crafted a compelling, jaw-droppimg, epistolary and Lovecraftian thing, here. Couldn't take my eyes off it.
It's amazing work for Godzilla or rubber-suit monster lovers to lose themselves in. Now lemme get back to it as I recover from karaoking.
