I’m sure I would have enjoyed "Godzilla vs. Kong," the fourth installment in Legendary Pictures’ “MonsterVerse” franchise, in a movie theater. The film comes complete with all the stylistic hallmarks of a competent action movie: flashy set pieces, a booming orchestral score and a simple plot — all flavored with the joyous lack of pretension typical to these types of productions.

It is without a doubt a technical accomplishment, featuring some of the most immensely detailed visual effects ever put to screen. It indisputably delivers on its promise of spectacular monster fights, devoting about a third of its two-hour runtime to Godzilla and King Kong’s globetrotting brawls. Yet, as I sat on my living room couch watching these two computer-generated behemoths duke it out on HBO Max, I felt absolutely nothing. 

That wasn’t for lack of interest. As I dimmed the lights in preparation to watch the film, I was buzzing with excitement. Over the course of the pandemic, I’ve learned to take shelter in the irreverence of escapist media like "Godzilla vs. Kong.” The potential of temporarily forcing the existential dread inherent to modern living out of my mind to ogle gigantic beasties for two hours was tantalizing. I wanted to revel in the mindless fun that director Adam Wingard and his team had created. 

I could not. 

Like its titular giant ape is in human society, "Godzilla vs. Kong" is out of its element on the average TV. Without the grandiose scale and insular nature of the movie theater to keep me mesmerized, the film’s flaws became overwhelmingly apparent. I’m fully aware that monster movies aren’t known for their complex plots, but one can typically expect at least something to connect them to the chaos unfolding onscreen. 

"Godzilla vs. Kong" cannot muster even that. Instead, it chooses to parade around a series of two-dimensional characters so shallow that their only function is to ferry audiences from one monster fight to the next. 

This plot would be perfectly acceptable, however, if the action scenes had any substance, but they too fall victim to the film’s paper-thin screenplay. For a movie about gargantuan prehistoric monsters hell-bent on clobbering each other into submission, one would assume that stakes would be pretty high. Yet, outside of an offhand mention of some kind of ancient rivalry between the two titans in the first act, the film offers nothing more. 

As a result, moments that should be exhilarating are rendered weightless. By the film’s conclusion, the astonishing visual effects that commanded my attention at the beginning had degraded into a meaningless slurry of light and color. I had completely lost interest. 

It’s truly a shame, because there is so much to like here. Ben Seresin’s cinematography endows Godzilla and Kong’s tussles with a fantastic sense of scale; Tom Hammock and Owen Paterson’s production design is delightfully indulgent; Erik Aadahl’s sound design alone would’ve been enough to win me over. If the passion of these undeniably talented creatives had been equaled by the film’s writers —Terry Rossio, Michael Dougherty, Zach Shields, Eric Pearson and Max Borenstein — this could have been one of the greatest monster movies in recent memory. 

But alas, that passion is not what the audience was given. While often visually impressive, "Godzilla vs. Kong" is nothing more than a bland studio product. I personally wouldn’t recommend it, but if you are interested and happen to have an HBO Max subscription, I’d advise that you scrub through it and watch the action scenes. Nothing else is of any interest.