I love a good reveal. Done right — think Harry Lime being outed by a splash of light on that shadowy, cobblestoned Viennese street in Carol Reed’s The Third Man (1949), or Colonel Kurtz’s features slowly emerging from the murk as he cools himself with a splash of water in Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979), or a 200-foot alien tripod rising from a town square in Spielberg’s War of the Worlds (2005) — they create indelible moments of tension, wonder, surprise and unease.
The Art of the Reveal: Godzilla Edition
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Just when you though this blog couldn’t possibly get any better, we’re back with the long-awaited sixth edition of this continuing series examining the boozy, late-night discovery of cinematic mediocrity and/or hidden treasures back in college. Don’t fret: I’ve got about 20 more of these things in me before I switch the theme to “B-Movie Cult Classics Unearthed Watching Late-Night HBO in Bachelor Pad in Lincoln Park.”
Not to be unkind, but with such mediocrities as 
