“Godzilla: King of the Monsters” has a sense of wonder. After I left the screening late at night and emerged onto a dark city street at nearly one a.m., I wanted to look up rather than straight ahead, just in case Ghidorah the three-headed dragon or Rodan the giant pterodactyl came screaming down from the clouds. That's not the same thing as saying this is a perfect movie. It's far from that. But its errors fall mainly under the heading of failing to get out of its own way, and its imperfections are compensated by magnificence.