Kaiju Critical: An Introduction to Godzilla
Why Godzilla?
In the American pop consciousness, Godzilla holds a particular reputation. One for absurd melodrama, rubber suits , and model cities. Casual conversations about Godzilla tend to devolve into surface chatter about the poor special effects or English dubbing, setting them strictly in the realm of fodder for Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Godzilla, and Japanese kaiju films in general, have been relegated to juvenile entertainment, no doubt assisted by its association with Power Rangers, Saban’s reworking of Japan’s other major tokusatsu export, Super Sentai.
Defenses of Godzilla feel almost as dismissive, laughing at anyone who would try to find worthwhile stories or characters in the spectacle of giant monster wrestling matches.
Godzilla is rarely given the leeway or historical import that films like King Kong, Jason and the Argonauts, Universal Monsters, or even Flash Gordon are given. This might not be a surprise, given how many viewers may only be aware of the reworked American versions of Godzilla films, which often remove nuance and tone down the harsh criticism of America . After all, would the America of the 1950’s be able to handle the story of Japan dealing with the terror of the atomic bomb?
In a retrospective of the original Godzilla film critic Brian Merchant notes:
(Godzilla) is an unflinchingly bleak, deceptively powerful film about coping with and taking responsibility for incomprehensible, manmade tragedy. Specifically, nuclear tragedies. It’s arguably the best window into post-war attitudes towards nuclear power we’ve got — as seen from the perspective of its greatest victims.
He goes on to remark:
Right from the beginning, we’re treated to not-so-subtle metaphors about Godzilla. We’re told almost immediately that the beast has been awakened by H-bomb tests. Then, Godzilla’s footprint is monitored for radiation, and it’s off the charts. Lodged within it is an ancient trilobyte, long thought extinct — nuclear power has unleashed something terrible and primal. Something that should not be.
Indeed, watching the original film is a harrowing experience. While its successors may have taken a larger range of tone, the original stands as a film about the horrors unleashed by man and the anxiety of a post-war Japan.
Godzilla may have evolved into a massive pop media enterprise, its films can still give us windows into the concerns and attitudes of Japanese people towards their state and the continued reverberations of the post-World War II period.
Japan is a country that continues to suffer what scholar Akiko Hashimoto calls “the long defeat”, a process that continues to relitigate and reawaken the cultural trauma of the post-war period, keeping it fresh across multiple generations. Throughout Godzilla’s history we can see generations attempt to wrestle with this trauma (sometimes literally), with Japan taking the role of victim, reiterating its pledge to peace, and even coming to terms with its role as a perpetrator in the war.
Godzilla’s influence reaches beyond monster movies and metaphor. Its use of suitmation and models would go on to influence not only the kaiju genre, but the entirety of Japanese special effects. Without Godzilla there would likely be no Ultraman, no Power Rangers, no Kamen Rider. For those of us used to the immediacy, technicality and budgets of modern Hollywood effects, these “unrealistic” productions might seem absurd, but the practical methods and costuming often give the films a sense of weight missing from computer generated sets.
Tokusatsu itself is strongly rooted in theatrical arts such as Kabuki and Taishū engeki , which themselves feature striking production and dramatic flourishes. This comes full circle, with Super Sentai shows often retranslated into theatre productions themselves. With this understanding, we can approach tokusatsu, and by relation, kaiju films as what they are: a uniquely Japanese form that often taps into the playful and dramatic appeal of genre fiction and pulp.
They’re best when understood in the same way we think about productions like Star Trek: with a genuine enthusiasm for the genre, appreciation for camp, an understanding of their historical and thematic context, and an awareness of each film’s intent.
And of course, it helps if you’re into giant monster wrestling matches.
