Spoiler warning ahead:
I have been obsessed with Godzilla for my entire life. This is barely an exaggeration, as I saw my very first Godzilla movie with my grandfather when I was three, and have been obsessed ever since. Before I could even talk, I was demanding more Godzilla by pointing and crying until my grandpa put the movie back on, so I could watch it again and again (I was a late talker). That movie was the 1956 American re-edit of the first Godzilla movie, which was fittingly titled: Godzilla, King of the Monsters. Although it is underwhelming now, especially considering what movie it was a re-edit of, at the time I had seen nothing like it. A monster that big, that terrifying, with imagery that harrowing; there was just something unmistakably fantastical about the experience. I probably watched it a dozen times before my Uncle Mike gifted me my very first Godzilla toy, and from then on, I was permanently hooked. As soon as I began talking, I asked for Godzilla toys and movies. As quickly as my parents would buy them, I watched the movies, starting with the Showa series on VHS tapes and DvDs my grandpa had lying around, and continuing through the Millenium era. I watched every single movie except for the Heisei films by the time I was five. By the time I was 10, the Heisei series had been included in that list, leaving not a single piece of official Godzilla films unwatched. And with each year, I expanded my figure collection from a couple, to a couple dozen, to a couple hundred. Every single chance I got, I asked for more Godzillas. Once I started making my own money, I bought Godzillas, and now my collection is counted not in the tens, or hundreds, but in the thousands. Perhaps my obsession is unhealthy, but I don't care. Just looking at Godzilla makes me happy in a way that no other piece of media, or even thing, compares to; it is the purest form of a special interest I have ever had. It is probably obvious to those in-the-know, but I am autistic, and my obsession of choice is Godzilla. Although choice is the operative word here, because in a sense, I didn't choose, my grandpa did. He decided to put on Godzilla, King of the Monsters at just the right time for my 3 year old brain to latch onto it, and become uncontrollably obsessed for decades to come. Sure, I have other interests, other hobbies, but nothing compares to Godzilla. Thus, I arrive at the reason I'm writing this review series: I love Godzilla more than anything else (excluding people and pets, that is), and I want to highlight my love through a comprehensive review series of every single Godzilla movie, piece of media, and fan creation that I can track down, starting with the mainline movies, then the short films, and the books, and then finally the fan creations, and ultimately, toys. By the end, there will be hundreds of documents that fully encapsulates my feelings towards this franchise that has consumed most of my thoughts for these nearly 25 years of life that I've existed. I hope that my obsession brings my readers enjoyment, and perhaps inspires others to write about their own obsessions, as I would love to read them! With that said, this is my review of the very first Godzilla movie, and what until recently had been my favorite.
Releasing in 1954, Gojira (directed by Ishiro Hondo) is more than a monster movie; it is a cry into the void. Born from the recent memory of nuclear devastation, Hondo brought onto screen an allegorical zoomorphism in the form of an ancient creature baptised in the fires of nuclear testing, rising up from the depths on a revenge-fueled rampage against humanity. In this way, Godzilla is a punishment for our flagrant use of weapons of mass destruction, yet more than that, Godzilla represents the pain and terror felt by Hondo and so many other Japanese people who either suffered through or felt the effects of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. These are not original ideas, as there are monster movies that have been written about as extensively as the original Gojira, yet all the same these thoughts are essential in any understanding of this monumental piece of Japanese fiction, and culture. Gojira cannot be separated from a post-nuclear Japan in the same way that Stalker (1979) and so many other post-war films cannot be separated from their country and era. It, and so many other films of this time, were made to cope with the horrifying nature of a post-world-war-world; one in which humanity had shown itself capable of atrocities never before seen, or even conceived. In fact, the start of the movie itself features an at-the-time graphic depiction of a nuclear disaster that had happened only a few years before the film's release, the bombing of the Lucky Dragon No. 5. Where the end of WW1 brought with it optimism for a future freed from wars as terrible as the last, a post-WW2 world is one where history had proven that optimism to be misplaced. For the Japanese in this post-war world, an unthinkable level of death and destruction had torn the foundations of their life and comfort up by the root, and left barely anything to rebuild. Because of this, Gojira is a haunting film, one which features less monster-mashing-action, and more scenes of children crying for their mothers, as doctors treat their radiation burns, a choir of children almost pleading for the pain to stop. From this perspective, there are few scenes in film history which properly capture pure terror than the following scene. As a warning, what you are about to see is disturbing. If you do not want to witness the fictional imminent death of a family, including children, do not hit play on this video.
I feel this scene speaks for itself, so I will not add to it here. Know that this scene captures the tone of the first Godzilla film perfectly, and shines a light on how shocking it is that the series went in the direction that it did. Although I am not upset by this change of direction, as it has allowed for both serious and silly films to exist simultaneously, it is all the same unfortunate to some extent that the sheer terror of the first film is somewhat undermined by its sequel. Although I will discuss this further in that review, it is all the same important to note how powerful the original Godzilla movie is as an isolated feature. Godzilla is unstoppable; none of the weapons at mankind's disposal even slow Godzilla's assault on Japan, not even the very bombs that brought Japan to the brink of collapse do enough to destroy this being of pure rage. In this moment, the characters of the film experience the powerlessness felt by thousands of other Japanese citizens in the wake of the bomb. Nothing could stop Godzilla once he's reached landfall, in the same way that nothing can stop the bomb once it detonates. Yet, it is through human innovation and creativity that a solution may be found: a weapon even more dangerous than the bomb. The scientist, and one of the best characters in Godzilla history, Dr. Daisuke Serizawa, develops the weapon known as the Oxygen Destroyer, which breaks down oxygen molecules found not only in water, but in all organic life, and effectively tears whatever is consumed by it down to the molecular level. This fantastical weapon is described as being capable of destroying an entire city if it were used on land, and would render all of Tokyo bay lifeless if used. However, nothing but a weapon capable of bringing an end to life itself is strong enough to end a creature like Godzilla. But in creating this weapon, Serizawa had doomed humanity in a way that calls images of the famous speech by Oppenheimer following his development of the Atom Bomb. Initially resistant to the concept of using his super weapon out of fear of what it would be used for after Godzilla is killed, Serizawa ultimately relents, if for no one else but his unrequited love Emiko. Yet he could not allow the weapon to be used again, so after he developed a single instance of it, he destroyed all data relating to its creation. And thus, all that stood between a safe Japan and total annilation is the deployment of a weapon unlike anything the world had ever seen. After the weapon is deployed, and Godzilla cries out in pain, Serizawa cuts the line that would pull him back to safety, ending the last source of information on the oxygen destroyer: his own mind. Serizawa sacrifices himself so that no other Oxygen destroyers could be made, because he knows the implications of a world where any governments have access to a weapon even more existentially destructive than even the atom bomb. In this way, Serizawa's death in the real world would be for nothing, as in a few short years, we humans would develop bombs that make the Oxygen Destoyer itself appear like nothing more than a mere stick of TNT. All the same, Serizawa's sacrifice acts as a bittersweet end to a film that consistently was more bitter than sweet; sure, Godzilla is dead, and Japan is safe, but Serizawa too is gone, and the paleontologist Dr. Yamane points out the terrifying reality that other Godzillas may still resurface in the event that nuclear testing does not stop:
The film features a subplot involving the forbidden romance of Hideo Ogata and Emiko Yamane, but this is honestly the weakest part of the movie. It isn't bad, and adds a much needed reprieve from the pain of the rest of the movie, but all the same is relatively under developed compared to the dynamics between Emiko and Serizawa, who are engaged to be married, not out of love, but familial obligation (although Serizawa does love Emiko). All the same, this contrast between passionate love and familial obligation ties the romance subplot into a distinctly Japanese perspective, further connecting the film to its country of origin. That being said, the romance between Emiko and Ogata was never an important part of the movie for me, as I found Serizawa to be far more interesting.
There is an additional important wrinkle to consider character-wise, and that is the father of Emiko, Dr. Kyohei Yamane. A Paleontologist, Dr. Yamane is summoned after the description of a giant dinosaur-like organism was seen, along with the remnants of a trilobite, an organism that should have been long extinct. Dr. Yamane acts as an emotional throughline for the debate as to whether Godzilla should be killed at all, as Godzilla had immense durability towards nuclear radiation; having survived the direct blast of an atomic weapon. Thus, Dr. Yamane believes that Godzilla should be studied, as his immense power could prevent further nuclear devastation from harming humanity as it had before. Yet ultimately his desire to protect humanity using the tool that destroys it fails, as Serizawa ends Godzilla's life.
This somber end acts as a glorious beginning to the Godzilla franchise, defining itself as something all the same horrifying, and brilliant. Even in considering the somewhat poorly aged special effects, Godzilla himself is a fantastic piece of creature design, managing to be remarkably intimindating, and undeniably cool. This coolness does somewhat undermine the terror, but does work well to establish a sillouette that could later be used to fantastic effect in the following films. In this way, Godzilla is one of the most flexible characters in fiction, able to transform from sheer horror and sadness into sheer jubilation. It is in this flexibility that Godzilla's remarkable staying power is found. As one of the oldest fictional characters still appearing in frequent films, TV shows, books, and video games, Godzilla is also one of the greatest characters ever brought to the screen, and Gojira is one of the greatest films ever made. If you have not yet watched the movie, I implore you to stop what you're doing and watch it right this moment, as it is one of the most important, and greatest pieces of art made in the last 100 years. Although you will need to suspend your disbelief for some effects that have not aged well, the content of the film itself is remarkable, and I cannot recommend it enough. Please, do yourself a favor and watch it as soon as possible.
Godzilla is now and always will be the best, and Gojira (1954) is one of the greatest depictions of him.