Last December saw the very limited theatrical release of GODZILLA MINUS ONE. It just became streamable late last week, for a decent price of $5.99 (plus tax, at least through my basic cable plan my husband and I continue to hang onto). The movie was well worth the wait. Finally, there’s a high quality kaiju screenplay, about the first kaiju, no less.
This Godzilla origin story reboot draws selectively from both versions of the classic film GODZILLA (the original 1954 one and the 1956 re-edited version for English speaking audiences, which features Raymond Burr and was retitled GODZILLA, KING OF THE MONSTERS!). However, it departs from assorted details of this original canon, such as not having events take place in the 1950s but at the very end of WW II and the next two years afterward. Connecting the narrative more directly to the Second World War and then subsequent nuclear bomb testing by the U.S. government in Bikini Atoll presents a viscerally stronger and more meaningful narrative in this latest Toho and Robot Communications production.
Like in the beginning of the earlier movies, the story opens on Odo Island, where Godzilla, as he is called by the natives there, makes his initial on-screen appearance. In this screenplay, however, Odo Island hosts a Japanese military base during the War. Kamikaze pilot Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki) lands there to secretly avoid his assigned mission. There, he soon meets the title character, in smaller (though still quite large), pre-nuked form, and survives. Filled with shame and survivor’s guilt, Shikishima soon returns right after the War to his hometown of Tokyo, an adult orphan, his parents and most neighbors around him having been killed when U.S. forces firebombed the city. He takes a starving young woman (Minami Hamabe as Noriko Ōishi) and baby (not biologically hers) into his partially ruined family home. Kōichi eventually secures a job on a minesweeper boat, shortly after which intense action involving Godzilla resumes.
The balance of Godzilla screen time and high octane action on one hand with character development and dialogue on the other gracefully occurs in GODZILLA MINUS ONE. Filmed in a richly saturated, vintage-like color tone seemingly akin to sepia but not exactly that, the imagery builds with tension in 1940s Tokyo and its still-traumatized residents from war towards the appearance of a vicious, roaring behemoth wreaking further havoc in their lives. He is himself a force of nature horrifically mutated by nuclear bombs created for war, and by America, no less, implied offscreen here as an enabler or even bringer of doom. Whenever Godzilla is not on screen, however, a compelling narrative unfolds about a handful of people: the conflicted Kōichi Shikishima, who keeps surviving to his increasing chagrin; Noriko Ōishi and Akiko (Sae Nagatani), the little girl she raises with Shikishima; Shikishima’s neighbor Sumiko Ōta (Sakura Ando), whose husband and three children were killed in the War; and a small group of sympathetic men the protagonist meets and bonds with on a minesweeper. This boat and its crew become part of the initial force to try and stop Godzilla from attacking Tokyo.
A powerful bond of enmity develops for Shikishima with Godzilla, whereby the guilt-ridden hero loses so much, first from war and then from this monster of the sea, who is basically an extension or drawing out of the War. The handsome Ryunosuke Kamiki dramatically acts his part, perhaps seemingly overly so but I think not. Big expressions for big feelings are called for in the face of such monstrosity and pain, the likes of which nuclear holocaust evokes. A beautiful instance of this occurs when Shikishima falls to his knees, destruction all around him. He roars in anguish at Godzilla, rainfall immediately following. I sensed inspiration from ancient Japanese theater, such as Kabuki possibly, informed this moment, even if only subconsciously for writer and director Takashi Yamazaki. He, along with Kiyoko Shibuya, also created the superb visual effects, and at a comparatively low budget, the entire production costs being equivalent to about twelve million dollars in U.S. money. The acting is compelling and deeply moving in places, very much helped along by largely good writing. I will say that there is at least one instance of unbelievability/lack of credibility with the plot in which suspension of disbelief felt particularly challenging. However, I was able to let the matter pass. Well-meaning Yamazaki was clearly aiming for a certain feeling state to be evoked in us viewers, including that of surprise.
I’m glad to see this movie won an Oscar for Best Visual Effects. My one minor critique is that Godzilla’s muzzle is a bit stubby for my liking. The much earlier productions portrayed his face as fuller, the longer mouth area able to fit more rows of fangs. But, this is perhaps more a quibble of personal taste for me, who has been fascinated with Godzilla since five years of age, now over fifty years ago. He is otherwise adequately hulking and ferocious here, with radioactivity making his spines rise up and glow, which, along with his ferocious looking face, are shown closeup on more than one occasion, so powerfully intimate. As has been written about elsewhere, Godzilla is a representation of nuclear destruction and the dangers of human technology gone awry. In this production, whenever the giant reptile spews white-blue fire, the end result is a nuclear explosion, driving home to us viewers what the Japanese of Hiroshima and Nagasaki endured in August of 1945. We must never forget. War is like a monster, sewing chaos in its wake, and even more so with nuclear weaponry. Humans partially created Godzilla, leaving it to humans to contain if not destroy him. Godzilla is also a symbol of primal rage linked to a dark urge to overpower and destroy, lurking quietly and distantly (or not so distantly) in many– if not all– of us, this animalistic, paradoxical aspect of life. Only by banding together to protect the sacredness of living and fostering life can such enormous danger be overcome, both that outside of us and from within ourselves. And that is what we viewers witness in the movie, a positive message conveyed that harmful mistakes from the past, including those made by a country’s government, should not be repeated.
On one level, GODZILLA MINUS ONE smacks of Japanese patriotism, which is fine. But, the narrative and tone go well beyond that theme into more universal human concerns, as explained above. I appreciated the script’s focus on grass roots, private citizen problem-solving, whereby Japan’s government is largely bypassed, yet it supports from behind the scenes, lending resources, such as a few old battle ships, to the cause of destroying Godzilla. There is a message here that the federal government can’t be fully trusted and relied upon, which is politically debatable yet so often true to varying degrees over any number of issues. I do think that any cause which brings citizens together for positive, life-affirming reasons is good. And that’s certainly what this movie presents.
Yamazaki and everyone else who created this wonderful, minimally flawed, kaiju project elevated the material to more than just a monster movie. I’m thrilled to have lived long enough to see a now seventy year-old icon of the big and small screen– a personal favorite of mine– portrayed so thoughtfully within a fleshed-out story that beautifully and allegorically explores major themes in life, such as war, love, family, friendship, honor, community, culture, and other domains of the human condition. Finally, justice to Godzilla has been done.
The Practical, Fanciful Pagan 