Written by Steven Collier
On November 3, 1954, a legend was born. An unlikely icon, the great beast emerged from the depths of the Pacific and proceeded to lumber across the world, dominating all in its path. It was neither hero nor villain. It had no real back story, no motives, not even any lines, save for a single world-rending roar. Yet, despite its utterly extrinsic nature, Godzilla went on to become one of the most beloved characters the world has ever known.
Six long decades have passed since the original release of Gojira (Honda, 1954), yielding 29 additional movies. The most recent film, Godzilla (Edwards, 2014), was only just released in May. This unprecedented legacy makes Godzilla not only the longest running franchise in cinematic history, but the most prolific as well. Today, Japan reveres the monster as a national treasure. Tokyo is home to multiple statues erected in tribute to the “King of the Monsters”, one standing over 20 feet tall. In America, Godzilla is one of the precious few fictional characters honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. It costarred alongside Charles Barkley in Nike ads. At the 1996 MTV Movie Awards, Patrick Stewart even presented the monster with a Lifetime Achievement Award. It is almost impossible to overstate the cultural impact that Godzilla has wrought, as the creature’s influence continues to resound across geographic and generational divides.
Six long decades have passed since the original release of Gojira (Honda, 1954), yielding 29 additional movies. The most recent film, Godzilla (Edwards, 2014), was only just released in May. This unprecedented legacy makes Godzilla not only the longest running franchise in cinematic history, but the most prolific as well. Today, Japan reveres the monster as a national treasure. Tokyo is home to multiple statues erected in tribute to the “King of the Monsters”, one standing over 20 feet tall. In America, Godzilla is one of the precious few fictional characters honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. It costarred alongside Charles Barkley in Nike ads. At the 1996 MTV Movie Awards, Patrick Stewart even presented the monster with a Lifetime Achievement Award. It is almost impossible to overstate the cultural impact that Godzilla has wrought, as the creature’s influence continues to resound across geographic and generational divides.
Godzilla statue at the Tokyo Midtown Garden in Roppongi, circa 2014.
Yet, for many critics and viewers, the appeal of Godzilla and daikaiju eiga (Giant Monster Films) remains a mystery. They are all too often brushed off as pure schlock, whose continued existence is explained by little more than their comparatively inexpensive production costs and cult appeal. However, this view completely overlooks the nuances which make daikaiju eiga unique amongst the horror genre.
Unlike their western counterparts, Japanese monsters tend to have a great deal more meaning attached to them. They are avatars of far more specific concepts than generic fears of the unknown. This is perhaps never better illustrated then in their own movies, when the military inevitably comes to realize that humanity's weapons are useless against the beasts. There are no silver bullets or cloves of garlic that will ward off Godzilla. A few meager biplanes would not dislodge him from a perch atop the Empire State Building and, unlike Jason Vorhees, Godzilla is not content to exclusively hunt down deviant teenagers in secluded, woodland cabins. No, in every portrayal Godzilla is an unstoppable behemoth. And its wrath is nothing short of apocalyptic.
It is that precise element which grants the franchise its universal appeal. One has only to look at Godzilla, towering over miniature skyscrapers, to recognize the creature’s role within its mythology. Godzilla is not merely big. Godzilla is the biggest presence within its narrative, eclipsing even its own world. In all 30 Godzilla movies, there has yet to be one feature where Godzilla was the main character. Godzilla is instead an omnipotent, omnipresent force, around which the actual characters must perpetually navigate.
Unlike their western counterparts, Japanese monsters tend to have a great deal more meaning attached to them. They are avatars of far more specific concepts than generic fears of the unknown. This is perhaps never better illustrated then in their own movies, when the military inevitably comes to realize that humanity's weapons are useless against the beasts. There are no silver bullets or cloves of garlic that will ward off Godzilla. A few meager biplanes would not dislodge him from a perch atop the Empire State Building and, unlike Jason Vorhees, Godzilla is not content to exclusively hunt down deviant teenagers in secluded, woodland cabins. No, in every portrayal Godzilla is an unstoppable behemoth. And its wrath is nothing short of apocalyptic.
It is that precise element which grants the franchise its universal appeal. One has only to look at Godzilla, towering over miniature skyscrapers, to recognize the creature’s role within its mythology. Godzilla is not merely big. Godzilla is the biggest presence within its narrative, eclipsing even its own world. In all 30 Godzilla movies, there has yet to be one feature where Godzilla was the main character. Godzilla is instead an omnipotent, omnipresent force, around which the actual characters must perpetually navigate.
Godzilla in the midst of his maiden rampage, circa 1954
However, what gives the Godzilla franchise its variety is that the nature of that force has changed to reflect the culture of its time. In the 1950’s, Godzilla was undeniably a Shinto representation of the split atom’s unbridled fury, manifesting itself as a vengeful dragon. Ishirō Honda, director of the original Gojira, described the beast as "war incarnate." Like so many Japanese civilians, Godzilla was meant to be another victim of the atomic bomb. His every footfall was supposed to appear tortured, his rough hide completely encrusted in keloid burn scars. Godzilla was originally envisioned as a nation's anguish made flesh.
Godzilla showing his more fun loving side, circa 1965.
However, despite its bleak origins, Godzilla was quickly re-imagined as a significantly more upbeat character. Throughout the 1960’s and 70’s, it was alternately portrayed as a more generic force of nature and occasionally even as humanity’s benevolent guardian. Such were the Showa years, when the franchise quickly gave way to an extremely campy tone and changed Godzilla from the great antagonist to something of a defender of the human race, constantly battling more malevolent entities. Cyborg chickens with buzz saw bellies, cockroach gods from Atlantis, even mechanical doppelgangers of Godzilla sent from beyond the stars, no threat was too great for humanity's giant, radioactive benefactor. Beyond the world of the silver screen, nuclear power was becoming commonplace. Power plants were popping up everywhere and the atom was now considered our friend, a dangerous volatile friend, but a friend nevertheless. Godzilla, its original avatar, changed accordingly.
Godzilla in the act of literally devouring a nuclear reactor, circa 1984.
In the mid-70’s, a flagging box office forced the franchise to go dormant for over a decade. However, true to character, Godzilla would not stay dead. The leviathan went back to its darker roots in the aptly titled: The Return of Godzilla (Hashimoto, 1984). This film began the Heisei series, a reboot of the entire franchise. In it, Godzilla is treated as a menace that has not resurfaced since its original rampage during the 1950’s. Gone is the jovial giant, who once fought alongside the people of Earth. When Godzilla resurfaces, it is as the destroyer of worlds, come to once again decimate a more modern and technologically advanced Tokyo, which foolishly believes itself invulnerable to such a dated threat. Unsurprisingly, they are quickly proven wrong. The fearsome beast wastes little time in reducing Tokyo to irradiated rubble. Audiences were taken by this radical change of character, and the series was soon back on it's city-stomping feet.
In the wake of the Cold War, the threat of nuclear annihilation had become a grim, but consistent, part of 20th century life. Additionally, events like the incident at Three Mile Island had greatly soured the public's opinion of nuclear energy. The atom had become something of an antihero, as its benefits were increasingly dwarfed by its enormous, and terrifying costs. Atomic power had become a double-edged sword, a poisonous necessity for millions who used it to sustain their daily lives. Once again, Godzilla’s nature mutated to reflect these contemporary attitudes.
Throughout the 1990’s and the early 2000’s, Godzilla was depicted as a mostly ambivalent force. No longer the vindictive destroyer of cities, nor humanity’s savior, he became something akin to a hurricane: a great, uncaring storm that would indiscriminately obliterate anything in its path, despite whatever safeguards Japan might put in place. Godzilla continued to occasionally save humankind from all manner of malevolent abominations, but its actions were never spurred on by any sense of altruism, and always ended with ludicrous amounts of collateral damage. Humanity was once again at odds with Godzilla, constantly struggling to devise new means to halt the monster's destruction.
In the wake of the Cold War, the threat of nuclear annihilation had become a grim, but consistent, part of 20th century life. Additionally, events like the incident at Three Mile Island had greatly soured the public's opinion of nuclear energy. The atom had become something of an antihero, as its benefits were increasingly dwarfed by its enormous, and terrifying costs. Atomic power had become a double-edged sword, a poisonous necessity for millions who used it to sustain their daily lives. Once again, Godzilla’s nature mutated to reflect these contemporary attitudes.
Throughout the 1990’s and the early 2000’s, Godzilla was depicted as a mostly ambivalent force. No longer the vindictive destroyer of cities, nor humanity’s savior, he became something akin to a hurricane: a great, uncaring storm that would indiscriminately obliterate anything in its path, despite whatever safeguards Japan might put in place. Godzilla continued to occasionally save humankind from all manner of malevolent abominations, but its actions were never spurred on by any sense of altruism, and always ended with ludicrous amounts of collateral damage. Humanity was once again at odds with Godzilla, constantly struggling to devise new means to halt the monster's destruction.
Godzilla: bigger than ever, circa 2014.
It was not until Edwards' Godzilla that the iconic saurian was again portrayed as an even remotely heroic figure. Godzilla was now interpreted as the last guardian of a prehistoric world, aggressively defending its domain: Earth. Any creature foolish enough to challenge its sovereign rule was swiftly meted out the same terrible wrath, be they human or fellow colossi. Having cheated death for eons, it is an ancient beast that will stop at nothing to ensure its continued survival. Its only goal is self-preservation, and it pursues it relentlessly. Cities are leveled and armies reduced to naught but ash in Godzilla's endless quest to retain its position as Earth's apex predator. Consequently, Godzilla views humanity as little more than a minor nuisance, and as such it sees no reason to actively engage them. Despite its entirely self-serving actions, the modern Godzilla still makes for a compelling, albeit profoundly unorthodox Byronic hero.
Godzilla may have originally been imagined as the embodiment of war, but in 2014, the creature unarguably represents an even-more universal concept: Supreme Power. Whether battling Japan’s military or golden, three-headed, time-traveling space dragons, Godzilla always endures. There is no power that can dethrone the King of the Monsters. Godzilla is the great equalizer. When audiences see crowds of terrified civilians fleeing Tokyo, they see CEO’s in solidarity with vagrants, lifelong enemies setting aside their differences so that they may feud another day, and governments reaching across political divides to desperately try to survive a common threat. Cowering under Godzilla's looming shadow, all are humbled and laid low. Be it in 1954 or 2014, audiences the world over have beheld the great beast and marveled at the terrifying truth it represents:
"History shows again and again
How nature points up the folly of men."
-Blue Oyster Cult, Godzilla
Godzilla may have originally been imagined as the embodiment of war, but in 2014, the creature unarguably represents an even-more universal concept: Supreme Power. Whether battling Japan’s military or golden, three-headed, time-traveling space dragons, Godzilla always endures. There is no power that can dethrone the King of the Monsters. Godzilla is the great equalizer. When audiences see crowds of terrified civilians fleeing Tokyo, they see CEO’s in solidarity with vagrants, lifelong enemies setting aside their differences so that they may feud another day, and governments reaching across political divides to desperately try to survive a common threat. Cowering under Godzilla's looming shadow, all are humbled and laid low. Be it in 1954 or 2014, audiences the world over have beheld the great beast and marveled at the terrifying truth it represents:
"History shows again and again
How nature points up the folly of men."
-Blue Oyster Cult, Godzilla
Six Decades of Destruction: Vivat rex.
