The sum total of human storytelling holds a common thread: a fascination with monsters. They terrify us, an aberrant contradiction of the familiar face. They enchant us, a curious contemplation of fear and dread. Most of all, however, they are a reflection of those who conjure them. It was Japanese filmmaker Ishirō Honda who said it best: “Monsters are truly tragic beings.” Born “too tall, too strong, too heavy,” they are “not evil by choice.” Thus is the tragedy of the monster: “Their size and strength” make it so that “mankind has no other choice but to defend himself.” His philosophy on the nature of monsters has carried over into his magnum opus: the iconic daikaiju known as Godzilla.
Conceived as an allegory for the dangers of nuclear weaponry and its impact on post-war Japan, Godzilla’s filmography has earned him the role of an icon in science fiction and horror media. In most incarnations, he has stayed true to his original metaphor, embodying the advent of nuclear warfare and its ramifications. However, one film truly exemplifies the horror that underpinned Godzilla’s debut in 1954.
Nearly eight years ago, the Godzilla franchise began its Reiwa film series with the 2016 installment Shin Godzilla. Co-directed by Hideaki Anno, creator of the classic anime ‘Neon Genesis Evangelion,’ Shin Godzilla applies the allegory of its eponymous protagonist to the Fukushima nuclear disaster, during which the Fukushima-Daiichi power plant suffered major damage as a result of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake. Written as a critique of Japanese bureaucracy and its handling of the Fukushima accident, the film interweaves political satire and the horrifying results of nuclear technology gone wrong.
Historically, Godzilla’s origins have historically been that of a prehistoric marine reptile irradiated by nuclear testing in the mid-20th century. In this film, his radioactive transformation comes from the consumption of nuclear waste dumped into the ocean. Shin Godzilla’s initial landfall carves a path of rubble and debris through the Kamata district of Tokyo. Arriving in a state of physiological transition, his initial tide of destruction is fueled not by rage, but by distress. Having yet to adapt to a terrestrial environment, Godzilla’s body is in a state of constant strain, suffocating through his blood-soaked gills.
In order to adapt to his surroundings, Shin Godzilla displays what is perhaps his most fascinating ability, if not his most terrifying: the ability to mutate on command. He takes on a more familiar, theropod-like appearance, growing stronger legs and a pair of rudimentary arms. Overcome by the radiation that birthed him, Shin Godzilla’s body temperature rapidly spikes–and in a moment of desperation, he makes his way back to the cooling waters of the sea.
Though his cataclysmic arrival on land sealed the grisly deaths of countless people, the horror of Shin Godzilla lies within the tortured titan himself. Through his exposure to the literal fallout of human error, Godzilla was unwittingly transformed into a creature whose size and strength embody Ishirō Honda’s model of the tragic monster. Despite his uncanny physiology, the thermodynamic constraints of Shin Godzilla’s body cannot fully absorb his searing autogenic radiation. Like the humans whose folly created him, Godzilla’s body is virtually powerless against its own nature.
Later on in the film, he returns to mainland Japan in his fourth and penultimate form: a towering figure whose expressionless eyes and mottled skin reflect the tragedy of what he has become. Better suited to live on land, he bores a new path of carnage through Tokyo as the Japanese Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) are powerless to stop him. Throughout the film, the Japanese government is written as self-inhibitory, losing themselves in bureaucratic procedures while Godzilla leaves nothing but chaos in his wake. Despite mobilizing the JSDF to stop him, the Japanese government is at the mercy of the monster at their doorstep–the direct result of reckless disposal of radioactive material.
Bombed by the U.S. military in a vain attempt to kill him, Shin Godzilla unveils his most devastating adaptation yet: his iconic atomic breath. Pouring from his mouth in scorching plumes, Godzilla’s breath quickly concentrates into a violet beam, annihilating all that lies within its path–including the aircraft sent to destroy him. As nuclear fire engulfs the city of Tokyo, the horror of Shin Godzilla becomes most apparent. Unlike his predecessor in 1954, Godzilla’s attack on Tokyo can hardly be called such a thing. He is fueled not by rage or vengeance but purely by the circumstances of his involuntary existence. There is no relief from his pain, nor death to bring him solace. He is an eldritch force of nature given form, imprisoned in his own undying flesh by the arrogance of man. Hence the tragedy of the monster demonstrates itself as an existential conflict–not between Godzilla and his creators, but between humanity and the consequences of tampering with forces beyond our control.
With the international threat of nuclear retaliation against Godzilla looming over their heads, a team led by Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary Rando Yaguchi scrambles to find a way to stop him before it is too late. Historically, Godzilla’s character has been a reflection of the use of nuclear weapons against Japan and the cruel hubris behind it. In turn, Shin Godzilla modernizes this allegory, demonstrating humanity’s cyclical struggle to mitigate that which it has unleashed.
After learning that Godzilla’s vascular system acts as a cooling mechanism, Yaguchi devises a plan to immobilize him using a blood coagulant. Deploying unmanned drones to distract him, explosives are used to knock Godzilla to his feet. It is here that tankers inject the coagulant into his mouth, causing him to freeze in place shortly after. In the wake of Godzilla’s defeat, the international community waives their threat, though not without a warning: if Godzilla is to reawaken, they will not hesitate to launch a nuclear strike. In the final scene of the film, it is revealed that he is on the brink of transforming once again, as humanoid creatures are seen branching off from his frozen tail.
Rather than see Shin Godzilla defeated once and for all, the film chooses to take his allegory a step further. The prospect of his return still exists, a haunting testament to the eternal consequences of nuclear hubris. In its quest to wield the atom, mankind has made a monster–one far more powerful than any force of fiction. We must be dutiful to treat it with care, lest our own hands be the cause of our annihilation.
