Godzilla! King of the Monsters!

This article was first published in Mars’ Hill Newspaper, volume 27, issue 8. You can read the full issue here.

In the 2014 American reboot of Godzilla, the titular monster is framed from the perspective of the insignificant humans trying to stop his path of carnage through a constant haze of smoke and debris. He is depicted as an existentially terrifying force of nature that dwarfs humankind in scope and scale. This treatment of the character is very much in line with his original onscreen appearance where he served as a metaphor for the devastation the atomic era caused to Japan. However, this is not how the famous monster has been usually treated on the big screen. In fact, in many of his early appearances, Godzilla is a rather cartoonish character who frequently gets involved with human drama, alien plots to take over the world, other horrifying beasts from the depths, giant robots, and his own bratty son.

Between 1954 and 1975, Japanese film production titan Toho released the first 15 Godzilla films, collectively referred to as the franchise’s “Shōwa era.” These films run the gamut from politically charged action films to conspiracy thrillers, from big, brainless monster showdowns to light children’s entertainment. As the series goes on, the depiction of the main monster slowly transforms from a ruthless, city-crushing brute to an ally of humanity in their struggle against other, more powerful antagonists. I have developed a strong love for these films and all of their strangeness, whether it be the dour Godzilla (1954) or the ridiculously campy Destroy All Monsters (1968). These films are a fascinating look at culture and society and how cultural symbols and icons change over time, as Godzilla goes from an atomic metaphor to Japan’s fun-loving saviour.

The Godzilla series has never been more self-serious than it was in the original film, Godzilla, directed by Ishirō Honda. Released not 10 years after the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the film is a potent metaphor for the damage of the atomic bombings and the political situation of Japan at the time. The imagery of the film echoes a lot of war-time images of radiation burns and ruined cities and much of the plot concerns the political and social ramifications of such an impersonal terror on the lives of everyday citizens. For Honda, this was no accident, as he served as a soldier in World War II and bore witness to the atomic atrocities firsthand. But Honda’s powerful vision was quickly dismissed in Godzilla Raids Again (1955), a pretty brain-dead sequel with a rushed production and a half-baked story.

Godzilla was revived after seven years in hibernation in King Kong vs. Godzilla (1962), a smash-hit success that jump-started the rest of the Shōwa era. Honda returned to direct and, although the film was not as overtly political as the original, it does still feature the same sort of catastrophic violence that the first utilized. Honda directed the follow-up Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964). It was a crossover with the Mothra series, another successful kaiju (essentially, films that involve giant monsters) franchise.

Godzilla in these first four films is constantly portrayed as an antagonist. He is an obstacle for the human characters and the empathetic King Kong and Mothra to overcome. It was not until 1964’s Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster and 1965’s Invasion of the Astro-Monster, both helmed by Honda, that Godzilla first begins to be seen as a hero, albeit a reluctant one. The films also become more ridiculous with multiple hostile alien forces quickly established and the action shifting continuously from terror to entertainment.

In the next two installments, Godzilla embraces his moniker of “hero” more than he ever has before. Jun Fukuda takes over as director from Honda with his “Godzilla goes to an island to fight sea monsters and evil corporations that want to destroy the environment” duology comprised of Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966) and Son of Godzilla (1967). Fukuda’s style is much lighter compared to that of Honda. He focuses more on the big, spectacular fights and adds a lot of strong kinetic energy to the carnage that keeps the films constantly exciting.

Promotional image from Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla. Image via Toho.

The first nine films come to a head with Destroy All Monsters (1968), once again directed by Honda, which was originally designed to serve as the series finale. The film is perhaps the campiest, yet relentlessly earnest, of all of the Shōwa films. The film embraces a spirit of international unity and cooperation with many of Honda’s personal anti-war, pro-peace sentiments apparent throughout the film. While it revisits familiar territory with its alien invasion storyline, the larger budget means that Destroy All Monsters is just about the biggest, most bombastic film in the bunch with almost every monster from the series thus far making an appearance. It also, like all good Godzilla movies, ends with the three-headed King Ghidorah returning to Earth for about a minute before the entire monster squad curb-stomps him.

And then there is All Monster Attack (1969), a made-for-children clip show of the previous films that ends with the moral of “if you are being bullied, bully harder.” Most try to forget this one.

The next three Godzilla flicks are largely stand-alone affairs with Godzilla showing up to stop whatever new monster has come to plague Japan. Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971), directed by Yoshimitsu Banno, features a fish-themed psychedelic dream sequence, musical numbers, existential fears about environmental collapse, and some cool animated segments. Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972), directed by Fukuda, revolves around an amusement park that is actually a cover-up for a—you guessed it—alien plot to take over the world. And then there is Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973), which is a pretty unfortunate downgrade with cheapened visual effects and a forgettable story. By now, the once-villainous nature of Godzilla has been completely forgotten as he takes on a friendlier public image. As Toho continually slashed each entry’s budget, they also pushed to make the films more child friendly, a decision which Honda resented.

The Shōwa era closes out on the Mechagodzilla duology. The first, Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974), the last Godzilla film to be directed by Fukuda, sees Godzilla face the only opponent worthy of his strength: himself. There are some stunning action set pieces to behold here, and this is also one of the few films where the human plot is just as exciting and captivating as the kaiju action. The series ends with Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975), Honda’s last Godzilla film. It features a dinosaur monster, another alien invasion, sweeping romance, and great tragedy. These films can be rather metatextually seen as Godzilla coming to terms with the creature he once was. The heroic monster must fight the embodiment of his worst tendencies and history of violence. While this was the least financially successful film of the Shōwa era, causing the series to go on hiatus for 10 years, if any one of these films were to be the finale, Terror of Mechagodzilla is a good choice.

So there you have it, a whirlwind tour through the Godzilla franchise’s Shōwa era. There is much to digest and unpack within these films, making this the briefest summary of their themes and history. Watching the once-terrifying symbol of atrocity become reclaimed as a nationalistic hero is a truly fascinating process. The Shōwa era films are a campy delight. I have come to form a deep admiration for the Godzilla of times gone by. Maybe, if you give them a chance, this magical collection of oddball stories will find its way into your heart.