by Kenny Cooper
SPOILER NOTE: It’d be rather hard to talk about this movie properly without talking about major plot points in it. Thus, this review will discuss the climax, at this point in time, I doubt prior knowledge of the end will damper your experience.
Photo source: http://www.scene-stealers.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/05dvd1650.jpg
When you think of Godzilla, I’d imagine a couple things could come to mind. You could be thinking of a big iguana chasing Ferris Bueller, Leon the Professional, and Moe Szyslak through New York City. You might think of a big rubber green Sesame Street-looking thing slapping down a big guy in a monkey suit pretending to be King Kong. You might even think of Perry Mason. Point being, you probably don’t see Godzilla as originally intended. You most likely see the creature as most of the franchise has depicted it; a silly joke of a movie series that’s worth little more than big, dumb fun. That’s a tad unfortunate, because the original 1954 movie happens to be much more than that.
When the original, uncut, Ray Burr-less version of the movie begins, it starts with an alarming boom of thunderous footsteps and a pitched scream as the wonderful theme starts. I really recommend listening to the theme below. I’m not a music expert like Roshanna is, but the theme of this movie is really one of my favorites. It’s so elegant and melodic and yet booming and monstrous at the same time. It really sets the mood for the rest of the film; you can feel it even in the credits that this isn’t going to be some light-headed romp involving Godzuki and a big sea crab. This is a straight up movie through and through.
Video/audio source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6qAIaqK3_Q
Like most good monster movies, the tension doesn’t come in what you do see; it’s in what you don’t. The opening sequence is a good example of this. A ship wades quietly in the ocean when the sailors notice the nearby water getting choppier and brighter. Suddenly, the action takes a sharp turn, the sailors scream at some unknown thing bearing down on them and before you have time to understand what’s going on, the ship’s half under water boiling in atomic fire. The scenes in the beginning are very quick and to the point as well, allowing only what information is needed before moving ahead which gives the pace a sense of urgency and frenzy. It takes quite a while before we see the famed king of the monsters and, when we do, it’s often a quick cut here, an indirect shot there that adds to the mythical status of the creature much in the same way Spielberg would do with Jaws 20 years later. These opening moments also highlight a theme peppered throughout the film of the clash between traditional Japan seen in the villagers who see the monster as a mythic god of destruction and the emerging modern Japan seen in the military and scientists. The two sides of this movie often seem to be from entirely different worlds, representative of a Japan still not sure of what to be in the wake of the Atomic Age.
Enter in Professor Yamane played by Japanese film legend Takashi Shimura. Yes, the star of Seven Samurai and Rashomon plays the scientist in a Godzilla movie. He’s quite good at it, too, bringing a pose and seriousness to the role that could have fallen into silliness as the 4,538 other Godzilla movies can demonstrate. Yamane leads the expedition that brings the audience the first visual look of the monster; foreshadowed by the findings of radioactivity in one of the towns Godzilla has rampaged through. This radioactivity, as well as its source– the Hiroshima/Nagasaki bombings– is a well-known part of the Godzilla mythos yet it is here that it is most distinctly used. Radioactive monsters would be commonplace in 1950′s film though it is here that is used as a warning against nuclear proliferation. Furthermore, though men like Stanley Kubrick and even Chuck Jones would warn against the dangers of a nuclear arms race, it is most poignant through the lenses of the Japanese, the first victims of the atomic bomb.
This perspective is unique among most Cold War parables. When the action ramps up and Godzilla is truly unleashed, the destruction is raw and uncompromising. The Japanese filmmakers had known an act of destruction the size of 100 9/11s and were gutsy enough to showcase it to global audiences in a way few films would. Dr. Strangelove simply ends with the bang as does Duck Dodgers; Godzilla lingers on the mayhem and inhumanity of it all, never letting us forget for a second that humanity and its destructive nature was the cause of it all. In later films, the heroic, cuddly Godzilla would bash into buildings and structures whilst beating on Ghidorah and Mechagodzilla with nary a thought given; here when Godzilla burns down a building in nuclear flames, you know people are dying and it means a lot. The movie is more than a silly monster romp; it’s a deadly serious tale asking people to consider the cost of the escalation of destructive technology.
Beyond here, it’s spoilers ahoy.
Inevitably, it’s up to the somber Doctor Serizawa (played by Akihiro Harata of the Samurai Trilogy) to use his weapon, the enigmatic “oxygen destroyer” to save the day. It’s here that the atomic symbolism gets most complex. In order to stop the fallout of the “ultimate weapon,” there needs to be the creation of an even better and badder ultimate weapon. The notion of using violence to combat violence is seen early in the film when a villager laments that the islanders no longer allow human sacrifices to appease Godzilla, another example of the social clashes seen in the movie. The oxygen destroyer, while considered by some to have a silly named, is rather aptly titled from a symbolic standpoint; it’s gotten to the point to where we must destroy the fundamental building blocks of life itself to make a better weapon. We see a vicious cycle of death revolving around and around. Should we not build another weapon, Godzilla will swallow up the earth. Should we build one, inevitably it too will come to be our next monster (becoming an actual reality in 1995′s Godzilla vs. the Destroyer) and the cycle starts anew. The conclusion leaves us with a small hope; the oxygen destroyer will be used “this one time” and never again. Yet, in the background, you can tell they quietly know that what’s been made can never be unmade as 1995 showed.
The original Godzilla is a greatly underrated piece of film. The movie was a genuine heartfelt piece trying to hold a flashlight to the potential horrors of an escalating arms race by a nation most qualified to speak against it. It was a raw, uncompromising look at the destructive nature of humanity, asking audiences how to break the cycle of death. The film has sadly been overshadowed and capsized by the increasing campiness and silliness of the latter sequels. Nevertheless, this film should stand tall as a timely piece of commentary at the dawn of the Cold War and the Atomic Age.
I agree entirely. As a not-so-closeted “Godzilla” fan, I applaud your synopsis. The original film is actually (in my book anyway) easily the best and most effective atomic-age monster movie. It’s important! As you said, rather than focus on build up and release, this Japanese film portrays the horrific unrelenting aftermath. Although the rest of the series is more of an experiment in camp and eventually devolved into more kidsy entertainment, the original “Godzilla” holds up and holds up well…although I still kinda like the “Mothra” ones (even though they’re mostly pretty camp after the first movie).
Godzilla vs. Mothra probably is the best of the series after the original.