Shin Godzilla

Godzilla is one of the most recognizable characters in science fiction, if not overall film, history. Appearing in over 30 films over the past sixty years, Godzilla doesn’t really need much in terms of an audience refresher; this isn’t updating a character from whom the public has moved on. But, the character still probably needed a clean slate, and that is exactly what Shin Godzilla is: it is an opportunity to tell a simple, direct Godzilla story without the constraints of…well, of anything, really. Keep reading for our spoiler-free review.

The most striking part of Shin Godzilla is how it isn’t a film about Godzilla at all. Sure, Godzilla affects just about every frame of the film, but it isn’t really about him. It is a film about bureaucracy more than anything else.

The film takes place mainly in the various buildings occupied by the Japanese government. When an event that, initially, seems to be an earthquake happens in Tokyo Bay, the government springs into action: investigating the cause of the quake, getting the civilians out of the tunnel that runs under the bay, putting together temporary trauma centers, etc. From there, as the threat becomes clearer, the governmental plan becomes decidedly less so. As Godzilla emerges, first as a crawling creature unable to stand up, the government plan keeps adapting as the monster does and, once the monster reaches its full potential, the plan of retaliation reaches just about the apex of human warfare: the threat of nuclear weapons being deployed.

As we meet new members of the government, there is always a title on the screen, letting us know exactly who this is. Sure, they may only have one line, but the filmmakers want us to know that this is not just some red shirt or background player, it’s the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries! That attention to detail can get overwhelming, especially in scenes where we are meeting six, ten, fifteen new characters. One particular reason for that is because of the subtitles in the film – we are trying to read the dialogue and also, at the same time, see who is speaking. It can cause a little frustration when you miss a detail, even if the details you miss cannot possibly matter all that much.

This is an insane thing to say, but at times early in the film, the film resembles a Wes Anderson project. Lots of dossiers, perfectly framed shots of agendas and plates of food, everything given its own title card. The precision of The Royal Tenenbaums or Rushmore is present here, even if the tone of the film is radically off from that.

But the tone is not something super serious or bereft of humor, either. There are plenty of legitimately funny moments, from reactions in meetings to a somewhat running joke of how the Americans are attempting to take charge of a situation that is only tangentially related to them, the film has plenty of moments of levity. That’s not unfamiliar territory for a Godzilla film, but the humor is quite different than, say, the jovial nature of Son of Godzilla, where there’s a level of cuteness at play. That’s not really the case here; the humor comes from both the absurdity of the situation and the truth that comes into play.

If there is a subplot to speak of, it is the relationship between Japan and the United States (and, to a lesser degree, the United Nations). Because of the chance that Godzilla could reach the West Coast of the United States, the US government gets involved. This leads to the weakest part of the film, which is the character of Kayako Ann Patterson, the half-Japanese daughter of a US senator. The character is there for a few reasons: bringing a female lead into the film, giving a stronger tie to the United States, and giving the film some sexual tension. While she is by no means terrible, the character feels very generic, from the scenes of her talking about being US president one day to the implication of her being both a party girl and a clever political mind.

In addition, and this is a truly minor nitpick, she is the least believable part of a film with a giant lizard monster, in part because she’s supposed to be American but speaks English in an incredibly thick Japanese accent. I have no qualms whatsoever with casting a Japanese actress to play a Japanese-American part, but there could be a few very easily written lines of dialogue to explain her accent – she was raised in Japan being the most obvious one! – but instead, the film just hopes we can look past her accent and, for most of the world, that is probably a very easy thing to do. This is like watching a film set in your home city, and you realize early on that it is Vancouver (isn’t it always Vancouver?) posing as your hometown. You notice every wrong detail, but for most of the audience it is imperceptible.

OK, enough about the other parts of the film – let’s talk about the big (not so) green guy. Visually, we see Godzilla undergo multiple mutations/evolutions over the course of the film. When we first see him at sea, he resembles a whale or giant worm (not quite, but almost akin to the embryonic Mothra), and by the end of the film, he is the monster we’ve come to know and love, if not somewhat different. One of the main differences is that his usually green skin appears to have far more red flecked throughout it, acting as visual evidence of his radiation and mutation. The creature itself manages to be terrifying but still somewhat cheesy – especially the eyes. I mean, look at this fucking thing!

One of the best parts of the film is that, while yes, this is a reboot, it makes sure to hit on so many of the aspects that made Godzilla such an enduring cultural icon and, yes, cheese is part of that. After the first few films, the films became tongue in cheek and, at various points, sometimes downright comedies. Shin Godzilla never goes that far, but the cheesiness of the monster and the aforementioned humor make sure that the film never takes itself too seriously.

But there are many serious elements to the film: just as the first Gojira was influenced by the atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Shin Godzilla is very much impacted by the Fukushima nuclear disaster and the earthquake/tsunami that preceded it. Godzilla is somewhat all three at once – he leaves a radiation trail wherever he goes, he destroys neighborhoods, and poisons the water. The fact that, for a good portion of the film, Godzilla is immobile and in plain sight furthers the idea that, like a nuclear meltdown, many times we see our destruction coming, but can do nothing about it.

And while I’m not going to go into the competing methods to take down Godzilla, there is a lot of debate between long term and short term solutions for the Godzilla problem which, with just a little bit of squinting, can also be seen as a jab at US foreign policy. The US wants to act quickly and decisively, with maximum collateral damage because the job needs to get done. The Japanese think there’s a better way, and spend an inordinate amount of time planning that alternate way which, ultimately, might prove a giant waste of time and money. It is a battle between the ‘surefire’ solution that can be messy and quick, or the more nuanced way that, if it fails, fails spectacularly but, if succeeds, does so with minimal fallout.

The film also dispenses with any illusion that Godzilla has a conscience or an agenda other than survival. He is motivated by power – not the political power that we see the human characters jostling over, but rather actual power sources. He’s heading for a nuclear reactor so he can become even more powerful, and that is his only goal. He’s not trying to destroy Tokyo, but when you shoot at him, he’s going to take you down.

The final piece of the film I want to discuss is the score. Shiro Sagisu composed the score, which runs the gamut from electronic interludes to power metal to full on orchestral pieces and, in the theater, the score worked like a charm. Nothing was overbearing, but rather every little piece of music fit its scene like a glove. An even nicer treat, however, was the inclusion of original – not re-recorded – bits of music from six classic Godzilla films. Those pieces, while I didn’t recognize them outright, nor did I know were necessarily from older films, stood out in a really satisfying way. It was yet another touch added to the film that helped it feel timeless and yet modern.

I want to talk about the last shot of the film so bad, but that would embark on spoiler territory, so I won’t. Meet me here in a year if you want to have that discussion, or shoot me an email.

I saw this film with a friend of mine who is a huge horror/sci-fi fan, and he felt the movie was very, very slow. I can’t say I really disagree with that, but it worked for me. I felt the pacing was extremely deliberate, and built tension through its, at times, plodding discourse.

The big bit of criticism that I could see lobbed at the film is the lack of Godzilla, but that’s the fate of all Godzilla films that are worth their salt. If we’re watching monsters just beat the tar out of each other for too long, there’s probably not a compelling narrative beneath it. Sure, I wish there was a little more Godzilla, but I also know that’s a slippery slope.

But maybe next time he can slide on his tail a bit.

Final Verdict: 8.2 – A solid re-start to a classic franchise.